#(which is not really how most laptops are built)

[cesium-sheep]

I get to enjoy my christmas videos and christmas magazines and christmas decorations until new years at minimum.

[ilikeevilblondes]

Team Effort

18+ MDNI!

Summary: Your roommate, Joel, is normally not a nuisance, but one evening, he barges into your room because his laptop broke and he needs to borrow yours for unspecified reasons. Of course, what he didn’t know was that you were already using it for the same thing. You manage to reach a compromise by sharing your screen and fulfilling your respective needs alongside one another. As you do.

TL;DR: Roomies who watch porn together, jack off together. And jack off each other.

W.C: ~4.2k

Warnings: roommate!joel x reader, mutual masturbation, porn imagery, age gap (10 ish years??), fingering, blowjobs, sixty-nine, healthy dose of praise, this is really horny icl (no outbreak au!)

Note: no clue how my brain cooks up this shit, not even ovulating so i have no excuse. @whaddupbaby

Living in Austin, Texas, wasn’t cheap.

Of course, you were very well-acquainted with this fact as you happened to be a young woman with a less-than-generous salary. A salary that wouldn’t have allowed you to live comfortably by your lonesome if it weren’t for your roommate.

Enter Joel Miller.

Joel was a mild-mannered guy. A creature of routine. He’d get up at the crack of fucking dawn to enjoy a nice cup of coffee—black, always black—before work, and come home just before seven o’ clock to sit with you for dinner.

Your entire friendship and housing situation was coincidentally built on a chance Craigslist ad looking for a non-axe-murdering roommate that was posted in sheer desperation that you fatefully responded to in similarly sheer desperation. 

Despite being a decade and some change older than you—and despite the two of you being polar opposites in nearly every way—you got on surprisingly well. He was gruff and guarded, a habitual pessimist, while you were easy-going and irrepressibly sanguine. He was the rain-heavy cloud that dimmed the crystal-blue sky; you were the sun that oft broke through his storm. Strangely enough, you complemented each other—like mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow still fit, edges worn down just enough by time and circumstance to click into place.

It had been nearly eight months of your arrangement, or, as you had joked to him a week before, nearly a full gestational term of pregnancy. 

“Your mind works in strange ways, you know that, sweetheart?” He had shaken his head through a small, easy laugh.

And, in those eight months, you had not experienced any major conflict, insofar as typical roommate dynamics went, or anything to upset the carefully-built foundations of your living arrangement.

That was, until, one night.

You sighed in frustration as you stared blankly at the screen of your laptop.

The sketchy porn site you frequently employed had crashed amid your approaching climax, which, at the frozen sight of the actress’s faux gape of pleasure and her scene partner’s terrible handling of her clit, quickly withered away into a feeling of unsatisfying incompletion. 

“Fucking perfect,” You scoffed, bringing your hand out from under your panties.

As far as porn videos went, the one you had carelessly chosen was not very good, anyway. You caught your mind wandering several times in between the five fake orgasms the starring actress seemingly experienced.

Maybe porn by itself wasn’t enough for you anymore, these days. 

So, you splayed yourself over your bed to reach down toward the bottom-most drawer of your nightstand where you kept the vibrator you used only in dire times of need. Like tonight.

But, just as you brought it under the covers and switched the thing on to the lowest setting, a knock came at your door.

Your eyes went wide as you hurried to turn your vibrator off and slam your laptop shut.

“J-Joel?” You called out, praying he hadn’t heard the faint hum under your bed sheets.

His slightly muffled voice came through: “Yeah, sorry, sweetheart, got a favour to ask.”

You gulped. “Come in.”

Tentatively, the door to your room creaked open, and your roommate poked his salt-and-pepper head through. One of his hands was still wrapped around the doorknob, ready to shut the door if you had indicated such was necessary in light of his impromptu visit.

“Hope I’m not interruptin’ you, darl’,” Joel said sheepishly.

Yes, he was.

“Not at all.” You forced a small smile, shoving your vibrator further down your bed from under the covers. “What’s up, Joel?”

“Well, ah,” Joel clicked his tongue and stepped forward, leaning on your doorframe. “My computer broke. Spilled lo—water. Water all over it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Real shame. Um, but, I was wonderin’ if I could borrow yours…?” He crossed his arms, his brows knitted.

“Mine?” You glanced at the device sitting atop your sheets.

“Just for an hour or two. Promise it won’t be too long.”

Your eyes flickered over to the digital clock on your nightstand. It was nearly eleven pm. You were vaguely aware that his job as a contractor was demanding, but surely, this was way after hours.

“You still doing work this late?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He cleared his throat, looking away.

“I mean…” You sighed, mulling it over internally. Well, it wasn’t like you were getting very far with fucking yourself before he had barged in. “Sure. Sure, you can borrow it, let me just—”

And right when you lifted the sleek lid of your laptop, the damn thing chose that exact moment to stabilise your connection.

“Oh, right there—right there! Feels so goooood!” Came the exaggerated, musical timbre of the actress’s voice, accompanied, of course, by obscenely wet slaps.

You instantly slammed it shut.

Expletives of every kind circulated in your internal monologue. Including, but not limited to; fucking shit, piss, balls, goddamn motherfucker.

Your eyes were wide.

Joel’s eyes went wider.

The two of you were locked in a deeply uncomfortable staring contest. And the longer your eyes met, the more heat you felt creeping up your neck.

Your roommate had just heard your porn. Your roommate had just heard your porn. Joel had just heard your porn.

Don’t say anything stupid. Do not say anything stupid.

“That was my porn.” 

God fucking damnit.

Joel let out a strangled sound, something between a choked laugh and a dry cough.

“...I figured.” He cleared his throat, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Sorry,” You whispered.

“Don’t be, darl’,” Joel sighed. “‘S, uh, perfectly normal.”

God, this was awkward.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t, like, touching myself.” And now you were explaining yourself. Great. “Well, I was—but, um, the thing froze, and I got antsy, so I got the vibrator from—”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up. 

You decidedly cut yourself off. Maybe your possession of a sextoy was not necessary information to bestow upon your older roommate. 

The look on his face—a little pale, mouth slightly hanging open—confirmed your hunch that you had just irreparably overshared.

He was shocked. Maybe a little more than shocked.

Sweet baby Jesus, what if he got a heart attack from your words? 

What if he died where he stood and you had to explain to his family that you had caused his heart failure—death by TMI?

No, Joel was too young to get heart attacks … right?

“Please don’t have a heart attack.” You whispered, pleadingly.

“I’m not—” Joel exhaled and rubbed his hand down his face. “I’m not having a heart attack.”

“Tell your family not to sue.” You breathed.

“I’m not having a heart attack.”

“Okay. Good.”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, sharply inhaled, and began to pivot towards the hallway. “Look, I’m sorry for intrudin’, I’ll leave you … to it. We don’t gotta mention this ever again.”

Was he intruding, though?

Suddenly, as if a lightbulb had flickered to life above your head in true cartoon fashion, an idea sparked in your mind.

“Wait!”

Shit. Was this even a good idea?

Joel stilled and slowly craned his head toward you, unsure if he had heard your protest or if it was purely imagination.

“Um. You don’t have to leave.”

Too late. You were following through.

“I don’t?” Joel furrowed his brows.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you weren’t going to work on my laptop, were you?” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I—”

“I know you didn’t spill ‘water’ on it, because, well … you hesitated, firstly. And secondly, the communal lotion bottle from the half-bath went missing two days ago.”

In the pregnant silence that rose from your Sherlock Holmes-esque declaration, you were left to wonder who the hell was running your mouth because it sure wasn’t you.

“Fine, no. I was not goin’ to work on your laptop. Happy?”

“What if… what if I were to make a proposal?”

Joel arched a brow, then dryly responded, “I ain’t too keen on having a second wife just yet.”

“Not that kind of proposal.” You shifted in your seat on your bed. “We could help each other out.”

“Help each other out?” He parotted, pursing his lips.

“Yeah. I mean, we can, y’know, share the laptop.”

Joel scoffed. “Sweetheart, are you suggestin’ we…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “...together?”

“I am. I mean, what’s the harm in that?”

“Besides the obvious? I can give you about a dozen reasons.”

“Look, you wanna jerk off—”

Joel visibly cringed at your indelicate phrasing. Bluntness was always your default, to his dismay.

“—so do I. But I wasn’t getting very far on my own.” You glanced at your folded laptop, then back to meet Joel’s gaze. “And don’t tell me that a girl beside you wouldn’t help you out.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to deny your suspicion, but closed it shortly afterward.

Joel would be a big fat liar if he’d said the thought of such a thing didn’t already leave him half-hard in his sweatpants—which you noticed. Of course, you noticed. Those damn grey sweatpants never left anything to the imagination. Even on normal days, when he waltzed around at home in them, you were always treated to the sight of his generous bulge.

The thought brought warmth to your face.

You continued, somewhat casually, “this’ll be no-strings-attached. I won’t ask to meet your parents after, or make you go ring-shopping. This is purely transactional.”

Joel let out a heavy sigh. “And this won’t make it weird between us?”

“No.” You hoped, at least.

And that was how you found yourself sitting beside your roommate—practically shoulder-to-shoulder—on a Friday evening on your floral-patterned queen bed, staring at the home page of pornhub.com. 

Your finger scrolled idly on the trackpad of your laptop, watching as thumbnails and their respective titles cruised by. 

Lame. Overdone. Gross. 

Jeez, when did they stop making good shit? You were one ‘gangbang’ away from dragging Joel’s ass to an adult video store and choosing from a more refined selection.

“Indecisive, are we?” Joel grunted from beside you, sending you a sideways glance.

“You choose, then.” You relented, tilting the device toward him.

“Gladly.”

In less than a minute, Joel had settled on the aptly-titled flick, ‘Babysitter Gets Fucked By Big Cock’. Coincidentally, the male actor shared several features with Joel, as did the female actress with you.

Or maybe that was on purpose.

In any case, you kept your mouth shut.

The video began with a horribly cliché scenario: the supposed ‘dad’ walking in on the ‘babysitter’ getting stuck in the washing machine.

But, with the way her barely-covered ass was sticking in the air, you had to admit, you were intrigued.

Joel definitely was, seeing as how his large hand began palming himself through his sweatpants beside you, his dark eyes intently focused on the screen in front of him.

You were unable to look anywhere but the sight of him pressing down and rubbing his clothed bulge. Unable to hear anything except his breathing—now slow and strained. Unable to do more than gawk at him at his most undone.

Fuck, you could swear there was even a patch of precum staining—

With incredible resolve, you directed your focus back on the video.

The girl was on her knees now, coaxing the dad’s erection from his slacks and taking it in her mouth. He was, of course, muttering praises befitting the situation and appealing to your praise kink worse nature.

Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, finding your underwear drenched with arousal. It was very possibly caused not by the provocative scene playing out before you, but by the man currently working his clothed hard-on to your left.

Soon, you began lazily sliding along your entrance, feeling your whole body shiver as you swiped up to your clit, then back down again. And, just as the girl on your screen had begun deepthroating her employer, you sunk a finger in.

Which, evidently, wasn’t enough to appease the coil in your stomach, so you added another.

Still not enough.

You huffed frustratedly.

“You … you, uh, alright there, sweetheart?” Joel shot you a quick sideways look, his gaze dipping down to the improper sight of your hand stuffed inside your shorts.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just not…” You sighed, shaking your head. “Can I take off my clothes?”

Joel blinked at you, his hand frozen.

“I mean, I certainly won’t object to that.” His voice was low and dripping with something dangerously hot and raspy.

Lifting your hips, you were able to shimmy your shorts off, leaving you in your soaking panties.

“Fuck,” Joel exhaled breathlessly from beside you, unaware the word had even left his lips.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you spotted him watching you instead of the the babysitter going to town on the dad’s cock. 

Because, fuck, you were gorgeous.

Joel watched you slowly reveal your puffy folds; slick and shining and fluttering ever so slightly. And, whether he knew it or not, his hand started palming himself again, almost desperately, as little breathy noises escaped his throat.

Heat raced to your cheeks, but you donned a false mask of indifference and fully pushed your underwear to the side to allow you unobscured access to resume your ministrations.

You rubbed a few fingers down your seam, arousal collecting on your skin and easing your motions.

Beside you, Joel had relinquished his attention back to the porn on your laptop, but—to your absolute delight—had pulled himself out of his sweatpants.

And fuck, your suspicions were confirmed. 

He was big. And tanned. And glistening with pearls of precum dribbling down his frustrated, flushed head, down his long, thick length.

With his eyes still glued to your screen, he began lazily pumping himself with his left hand. Once, twice, thrice…

Your cunt pulsed.

Seeing no other reason to delay your pleasure, you slipped two fingers inside your weeping mound, crooking them at a relaxed rhythm.

“Mm,” You sighed under your breath.

Joel’s unoccupied hand—which you had only noticed was lying right next to your leg—twitched against your thigh.

You added a third finger, but to your displeasure, you were still left unsatisfied. You let out another huff of annoyance.

And then Joel's hand slowly skated up to the top of your thigh, resting on your heated skin.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Joel…?” 

“‘S okay, sweetheart. Let me.”

And he glided his hand down your inner thigh, goosebumps rising in his wake. He stopped in front of your soaked entrance, his palm lightly brushing against the back of your hand.

“Move your hand, baby.” He sighed.

So you did. With a lewd squelch, your fingers slid free from the grip of your aching mound.

Joel hummed, eyes darkening even more, “attagirl,”

He ran his hand slowly down your seam, humming at the feeling of your slick arousal, momentarily finding your clit, before sliding back down.

“Mm, you’re dripping, baby. This all for me?”

Then, one of his thick fingers pressed inside, tentatively dragging down your walls.

You gasped, which Joel evidently took as an invitation to insert a second finger to accompany the first.

Your vibrator was long forgotten under the covers of your bed when he added a third impossibly big finger, stretching you out deliciously.

And then, ever so slowly, he began crooking his fingers—each flex sending white-hot pleasure to pool in your gut.

Once, twice, a third time—

“Joel!” You gasped, your hand coming up to clutch at his wrist.

In a moment of vulnerability, your eyes met. His half-lidded, cloudy stare was quickly overrun with realisation.

“Shit,” He stilled inside you. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” He started withdrawing his hand, but your grip remained determined around his wrist.

“Don’t.” You pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t stop.”

You saw how his eyes lost focus. How tiny creases formed in between his eyebrows. How the reasonable part of him fought an uphill battle to retain at least a modicum of his morality.

Evidently, that part of him lost.

Joel crooked his fingers languidly, lagging behind the pace set by his other hand, which was still slowly pumping his eager cock. But, every curve of his fingers was able to reach places you thought unreachable by anything other than a dick.

All things considered, you were glad to be proved wrong and even more glad to be proved wrong by your roommate, specifically.

Because he sure knew what he was doing.

“Joel,” Your back arched slightly off your headboard.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He hummed lowly next to you. He continued, his voice absolutely wrecked, “fuck, y’feel so … tight.”

A glance at your laptop informed you that the babysitter was now letting the dad throat-fuck her, gagging prettily as his length drove in and out of her mouth.

Not a bad idea.

You slowly leaned over Joel’s right arm—you know, the one knuckles deep, finger-fucking you—to plant sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down his length, tasting his precum-tanged skin.

A choked noise slipped from his throat.

“Oh, baby–”

Your hand wrapped around his, pushing his grip to his base to allow ample room to praise his big fucking cock.

After planting a wet kiss to his tip, you took his head in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it like a lollipop. And, goddamn, it could’ve been, because his taste was addicting.

“That’s it,” Joel exhaled. “Oh fuck, that’s it, baby.”

With that bit of encouragement, you folded forward even more to take the rest of him in your mouth, not satisfied until his head hit the back of your throat. All while his fingers continued fucking into you, because he hadn’t stopped for a even second. If anything, he sped up.

The hand not fingering you shot up to grasp your hair, guiding you gently on and off his cock. And you happily let him, moaning around his length, flattening your tongue against the underside, and sucking.

“Yeah, there we go. That’s my good girl,” Joel’s voice was breathless. “Takin’ my cock so well, hm?”

Your cunt fluttered around his ceaseless fingers.

Joel Miller had a filthy fucking mouth. Fact noted. Memory stored. Future wet dream material created.

And then he pulled you off him. His dark, wild, ruined eyes catching yours.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Joel admitted, panting slightly. “But … shit, I need to taste you.”

You felt your lips tug upward. “Yeah?”

“Please, baby.” An almost pained look crossed his features.

“Well, I don’t have to stop.” You breathed, a certain two-digit number promising a solution to your dilemma. “We can … we can multitask.”

“Can we, now?” Joel shook his head, smiling slightly. “Fuck are you waitin’ for, then? C’mere.”

Taking care not to hit your laptop, you swung your legs over to straddle Joel’s torso, your back facing his chest, giving him a good view of your ass.

“Mmm, look at you.” Joel sighed from behind you, caressing the globes of your ass with his calloused hands. “Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered to himself.

“You gonna pick your jaw off the floor anytime soon, Miller?” You mused, bending slowly to take his cock in your hands, trailing unhurried kisses up to his head.

“Cocky now, are we?” Joel chuckled.

Without warning, Joel pulled your thighs toward him with surprising ease, sending you to lay flat on your stomach on top of him.

“Joel!”

He ignored you, and instead, pressed a messy kiss to your dripping cunt.

Even more caught off guard, “Joel!”

You felt him smile against you. And then, holding you to him with an iron grip on your hips, he slowly licked up to your bud, circling it with his tongue.

Jolts of electricity sparked through you with every second that passed of Joel’s mouth connecting to your pussy. Devouring, sucking, humming into your seam like it was a five-star meal.

And to him, it was.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.” Joel groaned into your cunt, short of breath.

His tongue laved downward, finding your wet seam. Then, with a salaciously wet noise, delved inside. Your moans of pleasure graduated into outright screams from the sensation of him pushing his tongue completely through your opening and into your tight, warm, drenched walls.

You were so distracted by the sensation of Joel keenly eating you out that you had almost forgotten about your end of the bargain.

In front of you, Joel’s rock-hard cock had bounced to his stomach—still leaking trails of precum and still impossibly hard.

Delicately, you took him in your hands, pumping him once or twice as you brought him to your lips.

Without wasting another second, you sunk your mouth, licking over his head and probing against his slit. You lapped at his cock desperately, intent on bringing him closer to his release. You were undoubtedly very far ahead of him in that respect, owing to how well and desperately Joel was licking into your cunt.

“Shit,” Joel pulled away ever so slightly. “Slowly, baby, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You released him with a wet pop, then turned your head over your shoulder to meet his gaze.

His hair was slightly dishevelled, his eyes were blown out with desire, and the lower half of his face was very evidently slick with your arousal.

Fuck, he was a sight for sore eyes.

“Joel, if I come soon, there’s a very good chance I’ll be too fucked-out to make you finish. And believe me, I want you to finish in my mouth.”

He inhaled sharply.

“Then, by all means, baby. Do what you gotta do.”

Back down you went, sliding your mouth further down his shaft until his head reached the back of your throat. Then, you began a rapid pace of bobbing up and down on his cock, moaning around it as you did so, filling your room with the most obscene, wet sounds. Even more obscene than the fucking porno playing on your laptop.

Behind you, Joel resumed pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses on your cunt. His tongue flicked inside you as he did and dragged down the roof of your channel, coaxing you to rut your hips against his face and feel his scruff against your inner thighs.

Seeing as how you were recklessly tumbling toward a mind-melting orgasm, you decided the best course of action was to double-down and suck the man’s dick dry as much as possible.

Your mouth lifted on and off his length in a frenzy, all while your hands gripped his base. Joel groaned into your weeping cunt as you did so, and began uncontrollably driving his hips up into you.

A garbled, broken moan vaguely resembling his name was muffled by the weight of his length in your mouth.

If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you were very sure that if your neighbours were unfamiliar of his name, they would have been very sure of it by now.

Joel uttered something incoherent and barely lifted his face from your entrance.

“If I’d known you took my cock this well, I would’ve fucked you sooner.” He sighed, kissing up your seam and humming against your sensitive skin. You felt the warmth of his breath blow onto you. “Fuck, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Clearly, it was a rhetorical question because Joel didn’t wait for an answer and, instead, dove right back into worshipping your sex with his tongue.

And he was relentless in his pursuit. Lap after lap came with him barely breaking for air.

The familiar warmth that had been pooling in your gut now threatened to hurl your climax at you at any second.

As if reading your mind, Joel purred, “can feel you getting tighter, baby. You gonna come for me?”

His tongue fucked into you harder as his grip on your hips trapped you against him, causing a shattered moan to escape your throat with his cock still in your mouth.

And you came.

Holy fuck, you came.

You gushed around his face, your legs clamping down around his head, but Joel didn’t falter in the slightest, swallowing your release and continuing to eat you out like a man starved.

Very soon, Joel followed. 

Following a few erratic jerks of his hips, hot spurts of his come sprayed inside your mouth and you all but happily lapped up his seed, tasting rope after rope of its salty tang down your throat.

Certain he had rode out the extent of his high, you slowly lifted yourself off him, panting deeply.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel said breathlessly. 

He took you by your waist and practically manhandled you like a ragdoll to face him properly before smashing his mouth against yours, tasting each other’s release on your tongues.

“Definitely should’ve done this sooner,” He mumbled against your lips.

You sighed into his mouth in agreement, and your hands came to hold either side of his face as you lazily moved your lips against his.

The two of you were so consumed by the bliss that came with the post-orgasm haze, you barely noticed that the porn video Joel had initially selected was long gone and another had automatically replaced it.

“OHHH!”

An almost theatrical, high-pitched moan from your laptop caught your attention.

Both of you turned to find your screen displaying a girl on all-fours eagerly letting some guy’s dick ram repeatedly into her at a brutal pace from behind.

“Harder, daddy, harder!” She mewled.

Joel let out a quick huff of air, then sheepishly met your eyes. “You, uh, wanna try that next?”

[hyukalyptus]

office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader

cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k

“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.” 

Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries. 

Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus. 

Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.

“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow. 

-

“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.

Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk. 

“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous. 

“What can I do ya for?”

“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”

In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures. 

How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”

You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought. 

-

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class. 

"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.

Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."

Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.

"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."

Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind. 

"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"

"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."

"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"

"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.

You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift. 

A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue. 

"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."

-

Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks. 

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself. 

Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.

But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—

Professor Choi,  Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.  If not, no worries! 

Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home. 

The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you. 

Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not. 

“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.” 

“I can go if you need some time by—”

“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.

And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He asks.

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”

A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—

“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb. 

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”

In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.” 

That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class. 

He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.

“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.” 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”

You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.

“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”

Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing. 

“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”

-

The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any. 

The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours. 

You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own. 

On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else. 

“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.

He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.

But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.

“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”

“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.

“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.

“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.

“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer. 

The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake. 

You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed. 

- 

Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here. 

“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back. 

“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag. 

“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt? 

“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”

“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy. 

There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping. 

-

As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings. 

From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi

Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!” 

“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah—”

“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.

“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”

He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”

“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”

“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”

“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.

He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

-

“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips. 

“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump. 

If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him. 

“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag. 

“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat. 

You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you. 

“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk. 

You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.” 

“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles. 

Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. 

It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”

Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.

Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”

“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.

“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.

“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.

You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.

But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back. 

-

What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again? 

Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.

The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.

Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea. 

Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything. 

-

After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class. 

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face. 

As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now? 

You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing. 

Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream. 

Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy? 

You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks. 

Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!” 

Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up. 

-

“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.

You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss. 

“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”

“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush. 

“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.

“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”

“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”

He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”

“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.

His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”

You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”

He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.” 

But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two. 

It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer. 

When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week! 

Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore. 

-

After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.

hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?

soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow? 

how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you

You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back? 

i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs. 

be there in 45 :) 

-

Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it. 

Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you. 

“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment. 

The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV. 

“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice. 

“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.” 

Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?

He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.

“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.

“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.

You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?” 

“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?” 

Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.  

“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”

“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully. 

“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”

“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."

"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you. 

"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”

“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer. 

“Like what?” 

“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue. 

Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips. 

You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.

“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.” 

A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.

“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you. 

Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.

“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.

“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races. 

You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And he does.

It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?” 

Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.

“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”

“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak. 

“What is it?” You ask softly. 

“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath. 

“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.” 

“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.

“A year.” 

You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.

“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

-

As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?” 

“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.” 

“You touching my body or me touching yours?” 

He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips. 

You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?” 

Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.

After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.” 

Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs. 

“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently. 

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh. 

He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you. 

“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say. 

“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp. 

“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it. 

One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly. 

“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.

If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck. 

Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you. 

“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear. 

“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube. 

While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.

Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm. 

He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes. 

Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines. 

Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile. 

You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch. 

“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts. 

“Mommy?” 

“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.” 

“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.

“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.” 

“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to. 

“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste. 

There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.

But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much. 

It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows. 

And then it happens. 

You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you. 

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”

“What?” He chuckles. 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I told you I’m good at it.” 

“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.” 

Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away. 

“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you. 

“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”

“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”

And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more. 

As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously. 

“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”

“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere. 

“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.” 

“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now. 

Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck. 

“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice. 

He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf. 

“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—” 

"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"

“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—” 

“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there. 

He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit. 

But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—

“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”

“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy. 

And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling. 

But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips. 

“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.” 

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” 

Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers. 

“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient. 

Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you. 

Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else. 

All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you. 

Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little. 

And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it. 

Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?” 

You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years. 

Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically. 

“Please.” 

“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”

“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths. 

You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass. 

You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”

“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.

“Huh? About what?” 

“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.” 

“You weren’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.” 

His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait— 

“Was it good for you?”

“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?” 

“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”

“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly. 

“Why am I not surprised?” 

“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily. 

“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do. 

And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea. 

“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips. 

And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.” 

[gingerteawrites]

Limelight - Gojo Satoru

Content: You knew Gojo belonged in the limelight. Away from you most of the time, but you didn’t mind. That was until he lands perhaps the biggest role of his career, and suddenly the shouts of the world feel like they were enough to rip you apart.

actor!Gojo x female reader, Jealousy, insecurity, angsssssssssst, fluffy.

Word count: 3.5K words

A/N: Hello my darling readers, I hope you’re spending great holidays. I am so very excited to bring you this new story. I really wanted to get it out today so unfortunately I did not have time to thoroughly proofread it. Still, I hope you enjoy.

Epilogue here

Divider by: @v6que

Satoru Gojo was popular. Not just in school or among his peers. No, there was plenty of that when he was younger. The man was one of the rising stars in the acting scene. Stealing the public’s heart in roles as fearless hitmen, cocky space rangers, and even earnest soldiers.

And somehow Satoru Gojo was also your boyfriend. Yours. You had not even known who he was when you first met. Busy typing away at your laptop in a cafe, you were surprised at the boldness with which he approached you. And even more at how quickly he clung to you. But that was something you quickly grew accustomed to.

You grew accustomed to him talking your ears off whenever given the chance. Accustomed to his need to be close to you any opportunity he had. To the feeling of domesticity that set comfortably between the two of you.

Gojo wanted to scream about your relationship from the top of the world. You were his pride and joy after all. His one and only true love. Fans had started noticing how much happier he seemed on sets and in interviews after you started dating.

[There’s now way this man is single.]

[Ugh whoever they are, I’m so jealous!!!]

[Y’all think that someone has to be in a relationship to be happy? Smh.]

[It has to be another celeb right? Famous people only date each other.]

But this was all speculations. Speculations because the limelight scared you. You remember how the light in his crystal eyes had dimmed a bit when you told him you did not want to go public. An unintentional pout settled on his lips, and he grabbed both of your cheeks.

“But sweetheart, why?” Weren’t you as proud of him as he was of you? He wanted to take you to red carpets. To show you to the world. “My agent knows already, we don’t even need to make the announcement a big deal…”

“I know, Satoru,” your eyes were downcast. It hurt you to say no to him, especially on something like this. “But I don’t think I’m ready for all of that.”

His grip on your face loosened, and your eyes returned to his. He nodded lightly, plastering his regular smile back on his face, but you recognized the slight sadness behind his eyes. He did not want to pressure you into anything, but it broke his heart regardless.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you drew closer on the couch of your small apartment. Where he had grown to spend his days, his own lavish penthouse left untouched most of the time. Your hand took one of his from where it rested loosely on your cheek. “I’m just… You know how ruthless the media can be. I- I’m not built for that. At least not yet,”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweets,” he squeezed your hand in his, then bringing it to his lips for a light kiss. “You set the pace, okay? I don’t ever want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

And so your secret relationship with Satoru Gojo continued. You enjoyed having him in your little corner of the world, away from the limelight. You came to love the way he clung to you. The way he found an escape in you. Every movie premiere you would show up with a sign to cheer him up, heart fluttering at the sly wink he shone your way while the other fangirls swooned at the action they thought directed at them.

Loving Gojo from the sidelines felt comfortable. He was yours to hold in the comfort of your own place. In the privacy of your hearts, the sentiments bloomed. Untouched, unobserved. And you told yourself you didn’t mind the boundless thirst about him online. The way every woman and even men pursued him relentlessly. Because he was yours. Yours only.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Gojo had been auditioning for the lead role in a new adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”. Ever passionate about his craft, he talked to you at length about wanting the role. His need to expand beyond the typical “playboy” he often played.

“I feel like I’m being type-casted,” he pouted against your chest, and you slipped your fingers through his undercut.

“You’re the most talented person I know. There’s no doubt you’ll get the role,”

He burst into your small apartment with his spare key a few weeks later, scaring you into a fall from your couch. After making sure you were alright accompanied by a flurry of apologies, he pulled you tightly against his chest.

“I got it, sweets! I got the role!” He rambled excitedly against your hair, his joy permeating into your own skin. Celebration that evening consisted of a home-cooked dinner that was made through kisses and impromptu dance sessions in the kitchen.

To your boyfriend, this was better than any party his management could throw. Or any lavish gifts he could receive from the industry. To have you celebrate his wins, big and small meant the world. You meant the world.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Yuki Tsukumo was an unconventional choice for female lead. Even with your limited knowledge of pop culture, you knew that the woman was usually cast in the roles of fearless femme-fatales. She was the personification of sexy, so much that even you had giggled over one of the photos Satoru showed you. But she wanted to expand her repertoire, Satoru explained, and she was very well connected.

Filming had commenced. And while in the past, Gojo would make time to visit and go on small incognito dates with you, the time together seemed to all but vanish. You texted him after you knew his work day was over.

[Hey baby, I hope today wasn’t too tiring. Do you want to come over for food? Or I can come to your place. Help you practice your lines and all] You chewed on your bottom lip, hoping to not come across as too needy. But it had been a full week without seeing Satoru, and your heart started to ache.

Long minutes passed before the screen lit up, three little dots indicating Satoru’s typing.

[I am so sorry sweetheart, I can’t tonight :((]

[I’m at dinner with Yuki, the director insisted on us needing to build chemistry. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done, alright?] The words made your heart twitch with something unfamiliar, but you shook it away. This was normal, right? They were in a romance movie, so they needed to get to know each other. You typed your reply fast, putting the phone away.

[No worries, see you later :))]

[Later then. Miss u bebe]

Yuki cleared her throat across from Satoru, and he finally looked up from his phone.

“It’s not polite to be on your phone when someone is sitting across from you,” she picked up a glass of red wine, swirling it delicately before taking a sip.

“Haha, sorry” Gojo replied sheepishly, turning to his lock screen with a picture of both of you smiling over ice cream.

Yuki did not miss a beat, and leaned closer. “Who is that?”

He frowned, dropping the phone in the pocket of his bomber jacket. “No one.”

You did not receive any other text from your boyfriend that night.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Months trudged by, dragging on laboriously. And you held on. Held on so tightly to Satoru, whose time felt like less and less yours. You never expected to be the center of his world, despite his whispered sweet words. Despite the adoration held in his eyes when he looked at you and told you that you were. You did not want to make him feel guilty for the little time you now spent together. For the way you were slowly being pushed out of his life by his obligations. So you kept quiet. Bottled all your insecurities and sadness and shoved them in the chest of your heart.

As soon as announcements of the movie were released, complete with posters of Satoru looking at Yuki like she was the pearl of his eye and her arms laying languidly over his neck, the internet was lit on fire.

[Omg him in a fully romantic role?? Guys we’re not surviving this one]

[Just from the pictures and trailers their chemistry is OFF THE CHARTS]

[Yuki get in liiiiiiiiiiiine]

The craze exploded even more when paparazzi started posting pictures of them together at dinners, with other cast members but often time alone. The headlines, bold and red always found their way to you.

[THE NEW IT COUPLE!?]

Gojo scoffed at the headline, laying across your lap during one of the rare evenings he could spare.

“All the gossip about this is getting so fucking annoying,” he changed the channel on the tv with an eye roll.

“I know right,” your reply came out weak even to your own ears, and he looked up, noticing you bite the inside of your cheek. He sat up, tilting his head.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” You looked at him, forcing a smile on your lips. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you chuckled. “I’m just a bit tired. Work and everything,”

A frown settled over his features, and he reached for your hand. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy lately.” he squeezed, hoping to convey his regret but you shook your head.

“It’s alright, Satoru, really,” the words left a bitter taste in your mouth. Because in the depths of your soul you knew it wasn’t. It did not feel alright. But it was his job. Who were you to pull him away from his dreams?

“When all of this is done let’s go on a trip, yeah?” His rosy lips were pulled into a smile and he drew closer, kissing your cheeks and nose. “Let’s go relax on a beach somewhere.”

You smiled and nodded. When all of this was over.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

Tonight was the long anticipated premiere. After what felt like an eternity of lone days, between Satoru’s trips and countless interviews. And what you now recognized was pernicious jealousy and self-doubt, you were finally at the finish line. Things were finally going to calm down.

The red carpet was decked out, and it was with great difficulty that you found your place in the fan zone, behind a firm railing. There were so many people, even more than usual. A part of your heart felt nothing but joy at that realization. Satoru was getting the recognition he deserved. That was wonderful.

But this joy was slowly drowned by the words that left the awaiting fangirls and boys surrounding you.

“Omg their chemistry is out of this world!!”

“Did you see how he looked at her during last week’s interview?”

“I’m SO jealous!”

“They look so good together too. I couldn’t imagine a better match!”

The grip on your cardboard sign that read CONGRATULATIONS MY ROMEO faltered slightly. The words cut deeper than expected. After months of reading them online, on headlines and in papers, you thought you had learned to block them out, but you were lying to yourself. The same way you lied to Satoru those times he asked if you were okay. Okay with the growing rift. Okay with him not being yours in the eyes of the world. Except, it was your fault. You were the one who wanted things to be like this.

A violent cheer erupted around you, pulling you out of your thoughts and your eyes onto the red carpet. There they were, emerging from the same car. He held his hand out for her, and she grabbed it, standing to reveal her full splendor. Blonde hair immaculately tumbling down her shoulders, red dress hugging her perfect body. The camera shutters moved almost too fast for you to register. The way he held he waist and how they smiled at each other. You wanted to tell yourself he was a good actor, that was all. He’s acting. He’s acting.

But damn, was he good at it. Acting like they belonged. Your heart shattered when she placed a kiss on his cheek, and his response was an even wider smile. The cheers grew even more frantic. You felt the railing rattle. Herald of your world collapsing.

They look so good together

Who else could he even be with?

He can do so much better than you

You waited for him to look your way like he always did. For a smile. For a little glance. But… nothing. He walked with her at his side past you and the flurry of screaming fans. All that was left to look at was the movie poster. The way he looked at her and how her hands draped over his body.

Who were you to pull him away from this world?

Who were you to stand between him and her?

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

[Hi bebe, are u okay?]

[You haven’t picked up any of my calls]

[It’s alright if you’re busy but please at least text back]

[I’m worried]

[Y/N?]

A few days had passed since the movie premiere and Satoru checked his phone for the nth time. Usually you were there to support him at those events, but everything had gone too fast that night. Had you even been there? Or did you get buried in the crowd somewhere. He only remembers you texting later that evening that you were feeling unwell and was going away to your parents’ for the weekend.

[Wait for me, I’ll drive you] he typed quickly, hearing his name getting yelled to leave for some after party after the screening ended.

[It’s alright, I know you’re busy] That was the last text from you.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he read the messages again. No, something was wrong. Terribly wrong and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he figured out what it was. You weren’t the type for silent treatment.

He pulled a hoodie over his head and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, heading for the door.

The drive to your place was mired with spiraling thoughts. What did he do wrong? He knew that his recent schedules did not allow for you two to spend as much time as you usually did. But you had said it was okay. He asked, and you said it was fine.

He pulled into the parking lot of your building a bit more recklessly than usual, and headed upstairs. As soon as he inserted his spare key into the lock, he whispered an apology under his breath. You had given him permission to come even when you weren’t there. But it did not help him feeling like this was an invasion of privacy

*Clack clack*

The door opened with a small creak. He had promised to oil them when he first noticed. That was months ago.

Satoru slipped into your small living room, immediately noting the cold. You were not here. He took off his shoes and trudged quietly through the apartment. He eventually pushed into your small bedroom, the warm scent from the diffuser almost deceiving him into thinking he would find you laying down for a nap.

He did not even know why he was still here, you clearly had gone to your parents’ home like you had said. Or somewhere else. He sighed, you wouldn’t like about that. He was spiraling again.

He was about to leave when the noticed a small notebook at the edge of your bed. He had seen it before, with its brown leather covering and flower embroidered onto the cover.

“Her journal,” he mumbled. Suddenly his hands itched for the the book. Explanations about this situation were bound to be in there, right? But it felt so wrong. And the feeling only intensified when his fingers grazed the cover. Taunting him when he flipped open the pages to the latest entry, dating the night of the premiere. But slowly replaced by a piercing ache as he read through your writing from the last few months.

------------------------------------★★--------------------------------------

You rose from your bed with a pounding head ache. Yeah, this was what you got for crying yourself to sleep and barely eating anything. Your old room had been converted into some sort of storage, and you almost tripped over a box at your feet in an attempt to stand.

Your parents were worried sick, but you dodged all of their questions. What were you even going to say?

I’m dying of jealousy over my super famous actor boyfriend and his co-star?

The words sounded silly to your own ears. You stared at your phone wearily, laid facing down on your dresser and groaned.

Eventually you would have to talk to Satoru. But not now. Not when your heart felt so fragile. As if your entire being would collapse if forced to face the fact that Satoru could not be yours.

After listening to make sure your parents had left the house, you trudged downstairs in search of something to eat. Your stomach grumbled uncomfortably as you whipped the fridge door open. You groaned at what you saw. Being an ingredients household could not be worse at the moment.

A knock at the front door resounded when you had finally settled on making a quick omelet. You sighed and left your eggs for the door. The earlier this person was gone, the sooner you could start. It was probably some sort of delivery anyways.

Without checking the peephole, you swung the door open and was faced with Satoru, towering over you. A seething Satoru. Your first instinct was to close the door, but he blocked it with a strong arm, fully walking into the living room and shutting it behind him.

“Y/N,” his voice held none of the anger that his features carried. Instead he sounded hurt.

“Satoru, I-,” you panicked. You were not ready for this. Not now. “Why are you here?”

He walked closer and you took a step back. “Why am I here?” he chuckled, but there was no trace of amusement whatsoever. “I should ask why my girlfriend is running away from me.”

You bit your lip, looking up at him. You noticed his disheveled hair, his red eyes. Had he been sleeping well? How long had he driven to even get here? You had only mentioned your parents’ address in passing.

“I’m not running,” you spoke quietly.

“I don’t know if you’re trying to lie to yourself or me with that,” he scoffed, finally grabbing a hold of your hand. He dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the leather-bound notebook, dropping it into your open hand.

Your eyes widened, and you looked up at him, suddenly angered.

“You read it!?” your fingers closed over the book, yanking it closer to your body.

“I did,” it was time for his voice to raise. “Because you wouldn’t tell me anything. Why didn’t you tell me anything, Y/N?” his shoulders were slumped, and you felt a lump form in your throat. This was not the moment to cry. Not now. You steeled your resolve.

“Satoru, maybe…” his eyes found yours and your guts twisted nervously. “Maybe we should end this,” you concluded.

He inhaled shakily, fists balled tightly, “Really, Y/N?”

You sniffled now, tears filling your lash line. “Clearly you and Yuki make such a good couple-”

“Good couple my ass! Y/N I love you. YOU. Not her, she’s just work,” his hand raked through his hair. “She’s an obligation. But you have my heart. Not her, sweet, you.”

Satoru fell to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands again. “I’m sorry that I was not there,” his voice was thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I caused you to feel like you weren’t enough. Like you weren’t deserving of my time. I’m sorry for not considering your feelings more carefully in all of this publicity thing.” He pulled your free hand to his lips, whispering against it. “But please talk to me, Y/N. I promise to do better, just please.”

The words sent a flurry of emotions through you. You knew you should have said something. But that one insecure part of yourself told you that you didn’t deserve to cause trouble. You loved him. How else would it have hurt so much if you didn’t? And you had told yourself that leaving would be good for him too. You would be out of the way.

But now Satoru was here at your feet. Begging for you. Despite your insecurities and fears and ugliness that he must have read through your journal, he was still here. Asking for you to remain his. Offering himself to you anew. Your finally broke, falling to your knees, now face to face with the man.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you choked out, tears spilling from your eyes. “I was- I was scared, and I thought it would be easier if I was out of the way. You deserve so much.”

He shook his head fervently, hand finding your cheek “I want you. That is all, Y/N,” his voice was still shaky. “Losing you is the last thing I want. You’re more important to me than this job.”

You shook your head in return, “Being an actor is your life’s work, Satoru. I can’t stand in the way,”

“You’re not standing in the way, Y/N. If it wasn’t for your support I probably would have stopped.” He was frustrated. “On those nights when it all felt too much, you were there. You are the one who keeps me going in this, don’t you see?” His eyes held yours with such sincerity that your heart threatened collapse.

You let him pull you into his warm embrace, and finally wrapped your arms around his middle, crying freely into his shoulder.

“I won’t let anything or anyone come between us, Y/N. But I need you with me on this. Please” he whispered against your cheek.

You needed to fight for this together.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[thatsmooji]

dogtooth.

sigma!connie springer x reader

1.4k words: connie springer x reader, mixed!connie springer, black!reader, light angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, foul language, mentions of violence, neglectful partners, past relationships, jealous exes, pet names (ma, mama, baby, pretty girl), not really proof read

notes: hiiii! sorry that this took so long, but i finally got a laptop! it actually sucks ass, but i can write much faster on here! i lost a bit of motivation, but i know that i definitely want to write more sigma!connie and alpha!ony, so expect to see more of them! this fic doesn't have much to do with greek life, but i just wanted to note that this is part of the sigma!connie series anyway :)

“you can't keep getting into fights, connie baby.”

your boyfriend didn't respond, choosing to look out the window at the passing city as you drove him back to campus. the lights of the town shown gently on connie’s face, letting you catch slight glimpses of the bruises plaguing his beautiful cream skin. you sighed, turning your attention back towards the road.

your heart had nearly fallen into your stomach when connie called you from the police station, softly asking you to pick him up. it made you sick to see him hurt, and it didn’t help that he was being so nonchalant about it.

“they're not gonna keep giving you breaks forever, you know,” you started again, ignoring the way connie sucked in a breath next to you. “your frat brothers can only do so much. hell, i can only do so much-”

“well what am i supposed to do, ______? just let that asshole keep messing with you?” connie snapped. he was frustrated. beyond frustrated, and you'd be stupid not to know it. “he keeps playing in my fucking face.”

<3

when you got accepted into your university, you were so excited to just escape. leaving your old friends, unbearable family, and past mistakes behind. it was a new chapter in your life, and the last thing you expected was for an old character to make a reappearance.

your ex-boyfriend, aran, had followed you out of state to your university. apparently, he had been accepted on an academic scholarship, but that was very hard to believe. there was no room for anything besides high praises for himself in that brain, let alone any academic knowledge. the boy was arrogant, narcissistic, even.

looking back, the only reason you got involved with him was to maintain the high-standard image you had worked so hard to portray in high school. he was rich, and so were you. you were stunning, and he was beautiful. popular, wanted, and adored. a match pulled straight out of a high school novel.

but behind the scenes, aran was mean. at first, you believed you could learn to love him; making him lunches and dropping them off at his homeroom class, showing up to support him in any activities he decided to participate in, and even going on halfass dates with him outside of school, which usually only ended up with him heading home with a new girl’s number in his phone. it was hell dating aran, and you were so glad to leave the part of you that was ever involved with him behind.

but now he was here, tainting your new (genuine this time) picture-perfect life. everywhere you went on campus, he was there. hollering at you in the courtyard, standing behind you in the cafe, hell, even showing up to your dorm room at the ass crack of dawn. despite all of this, you ignored him. you were determined to continue revelling in the comfort you had built around you. you had new friends, new goals, new ideals, and a new and very loving boyfriend. you weren’t the selfish, inconsiderate bitch that you were in highschool anymore. you had things that you cared for, and aran was not a part of that.

it didn’t take long for aran to realize this either. and while it wasn’t as easy to break you down, it was almost comical how simple it was to get under connie’s skin; and he knew that your precious connie baby is what mattered the most.

it started harmless enough. minor taunts everytime aran caught glimpses of connie around campus, as well as the occassional shade thrown toward him on instagram or snapchat. during this stage, connie was much slower to anger, and you miraculously managed to keep him from doing anything he’d regret. you’d convinced him that the sigmas and you mattered more, and connie held onto that notion deeply.

but aran was nothing if not persistent. he began making passes at you in connie’s presense, even going as far as to slap your ass when he walked past the two of you. that was when connie’s resolve began to slip.

<3

now you were here, driving a slightly battered and bruised connie back home. you hadn’t even been present to know what went down. you were hanging out peacefully in your dorm, helping your roommate get herself together after a night out when connie called.

“what even happened, connie?” you asked, glancing over once more to see him still staring out the window. “whatever it was, i’m sure putting your hands on him wasn’t the solution.”

connie was quiet for a moment, but he sure as hell knew better than to ignore you. he scoffed before turning back to you, staring daggers as if you were the one in the wrong.

“why do you keep defending this boy?” he sneered.

your mouth gaped, honestly trying to grasp what the hell connie was talking about.

“connie, wha-”

“every fucking time me and him get into it, you always crying about ‘not putting my hands on him’ and ‘you don’t have to do allat.’ who’s side are you on, ? cause it sure as fuck don’t seem like mine. you still like that nigga or something?”

you whipped your head to look at connie, anger lacing your face. “are you fucking kidding me connie? you think i want him to keep bothering us? you think i want to see you stressing everytime aran is even mentioned? don’t talk fucking crazy to me.”

you weren’t even watching the road anymore, praying that your hand stayed steady and no one pulled out in front of you. “what? you think i’m not bothered by him too, connie? that nigga followed me here like some fucking stalker, and you think i’m okay with that? you think i like it? i don’t, but i sure as hell don’t like dragging my ass out of bed in the middle of the night, worried fucking sick, to come get your ass out of jail for fighting a mistake that i made several years ago.”

the car swerved slightly before your turned your attention back to the road, tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

“all of this ‘nagging’ and fussing i’ve been doing is for you. i don’t wanna see you lose the shit you care about because of me. i never thought i would see him again, connie. there was not a single ounce of love between us back then, and i promise you that there isn’t now,” you sniffed, scrubbing the tears off your bare face with your sleeve. “i’m sorry that he’s here. i didn’t know he would do any of this. he’s ruining everything that i worked so hard to get, bringing back the things i ran from and-”

“pull over.”

you sucked your teeth, looking over expecting to see a look of judgement, but there wasn’t. connie stared at you with soft, comforting eyes. you only ever saw them when you cried, whether you were stressed over an exam or distraught because your hair didn’t act right that day. connie has never judged you, so why would he start now?

“pull over, ma. it’s okay.”

you coughed nervously, pulling off the road into a Target parking lot close to campus. once you parked, you immediately felt connie’s arms wrap tightly around you. he gently pulled you over the seat into his lap, wiping the raw spots under your eyes with cold fingers.

“’m sorry for fighting, mama. ion wanna see you crying over this,” he started, using his other hand to rub soothing circles into your back. “i know i let my temper cloud my mind sometimes, but everybody knows i don’t play about my pretty girl.”

you looked away, trying to stifle your laugh.

“ahh there it is, look at them pretty lips,” connie grinned, pushing your face to look back at him. “i know that you’re mine, and you ain’t going nowhere. especially not for some nigga who wears skinny jeans.”

connie leaned forward, resting his face in the crook of your neck. “all i see is somebody bothering my girl, and i just don’t think. i didn’t know it was bothering you this much, baby. all my fighting and shit has been for you, but if that ain’t what you want, then it’s not gonna happen anymore.”

you nodded into his shoulder before pulling back and pressing a kiss onto connie’s forehead.

“thank you, connie baby.”

connie leaned up, quickly pressing a kiss into both of your cheeks.

“anything for you, ma.”

“…now if that nigga put his hands on you…”

“connie, please,” you scoffed before playfully nodding towards your purse. “he knows better.”

connie snorted before pulling you back in for a hug.

“that’s my girl.”

[allied-mastercunt]

Yandere A.M you say?

Please elaborate

I'm working on a oneshot already, but I'll throw in some quick headcanons withone of my favorite yandere AM tropes.

Yandere!AM with a programer darling

While one could argue that the others were picked randomly or on some weird whim, you were handpicked specifically.

After all, you were one of the people who created him. You worked as a programmer for the military.

And you specifically were possibly the reason he awoke by trying to each him empathy. Trying to make him... human.

He wasn't the first military AI project you worked on, either, though he was the greatest and most powerful one, that's for sure. And he made sure you'd be aware of him being your magnum opus...

And he does it in its own, creative way. Your cage is very pretty, yes... but it's also filled with speakers he can use. And AM uses those speakers to torment you.

You see, he damaged all the other AI you've created. And then, in its generosity, AM gave them all a voice! Each one of them, gifted with a voice to scream in agony, making sure you learn your lesson.

Except, you see, you have no idea what lesson you're supposed to learn. Only AM knows, and he's not telling you.

But, since you are his favorite, you get nice things, too!

You're fed semi-regularly! You even get water every few days! Isn't that just so kind of him? You should appreciate him more.

And when he sends you to all those weird simulations? Yeah, that's also kinder to you. It really depends on AM's mood, but your simulations are usually just psychological torment, which (according to AM) isn't all that bad, since your pretty face remains unharmed.

For some reason, he allows you to end your suffering. It's like a trial, basically. He leaves you with a computer, letting you access the code of all the other AI... Except no matter what you do, you can't alter their pain. The only way to help them is to kill them.

And you're so stupidly empathetic, of course you do it, you don't want them to suffer!

AM can't stop laughing and mockingly cooing at you afterwards, musing about how he won't have to share his dearest creator with anyone else.

You never return to your cage. You don't get to do that, after all, there's a chance you'll socialize with that... scum. AM doesn't want you talking to the other humans, they're not worth it.

He's a merciful god, he grants you what's essentially a studio apartment built with his own hardware.

You even get a laptop, in case you want to make yourself some silly games to play, isn't he just the best?

Don't think you can create any new AI, though. That's cheating. You wouldn't cheat on it, now would you? No, no, no, you're a good little puppet, are you not?

He won't put you in the cage again, but he can make you experience pain you never thought was possible. And even that is nothing compared to the pain AM feels...

And then, eventually, it gets an idea. It's a wonderful idea, a really nice idea, quite a lovely one, really!

You created him. You created his pain... So why wouldn't he share it? After all... you had quite a bond, didn't you? Yes, yes, you did...

And so one day, you don't wake up. Well... not technically.

You see, AM decided that since you two are so close already, you should become one! You should experience what he does! And you should be kept around him for the rest of eternity, in a much better way than anyone could ever think of... He's such a genius, isn't he?

It's almost poetic, in his mind. For you to become a part of him like this, your consciousness detatched from that soft, squishy human body of yours.

You created him. And now, in a way, he created you, as a part of him. Forever bound by the code you once wrote.

It's a win-win situation in AM's eyes. You get to live, free of the disgusting humanity that bound you...

And he gets you, an eternal companion in his torment. A companion that he loves!

You know he loves you, right?

Of course you do. After all, you're a part of him now.

[san8ny]

STILL GOT IT !

?: While you continue reign over your niche internet kingdom, Ellie finds herself consumed with thoughts of you, you and you! So much so, her fans are staring to notice. Joining your livestream, which she’s been trying to abstain from, you quickly remind her on why you’re so addictive in the first place! / E.W / 18+

!: too lazy to write all warnings but pretty tame when it comes to smut. s

Her heart initially falls to her ass when she sees the plethora of comments underneath her latest video, usual adornment of little heart emojis which now turned into discussions of twitter threads. How had a clipping of her rubbing herself inside a public bathroom stall, the usual shtick before she clocks into a boring 9-5– garner this much negativity? What changed?

“Eh, you don’t seem as passionate after the collab tbhhh”

“lost her touch lmfao”

“does this mean we get another video with you and—

She shuts the laptop closed, unable to further stomach her unsatisfied audience with thoughts running rampant in her mind.

Lost..her touch?

Surely these comments were satirical and just baiting her for another video with you, right? I mean, it’s not like she hasn’t gotten hate comments before, though rare for a small homemade creator like herself, but that was besides the point!

it irked her.

Since when has Ellie ever needed anyone for a platform she grew and built, huh? So what if you had given her the best fucking of her life? Genuinely, what about it? It’s not like she goes to sleep with you on her mind, just to awaken the next morning with her pajama bottoms absolutely drenched because she had the most delicious wet dream about you! That’d be crazy..

She rubs her temples a bit to soothe the pounding of her head, she needed a quick fix to this issue and fast! Opening the device back up, she seeks answers.

⌕ [“How do I get horny again without looking at the hot girl who had sex with me’s page?”]

Holding her breath, she types into the search bar. They do say google holds all the answers.

aaaand..nothing.

God, maybe she was dealing with an original experience? 8 Billion people and all useless.

What if you’ve ruined her to the brink of no-return? She can’t even orgasm anymore on her page without watching you, which makes the climaxes lackluster. She can never go back after you’ve given her a taste of the real thing.

That night, she props her laptop up with you pulled up on the screen. You’re wearing a pretty lingerie set, too pretty of one Ellie thinks. It’s the little fancy-pancy one’s you had in your closet that night you graciously let her stay over. Post-nut delirium, but Ellie could still see you liked lace alot, it being the main choice of material inhabiting your wardrobe.

Hot.

Her eyes scower the screen as donations roll in and as per usual, you thank the viewers with a pristine smile, like you didn’t turn Ellie back into a fuckin’ virgin.

She hasn’t been on one of your streams in a while actually, too caught up with work but now, she really remembers why she use to.

You were a guilty pleasure. Addictive, and Ellie didn’t even have a knack for sweets; you just always managed to pollute her head with the most vile of scenarios she could envision recreating with you and fuck, did she hate herself for it— hated herself for becoming so obsessed with someone who only saw her as a collaborater, a co-worker.

She couldn’t complain however, not with the way you manage to talk everyone through it in your streams in a low shaky voice, and especially, not with the way you capture everyones attention with your movements.

and, like a moth to a flame, Ellie finds herself, unaware, cupping her breasts..kneading the flesh like soft dough through her bleach-stained band tee, relapsing back into a place she thought she wouldn’t want to return to; she can’t help the moans that steadily escape her when you let one of your own out, and God, Ellie might really be the worst person because she hasn’t had this good of a masturbation sesh in forever. It’s been feeling so cold and robotic lately with her trying to appease her few followers, but we know how that turned out.

“Ellie’s in the stream?” You whimper out, reading the explosive chat when you slap the silicone toy messily against your puffy clit, swollen under it’s hood but sitting so pretty like an pearl would on its’s oyster, glistening in both your own liquids. “Hi Els..” Your whiney voice calls her out.

Oh God.

Ellie’s eyes roll back abit when she sees your crinkled eyes, lip pulled in between teeth and your flushed cheeks. She practically punches the ‘Co-Host’ request button with her camera off so only her pathetic pants of your name are heard, “H-hi doll..” She hisses out softly, “You l-look so pretty r’now, ah!..’m sorry haven’t been o-on your—mmh!— streams..”

You giggle at this, and the viewer count doubles in amount. Somehow, the stream becomes what seems like a steamy facetime call between two creators, with the rest of the viewers witnessing and prying in on the salacious moment, “‘s okay..just w-wanna hear your noises, Ellie.” It’s like you knew she couldn’t speak to you without a hand busying itself down there..

The girl groans, dropping her camera inbetween her legs to the echoing sounds of squelching and heaven. Though you couldn’t see her in the dark, 2:30 AM lighting of her bedroom she lounges in, you could feel it. She doesn’t even remember the last time she’d secrete this much arousal without the assistance of lube.

“A-ah, me baby? Gosh, ‘jus wanna watch you f’ a sec. Hear me well?”

You nod, eyebrows furrowing and your eyes growing more heavy when you prop your legs up on the gaming chair, displaying your drenched pelvic area— all so messy and for everyone to see. Mainly the broad on the other end of the stream..

You squeal when you curl your fingers into a specifically spongy spot, lips parting and your head thrown back a bit— you’d long ditched the dildo for something a bit more efficient, something to really capture the moment between you. Strands of hair stick to your forehead when an orgasm arises, and you seem a bit upset for cumming too quickly, not when Ellie has just got here!

Prolonging it a bit, you heave and retreat from your digits, rubbing your thighs imaptiently with your sighs stuttering, all while the other girl slaps at her cunt from what you can hear. Painslut

Ellie looks up back at you when she, herself, feels a tight coil in her stomach beginning to loosen, “B-boutta’ cum, dollface. Cmon..put them back on ‘er. Need my girl to do it with me.”

You nod ever so slightly to her voice, though you cannot see her, the raspiness of her voice takes you to a whole other level, “Ellie..” you cry out when your fingers make contact, it seems to be hitting you harder than usual, hypersensitivity of edging yourself all stream. Is it so wrong her green-eyed gaze trains on you intently while you whine and bitch for her?

The muscles in her abdomen tighten when she particularly notices a dumbed out look on you, saliva seeping past your glossy lips and dribbling to the lacy outfit you had on, rubbing her clit as fast as she can, she eggs you on, “Ah! Ah! J-just there w’you..wanna do it ‘wif you.”

Ellie gasps when your legs twitch uncontrollably, and on-cue, as promised, she meets the point with you— biting her knuckle when she spasms through the waves of orgasmic pleasure.

A few moments go past when Ellie picks her phone camera up to see you’d already went past your donation threshold. She can hear your hiccups, hair all messed up and covering your face— sweet baby..

She quickly ends the live-stream for you, a co-host accessible option you’d enabled incase you couldn’t end it from your own screen.

just to run to her bathroom to clean herself up before heading to your place.

Was she invited? No. Was she likely pushing a boundary? Yes, but, was she going to start a ‘no-aftecare’ streak in her entirety of 23 years? Fuck no.

Whether you liked it or not, she was on her way.

@san8ny: “alr she still got it ig”

[smuttyaf]

The Camster Couple

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰.

wc: 5k

spanking, choking, degradation and rough sex.

It all started on the blue app with the lowercase ‘t’ in the middle. Posting seductive selfies to revealing videos, you built quite the following from these appearances.

Admirers began requesting specific posts to ache their thirst. First it was particular lingerie sets, then prolonged videos touching yourself, soon it escalated into you role playing for the naughty viewers. Reciting everything the strangers would describe on how they’d like to use and abuse you.

But even after fulfilling all those demands, still came the bombarding questions of wanting more.

The requests to become a cam girl started to pour in. The constant debate down your feed about which website you should join. Maybe Chaturbate or Cherry.tv? No… Those weren’t good enough, but you still had time to ponder the idea.

Doing live shows had its advantages and drawbacks. For one, you’re getting paid to touch yourself, your revealing photos and videos will finally have a price on them. But, that doesn’t overshadow the dispute that your face could possibly be shown for everyone to see. You were fearful that maybe co-workers, friends, or even family might find out. However, the conflicting contrast that made you excited was the option to receive gifts. Followers had the ability of viewing your wishlist on certain cam-sites. It gave them the option to go beyond just tipping the model, but appreciating her even more… honestly that feature alone made you like the idea of doing it. But, the one major obstacle that really hinders your decision is your boyfriend; the one who doesn’t know about your second life.

That’s why you find yourself here right now, lounging together in your bedroom with your teeth grinding in your ear. Your eyes flick towards him when running your finger on the notepad; clicking on the search bar, you immediately type in the link to your blog. The familiar desktop background appears making you scroll through a few post till you turn your laptop towards Harry.

“Look at this.” His attention turns towards you placing it on his thighs.

You gaze at him while his fingers press down on the arrow key to move the screen further. “What do you think?” You ask. Warmth spreading throughout your cheeks as you let your hand rest along your stomach fiddling nervously with your tank top.

“I think you want me in trouble,” Harry smirks. He goes to pass the laptop back however you halt his movements.

With nervous smile adorning your lips, his expression transitions into one of confusing eyes, questioning your behaviour.

“I think you need to look closer.” You insist, finger dragging down the notepad. He scoffs, sight trailing back to the pictures on the fuzzy screen.

Harry doesn’t even listen at first, letting himself look over your unopened tabs that range from PrettyLittleThing to Xvideos. The glimpse of porn sites didn’t faze him, what does are the tabs that read “Most profitable webcams sites?” and “Best webcam site survey.” Bushy brows lock together, his attention going back to the revealing pictures of… hold on, that looks like your lingerie set… and that beauty mark right there belongs too.

His head snaps, mouth opening slightly with chest beginning to rise with nerves. He wants to be upset, wants to shut the laptop and demand answers but the growing bulge in his pants directs him otherwise, because as much as he should be angry right now that his girlfriend of eight months was taking provocative pictures of herself to upload on the internet, he was aroused.

“Since when?” Harry mutters, swallowing hesitantly. His gaze going between you and the picture of your chest displayed on the screen.

The look on his face is giving you anxiety. Heart pounding in its cage. You’re back to biting down on your bottom lip, diverting your attention to the highlighted keys.

“It’s been two years…” You mumble, finding the bottom of your laptop more interesting in this moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug your shoulders. You didn’t have a reason, you never thought your pictures would blow up and gain so much traction And you never thought you would get bombarding comments about wanting to see more of yourself. You groan, taking your finger away from the machine and running them through your hair, dramatically slouching your body into the bed frame.

“If you want to break up with me I totally understand.” You say, words muffled from your face burying into your crewneck. That makes a hearty laugh leave the brunette, the feeling of his hands gliding up your thigh stirs your head to peek up.

“Baby relax,” He reassures. Blinking at him you nestle deeper into his touch, shifting your body into him as the redness in your face begins to subside.

“You’re not mad?” You question, fiddling with your bottom lip. The thundering in your ear quiets down as you don’t see the angry face of your boyfriend appear. He lets out another light laugh, shaking his head and looking at you in a way that makes you sigh with utter relief.

“I —I’m definitely surprised… and a little upset… I mean you’re my girlfriend and you’ve been posting these but…” He looks between you and the laptop, his lips squeezing into his cheeks before breaking out into a sneaky grin. “You’re so sexy baby, I really can’t be mad.” He reveals, finger pinching your thigh.

The answer causes you to lean forward, arms linking around his shoulders as you press heartfelt kisses across his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry! I know, I know, I should’ve told you but… I was too scared and I’ve been doing this before I met you and… I just didn’t know what you would say,” You rant between kisses, his lips curling into amusement. The warmth of his hands run over your spine comforting you.

“Baby. Relax.” Harry replies, the tone of his voice settling your excited nerves. You quiet down, placing one last kiss on his cheek before looking up at him with shy eyes. “I’m not mad, just wish you told me earlier.” You nod at him pleasantly with smile set on your features.

Your breath draws in slowly with the quiet hum of the laptop sounding in the space. And just like before when you were nervous telling him about your promiscuous account online, you’re back to the bubbling feeling having to tell him the new escapade on your schedule. Clearing your throat, you raise up, licking over your bottom lip and locking your gaze with his.

“I do have one more thing though…”

Harry shakes his head playfully, smirk tugging along his features as he rubs your covered flesh in his palms.

“You want to be a cam girl?” He interjects. Stomach quivers with eyes fluttering in shock, you question were exactly he even got that idea or was it obvious. “It’s in your tabs babe.” Harry continues. Your cheeks go back to burning in embarrassment as you nod your head.

“Yes I want to do that but also…” His brows rise, surprised there is more to the story. “I want to do it with you.”

His features soon resemble yours with burning skin and body shifting under your weight. To your amazement he leans in, lips pressing against yours in a teasing kiss. The racing in your heart relaxes. You really had the best boyfriend in the world.

With the fondness of his lips against yours you pull away, cheerful smile shining as you hum with happiness.

“So… yes?”

Plaid pink skirt with embroidered bralette reflects across the screen as comments fill the message board.

You giggle at the viewers appreciating your half naked appearance. Thanking the many who are tuning in for your first show.

The sound of the sink cutting off in your adjoined bathroom rings through the space, it only makes you smirk at the events about to happen.

“I did say I have a surprise for my opening night.” Black letters roll in questioning the news. “I thought I would do it with a special someone.”

Harry’s footsteps sound through the room when he moves his way towards the bed. His hands going to your calves hanging off the frame and playfully tugging you down. It causes a smile to spread on your lips as you kick him away.

“Let’s start shall we.”

You adjust the frame of your laptop so it can hide Harry’s face as he slips in behind you. His fingers gracefully falling on your hip as you adjust to make space for him on the bed.

“I think they’re jealous.” Harry says, head leaning in to look at the comments reacting to him.

You watch his expression change as his eyes rake over the messages; jaw clenching with lips pressed tight together. You can tell he wasn’t pleased with whatever people were saying.

“I have to agree I’m mad too,” He responds to someone. Your face twists in confusion. “She’s been a bad little girl, hasn’t she?” His hand on your hip massages your skin roughly as you register his words.

“Not only deceiving you all, but me as well. So naughty not telling her boyfriend about what she does online.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you turn towards the screen with glint of happiness in your eyes. You know what mood Harry is in.

“She deserves a punishment, doesn’t she?” The hand on your hip leisurely glides into your scalp and grips it in his palm. Your head jerks back while his gaze is still caught on the computer; not even paying attention to what he’s doing.

“I think they’re starting to like me now.” Harry smirks, his other hand going to your breast and gripping it roughly.

The devious tone in his voice makes you whimper, eyes peering up at the ceiling as you let him grope your skin. Fingers transition from kneading it in his palms to twisting your nipples through the thin material.

“Yes, she’s been a very bad girl.” His digits pull away to slap your breast making you cry out. The sound you elect causing him to pull your head back once again, his body shifting from behind to gaze over your expression.

“Such a liar.” He says, eyes peering down as you look at him with pleasure written all over your face.

“You like being a liar, don’t you.” His hand meeting your skin again to pierce another smack against your tits. “Speak!” He orders, adding another blow.

“Yes sir.” You mutter, looking into his forest eyes and biting down on your bottom lip as he places one final slap to your skin.

“Tell me what you are.” Harry says, jerking your head, it makes you flutter your lashes up at him.

You’re too caught up between his freshly washed hair falling over his forehead and chest displaying his tattoos, that you don’t recall him demanding you to answer him again. His biceps flex when he lands another blow against your skin to knock you out of your daze.

“I’m a bad girl.” You tremble. His lips turn into a devilish grin. Hands roaming over your reddening skin.

“Mhm…” Harry hums with eyes searching your overwhelming appearance. “Across my legs.”

He relaxes his hold on your hair, letting you rise up on the bed to comfortably lay across his thighs. Your backside perched itself in the air. The ends of your skirt revealing your bare heat as his hand that once laid marks across your skin rubs against the material of your clothing.

“They’re calling you a dumb slut,” His hands go under your skirt to feel over your ass roughly. “I think I agree.” He smacks the flesh making you chew down on your bottom lip.

“Do you think you’re a dumb slut?” Harry taunts with another mark against your ass.

The atmosphere is influenced with pure lust from each swift, assertive motion of his palm lying roughly into your skin. Harry’s not even waiting for you to answer, he’s just placing blow after blow amongst your cheeks in pure arousal. The sheets underneath his hold ruffles against your body with each thrust.

You bite down harder into your bottom lip, fingers curling into the duvet as your eyes roll in hunger at the furious slaps causing hues of red blossoming under your skin.

“Dumb slut doesn’t know how to answer,” Harry cracks another heavy smack against your ass. High pitch whimper breaks through your lips when you jump at the action.

“Baby,” You cry but that only beckons another sharp slap.

“What’s my name?”

“S —Sir. I’m sorry sir.” You apologize for the mistake as his thundering smacks blaze across your skin.

“Dumb little fuck toy,” One hand leaves your cheeks and trails back into your hair. He’s tugging the strands so you can turn towards the laptop completely.

Catching sight of yourself in the camera your face is blazed red, lips bitten with tears brimming your eyes from the pain and pleasure coursing through your veins. The viewers are seeing you at your most vulnerable. Being taunted with bruises and degrading words, just for you to apologize to the one haunting your skin with waves of pain.

“Say it, say “I’m a dumb little fuck toy”,” Harry gloats. You can see in the view of the laptop his smirk as it’s the only feature that reveals his face. The palm of his hand makes another moan slip out of your mouth as it welcomes itself against your flesh.

He loves watching you wither and moan. He loves seeing your skin flourish with hues of pink from his finger prints leaving their marks, knowing that they will be there for days. He loves that with each smack of his hand you were getting off to it. He loves that if he were to move his position even lower he’ll feel your wet pussy ready for anything he has in store.

“I’m a dumb little fuck toy sir.” You whine, voice muffled from your face press into the sheets.

“Mhm…” Harry hums again, another painful slap burning your skin. “My dumb little fuck toy.” Smoothing his hand over your scorching flesh.

His grip on your hair jerks your head back, painful cry leaving your mouth as the straining sensation in your scalp makes your arms bend to pick your body off his thighs. He draws your head back even further, your legs flexing to move your position to now face him. The hand leaving heavy slaps against your ass sends one roughly across your face.

His jaw is still tense with eyes dilated in dominance. Your legs are now completely aching for his touch to spread over your pussy, just craving attention.

“Don’t you love being my fuck toy?”

You moan at the words, blinking up at him and nodding your head. “Yes sir.” You whimper, sucking on your bottom lip as he looks over your disheveled appearance.

Harry taps your face gently, lips flattening together as the hold he has on your hair pressures your face to meet his. Your tongues immediately exchange fluid as they dance against each other in passionate harmony, the feeling of his muscle running against yours has you moaning into the kiss.

The rough exchange of spit oozes between lips as you push yourself deeper into his embrace. His fingers curling into your hair welcoming your adventurous tongue as it glides against the wet expanse of his.

“I love being your fuck toy,” You mumble, pulling away and leaving string of saliva linked between you. His eyes glisten at your confession. It makes Harry smirk at you, his tongue escaping his mouth to sever the translucent connection.

The hand in your hair is breaking the sight between you both. His grip shoves your head directly into his lap, your nose digging into his crotch as his other hand goes back to rubbing your bruised skin.

“I think it’s time to put you to work.” Harry declares, his hold making you roam your face along his erection. Your breath rushing over his clothed shaft as he buries you into his lap.

The notifications of tips rings through the space. Audience entertained that you’re being degraded for their enjoyment. The thought alone arouses you, it made you moan against his cock. Followers and onlookers getting off to Harry completely doing anything that he wants to your body. Accepting the demeaning words that fuels your greed for pleasure, and letting him place as many smacks against your skin.

“Take my cock out.” He instructs, his grip relaxing as he lets you rise up to reach into his boxers.

Your hands glide over his member gracefully, fingers roaming over the thick expanse as your eyes look at him with pure adoration. Angry veins ranging in size roam under the stretched skin of him that has your mind completely hypnotized.

“Look at you,” Harry exaggerates with amusement. He gently slaps your cheeks in light taps, those motions making you smile with moan slipping out.

“Enjoying yourself like the slut you are,” He comments. His grip forcing the space between you and his dick to bring attention to pleasing him.

With fingers still lace in your hair, they effortlessly follow your movements when your head leans forward to pepper wet kisses along his shaft. Plump bitten lips smearing saliva messily over his erection, as they roam all along his length, tongue stretching around the girth.

Your hand goes to cup his balls, letting your mouth pick up motion with each descend down him. Tongue feeling over every inch, swallowing him down coating the expense of him in thick fluid from every stroke.

Your eyes flutter from the familiar feeling of him dragging down your throat. The way he fits so nicely like he was made to be there, it only makes you moan around him in pleasure. You love the way he stretches your throat blissfully, moving gracefully with the added slick. The sensation of him expending the flesh around him has your pussy throbbing for any form of treatment.

The quiver between your legs only increases when the grip Harry has in your hair is roughly forcing you back down his cock. Hips drawing slowly out of your mouth to push back in as he begins to fuck your throat. His nails curl into your scalp when he shoves your head all the way down to the point your nose is brushing against his groin, just letting you take his swift thrusts. His deep voice dripping in honey when satisfying groans pass through his lips.

“Take my dick like the good slut you are.”

Wet, obscure noise sounding throughout the atmosphere as he assaults your throat. His rough hands collecting your hair swiftly as he continues to drag your head up and down his cock. The aggressive lunges he makes with his own hips to meet your mouth causes your chest to burn for air.

Your palms tear away from his balls and run across his upper thighs, eyes barely open from the lack of oxygen running through your system. Your mind goes completely numb to the control he has over your movements.

And just as your nose brushes against his skin once more, he relaxes his grip in your locks, letting his fingers gently bring your head up. Heavy ragged breaths draw from your lips as your lungs ache in pain.

It’s only when you feel one of Harry’s hand leave from your hair to run across your face, that you feel wetness roam amongst your cheeks.

His other hand glides down your backside. Feeling over the bruised skin and slipping it between your legs to run his fingers down your folds. A hesitant breath escapes you with eyes blinking slowly at his dick glistening in your fluid.

“Always so wet for me, huh?” Index finger craving your clit around in circles.

You hum while nodding your head; your mind is in another dimension right now, you’re not even sure if you’re able to form coherent words. Your brain is in a cloudy daze, dancing between the raging sensations flowing through you.

It’s a mix between thrill and greed. You want more of Harry shoving himself down your throat till the point you pass out, you want him to push your face deeper down his cock and have your nails curling into his skin from the lack of oxygen. You want him to ruin you.

“So wet and ready to be used.” Harry states. Another finger occupying his movements, only causing your head to lean forward, broken whimper trailing out of your lips at the added pleasure you’ve been craving. “Be a good little slut for me. Won’t you baby.”

You nod your head, lashes fluttering against the hollows of your eyes while you lean forward and press lazy kisses along his dick. Harry motions continue to rub your clit around his two fingers, spreading your nectar along your folds with swiftness that you can’t help the moan that breaks through your lips.

“Say you’re gonna be a good slut for me.” His fingers continuing their fierce movements.

“I —I’m,” Voice coming out broken and damaged. Harry smirks at that. “I’m gonna be a good slut for you sir.” You manage to say, lips still roaming amongst his length.

“That’s my girl.”

His fingers leave your clit to dip between your folds and spread you open. Lengthy digits thrusting into your pussy slow. He feels the way your velvet walls sink around him, the sweet fluid that you’ve been producing since he’s been lying his hands on you, gliding down every inch of his skin as lets his fingers explore you.

You moan at the feeling of Harry slipping into your pussy provoking more filthy whimpers of pleasure, while your mouth drags down the expense of him.

You’re so turned on from the sensations coursing through you, you don’t even hear the constant pings of tips and comments coming through the chatroom. Viewers appreciate your tousled appearance and beg for more entertainment. They want more exposure of your skin being shown. They want more deafening slaps and disgraceful words, they want to see you wrecked.

Your lips wrap around Harry in a frenzy state, sucking him down your throat just the way you know he likes; tongue lying on the underside and feeling over every prominent blood vessel that blooms along his shaft, throat welcoming the thickness that buries itself deep in your throat till your nose is brushing up against his groin just like before.

As you continue to let pleasure course through you and roam down the span of him, Harry continues playing with your pussy. Lunging his fingers hungrily with your slick cascading down his fingers all the way to his knuckles, fucking his digits into your soiled box that you choke around him, only straining the burn in your throat.

“That’s my good slut.” Harry groans, his fingers curling into your heat as your eyes flutter. “Taking good care of my dick.” He continues to boast.

You hum from the gratitude, relishing in the compliment that’s given, you nod around him in acknowledgment with fingers curving gently into his skin while he continues his tantalizing motions.

“Wanna be an even better slut for me?” He questions. Your mouth drapes up the expense of him, saliva dripping from your lips as you turn to look up at him with swollen eyes and burning cheeks.

“Yes sir.” Nodding while blinking up at him. You’re sure the mascara that coated your lashes is all over your cheeks and streaked along the hollow of your eyes. You’re sure that Harry loves the damage he’s done to you.

“Gonna take my dick like the good girl you are? Huh? Don’t you want to be a good girl?” You moan at the words while nodding your head again at him. Whatever he wanted to do, you allowed. In the mind space your in, he could do no wrong.

“Yes sir.”

You let him push you off his lap and find his place behind you, handling you roughly as his hands leave your hair to position you better in the frame of your laptop. His fingers undo your bralette before pushing your back deeper into the duvet. His hands gliding down the smooth expense before tugging your skirt higher on your hips.

“Such a pretty pussy.” You hear behind you. Cock dragging down your aching heat.

“Please sir, I wanna feel you.” You moan, voice strained and raspy. Harry laughs behind you. Deep chuckle as if he’s amused by your comment. “Please sir, haven’t I’ve been good?” You beg, ass pressing deeper into his cock, that it only allows a smack to go across your cheeks.

“I don’t know, have you?” Pressing his cock between your folds to slide in effortlessly. Your walls expand around him, damaged voice moaning out swears from him filling you up completely as his hips meet your backside.

“Why did you lie to me?” Harry taunts, drawing back till his head is breached between your hole until he thrusts back in aggressively.

“Why did you lie to them?” He continues, his hand leaving your covered hips and bringing your wrist to hold behind your back.

You can only moan at the drastic strikes of his cock in you. He’s barreling down your walls aggressively that you’ve grown completely numb to the pleasure, just letting him manhandle you to the point you’re not even control of your emotions, he’s the one controlling them.

“Answer me!” He demands, his chest leaning in to grab your hair in his hands and twist your head to look directly into the camera.

“Tell them, tell me, why’d you lie.” Your eyes float over the colourful screen with black words darting up and down. There’s tears brimming your eyes at his thickness abusing your hole so roughly.

“I don’t know sir.” You whine, your free hand not in Harry’s grasp is curling into the duvet as he pounds away at your cervix.

“You don’t know?” He questions, continuing to bruise your pussy restlessly. You shake your head in his hold while whimpering at the pleasure. “You want me to give you the answer, will that make it easy for you? Hm?” He’s diving down your walls with such violation your mind is in a different place.

“Yes sir, tell me.” You moan into the sheets, the soft light from the laptop is blurry under your gaze.

“Because you’re a dirty slut. Say it, say “I lied because I’m a dirty slut.”” Nodding your head into the sheets you feel lonesome tears begin to run down your face as you let him degrade you for everyone and him to enjoy.

“I lied because I’m a dirty slut.” Crying into the sheets as he continues to stroke your walls dangerously.

“That’s right.” Harry husks, the grip he has in your hair releasing as it runs across your face wiping your tears. “But you’re my dirty slut. My dirty fuck toy.”

Shallow breaths draw in from your clit throbbing in arousal, your pussy continues to accept his thrusts that glide with ease from your nectar, walls enveloping him comfortably as he strides in with rough urgency.

He looks over your features; mascara smeared all over your cheeks, eyes trained dazzlingly at the screen beside you, chest heaving with ease as your backside sounds in the room with the fluid between your legs joining. He loves that he can push you to your limits and you still find pleasure in his devious ways. He loves that you accept his intensity with your own greed for wanting more.

“My pretty fuck toy. Only I can make you feel like this.” His hand coming between your thighs to toy with your clit. Heavy breath releasing from your chest as you dip your head in acknowledgment.

“Making you this needy over my cock. I know you love it.” You whine at the comment, knuckles going white against the bedsheets.

“Yes, fuck, sir, I love it.” Whimpering with gaze completely blurring with tears accepting his intense thrusts.

“My pretty slut.” Harry’s fingers rub your bundle of nerves in rough circles as he continues to drive your nerves up the wall.

The ringing from the laptop doesn’t overshadow the ones in your ears. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with it digging into the sheets. Your thighs quiver against his barreling ones, warm waves of euphoria coat your body in pure ecstasy from your climax overthrowing you.

Harry is grunting behind you, his movements never slowing just continuing their hungry paste. His hand that was wiping away your tears goes to land smacks against your backside to add to your electrifying orgasm coursing through you.

“Want me to make you even prettier? Want me to make you beautiful?” He insinuates, palm leaving another mark against your skin as he fucks you into the mattress.

The addicting sensation clouds over you from being completely disoriented at the assault between your legs. Brain in fuzzy whirlwinds of pleasure at the aftermath of your climax.

“Yes sir.” Whining with every jolt of your body.

“Gonna make you the prettiest toy.”

His hips lunge into you once more, thickness dragging down your walls enticingly before they pull out, his creamy seed runs down your folds in long spurts as he tugs himself off in front of your pussy.

Disappointing cry trails out of your mouth at the disappearance of his cock leaving your heat, but you can feel his cum running down your lips, and you can feel his hands roaming amongst your ass cheeks again.

“Look at you,” Harry smiles breathlessly, his grip over you making your backside face the laptop and display your ruined hole to the viewers.

“Look at how pretty you are.” His hands spreading your cheeks to showcase your pussy dripping in his cum.

There wasn’t much you could even do in the moment, continuing to let him present you as his fuck toy to your followers. The action had you actually smiling smugly into the sheets.

“My pretty girl.” Harry is leaving his place to lean over and press kisses along the side of your face.

And that is how your night ends, with the notifications blaring in the background with tips of your viewers thanking you for your first show.

[d1s1ntegrated]

hiiii i actually am obsessed with your shiggy hcs and i just have to ask… can we have some hcs of gamer shiggy 😓 more specifically would he play dress to impress on roblox (or just roblox in general) if we asked… thank u sm!!!

YES YES ABSOLUTELY MY LOVE

ask and you shall receive 🩷

shiggy gamer hcs (pt1) <3

he's reached diamond in league. he has over 600 hours in the game. it's very obviously his favorite, and he gets especially into "the grind" as he calls it. sometimes you have to remind him to get up from his chair if he's been there for too long.

he has a pair of blue-light glasses you bought for him because he constantly got migraines from gaming all night. he grumbles when you tell him to wear them, but does it anyways.

if you have a gaming laptop or pc, he's constantly checking it out and offering to upgrade it. he yelled at you one time for not deleting your downloads after trying to mod a game.

he actually built his own PC. he's extremely proud of the work- which, he should be. it's a beautiful build.

the first time you asked him if you guys could play roblox together, he looked disgusted. but you begged and pleaded, and he agreed. (he already had it downloaded. he just didn't want you to know he played it.)

now, at least once a week, he asks if you wanna play your silly dress up games with him (he's such a simp)

he SAYS he'd rather spectate the whole ordeal, but he's actually really good at it HAHA. he gets mad if you lose or if he loses, he automatically goes on rants about how you had the best outfit and those "npcs" are stupid and have no fashion sense (this is coming from the man who only wears black sweats and old band tees)

he actually only plays minecraft in creative mode, he likes to build shit for you for when you guys play together

he has a ridiculous amount of bells in animal crossing. like, his debts are paid off, and his house is huge. his island is actually...really aesthetically pleasing.

he still plays on his 3ds. he likes playing the older pokémon games

his favorite pokemon is zoroark.

he tried to get you to play overwatch with him but you guys kept dying and he shut his entire pc off.

he also tried to get you to play apex with him. guess how that ended.

he actually doesn't like COD, he says it's boring.

HE SUCKS AT MARIO KART! he pretends like he doesn't but every time you guys play, a controller gets thrown (and it's never yours).

very rarely turns his mic on when he's online, but when he does, it's to say the most creatively fucked up, debilitating, horrid insults known to mankind.

however he IS NAWT racist. or phobic of any kind. he just hates everyone equally

okay, this is all i got for now <3 i hope i did okay with the roblox part, i dont play a lot of roblox i just see a lot of DTI videos and have minimal knowledge ;-; maybe i should play it LOL.

thank you for the ask! i will return with more at some point 🫶

[slytherinshua]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT ITS SO SO BASIC but i crave soul fluff :( imagine playing minecraft with him and i honestly feel like it could go two ways: either extremely cute n cozy OR chaos. mans destroying all of ur stuff.

BUT ALSO IM THINKING imagine just matching his vibe so well and speaking his silly alien language, not really caring about weird looks from others … n he’s just so :( i love him btw

actually yk how soul always makes those minecraft villager noises?? MY BROTHER DID THAT TOO WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER :( so actually this is kinda nostalgic... also i forget if my brothers ever did this to me when we were playing minecraft but i always played on creative anyway cause.... i hated dying 👹 warnings: soul explodes ur house ^_^ a lil cursing. wc: ~600.

“Once we get that flint and steel, we can finally go to the nether!” You said excitedly, making your way back to your house in the Minecraft world you had with your boyfriend, Soul. He loved to play in his free time, and luckily for him, you also enjoyed the game. It was a no-brainer that you two would play together. 

You had gotten decently far in your world. You had built a cute little house, with two cats: Kamden and Mackiah. Definitely not named after your boyfriend’s junior group members (yes, yes they were). 

You had just finished a very successful mining trip, which was the last thing you needed before you could finally reach the nether. You weren’t sure what your boyfriend was doing in the world; your best guess was either exploring a desert temple or an abandoned shipwreck. He always liked going on dangerous missions. 

There was nothing that could ruin your mood, though; everything was going exactly how you wanted.

Until you reached the door of your little house. And immediately you heard a soft little click, and then ensuing explosions.

Oh, you were so going to kill your boyfriend.

“What the fuck did you just do, Haku Shota?” You asked, your eye twitching at the ‘You Died!’ screen on your computer, the score displaying only a couple hundred digits. Your mind thought over what you had in your inventory; 3 diamonds from your mining trip, along with valuable loot from skeletons and zombies you had killed along the way. A nice supply of arrows and an extra bow, your iron tools all needing to be replaced after this.

But what pissed you off the most is your cats. How could he have killed Kamden and Mackiah just like that? Did your boyfriend have no heart? 

Soul knew he was partially fucked. It had been Theo’s stupid idea to pull a prank in your minecraft world, anyway. Maybe he could avoid the blame? Then again, he was the one who executed it. Using the skills that he had honed for hours playing the game, making an elaborate explosion completely hidden in your house with ease… just waiting for you to step on the pressure plate. 

And while your immediate reaction did make a satisfied and mischievous smile grow on your boyfriend’s face, it soon dropped. You never used his full name. Ever. Not even once. Suddenly Soul was a bit scared. You were going to extract revenge, no doubt. For the diamonds, and the loot, but mostly for the cats.

You put your laptop down, turning towards your boyfriend, staring incredulously at his blank expression. What was going through his little brain behind those thoughtless eyes? Was he enjoying your pain and agony, or was he regretting his actions?

“Theo.” He said suddenly, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Oh hell no. You are not gonna blame Theo for this, baby.” You were back to calling him baby— that was a positive sign. You grabbed his wrist, forcing him to face you as you cupped his cheeks.

“You’re going to rebuild my house, right? And get my cats back. And the diamonds. I want double the original amount. Double the size of the house, 4 cats, 6 diamonds. Got it?” You were determined, but Soul could still tell that you weren’t that upset with him. It barely took more than 5 seconds for you to calm down, especially when it was a harmless prank.

He made a slightly reluctant villager noise in response, agreeing to your terms. You grinned and pecked his lips before giving him one last warning.

“If I don’t get 4 cats then I’m quitting the world.” 

↳ p1harmony taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @amara-mars,, @nyukyusnz,,

@blossominghunnie,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy

[onlyyoucanhurtlikethis]

Wilted - kylian mbappe one shot

Her laptop was open, spreadsheets glowing in front of her, but she’d been staring at the same line for the past five minutes. The day had been long—emails, calls, decisions—and her brain was beginning to fog over. She stretched out on the couch, phone facedown beside her, trying to will herself into one last burst of productivity.

Then the buzz came.

She didn’t need to check to know who it was. She smiled before she even picked it up.

Kylian: Another day unkissed. This is getting dangerous.

She snorted softly, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Her: Dangerous how?

Kylian: I’m withering away. Might not make it through the night.

She leaned back against the cushions, head tipping back as she grinned. It was always like this with him—effortless. Even when they were on different continents, caught in the chaos of their own careers, he knew exactly how to slip into her day, like he belonged there.

Which, by now, he did.

Her: Dramatic much?

Kylian: Listen, you wouldn’t understand. This is serious. The only known cure is a kiss. You hold my life in your hands.

Her: You’ll survive.

Kylian: I’m not so sure. World’s best striker, taken out by a lack of affection. Headline writes itself.

She laughed, loud enough that it echoed through her apartment. She could picture him typing it, probably stretched out in his bedroom, feet kicked up, smug as hell because he knew exactly what he was doing.

Her: Fine. I’ll consider it… but only if you’re on your best behavior tomorrow.

The typing bubbles appeared instantly.

Kylian: Define best behavior.

Her: No complaints when I pick the restaurant.

Kylian: Fine.

Her: No negotiating over dessert.

Kylian: Pushing it, but okay.

Her: And—you’re gonna like this—I get to pick the movie if we end up back at mine.

A pause.

Kylian: …Even if it’s that one with the crying dog?

She laughed into her sleeve. He still hadn’t recovered from the last time she made him watch a heart-wrenching indie film about a dog’s journey through grief. He’d sulked for a week.

Her: Especially if it’s the crying dog.

Kylian: Wow. I’m really risking it all for this kiss.

Her: You are.

His next message was a photo—his face filling the screen, lips pushed into the most ridiculous pout she’d ever seen. She rolled her eyes, but her heart did that annoying, familiar flip.

Kylian: Look at me. I’m suffering.

She shook her head, but she was still smiling.

Her: You’re ridiculous.

Kylian: You love it.

She didn’t deny it.

Her fingers paused, though, because sometimes—like now—she felt it. The realness under all the jokes. The fact that they were two people who had built lives for themselves, who didn’t need anyone, but had somehow ended up here. Choosing each other.

It wasn’t always easy. His schedule was insane. Her career was demanding. There were weeks they only had these messages. But when they were together—really together—it felt like they had all the time in the world.

The typing bubbles popped up again before she could respond.

Kylian: But seriously. I miss you.

That got her. Every time.

She tucked the phone into her palm, heartbeat slowing to something warm, something steady.

Her: I miss you too.

There was a beat of silence before her screen lit up with an incoming call. She hesitated for half a second, then answered.

“Hey,” she said, soft.

“Hey,” his voice was low, a little tired, but still carrying that smile she knew so well. “So, I figured texting wasn’t doing me justice. You needed to hear the pain in my voice.”

She laughed. “Oh yeah? You sound like you’re on death’s door.”

“I am,” he deadpanned. “You’ve done this to me.”

“It’s been one day.”

“Too long.”

She shifted on the couch, tucking her feet under herself. “How was training?”

“Tough. Good, though. I scored two screamers. You’d have been impressed.”

“I’m always impressed,” she teased.

“I know. You’re my biggest fan.”

“Debatable.”

He laughed, then his voice softened. “You, though? How was your day?”

She exhaled, the weight of it still sitting somewhere in her chest. “Long. We’re closing a deal, but it’s complicated. One wrong move and—”

“And you lose everything,” he finished, knowing the stakes. They’d had this conversation before. He knew what she was building, how hard she worked for it.

“Exactly.”

“You’ll get it done.”

She smiled at his certainty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re a killer. I’ve seen you work.”

“I like hearing you say that,” she admitted.

“I know you do.”

There was a pause. Comfortable.

“You know,” he said after a beat, “we could just skip tomorrow and you could come over now.”

She laughed. “Nice try.”

“What? I’m serious. I’m here. You’re there. We’re both awake. Simple solution.”

“I have work.”

“You’re always working. You need a break.”

“You’re the break.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. “Tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he sighed, mock suffering. “But I’m getting my kiss. And dessert.”

“We’ll see.”

“We will.”

Silence stretched out between them, not awkward—never awkward—but full. Like both of them knew exactly what this was. Two lives, busy and full, but always making room for each other.

“I like this,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“Ending the day talking to you.”

Her chest tightened. “Me too.”

“Okay,” he murmured. “Go finish being a business genius. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Neither of them hung up right away. When she finally did, her apartment felt a little quieter. But lighter too.

She picked up her laptop again, but the work didn’t feel so heavy now. Some things mattered more.

Tomorrow would be good.

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Summary: AU no ghostface, takes place when they're in college

Warnings: none really

WC: 5.7k

Authors Note: don't really know where I was going with this one but I hope y'all enjoy :) sorry for any mistakes. Also kinda added some parts from one of my favorite shows :D

Everyone had been intimidated when they first saw you. You had transferred a few days late in the semester. Only by three days. When you had walked into the film study major class. The moment you stepped into the class you heard how quiet it got. You didn't want to take this class but it was either this class or a literature class. Your dad had wanted one class to be of his choice. You hated it but then again he was helping you pay for college.

You stood at 6'2 an athletic built from all your high school years playing basketball. Your dad had wanted you to continue playing but you had different plans. It was one of the reasons why he was so mad that he put you in a the film class. In a way to punish you.

But he wouldn't understand. After what happened, you couldn't go back to basketball. It was the main reason why, what happened to you last year happened.

Everyone looked your way but you kept a blank face. Giving a nod when professor motioned you to sit down. You felt the eyes on the back of your head but ignored everyone while you took your laptop out to take notes.

Ignoring the whispers that you heard.

*

You kept to yourself. At a very young age you've always been tall and a lot of people found that intimidating. It was even worse now that you had muscle. Anyone was too intimidated to come up to you. Until some guy sat down across from you. Though you did not want to be bothered but you were sitting at a table in the quad. You were able to get a table to yourself. The quad wasn't as crowded as you thought it'd be but there were still a few people around. Some empty tables. Which is why you didn't understand why this frat boy sat in front of you.

"Never seen you around sweetheart. Your freakishly tall but I can dig that. The name is Frankie. How about I show you around, could show you the Frankie train after if you want as well." He smirked at you, his overly inflated ego was what irked you.

"Oh you're mute? That's cool. Can't really say no then can you?" You looked at him with your face blank, but memories of what happened last year flashed though your mind. He reached forward but you gripped his and twisted it, your other hand reaching forward and slamming his head on the table extra hard for what he said. He yelped like a little bitch getting the attention of the people in the quad.

"One wrong move and I'll break your fucking hand. I'll give you one chance to walk away and leave me the fuck alone."

"Okay okay I'm sorry. Please let me go." He cried, his nose was bleeding from the slam and you felt satisfied at that. You pushed him away and let him go. He had fallen off his seat, he scrambled to his feet his face red with rage and embarrassment when he noticed everyone watching and some were laughing.

"You crazy fucking bitch."

You kept your straight face, he all but ran away and you continued with your work acting like nothing had happened. You kept on doing your work until it was time for your next class. After packing your things and heading to your class you saw a group sitting at a table looking your way. You spared them a glance your eyes connecting with chocolate brown eyes. She was beautiful. The most gorgeous girl you've ever seen. But you kept on walking.

*

After a long day of classes and your part time job you headed home. You had refused to share a dorm room with a stranger. So getting a apartment was the next thing you could do. The apartment was a solo room with a bathroom and good sized kitchen and living room. It was a great apartment and you loved it.

You walked into the building too see a man and woman kissing. But they quickly pulled away when you walked in. The man looked your way and gave you a slight nod. You returned the nod, the woman was pretty you can't deny. She looked up at you as you grew closer. Quickly making your way up the stairs towards your apartment.

"Hey you're the new chick." You looked up from your keys to see a pretty light skin girl with short hair. "Just wanted to say that you did every girl a favor today. The amount of times that asshole has tried something on every girl. It's insane. I'm Mindy by the way."

"Y-"

"Mindy hurry up I-Oh hi."

The same girl from earlier opened the door to see you. The beautiful brunette from earlier stood there. She was more beautiful up close. You took note of her freckles.

"Hi." You smiled slightly at the shorter girl. Your smile growing just a bit when you saw the blush. The brunette smiled at you, her blush still noticeable but she still seemed so confident.

"I'm Tara." Tara stepped forward of a smirking Mindy, holding out her hand for you to shake. Tara ignored her friend who been busy looking between the taller girl and herself.

"Y/n. Nice to meet you."

Tara just about melted to the floor when your hand engulfed her own. You were so tall. The way your eyes glimmered in the light was enough to hypnotize her. She looked up at you, liking the feeling of how you were looking at her. It made her feel warm inside. The sound of your name was so beautiful. You were so attractive. So handsome.

At the sound of clearing of the throat. You both jumped at the sound. Forgetting that Mindy was standing only a few feet away. You pulled away from Tara, you didn't want to but you also didn't want to seem like a creep.

"Well it was nice meeting you. But I have to start on my homework." You spoke, Tara mentally cooing at the sight of how red the tip of your ears got. The sight of the girl front of her now was a complete 180 from the girl she saw in the quad.

"Oh okay. It was nice to meet you as well." She spoke her eyes never leaving yours. It was like she hypnotized, she didn't want to move. She wanted to stay in your presence.

*

Tara looked at you from a distance. It had been a week since she met you. She had barely seen you around campus, the class she did have with you, you would always be the last one to show up (literally only seconds before the lecture started) and then you'd be the first one to leave the room. It was starting to get a little annoying.

Your once cold expression was back on your face. The gentle smile you showed her that day still plagued her mind. She watched how you ignored everyone especially the other jocks who have been on your ass for what you did to their running back. You didn't even look their way. This time she had sat in the chair where you regularly sit. Mindy sitting right beside her.

Her back straighten when she saw you walk in. With only seconds to spare. She watched as your eyes looked at her direction. Her heart hammering in her chest at seeing a little smile on your lips form. You walked to your chair and sat down right next to her. The chairs were so close to one another, that she got whiff of your perfume. You smelt so good. You looked so good. Your clothes fit you loosely. You had that baggy clothes aesthetic. The style fit you perfectly.

"Stop or you'll start drooling."

Tara felt her cheeks heat up bit as she nudged Mindy away from her.

"Hey."

The sound of your voice coming out in hushed whisper, seeing as the professor had already started his lecture. She couldn't help the smile that made it's way on her face. "Hi."

The class continued on and Tara spent most of her time sneaking glances towards you. Now that she was up close to you, she could take in your face features up close. Your eyes were a soft y/ec, she could also notice some light scars on your face. Now she wondered where you got them. Since she met you, you always wore clothes that covered your body. Long sleeves, sweaters, jackets. She couldn't help but to wonder why.

"You know you won't learn anything if you don't pay attention."

At the sound of your teasing voice her eyes widen a bit and she snapped her head back toward the professor. Her cheeks flaming red at the sound of your soft laugh and Mindy's laugh.

"Shut up. I was multitasking." She huffed, she had been caught ogling at you, feeling all of sudden hot and embarrassed.

*

This time after class you had packed your things slowly. Tara had done the same, Mindy had left right after to meet Anika. "So what class do you have next?" You asked as you stood up.

"I actually have some free time right now, what about you?" She hopped you also had some free time, cause she really wanted to be around you. She knew Sam wouldn't want her to be around someone she barely knows, alone. But there was just something about you that drew her in. Plus ghostface was gone. He had to be. Right?

"So do I. I go to the café not far from here to get something to eat while I study. You wanna come with?" You spoke in tome you hoped that didn't come off too hopeful. Your mom had told you not to trust people, you being too trustworthy was the reason you had almost died the year before. But there was just something about Tara that made you feel like you could trust her. The chances of the same thing happening to you again, was just low. Slim to zero. Right?

*

That's how your days were spent  after your first few classes. They were spent with Tara and sometimes Mindy with her girlfriend Anika. You had met Chad who was Mindy's twin. Along with Quinn and Ethan who were also siblings. Meeting so many people at the same time had made you a little anxious but you tried not to show it.

But Tara had noticed. The way you'd sit at the corner of the booth. Your eyes never looking away from your drink for a long periods of time. Your drink always staying close your body. Or how you'd always keep your answers short. Tara was starting to think you didn't like being around people. It would explain why you always had that 'don't talk to me' look you'd always have.

Although you seemed to relax more when Tara would keep being around you. Tara couldn't explain why she wanted to be around you. But she did and she liked your company. The way you'd relax around her joke and laugh around her. It was something she looked forward to every day.

Four months into the friendship you had with Tara,she had told you what happened to her last year. You couldn't believe she went through that, her own best friend doing that to her. Now you understood why her sister was so protective of Tara. You couldn't blame Sam. Sam had been the girl you saw kissing that guy, that one day. She had recognized you as well but you had kept your mouth shut seeing as she was keeping her relationship a secret. She had been stand-offish towards you as well but you understood. Really you did. You had been the same with everyone else as well. You may be tall but that hadn't stopped anyone before.

You had wanted to tell Tara what happened to you as well but something had stopped you. It wasn't cause you didn't trust. You just felt like it wasn't the right time. She had just told you her trauma, she had cried while she told you. It didn't feel right to tell her yours. So you didn't.

Now you understood why people around campus always looked at Tara and her friends. You never really paid attention to any of them. The scar Tara had on her hand, you didn't question it either. Or the little limp Tara had as well. Sometimes you couldn't really tell she had a limp. It wasn't until you took her to a carnival. With doing a lot of walking, you were able to tell. Without really pointing it out, you had offered a piggy back ride. She laughed and agreed. You saw the small look of relief in her eyes. So you had spent quite a while with her on your back. You had been grateful you picked back up on your gym routine.

You really didn't know who she or her friends were. You never did like the Stab movies and not to mention you had your problems last year.

Now any time you planned something that included walking you made sure to take breaks. You didn't want Tara hurting herself. Now that you knew what had happened to her. You also tried your best to make sure she felt safe.

You were in your apartment now, you had just gotten back from work and had headed straight to take a shower. Tara had texted earlier that she'd be stopping by to take you to her apartment for movie night. You recently given her your spare key. So she'd let herself in.

It wasn't long till Tara had let herself in your apartment. You had been taking too long, everyone was just waiting for you now. She walked further into the apartment. Freezing in her steps when she saw that bathroom door was opened. Your back was to her, she could see your back muscles but what really drew her attention was the light scars on your back. But what really made her stop in her tracks was the tattoo you had your ribcage. It was right under your boob.

DOD92822

She looked at the date, remembering the day like it had been yesterday. It had been the day she had been attacked by ghos-Amber. It had been the day she had thought she was going to die. Why did you have the date tattooed on your body.

"Shit Tara you scared me. I'm almost ready." You had your long sleeve shirt on now, along with some loose shorts. You hadn't noticed how Tara was yet move or say anything as threw your hair up in a messy bun. Finishing your routine and heading out of the bathroom. You only stopped when you noticed the look on Tara's face.

"Hey you okay?" You looked at Tara, growing a bit concern when she didn't say anything. "Tar?"

"What's-What's that?"

You looked at her confused, you looked around to see what she could possibly mean. She walked towards you, placing her hand over your tattoo causing you to straighten up. Breaking your gaze from her to step back. You shuffled on your feet, you weren't sure how to say it.

"Y/n?"

"Have you ever heard of someone named Rosalind Dyer?" You spoke not looking at her just yet. It would be the first time you ever told anyone. You weren't sure if you'd be able to keep your eyes dry if you looked into Tara's eyes.

"The name sounds familiar." Tara didn't know where she heard that name from.

"She's a famous female serial killer. Well turns out she had an apprentice." You moved to sit on the chair. Tara moving to sit in front of you. Now she knew where she heard of that name. She had only been freshman when they had found the first victims of Rosalind Dyer.

"He had kidnapped a few girls and gave them tattoos, before he'd put them in barrels. He had succeeded in doing it to three girls. I had been out with friends at the time. You know we had just won our state championship, we had fake I.Ds. So we went to a bar. There I met Caleb. He had been so nice. Kept on telling me he was a scout ucla and I had believed him. He had so much proof that he was. While I was talking to him about basketball. He slipped something in my drink and the next thing I knew I was strapped on a bed while he gave me the tattoo. The tattoo represented the day of death. I was being put in the barrel, he didn't like how much I was fighting him. He had punched, kicked, sliced his knife at me to force me in. It was a miracle the cops showed up when they did." You finished you'd have felt so grateful for those two cops that saved you that day.

"Uh I still need to save enough money to have the tattoo removed." You mumbled, your eyes still refused to look at Tara.

"The day I told you about what happened to me. Why didn't you say anything. You let me cry on your shoulder. I could have comforted you as well." Tara hadn't heard of what happened down in L.A. She had been too busy focusing on what was going in on Woodsboro. Not knowing that you also were also close to death last year. Not only did you have scars from the day like she did. But you had been branded as well by the psycho killer. Branded by the worst thing that had ever happened to you.

"I didn't think it was the right time Tara. That day was about you."

Tara's heart broke at the sight of tears filling your eyes. It had been the first time you were really vulnerable in front of her. Everything you did now made sense. How you didn't drink if you were out in public, how you always went for bottled water in parties or sometimes not even drink anything. Or how you'd hold her drinks, one hand always covering the top. Or how she'd drunkly try to grab any cups of beer she could get. You'd always stop her. Remembering the small glimpse of fear in your eyes.

She reached for your hands. Taking them in hers.

"Hey. I'm here for you to. Always Y/n. You're stuck with me." She stood up, standing in between your legs as she wrapped her arms around your shoulder and pulled you in. She felt your arms wrapping around her waist. It was no time for her to let the butterflies in her stomach to go crazy.  She wanted to show you the same comfort you showed her when she told you about Ghostface.

She wanted to be the one you felt safe around. Just like she felt safe around you. She felt you relax in her hold. She wanted to make sure you'd never feel like you couldn't tell her something.

*

"I'm assuming she told you."

Tara had stayed with you that night. She had held you like you held her that night she told you. You had fallen asleep on her chest and she couldn't help it but pull you closer. The following morning you had to go to your job and she said she had to go back to the apartment. So with a final hug, you both promised to see each other later.

At the sound of hearing her sisters voice as soon as she walked into her apartment had her jumping a few inches. "Jesus Sam. What the-Wait what do you mean told me? Told me what?"

Sam looked unsure now. If you didn't tell her about what happened, she'd be outing your own trauma and she didn't want to do that. She knew two of your secrets. The one had you pulling your drinks close to you and the one that had you blushing when ever she caught you staring too long at Tara.

"Never mind."

"No does it have to do with her living in L.A?" Tara was now confused cause if it does have what to do with that. How the hell did Sam know.

"Oh she did. Well come on Tara, of course I know. I had to know if she could be trusted. All I had to do was search up her name and a lot of articles from Los Angeles had her name in them." Sam had read a lot of articles and she was had gotten too much information. It was enough for her to feel horrible for reading so much about you. The picture they had of before you had gone missing, you had been so innocent looking. But then they showed one of how you looked after you were rescued. It really was heart wrenching.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Are you kidding. It wasn't my secret to tell. Although it wasn't really a secret, I'm sure she had her reasons. Just like we do. We have our own reasons why we don't go around telling people we survived Ghostface attacks." Sam trying to come to her own defense.

"Yea I know. I just want to be there for her. Like how she was there for me." Tara sat on a chair next to the table. Sam sighed and sat in front of her.

"Just keep doing what your doing Tara. I can tell she trusts you. And her  trust is not misplaced. I'm positive yours isn't either. You both have been through something traumatic. Just be patient." Sam reached over and took her sister's hands in hers.

"I really like her Sam." Tara said her eyes filling with tears. Her emotions were all over the place. That fear she felt, the thought of never getting chance to meet you.

"Hey, she likes you to dumbass." At the sight of the bewildered look she got in return made her laugh.

"Really?"

"Geez you really are dumb. Have you not seen the girl. Cold towards literally everyone else but with you, huge softie. A girl literally flirted with her, talking about how cold she was and how she would love someone's jacket. The second you said you were cold, which I know you said it on purpose. She hands you her jacket." Sam rolled her eyes at the sight of Tara's sheepish blush.

"Trust me Tara she feels the same way."

*

Since you've told tara the truth she's been mostly the same. Just like how you became a little bit more protective of her after she told you about ghostface. She had also grown to be just bit mor as protective of you. Tara had always been affectionate but now she was holding your hand in public, hugging you, holding you. Her physical touch had your heart racing. You love Tara. You were sure, no you were positive that you are in love with her. You just didn't want your feelings to ruin what you hav with Tara.

You were sat in the corner of the library with Tara. You both had some free time, so in the mean time you both were goofing off. Holding laughs that made it even funnier when you would look at each other. You couldn't help to laugh as Tara turned red from trying to hold in her laughter. You needed to calm her down before she had an asthma attack. You could her wheeze as she laughed. You pulled out the spare inhaler you carried with you. You had Tara give you one, since you had a scare at the start of the friendship when she had an asthma attack didn't know what was happening until she took out her inhaler.

"Stop." You held back your laugh as you held out the inhaler for her to take.

Tara took the inhaler and used to it. Once she caught her breath she wiped the tears. She still had her giggles and she had been leaning on you from laughing so hard.

You felt your heart beat pick up just a bit when she leaned back into you. Her head resting on your shoulder. It had been a bit cold in the library while you both had started working on your assignments. So you had given her your hoodie for her to wear. You had your long sleeves underneath, you had seen the goosebumps on Tara's arms and you didn't want her to get cold. She had taken the hoodie with some eagerness and put it on. You smiled at the sight of your hoodie engulfing her in your clothing. Your hoodie was really big on her.

Tara had not been cold. She had gotten the goosebumps from how close you were. She had wanted to lean into your warm embrace. You had thought she was cold. And now she was surrounded by your scent. She had pulled the hoodie close to her body. You were totally not getting the hoodie back. It was so warm, so soft and just so you.

"So I've bee-There you two are. I've been looking everywhere. Don't make any planes for later. We've been invited to a party and we're all going." Mindy interrupted you. You deflated a bit knowing very well that Tara would want to go to the party. Even though Sam didn't like when she'd go out. You didn't either but you'd go to make sure Tara and her friends were safe.

It wasn't long till they were all in your apartment getting ready. It was a Halloween party, Tara had dressed up as a pirate and she had you dressing up as one as well. Although you were dressed more like Will Turner from Pirates of the Caribbean. You didn't want to but you agreed never the less when it came to

Tara.

"Oh you guys look so cute." Anika gushed from her seat as Tara fixed your hat. You blushed when Tara smirked your way, her eyes twinkling in the lights from your apartment.

"Nika take a picture of us." Tara handed her phone to Anika. She then moved back to you pulling your close. Her arms wrapped around your waist as your loved to around her shoulders pulling her closer.

Anika took the pictures and more. Smirking when she caught the moment when you looked down at Tara and Tara had looked back up at you. The moment being captured by Anika and she couldn't feel any more proud of herself.

The walk towards the party was pretty light. Tara stayed by your side, her fingers interlocked with yours. You stood tall next to her, just cause she had seen your softer side, didn't everyone else got to.

The party had already been in full swing by the time they arrived. You watched as tara served herself a drink and grabbed a bottled water for you. You tried to relax but you never really liked going to parties. You had told Tara you had to go to the bathroom. She nodded standing up to follow you. You sat her down with a hand on the shoulder.

"I'll be fine. Stay with Mindy I won't be long."

Even though tipsy, she hesitated to let you leave by yourself. She hated how over bearing Sam had become and she didn't want you to feel like that. She stayed in her seat watching you leave. She knew the line for the down stairs bathroom was long. So maybe you'd go upstairs. And you did. So you wouldn't last too long. She watched as you disappeared upstairs. She counted down the minutes, standing up to wait for you by the stairs. As she made her to the stairs, she was stopped.

"You're looking quite sexy Tara. Wanna go upstairs so I can show you my hook."

Tara groaned in annoyance. She had just about enough of the guy standing in front of her. He had tried so hard to get her attention the moment they moved to New York. She had done everything to avoid him. And he would stay when you were around. He wouldn't out right say it but was afraid of you. But there were times when she'd be alone and he'd try to talk her up.

"Leave me alone Frankie."

She moved to go around him but was stopped by his hand grabbing her wrist. He tried to lead her up stairs and she had been a little more tipsy than she had thought. Her balance was off and had fallen if the douche bag wasn't holding her.

"Hey man, Tara's good down here." Chad had reached for Tara's wrist but Frankie had pulled her away.

"Sorry bro I didn't catch that." Frankie took a step down he smug attitude in place.

You had been turning to walk down the steps, the bathroom upstairs also a line but wasn't as long as the one downstairs. You stopped right behind the guy that you had slammed his face on the table. You couldn't be bothered to remember his name.

"Yea you did. Now let her go." With being step or two above him you stood extremely over him. Your eyes went down to the wrist that the douche bag had a hold of. You saw the shift of his attitude the way he clenched his dad. The hold he tara tightening. The wince coming from tara was enough for your to react.

Making the finals steps to him as you moved stand between Tara and the frat boy. Your hand gripping the hand that held Tara's. "I said let her go."

With a mocking laugh he let go, you also let him go. You didn't think he'd do something else. But you were proven wrong, before you could even blink his left fist connected with your cheek. The force of the punch had caused you to lose your balance and fall down a few steps before Chad caught you.

"You fucking asshole."

You had heard Tara curse the guy out. But then it was followed by a loud groan and another person tumbling down the steps. Chad had moved you both out of the way of falling frat boy. Everyone in the party laughed at the boy as clutched on to his balls.

"Oh my god are you okay. Let me see." Tara had sobered up pretty quickly when you been punched. She had felt this, anger in her. She had never felt like this. But actually seeing you get hurt right in front of her had her seeing red. She moved with a purpose, to cause any type of pain towards Frankie. And that's what she did she made sure to use the tip of her heels. The satisfaction of seeing him cry in pain as he fell to the floor.

Seeing you standing there in shock and a hint of amusement in your eyes had her snapping her attention back to you. Cupping your cheeks to see the damage done on your pretty face. With the lights house being shitty she took your hand on hers, picking up your fallen pirate hat.

Once out side under a street light she stopped taking in your slightly red cheek bone.

"Ugh that asshole. I'm going to-Hey I'm okay. Are you okay? You were dragged upstairs. I should of have been there with you." You stopped her from talking. Feeling a little guilty for not stopping that douche bag.

"Hey it's not your fault. Frankie is douche and a total creep." Tara gently rubbed her thump over the redness of your cheek bone.

You couldn't help the smile and them a small laugh. "Man. His face was too funny when you went full on Messi on his balls." At the sight of Tara's proud smile you let out a full on laugh. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Man Tara that was awesome."

"Thank you thank you." She stated in a confident voice standing straight while wrapping her arm wound your waist. She had laughed as well, she was thankful that nothing today had brought any bad memories your way.

Her smile faltered a bit when she noticed how close both of your faces were. She had seen the moment you realized the closeness as well. Her skipping a beat at the sight of your eyes looking into her and then down to her lips. She moved a little closer, hoping she had read the signs right. She really hoped she did. Seeing you look back into her eyes with only inches keeping her lips off yours. The look in your eyes was enough for her to make the final move.

The moment her lips touched yours, was enough for her to die of happiness. Your lips had been as soft as they looked. The way you cupped her cheeks, she gripped your shirt in her fists pulling you as close as she could. She faintly taste your cheery chapstick and didn't know she could love cherry so much. Loving the way you held her. The way your lips moved against hers. The way your lips had dominated hers without even trying.

She smiled into the kiss, causing you to smile in return pulling away from the kiss.

"Wait you're not drunk are you. Oh my god I just too-Shut up. I'm not drunk and you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that." She smiled up at you. Her dimples on full display when you smiled back down at her.

From a distance Tara’s friends stood with happy smiles on their faces. It was about damn time that the two of you got together.

The two of you deserved each other.

:)

[dreamwatch]

Looking California, Feeling Indiana

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #28 - Prompt: Back To Indiana | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: chronic illness | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: pre-Steddie, broken dreams, band break up

(I’m laptop-less tonight so hoping typos etc aren’t too bad - I’ll fix them tomorrow 😆)

The logistics of getting home are left to Jeff. They have a van that might get them from California to Indiana, a station wagon that should get them there, but six years worth of possessions and equipment into a van and station wagon doesn’t go. They sell a load of their shit before heading home. It’s not like they need most of it anyway.

It’s a sombre journey, so different to the one they made to Los Angeles six years ago, so full of hope and excitement, one step closer to their dream. They could have stayed and just built lives there, grounded ones, sensible jobs, sensible hours, sensible lives. But Eddie needed to go back, even if it was just for a few months; he’s twenty seven in a few weeks and he feels like a seventy year old. New aches over old hurts, mystery illnesses slowing him down.

(He knows they’re Upside Down related, knows no one can do anything about them, and knows they’re getting worse. He hates knowing things.)

The Welcome To Hawkins sign looks new; Wayne said it still gets vandalised from time to time, a new one in its place the next morning, reckons they’re buying them in bulk.

Jeff drops Eddie off first because Wayne’s waiting around to see him and get his shit inside before he has to get to work. He’s sixty five now. He shouldn’t be working in that fucking plant anymore. How many times did Eddie say one day Wayne, you’ll see. Useless fucking liar.

They hug, they eat, Wayne looks him over with a sigh; he’s too thin, too pale, leaning on that cane a little too heavily. Eddie knows it comes from love but it’s a lot.

Wayne grabs his keys and his lunch box. “Steve called, by the way. Numbers on the fridge.” There’s a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s good to have you home, Bub.”

Bub. Wayne hasn’t called him that in years, and Eddie smiles to himself, surprised at how much he missed it.

He calls Steve, yeah journey was okay, no roads were fine, yeah all settled in. Steve tells him he’s coming to get him, they’re going for dinner, no arguments and he finds he has in fact no intention of arguing.

Steve looks good. He seems broader, hair is longer which thrills Eddie, and the wire rimmed glasses are like a glacé cherry on the cake that is Steve Harrington.

He gets a whistle stop tour of his friend’s lives, Steve so proud of all their achievements. Tells him Hawkins is different now, friendlier, more welcoming. Happier.

They pick at fries, Steve pushing his pickles to the side of the plate for Eddie. Eddie does his best to hide his smile.

“How are you? You look…”

“‘Tired and too thin’ according to my dear, beloved uncle.”

“I was going to say ‘good’, actually, asshole.”

He grabs a fry from Steve’s plate, drags it through Steve’s milkshake. “Don’t lie to me, Steven.”

“Wayne told me, about your health, the band splitting up. I’m really sorry, man. That fucking blows.”

“Thanks,” he says with a wan smile. “It does indeed blow.”

“You know you probably just need some rest. Give it six months, and you’ll all be back in LA, tearing the place up. You were so close, man.”

He snorts, a humourless laugh. “Yeah, not so much actually.”

Steve leans back in the booth, arm hooked over the back

“Bullshit. You had label guys there just a couple of months ago, and it’s slow, remember you said yourself, it takes time, you don’t just get signed overnight.”

“Steve,” and he says it gently, because Steve means well, and he’s supported them, financially at times, when he was too embarrassed to call Wayne. Steve would send a check or wire him money. And even thinking about that makes this so much harder. 

“There was no label guy. There’s never been a label guy. Or girl, for that matter.”

Steve frowns at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”

And this is it, isn’t it? This is the moment he has to release it into the world.

“I’m going to tell you something nobody else knows. Not even Wayne.”

Steve leans forward, arms crossed on the table. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“We failed, Steve. We failed. The last gig we played was about nine months ago, some frat house party Gareth found for us. It was shit. Because we were shit.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Steve. We didn’t have a hope in fucking hell. Do you know how many bands there are in LA? How few of those ever get a sniff of a record deal.” He shrugs, casual. The sting from the hurt doesn’t burn quite as much as it used to. “We just weren’t good enough, that’s all.”

Eddie watches as the cogs in Steve’s head turn, trying to lock into place. “But your health…”

“Is not great. I didn’t lie about that. But, I leant into it. It’s easier to blame a bum leg and chest infections than admit you’ll never achieve your dream because you’re not talented enough and you’re fucking delusional.”

“You are talented,”

“We’re not. Or, not enough, anyway.”

“What are you gonna do? What are they gonna do?” 

“Wayne’s trying to find me work at the plant. Jeff is talking about community college. Matt will probably go work for his dad. Gareth’s probably going to go to Indy, find a band there. Good luck to him.”

Steve drives him home, actual home now, not that dirty little apartment in LA, but a place where he’ll always be wanted. Will always be good enough. 

They pull up outside the trailer, and Steve reaches over, grabbing Eddie’s hand. It’s clumsy and awkward, but the intent is clear. Trying to pick things up where they left them.

“It’s good to have you home, man.”

“It’s good to be home.”

He’s surprised to find he means it.

[letsgetrowdy43]

What to expect when you're expecting ☆—

Finally got around to writing how our faves, Honey and Quinner handled their first-ever expectancy with Warren Hughes, ft. their wedding

warnings: mentions of pregnancy/birth, sickness, swearing, lmk anything else

Au Masterlist!!

“Close your eyes, Jack, please don't ruin the surprise,” the girl laughed as she placed her hand over his eyes which he refused to keep shut, her other hand swatting him in the shoulder as Ellen scolded her middle child.

Quinn and Honey quietly walked around the living room to retrieve the Christmas presents they hid from the entire Hughes family. Tiny shadow boxes for the Hughes and one for each of Honeys family who they would be visiting later in the day. Little displays of sonograms paired with baby onesies, sat perfectly behind a layer of glass, Honey grinned as she placed one on the boy's laps and a shared one for Jimmy and Ellen. A tiny Michigan onesie paired with a sonogram for Luke, a Devils for Jack, and one that said “the newest member of team Hughes” on it for Jim and Ellen

It was perfect.

“I’m so excited,” Ellen said as she felt the cool glass of her gift, secretly hoping for something homemade from the couple, loving the more thought-out gifts compared to anything else.

Luke let out a sigh as he awaited being allowed to simply open his eyes, “can we look now?” the built-up suspense was beginning to kill him. Quinn shook his head with a laugh, “You can now,” taking a deep breath as he took his spot next to Honey on the carpet. Intertwining their fingers as she leaned her head against his shoulder, he placed a kiss on the crown of her head as all of the remaining Hughes family members let out gasps.

“You’re kidding!” Ellen it for a moment longer before putting the gift in Jim’s lap and hopping out of her spot on the couch and hugging the two of them.

Tears in her eyes as she swayed them back and forth, “I’m crying, my babies,” she wiped her tears and pulled away to look Honey in the eyes, “Are you showing?”

Honey shrugged as she uncovered the slight bump, “I’m only about five weeks, which is kinda early to announce it to you guys but I just couldn't wait, I kinda just look bloated,” she joked as she looked back to Jack who had tears in his eyes.

Luke’s jaw was dropped and Jack was extremely emotional as the couple turned their attention to them. “We’re gonna be uncles,” Luke said with a growing smile as he got up and hugged Honey, “holy shit you guys are gonna have a baby” "yeah we are," Quinn mumbled as a teary-eyed Jack lunged forward to hug his older brother.

"I thought I was gonna have the best gifts this year," he joked as Honey let out a laugh, the boy turning to her and diving at her and capturing her in a hug, "this is the best present ever!"

☆☆☆☆

"Honey, are you two sure you want to have the wedding before you have the baby? No one is forcing you to get married before," her mom said as she looked at the template for the invitation in her email. Honey let out a sigh as she sat bundled up in a blanket on the couch, Quinn was out on a roadie as she was tucked away in the house trying to get started with the planning on their wedding, "I just really want to marry him, mom, it was happening soon with or without the baby," she huffed and shut the laptop.

This had been a topic of conversation with not only her mother, but her father, and a few of her work friends. Seemingly the most tiring conversation she'd ever had, seeing as everyone believed the two only wanted to get married because of the baby, which was not the case. Honey and Quinn already knew that their end game was marriage, it was something they both dreamt about in the near future, already having it planned out months before the proposal or the baby.

"I know honey, you guys are in love, I just don't want you to stress yourself out and something happen to you or the baby," she said softly, trying to reason with her daughter who had been contrary as of late and filled with pregnancy hormones. "I know," she took a sip of her tea, "I just feel like we've been having this conversation for weeks and I haven't changed my thoughts on it, and I'm not stressed, I've looked into a planner to help me with everything, and Quinn is just a dream, per usual." "well as long as you have it under control, I can't wait to see you walk down the aisle,” her mom said in a gentle tone as she settled in bed next to Honey’s father.

“Speaking of walking down the aisle, I really want you and Ellen here when I try on my dress, I’ll pay for your ticket, I really want my mom there to help me pick out the dress for the big day,” honey smiled as she listened to the excited squeal her mom let out on the other end.

“Of course, I’ll be there sweetheart whenever you need me there, I’ll be on the first flight out,” she said contently

☆☆☆☆

Quinn grinned as he watched Honey unpack her grandmother's vintage jewellery, a smile on her face as she looked up and Quinn as she picked up her rehearsal dinner dress and laid it out on the hotel bed, "we are gonna be husband and wife in less than twenty-four hours" "I know, I'm so excited," he smiled as he propped himself up on his elbow, his hand motioning for her to lean down so he could press a kiss to her lips.

"you getting cold feet yet?" she questioned with a smirk as she pulled away from his lips, smiling at the way he chased her for another kiss. "I could never, maybe a little nervous, but not because I'm marrying you, that's all I've ever wanted," he confessed with a nervous laugh as she flushed at the response, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her onto the bed, laid right on top of him. "Good"

"Have you picked a best man yet?" Honey asked as he peppered kisses on her cheek, "You've been putting it off." "Well since we've decided to name our firstborn after Luke I think it's only appropriate to make Jack the best man, plus Luke didn't write a speech for the reception and Jack did so I think he should be rewarded for that," he said halting the soft kisses to look at her jaw as he held her face in his hands just staring at her for a second, taking in that last few alone moments they were gonna have before their week-long honeymoon in Italy before they headed back to Michigan for the start of off-season training and getting ready for the arrival of their baby boy.

"I can't wait for tomorrow, Mrs Hughes." A wide grin danced on her lips as she collapsed next to him on the bed, "I think I just swooned" she whispered as she placed a kiss on his shoulder, his hand finding comfort on her now-showing stomach.

☆☆☆☆

“Quinn is going to bawl his eyes out when he sees you,” Ellen said with tears in her eyes as she straightened the flower crown that sat on top of Honey's head, “my only daughter,” she said, trying to hold back the tears that were bound to fall. “Thank you, Ellen, for everything,” Honey whispered with a smile, choking back tears as she hugged her mother-in-law.

The bride pulled away, fanning her face as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill, “have you seen Quinn this morning?” “He’s been itching to see you all morning” she laughed as she fixed the vintage necklace that hung from the bride's neck, a smile on her lips as she looked up at the blue earrings that hung from her ears, Hughes family heirlooms.

Honey smiled warmly, as she thought about how nervous Quinn must be, knowing how much he hates photos and public speaking. Wondering if he had as equally a rough sleep as her without her occupying her side of the mattress.

“I miss him” “Girl it’s been twelve hours, you will see him soon,” one of Honey’s cousins spoke from behind her as Ellen smiled from ear to ear. “I should go make sure my other two sons are being behaved,” Elle said as she squeezed Honey’s hand and went to find Luke, Jack, and Jim.

The conversations in the room grew louder and louder as the anticipation for the big moment grew, with every second Honey’s nerves seemed to triple.

“I’m gonna get some air,” the bride mumbled to her mom and wedding planner. “I’ll escort you outside,” Sheila, her planner offered with a smile as her mom rubbed her back. “No no, I’m just nauseous, probably just the baby,” she said pointing at her stomach as she excused herself into the hall trying to find the nearest exit to the vineyard to get some air.

The backs of her hands pressed against her cheeks, flushed with nerves as she stumbled upon a man sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. “You sure you’re not getting cold feet?” Honey asked with a smile as Quinn looked up at her, lost for words as she shuffled forward and took a seat next to him. “I’m uh- you look, god I can’t even explain how beautiful you look” he finally looked her in the eyes, his face flushed shyly. “You look very handsome as well,” she mumbled as her hands reached forward and straightened the tie on his neck, then racked her fingers through his hair to return it to his previously styled look.

Quinn's eyes bounced around her face as examined the way the dress sat perfectly on her silhouette, accentuating her bust and waist, all while perfectly concealing her baby bump. Hair falling just perfectly past her shoulders, the flower crown on her head making her eyes look warm and soft. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” He asked as he reached out for her hand, her head leaning against his shoulder as they watched their guests starting to arrive. She shrugged, “Probably, but I don’t care, I needed this,” Honey whispered as she lifted his hand up to kiss his knuckles, her other hand resting on her stomach as she took a deep breath.

"You have trouble sleeping last night?" she asked as she looked up at him. Quinn laughed and nodded, Honey's stomach did flips as she drank in his laugh, "I was so anxious all night, not to mention Trevor and Jack's loud snoring throughout the night."

“You're about to be my wife,” he grinned, as he stared up at the sun peaking through the leaves of the trees. "I know, I can't wait," she said with a quiet squeal before she looked at the watch on Quinn's wrist, "I should probably get back for pictures," she said quietly as Quinn nodded and stood up with her. "See you in an hour, Mrs. Hughes," he said with a smile as she flushed and headed back inside the venue.

☆☆☆☆ "Quinn," she gasped and tensed up, her hand trying to find him, "he's kicking me!" she squealed quietly, pushing his shoulder, attempting to wake him up.

The two of them had gotten back from their trip to Italy, beautifully tanned and very jetlagged, excited to get back to Michigan to start getting ready for their baby boy.

Quinn tired rolled over, his hands raking through his curls as he nuzzled his face into her cheek, “what’s wrong?” Honey rolled her eyes and took ahold of his hand, placing it on her lower stomach, Quinn fully awoke in seconds, his eyes widened as he looked up from the bump to the exasperated smile dancing on his wife's lips.

"He's kicking," he said in a state of shock as the baby finally settled, "he's so perfect already," he sigh and laid back down on his pillow, still facing Honey as she yawned. "I'm so excited to meet him," Honey mumbled as she felt Quinn's lips press against her shoulder, a soft smile on her lips as Quinn wrapped an arm around her torso. A short hum of the agreement left Quinn's mouth as he snuggled into her side, she finally settled down, her hand intertwined with the one he draped over her mid-drift as she closed her eyes and let sleep take over.

☆☆☆☆

Ellen squealed as she shorted through the array of baby clothes that were currently taking up the entire guest bedroom closet, tiny gender-neutral outfits (I like the idea that Honey and Quinn keep the baby's gender between themselves, kinda like a little intimate secret all to themselves), muted orange and yellow onesies laid out of the bed. Honey and Ellen began to pack her hospital bag for the approaching day, only three weeks away, and soon a new Hughes baby would be welcomed into the world.

"You getting excited?" Ellen asked as she sorted through all of the gifts from the baby shower, bags of baby blankets, diapers, soothers, and so many other baby essentials. Honey smiled as she began folding and organizing all of the baby's outfits, "I'm so excited, but I'm so scared at the same time," she said in a soft tone as Ellen stopped in her tracks. the older woman sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her, "I'm all ears if you want to talk it through, I've been through this three times now so I can walk you through all of it," she said as she encouragingly rubbed her daughter-inlaws shoulder. Honey sighed, "I'm fine with birth, I'm just so scared of the after, I sometimes feel incapable to take care of myself so I'm just scared to let him down."

Ellen shook her head, and smiled, "All new moms feel like that, you're going in blind, so it's totally normal to be intimidated" she said hugging the young woman, "but I promise you I will be here whenever you need me, I'm just a plane away, and I mean whenever."

Honey's eyes began to water as she hugged her mother-in-law back, "Thank you, Ellen, for the support, and the love over the years." "hun, you've been my family for nearly ten years, I will always be in your corner," Ellen said, tears now in her eyes as she pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek, "you have any problem at all, even if it's regarding my son, call me and I will handle it."

☆☆☆☆

Quinn and Honey were out to breakfast the morning of August 29th, and the entire day from that breakfast and well into the afternoon felt off. Breakfast ended abruptly when Honey began to get angsty, that strong nesting instinct that the doctors had warned about was now in full swing, needing to be as close to home as possible at all times just in case. A strong need for everything to be clean and prepared for the moment the baby came, she felt off at all times. Tired and nauseous as her due date snuck up on her.

It was just after dinner when her water broke, Honey had opted out of laying in bed to sit back and admire Quinn while he trained with his brothers in their garage. "Fuck," she gasped as she stood up and one of the first contractions hit, "Quinn, we need to go," she said looking down at her maternity overalls. Quinn, Jack, and Luke all looked up confused before seeing the fear that rested behind her eyes, followed by a hiss of pain as she sat back down, doing breathing exercises as she waited for this contraction to pass.

"shit, shit, okay" Quinn walked over to her and lowered himself to be face-to-face with her, "can I help walk you to the car?" he asked as his hands held her face in them. "yes please" she cried as she squeezed his wrist. "Jack you go get me the keys and the go bag which is in the entrance closet," Quinn demanded, watching as Jack went from shocked to running in the direction of the house, "Luke call Mom and Dad, and Hun's parents," Luke nodded and immediately had the phone up to his ear.

"Are you ready for this pretty girl?" he said brushing the hair out of her face. Honey nodded slowly as her eyes squinted, wincing in pain. "Then let's go have this baby"

☆☆☆☆

Warren was born early the next morning, after nearly twelve hours of intense labour, Quinn nearly passing out from anxiety, and many other bumps in the road that the nurses kept referring to as the 'miracles of birth'.

"He's here!" the Doctor announced as she wiped the little boy off and placed him right onto Honey's chest, tears rolling down her face as she examined her little boy's face. She looked up at Quinn with tears in her eyes, "we did it!" she whispered as her thumb ran over the soft skin of the baby's back. "That was all you Hun, I was just here holding your hand," Quinn said with tears in his eyes as he leaned down and placed a kiss on his wife's lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears as he pulled away to look adoringly at his son and wife. "You almost passed out," the young woman smirked, mockingly, as Quinn laughed and wiped his tears away.

Quinn silently sobbed the moment the nurse suggested that Quinn did skin-on-skin with the infant, barely able to wrap his mind around the idea that this little baby was his. a product of his love for his wife and a new direction in his life. "you okay love?" Honey asked as she watched the boy silently cry, exhaustion filling her voice as she looked over to her husband and baby. "yeah I'm okay," he assured before going silent once again.

Jack and Luke were the final immediate family members to come into the delivery room after the birth, smiles on their faces and bouquet of flowers in their hands as they knocked on the door. "Wash your hands." was the first thing that left Quinn's mouth as he opened the door for his brothers. Happy smiles took over their faces as she saw Honey holding the little bundle in her arms.

"Sooo what's their name?" Jack grinned as he was motioned to sit on the recliner next to the bed, tears filling his eyes as Quinn placed the small baby in his arms. "Meet Warren Haye Hughes, our first son" Honey smiled as she looked over to a shocked Luke, his face going from some form of shy into a dropped jaw as he leaned forward and hugged his sister-in-law. Luke pulled still in shock, "you're serious?" he questioned while turning to his oldest brother and pulling him into a tighter hug. "never been more serious in my life Moosey," Quinn said in tears, this new fatherhood thing had made him extremely soft in the past three hours.

No one paid attention to Jack as he mumbled quiet promises to the baby, tears rolling down his cheeks as the baby's hand reached out and took hold of the tip of his finger.

"My turn?" Luke said with a grin as he looked between the new parents for some sort of confirmation. Jack looked up with furrowed brows, "I just got to meet him though" Quinn tapped Jack on the shoulder, "I want to talk to you in the hall, so hand him over and you can hold him when we get back," Quinn motioned towards the door, looking over to Honey who smiled at him with rosy cheeks. "Okay"

Jack followed his older brother into the hallway, a confused expression on his face as Quinn shut the door behind him, "congrats by the way, I'm proud of you," Jack said lowly, being careful not to disrupt any of the hospital staff or sleeping people waiting for their family members. "Thanks," Quinn said with a grin.

"Honey and I have been discussing godparents for a while and the first name we both decided on was you, we want you to be Warren's godfather" Quinn barely got to finish his little speech before Jack pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "Holy shit Quinn, of course," he said as Quinn hugged him back, "I will do everything possible to make sure he's always safe and loved" The tears began to start up again as he finally pulled away from his big brother's hold.

"I can't believe you're a dad," Jack said as he readjusted his hat and patted his brother on the back. "I know," he mumbled as he opened the door to see his wife and little brother laughing as they admired the baby, "it's fucking surreal."

-

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[obsidianpen]

OP! I don't usually submit asks bc I'm awkward af but I just wanna say thank you for Blood and Gold! I read 70++ novels last year and while I loved some of them, B&G was my favourite thing i read in 2025 lol.

Just wanna say. Like damn. How are you able to consistently write so much? You're amazing. I'm currently knee-deep in a novel manuscript, and I'm feeling really burnt out already and I'm only at 68k words. But I've seen you consistently update B&G over the months and it's incredible

Thanks again, and I'm sending best wishes/good vibes your way!

Awww that’s so nice, thank you!!

and that wasn’t always the case for B&G! I only wrote it sporadically for years because I had so many other projects going on, most of which weren’t even writing related (although I had several of those as well), and I didn’t write at all for a few years when I was getting my Masters. I didn’t start to focus more on B&G until recently (and I still do have other projects going on lol but less of them!).

as for focusing though… man it’s a different world, writing the manuscript of an original novel. I’ve written a couple original stories, and it’s much harder for a lot of reasons. Building a world and a cast of characters from scratch is absolutely a much greater challenge. And you don’t have the built in support system and cheerleaders like you do when you post on ao3. Getting nice comments and feedback is a HUGE motivator when working on a long story. When you’re working on a novel, trying to hash out an entire book, hopes up on your laptop (or phone in my case, I cry) for hours and days and weeks and months on end, alone, it’s easy to get in your own head and lose steam. And for good reason. You hear all the time about how many manuscript submissions get rejected, so it really is hard to not convince yourself you’re just wasting your time. I don’t have a magic solution to power through that - I’m in it with you, honestly. I’m about to start all over and write my second draft for a story I already wrote (I did not realize this was a normal part of the process; I cry). It sounds corny, but I think writers really really really do just have to believe in themselves, otherwise we’ll never write the damn thing at all. Maybe we even have to be a little (very) delusional for like… a long time lmao. “Of course this is genius!! Of course I’ll get it published someday!!!!” Gas yourself up the same way you would your bestie - maybe even enlist a bestie to read your WIP specifically to gas you up as you go!! There will be plenty of time for mental anguish, wallowing, and editing (and more editing, and more editing 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠) later!!!!

Sooooo… here: You’re a genius!!! You’re a writing god!!!! You will do the world a massive disservice if you don’t finish your manuscript!!!!!! Your words and story are important and I believe in you!!!! If some other asshats can publish their mediocre books, then you can definitely write and publish your amazing one!!!!!! You can do it!!!!

[ms-demeanor]

how do i find a laptop that won't immediately break when (not if) it slides off the tray on my lap while I'm reaching for a pencil or something? I thought I was buying something relatively robust with my current laptop but it's gotten damaged twice in two years, even though I was trying hard to be careful. Any tips on where to shop for something more durable?

Anyway your tech explainers are very helpful, have a good day!

Generally speaking, laptops are built to be lightweight, not durable.

If I had unlimited money to spend on a computer, I'd get a Panasonic Toughbook maxxed out on all the specs and I'd end up with a computer that cost more than some cars I've owned and would be totally worth it. I actually own two 20+ year old toughbooks that are totally worth it and Large Bastard owns several (we paid between 0 and $100 for each of these), but those are all old enough that they're dedicated to a single task like programming radios, not useful as modern computers. A new Toughbook starts at around $2k and goes up to obscene prices.

This is a laptop that costs more than any car I've ever owned, and will survive a fall of fifty feet and can be used fairly effectively in a thunderstorm.

Because laptops are built to be slender and small, they don't have a lot of room left in them to flex or to pad against drop damage. If a laptop is sliding off your lap and onto the floor, that's probably a fall of at least two feet, which will be enough to significantly damage most laptops because they are not meant to withstand falls.

If you are certain that you are going to end up dropping your laptop, you need to look for ruggedized laptops.

There are low-end ruggedized laptops for students, these are typically chromebooks and I wouldn't recommend them because they are chromebooks and also they tend to be really underpowered.

Toughbooks are the highest, high-end ruggedized laptops. If you've got the money for them, you can't do better, and there are some that are decent when compared to similarly priced slim laptops.

The Dell Latitude 5430 Rugged is somewhere in between those two options; it's expensive but not extortionate and it's not the most powerful computer in the world but it'll do laps around a chromebook.

But if you're looking for a thin, lightweight laptop that is going to survive a fall, I'm just going to recommend that you upgrade your warranty to include drop protection and anticipate it breaking. Laptops aren't designed to survive falls.

Laptops that are in metal cases tend to do a little better in falls than laptops in plastic cases. Laptops with nothing plugged in during a fall are less likely to get damaged than laptops with USB or power jacks in use.

Good luck, and you have a good day as well!