#BONUS CONTENT HOURS BOYS

[darksigns-exe]

Sweet Like Honey - Caught In The Rain

Warnings: None Word Count: 715 Note: I wrote this at the beginning of the month with the intention of of churning out little fics all month. Evidently that didn’t happen. But here’s a little Sweet Like Honey bonus content for your entertainment. It’s basically unedited so don’t come for me and my bad punctuation. Regular chapters continue this week she’s been a bit busy <3

-

Under normal circumstances, PDA isn’t his style but he also knows that Bee loves a good romcom and if he can give her that cheesy, cliche kiss in the rain moment, he’ll do his damndest to make her knees buckle.

Noah has a whole day for them planned. It’s their one day off for the week and Bee’s time off is nearing its end, meaning that they’ll be separated again way too soon. The first half of the day goes as planned, they look at sights, have a nice little lunch, do some more sightseeing. It’s surprisingly normal, if someone spots them they don’t make contact for which Noah is more than grateful. He luxuriates in her presences, allows himself to just be Noah the boyfriend who gets dragged around Boston so that his lady can look at all the pretty things. It’s nice enough. He takes her picture whenever she asks and even when she doesn’t. He keeps the candids to himself for the most part, pretty little reminders of his girl when she goes back home. 

She’s dragged him into some little shop with little handmade trinkets. He doesn’t know how many of these shops they’ve already been to, but it makes her happy so he trudges along no matter how much he’d rather slip beneath the sheets of their bed right now. The twinkling in her eyes when she holds one of the little things she’s found up to him makes it worth it. 

By the time they leave the story he’s a good fifty bucks lighter, but Bee has that little spring in her step and so he forgets about it. Fifty dollars doesn’t hurt his wallet anymore. He barely notices that the air has a significant chill now and if Bee notices it, it doesn’t seem to bother her. 

When the first drop of rain hits his forehead they’re still a solid thirty minutes away from their hotel. Within no time one drop turns into a full on downpour that soaks them down to the bone in mere moments. He tries to shield her from the rain as best as he can while they maneouver the packed streets.

Noah pulls them under an awning, hoping that they’ll be able to wait out the worst of it. They’re soaked anyway so it doesn’t matter too much, but he doesn’t need either of them getting sick right now. 

Bee’s hand is still wrapped firmly around his when they find a free spot between the other soaked bodies trying to escape the rain. Her fringe sticks to her forehead, droplets of rain trailing along the strands of hair and down her face. She looks gorgeous, even wet as a dog. 

He brushes some of the wetness away from her cheek. Sometimes he still can’t quite believe it. Their start had been rough, but now that they’re through what he hopes to be the worst it’s absolute bliss. His fingers linger against her skin. It’s awfully cold. 

“Whatcha thinking about, pretty boy?”

The nickname forces the blood to rush up into his cheeks, it always does. 

“What I’m gonna do to you once we’re out of the rain and these clothes.” His reply comes low, whispered against her ear. 

He bites back the rest of what he wants to say. 

Bee squeezes his hand “Filthy.”

“Gotta use what time we have, don’t we?” He presses a kiss below her ear “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I sent you home without a souvenir of my own.”

He doesn’t know if the shiver that runs through her comes from the cold or his words. He likes to imagine that it’s the latter. 

He shifts his hand behind her neck and pulls her in for a kiss. Under normal circumstances, PDA isn’t his style but he also knows that Bee loves a good romcom and if he can give her that cheesy, cliche kiss in the rain moment, he’ll do his damndest to make her knees buckle. He brings a hand behind her back so that he can lean into her a little more. She lets out a little gasp when he draws his tongue against her lip. The hand that still holds his squeezes tighter still. 

She’s breathless and flushed bright pink when he pulls away from her. If she wants romcom, she’ll get romcom. 

He leans back in, once more whispering against her ear so that only she can hear him “Soaked as you are, we might as well brave the rain.”

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: PALAVEN

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, Dr. Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian, and EDI With: Flight Lt. Jeff "Joker" Moreau, General Corinthus, Primarch Adrien Victus, and Councilor Tevos War is your resume- and at a time like this we need leaders who have been through that hell. And honestly? Uniting these races may take as much strength as facing the Reapers. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

+BONUS:

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Do you know that when you're writing a parenthetical statement and you need to include an aside you use brackets or are you normal?

[strawberri-syrup]

i feel ill what the fuck do you mean i only have 3 episodes of fantasy high left????

[painlandpalace]

dead boy detectives reading list

with the show finally out i figured it was a great time to share my reading list again! check it out below the cut 👻☠️🔎

-

⏳ the sandman #25 (1991)

this is their first appearance!

🐇 the children's crusade (1993)/free country: a tale of the children's crusade (2015)

1. the children's crusade #1

(2. black orchid annual #1

3. animal man annual #1

4. swamp thing annual #7

5. doom patrol annual #2

6. arcana annual #1)

7. the children's crusade #2

alternatively you can just read free country. whether or not you read the annuals i recommend reading free country's middle chapter

!!! in place of the annuals there is an additional middle chapter that was created for the book "free country: a tale of the children's crusade" where it is placed between the two children's crusade issues. the boys don't actually appear in most of the annuals (they are in two panels of swamp thing and appear in doom patrol) and reading them isn't necessary but i figured i would include them as they are part of the story.

❄️ winter's edge #3 (2000)

this is an anthology. their part is the 'books of magic: waiting for good dough' story starting on page 19

🐦‍⬛ the sandman presents: the dead boy detectives (2001, 4 issues)

i believe the tv show's esther finch was partially based on this run's villain.

*

(they do have a part in 'death: at death's door' from 2003. it's short and really just a retelling of events from sandman #25 with some minor changes. the entirety of their appearance in death: at death's door is included at the end of the next comic im listing so i am not really adding the death: at death's door book to the list)

☠️ the dead boy detectives (2005, one-shot)

this book was made by jill thompson in a very cute manga-esque style

👻 ghosts (2012), time warp (2013), the witching hour (2013)

these three are anthologies. the story 'the dead boy detectives in: run ragged' runs through all of them. 'run ragged' kicks off the next run.

🔮 from the pages of the sandman: dead boy detectives (2013, 12 issues)

this is the comic where crystal is introduced! a book collecting all 12 issues titled 'dead boy detectives by toby litt & mark buckingham' was released in 2023

🔎the sandman universe: dead boy detectives (2022, 6 issues)

the most recent run, centered around some really interesting thai mythology and featuring multiple edwin moments that i am sure you will love

-

and that's everything! i also recommend buying the omnibus if you can. it includes everything minus the 2022 run plus some additional bonus content!

i hope this is helpful! feel free to ask me any questions you may have about the comics. dead boy detectives is my number one interest so i should be able to answer

have fun reading! 👻

[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.” 

[onlymingyus]

Deny (Teaser)

pairing; kim mingyu x f!reader x jake sim (enhypen)

genre; smut (minor dni), mild angst, toxic themes, fluff, comedy

summary; When your boyfriend's stepbrother spends the summer with you things get a lot more interesting for you and a lot more complicated for him.

content warnings; reader is around the same age as mingyu, jake is younger, college au, stepsibling au, poly themes, "cheating" themes, teasing -- eating/drinking, alcohol, sunghoon/heeseung side characters, other cameos mentioned.

smut warnings; Dom!mingyu, sub!reader, sub!jake, mild stepcest, some mild mlm, semi-protected sex, unprotected sex, double penetration, pet play (names and degradation), fingering, oral (m & f receiving/giving), masturbation, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism, purposeful exhibitionism/voyeurism, choking, impact play, cum eating, praise/degradation, pet names/degrading names, dumbification, panty fetish, sub/Dom themes -- patreon bonus has it's own warnings

w/c; 27.1k and some change (34k ~ patreon) [3.2k this teaser]

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading for me and as always giving me the courage to finish something when i feel like it's going to crash and burn. this one is a lot and i didn't mean for it to be as long as it is. it's very dirty and heavy on kinks. if this isn't for you, i completely understand. i just let myself enjoy writing and getting into a story, but i do hope if you read you enjoy it!

this fic will be released 1/13 to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

You weren’t exactly sure what you expected when you got home. Mingyu was bound and determined that you were not going to change your routine just because Jake was staying with you and him, but you couldn’t help feeling a little nervous as soon as you stepped through the door and saw the extra pair of shoes. Taking a deep breath, you shake out your hands and nod once before dropping off your purse like you always do and jogging up the steps, only stopping long enough to glance towards Jake’s room, seeing the door closed. 

Another thing you had promised to do was not to crowd him or make him feel like anything was expected of him. If he wanted to hang out with you and Mingyu, he was welcomed to, but neither of you would force it—but as you looked at his closed door, you couldn’t help but think of the sweet boy that you had last seen before he started college. Swallowing hard, you press your lips together and work up a bit of confidence before letting out a breath as you turn towards your bedroom. “Hi, Jake! I’m home.” 

Glancing up from his laptop as he hears your voice, Jake’s eyes widen when you say his name. He has to instantly fight the urge to slide off the bed and go find you, but that wouldn’t be very chill of him and Jake Sim was a chill guy—at least that was what he was reminding himself as he steadied his breath and stared at the video on his laptop screen. “I—ok!” 

You’d take it. That was better than nothing; at least you knew he was alive behind the door. Mingyu said he wasn’t your doll, that he wasn’t a child you were taking care of, but right now he could have fooled you into thinking he was the same kid that you knew back when you first got together with Mingyu. “‘Kay…cool. Gyu will be home in like an hour; he’s bringing home some dinner. I’m gonna shower and then watch something downstairs.”

What did you want him to say? What was Jake supposed to reply to after learning that information? He already knew that his brother was picking up food, but learning that you were going to shower and watch television—did you want him to watch something with you? By the time that Jake decides that maybe that’s what you were hinting at, it’s been long enough that he’s heard the water turn on and then turn off; your shower finished before he is on his feet and pacing at his door and opening it, trying to keep his mouth closed.  

Fuck. Holy shit. No picture could do you justice. Especially not when you were standing in the hall in short cotton shorts that barely peeked out from under what was probably one of Mingyu’s shirts as you ran a towel over your head to dry off. 

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you hum in surprise and out of happiness that Jake decided to come out of his room, but it’s short lived when you see him for the first time. What happened to the awkward, almost geeky-looking kid that you knew? This wasn’t that kid; he had been replaced by someone who had grown into his features and his looks seemingly overnight—Mingyu had been right, he wasn’t a kid anymore. “Oh… Hi—hey Jake. How was the bus here?” 

Taking a breath to get over your nerves, in an attempt to push past the shock of seeing Jake all grown up, you toss the used towel into the hamper and flash him a sweet smile before heading towards the stairs, not waiting for him to answer you. It was better than staring at him like an idiot and you could hear him following behind you down the stairs, his accent a bit thicker as he swallows hard, letting his eyes travel along your backside. 

“It was alright. Uh, thanks—thanks for letting me stay here and for all the stuff in my room.” There was more that Jake wanted to say but as he worked his eyes back up your legs, moving into the living room, you turned to sit on the couch and he had just made it back to your stomach before looking away quickly.  

“No biggie. I wanted you to be comfortable while you were here with us.” You pull your legs under you as you reach for the remote on the coffee table. Tilting your head, you watch Jake stand awkwardly between the living room and the kitchen as you pat the couch beside you. “You can sit. Here, or if you want the recliner. Your brother loves the reclin—” 

“Here’s good, Y/N... Thanks.” Plopping on to the other side of the couch, Jake holds his phone tightly in his palm as you study him for a long moment before finally looking towards the television and scrolling through apps. When you finally settle on a show, Jake lets out a breath and relaxes into the cushions, biting at his bottom lip as he scrolls through his phone, seemingly not paying attention to the television in front of him. 

Jake: I’m not gonna make it dude. SOS 

Hoon: What’s up? 

Clearing his throat, Jake glances at you from the corner of his eye as he shifts on the couch so that he can rest in the corner to get more comfortable. Watching you over his phone, he carefully takes a picture of you letting out a breath before switching his phone back over to his messages, sending the picture to Sunghoon and waiting for his reaction. 

Hoon: Nothing can be done. RIP 

Hoon: Where's Mingyu? 

Jake: Not home yet. She wanted me to watch something with her. He’s gonna kill me right? Seeing her dressed like that with me here

Hoon: In the ground, 6 fuckin feet 

Jake: Worth it… 🥵

Pushing the door closed, Mingyu leans his head towards the sound of the television as he balances the takeout bags in one hand and his work bag in the other. Normally you’d be at the door saying hello to him but maybe you just hadn’t heard him come in? “Baby?” 

Jake watches, a small disappointed breath slipping from between his lips when you jump up from the couch so fast for his brother. Of course you would; it was stupid for him to think otherwise. You had been with his brother for years; his family was expecting Mingyu to put a ring on your finger at any point now, but that still didn’t make it any less disappointing to watch you whine his name as you moved through the kitchen towards him, leaving Jake behind. 

“Hi! Oh my god, the food smells so good, I’m so hungry.” Moving to your toes, you kiss Mingyu before taking the takeout from him. “I missed you.” 

Mingyu doesn’t even try to hide the grin on his face when you fawn over him. You acted like his pretty little wife already, even without a ring on your finger. He loved getting a kiss from you when he got home from work and hearing about your day, but today was already different as he followed you into the kitchen after putting his bag with yours in the foyer. Nodding to Jake on the couch, Mingyu’s brow raises as he lets out a soft breath, sliding a hand over your hip. “Hey, Jake. Hungry? I got pasta; it’s Y/N’s favorite.” 

It was clear that you and Mingyu, but mostly you, were trying to keep the vibe chill and not let any tension build, but that felt almost impossible. Swallowing hard, Jake runs his fingers through his hair, drawing your attention to the longer length ending at the nape of his neck. 

"Uh, yeah, I’m hungry. Pasta is great.” Sliding from the couch, Jake puffs up his cheeks with a deep breath before sitting at the kitchen island while you work to plate some of the pasta for each of you. “How—um, was work okay, Mingyu?” Jake wasn’t great at this, and neither was Mingyu. It wasn’t either of their fault, just a product of their mistimed relationship. 

Jake had another brother; he lived with his mother back in Australia. Mingyu’s little sister was his pride and joy, even if he rarely got to see her as she studied abroad. To you, that meant that Jake and Mingyu should have tried to make the most of their situation, but it wasn’t something you’d ever really understand. It was easier for them to talk about sports, music, chicks—nothing deep like real brothers, and that was okay for the most part in both of their opinions. 

“It was good. Same shit, different day.” Smirking a bit at his own words, Mingyu sighs when you give him a disappointed glance. He knew what it was about; he wasn’t trying hard enough. “I mean, I—it’s just a lot of office politics and shit, dude. It’d bore the fuck out of you. Tell me about school. How are your friends? How’s the girls?” 

That was more like it, and yet at the mention of girls, you can’t help but roll your eyes. Sliding a plate in front of Jake, you almost coo in appreciation when he smiles at you and thanks you under his breath. “‘Course Jakey. Eat up…” Putting a plate in front of Mingyu, you pick up your own fork, trying to keep up with their conversation, even as Jake stumbles over his words hearing you call him the nickname you used to call him before he left for college. 

“It’s—ya know, school. It’s okay.” Pushing the fettuccine around on the plate, watching the sauce spread along the ceramic. “I—my friends. They’re good. Sunghoon stayed close for the summer too. He might come by some time if you guys don’t care.” 

Before Mingyu can even speak, his mouth full of fettuccine alfredo, you wipe your lips and hum in appreciation. “Of course. It’s your house too, Jakey. As long as you are staying with us, you don’t have to ask things like that, okay?” 

That was going to be easier said than done, especially when Mingyu sighs and gives you a long look before faking a smile at Jake. “Yup, what Y/N said.” Taking another bite of pasta, Mingyu sighs out of his nose as he chews, wanting to keep the conversation lighthearted. It was almost as if Jake was avoiding things and like he was embarrassed. He had never been embarrassed to talk about girls before. “Glad classes are going well, but that’s not all uni is for. Spill, dude, got a girlfriend we should be worried about you inviting over too?” 

Jake had been doing okay with the conversation. You were so sweet,besides being incredibly distracting by just existing. He was able to eat and when he had started to take a big drink of his water, that’s when Mingyu asked him that question. Coughing as he feels the water start to burn his chest, Jake shakes his head and blinks moisture from his eyes as you look at him with concern, while Mingyu just chuckles and leans over to smack him on the back hard. 

“Breathe… Jesus christ. You alright? The conversation that difficult to—” 

“No! I—no, Mingyu. I don’t have a girl—girlfriend. I wouldn’t invite a chick over here anyway. That’s not—that’d be rude to Y/N, right?” Shaking his head, Jake looks down, avoiding Mingyu’s eyes, but mostly yours as you tilt your head. 

“‘Kay, no girls. I’m picking on you, Jake.” Picking up the beer in front of him, Mingyu takes a long sip before clearing his throat and sitting back to watch his stepbrother push his food around a bit more. "But I appreciate you worrying about Y/N and if she’s comfortable with who you might bring around. You know—” Meeting your eyes, Mingyu sits forward, resting his forearms on the countertop, even though he hears you sigh, having a feeling where this is going. “This might be a good time to go over the house rules.” 

Jake should have known it wasn’t going to be as easy as just showing up and getting a room. Swallowing hard, he nods before taking another sip of his water, hoping it will calm his growing nerves. 

“Cool. First, like Y/N said, you can have guests over; we apparently don’t care, however—” 

It sounded a lot like Mingyu cared and it was making Jake wish he could crawl into a hole. 

“Just don’t have parties in our house. I know I sound like Mom and your dad, but sorry to be an asshole. You don’t pay the mortgage, and once you do pay one, you’ll get it.” 

Leaning your head back briefly, you sigh and slide off your chair, feeling full from not only the food but Mingyu’s bullshit. You loved him completely, but you knew this whole dominance act was coming and it was the one thing he asked for you not to get in the way of. It was taking everything in you not to call him an old man and to tell him it was probably getting close to him for him to take out his dentures and crawl in bed. He treated Jake more like a child than you were. 

“Two, I know you have your part-time job. I don’t expect you to pay for anything while you are here, however—” 

Oh my god. Jake was literally sinking down in his chair as his stepbrother kept saying however with each rule. Glancing towards you, he says how you were mocking Mingyu and that was the only thing keeping him sane, though it was almost causing him to crack a bit of a smile. 

“If there are special things you want to eat, buy them yourself. If you see something with my name on it, or Y/N's, use your brain.” Furrowing his brow at Jake’s shit eating grin starting to spread across his face, Mingyu glances in the direction that his brother keeps looking only to see you mouthing along with him, mocking him. “If you two are done? I’m trying to be the fucking responsible one and lay some foundational rules so this house doesn’t become chaos and my girlfriend and brother seem to think I’m a jo—” 

“No! What! No, man. I’m listening. No parties. Get my own snacks. Don’t eat shit with your name on it. See!” Sitting up quickly, Jake slides his hands over his knees and grimaces into his smile as Mingyu stares at him. 

You, on the other hand, just laugh and hold up your hands as if you are surrendering. “I’m sorry, baby. Go back to your rules. I’ll leave you and Jake to talk and finish cleaning up.” 

Watching you move out of the room with a smirk on your face, Mingyu sighs and shakes his head. “Brat… Anyway, I’m glad at least one of you was listening to me. That brings me to the most important rule, alright?” 

Jake had been watching you leave too. He couldn’t help it. You were in those little shorts and they hugged your leg right under your ass cheeks. God, how was Mingyu okay with you wearing them with him around? This was crazy! Hearing Mingyu say his name, Jake blinks and meets his brother’s eyes, nodding along with him. 

“Don’t make Y/N clean up after you, got it? She already is trying to baby you. She thinks you’re still a kid.” Waiting to see the acknowledgement in Jake’s eyes, Mingyu nods and sits back in his seat, bringing his beer to his lips and taking the last couple of sips. “If anything, I don’t know, show a little respect and appreciation and help her—us out? I like that you’re here, okay? I really do. I’m just not babysitting. I’m spending time with you.”  

The other rules had made sense to Jake, but this last one got to him. He really understood why Mingyu had needed to say it. If the situation were reversed, he probably would have done the same thing. Nodding, Jake slides off his chair and picks up his plate, using his foot to open the trash can so he can slide the last of his pasta into it. “I’ve gotten pretty good at taking care of myself, Mingyu. I’m not gonna take advantage of you and Y/N. I’m thankful you all are letting me crash here, alright? Seriously. I know I’m not a kid.” 

Watching Jake move to the sink with his plate and glass, Mingyu sighs into a nod, feeling like his words made the impact he wanted them to despite your reaction. “Good, and like I said, happy you are here, man. Looking forward to the uh—what did Y/N call it?” 

Glancing over his shoulder as he opens the dishwasher, putting his dishes into it like a puzzle piece, Jake can’t help but smile as Mingyu makes a face recalling your words. 

“Our brotherly bonding time over the summer.” Shaking his head, Mingyu finally gets to his feet and starts to take care of his dishes when Jake reaches for them, muttering he’ll do it. “Thanks… You don’t have to.” 

“I don’t mind. You worked all day and like you said, ‘help out’ and shit.” 

Smirking, Mingyu ruffles the top of Jake’s hair and sighs into a long breath, feeling the length of the day weighing on him as the silence of the house starts to set in, knowing you are upstairs. “Alright. I’m heading up. I need a shower and as lame as it is, we turn in kind of early since we get up early.” 

Carefully fitting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, Jake snorts out a laugh and pulls his head away from Mingyu’s hand before glancing towards him as he gestures towards the stairs. “It is lame; you sound like our parents... but I get it. I’m pretty tired today anyway. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Gyu.” 

It had been a long time since Jake had called Mingyu anything other than his name. Hearing the shorted version of his name made Mingyu’s lips pull up into a bit of a smile as he rolled his eyes at the parent comment. “Yeah, night Jake.” 

By the time that Jake made it back up to his room, it seemed like everything was pretty quiet. Either Mingyu had taken the quickest shower possible or he had changed his mind. Settling back on his bed, Jake sighs, propping the pillows under his head as he balances his laptop on his stomach, getting ready to press play on the video he had been playing earlier when his brows furrow. He had to be hearing things. There was a linen closet separating your and Mingyu’s room from his but as another moan and the sound of the headboard smacking into the wall reach his ears, Jake knows it’s not his imagination. 

Wrapping his hand around your throat, right under your jaw, Mingyu groans low against your lips as you whimper underneath him. He hadn’t taken the time to prep you, but after fucking you this morning, you didn’t need nearly as much help to take his cock as you usually did. “Being so fucking loud, baby.”

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[crescenthistory]

carina!!! congratulations on 2k followers 🥳🥳

could i ask for a drabble with rockstar au and barty?

thank you my love<33

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 33 "rockstar au" with barty crouch jr.

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: gn!reader, slightly suggestive, you're wearing lipstick, doing barty's makeup

wc: 666

"Sit still."

Your left hand was holding Barty's jaw tightly to keep his face immobile, knowing that this boy did not have it in him to remain in the same position for long. Your right hand was leaning against his temple as you gently applied eyeshadow beneath his eyes in a thin streak to match what you had already applied on his eyelids.

He was grinning up at you, eyes wide and concentrated on your movements.

"'S hard when I've got such a pretty thing in my lap."

"I'm sure it is hard."

Your voice was quiet and so was the smile that you simply could not wipe off of your lips. Barty must have noticed because his hands on your thighs squeezed momentarily, appreciatively. 

This had become your new routine – you fixing his hair and makeup moments before the show while straddling him for better access. At a gig a few months back, you had teasingly suggested you do his make-up properly before he heads on stage instead of him just wiping some black eyeshadow messily over his eyelids in two back-and forth motions. To be truthful, you more than enjoyed the messy look as well, but you thought it would be fun to glam him up properly for once.

Barty insisted that he simply loved it so much that you just had to become his own personal makeup artist.

You still think it’s just because he enjoyed how you sat in his lap. Perhaps it gave him the rush he needed before going on stage for a few hours. He kept proving your point by murmuring sweet nothings as you worked on his face, hands roaming to his heart’s content – but there was no part of you that truly wanted to complain, so you let him be.

“Wish everyone could see you like this.” His smile turned cheeky as he looked past your shoulder into the mirror he was supposed to get ready in front of himself.

You squeezed his jaw a bit tighter, jerking his head back in place where it was supposed to be. “Do you now?”

His pupils were blown and he tried to do a so-so movement with his head, but you held him still yet again. “Well, not really. Just wish everyone could see how bloody lucky I am.”

You pretended his words didn’t get to you as you bit your lip to keep a smile back. “Sing about it, then.”

In between brush strokes – you’ll give him as much – Barty threw his head back laughing as he squeezed at yet another handful of your flesh. “You know I do, baby.”

You hummed in agreement, narrowing your eyes at him, deducing that you were almost done. Before he could say anything else, you leaned down and pressed a pursed kiss to his mouth, purposefully missing it just slightly. When you pulled back, he had a light lipstick stain covering half his lips and the corner of his mouth.

The way his lips pulled into a wide grin told you he knew what you were doing. “Cheeky minx. Making me all pretty?”

You let your hands drag up his arms to settle happily in a cross behind his shoulders, allowing your smile to be just as lovestruck as need be. “Isn’t that my job?”

“Nah,” he drawled. Kissing you one more time, not caring about the lipstick – or perhaps chasing it . “Your job is to be pretty. Everything else is just a bonus.”

The laugh that escaped you was more of a huff and he pinched your nose endearingly before grabbing a tight hold of your underside as he got up out of his seat, effortlessly hoisting you with him. 

He carried you all the way to the door before looking up at you, white teeth sharp and blinding. “Where’d you wanna watch tonight, dragă? Backstage? Crowd? Lights?”

You nudged your nose against his, careful not to smudge any of your work before it’s supposed to be naturally smudged by the gig. “I’ll sit just behind the curtain like last time, so I can be alone but see you.”

He spun you around with a gleeful laughter, taking to carrying you out and over to the curtains where Evan and Dorcas were already waiting. “Your wish is my command, my love.”

[jeanbie]

Omg hi I don’t know if you take nsfw requests but I was wondering about aot’s favorite positions🥺 your writing is so so good!!

honestly.....i thought this was hard !!! i can't see any of them being overly picky on positions or even having all time favs; over the eras of aot, they all change so much it's actually hard to say...so i tried my best to think semi-objectively :3 absolutely feel free to disagree with ANY of these, everyone has diff interpretations (and i love all of em)

warnings: fem!reader (sorry), sexual content ofc, if u want the girl vers lemme know :D

AOT BOYS & FAV POSITIONS ★ masterlist.

MISSIONARY

“you look so fucking pretty right now—” is the only thing they can think of saying as they bow their chest over yours, watching your face twist as their cock sinks deeper into your cunt. one of your legs is wrapped firmly around their waist or hanging up over their shoulder; this way, they can watch you writhe and whimper whilst also watching the way you suck them up nicely, the way your body tenses and flinches with every thrust they give...

— jean, zeke, niccolo

RIDING

there is no greater joy than leaning back and watching you do your thing. their hands are on your waist, smoothing around your hips and stomach in an effort to distract themselves from simply filling you up and going wild — they love to watch you sinking down on them, your back arched and breasts rising with every rise and fall. they meet your hips by raising their own, finding pleasure in watching your face pull into contorted shapes, hearing the moans and whimpers from your mouth. from down here, they like the control they can have, and on occasion, the submission of doing whatever you tell them to

— levi, armin, porco

BENT OVER

if they can bend you over it, they can fuck you on it. tables, beds, tree trunks, fences, desks, sinks — it’s like they’re trying to fuck you on every possible or available surface they can find. they just love to see the sight of your ass tilted up, hips pressing into a hard surface, legs spread in a desperate attempt to stay upright, all while they drive themselves into you however fast or hard they want to. they can be as gentle or as rough as they want to be; running their hands up your back and between your shoulder blades, or smacking your ass and pulling your hair — everything about fucking you from behind is perfect for them, and by the sounds of things, perfect for you

— eren, floch

[bonus] s4!eren loves to fuck you over a sink or a vanity, anywhere he can pull you back by your hair and make you watch in the mirror. his eyes never leave yours through the glass, his lips whispering the dirtiest things he can possibly think of just to get you to cum around him, to watch yourself unravel in his hands

RIDING THEIR FACE

they are a seat. that’s all they are, all they ever want to be — a seat for their perfect partner. they could spend hours with their tongue up your cunt, hands pressed into your ass or hips as you ride the features on their face. they would happily die of suffocation down here, just as long as you were happy and they got to taste their favourite thing in the world

— connie, onyankopon

GIVING THEM A BLOWJOB

every position is good with their partner, but absolutely nothing beats you on your knees between their legs, their cock in your mouth. a hand in your hair, on your cheek or the back of your neck, they love to watch you take care of them, especially after a particularly long and otherwise bad day. whether it’s simply between their legs as they sit, or as they lie down before bed — or under a desk when there are other people around, nothing will ever top the feeling of your mouth running itself up their dick, or how warm and wet it feels as you take them. 

— ERWIN, bertolt

REVERSE COWGIRL

“comfy, darlin?” with their hands on your hips, they love to help you sink down onto them, using your hips as handles to bring you up and down at whatever pace they fancy. they just love the sight of your face turning back to him with a pleasured look, the muscles in your back tensing whenever he hits that perfect spot up your pussy. seeing you looking like this makes him feel so proud — you’re taking him like its no problem, your ass bouncing on his stomach, toes curling as you set your hands on his legs for balance. he’ll let you take control until you tire, and then the fun can really begin

— reiner, kenny (help)

[oristian]

@officialfeysandweek DAY FIVE — FATED

“I’d been painting out that nightmare for nearly two hours, my back to the door, when Rhys entered. He remained utterly silent. It wasn’t the contented silence he sometimes fell into while he observed me painting. It was pure, shocked silence.

I’d twisted to look at him just in time to see him crash to his knees.

And then he’d been weeping, and laughing, and all I could make out in his ecstatic babbling was one word: baby. I’d leaped off the stool. I was weeping too by the time I launched into his arms, knocking us both to the ground, and he’d put a hand to my stomach in wonder.”

— ACOSF Feysand bonus chapter

Fate is a hungry, lonely girl hunting in the middle of the winter forest, eye-to-eye with a wolf. Fate is a song slipping into a cell deep under a mountain. Fate is a little boy with blue eyes in a prison. Fate is the tug of a bond that connects two souls, and the promise of forever.

ART CREDIT dudledudlesss

COMMISSIONED BY @oristian

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

ALSO FOUND ON INSTAGRAM (HERE)

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐬𝐤𝐳 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: OT8 X READER (SEPERATE) ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: SEX MENTIONS ☾ ━━━ WC: 0.5K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 

♡ he feels bad he pissed you off, not much about you taking away sex.

♡ he understands why you did but he’s going to try and make up for it

♡ comes home on time or earlier with flowers every day so your house looks like a florist; he brings home dinner so you don’t have to cook.

♡ he’s trying to make up for pissing you off. If he gets sex back it’s a bonus

♡ He just doesn’t want you to be bad at him

☾ ━━━━━━𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 

♡ he does not believe you when you tell him no more sex

♡ tries to seduce you not even an hour later

♡ asks if you are actually serious and is just shocked when you tell him you are.

♡ cooks dinner for the next week and cleans the house in hopes of getting back on your good side.

♡ eventually, he does but you have to hold out longer than a week just to see how desperate he gets

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 

♡ Like Chan, more upset he made you mad than anything

♡ tries acting all cute in hoping you’ll forgive him. Then sexy if that doesn’t work

♡ The last resort is literally getting on his knees in front of you and apologizing

♡ you still make him go a week without sex but he’s forgiven mostly

♡ pouncing on you the second it turns midnight a week later

☾ ━━━━━━𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 

♡ kinda in shock? Like, didn’t expect you to take sex away from him

♡ understands though, and doesn’t push. He knows he messed up

♡ suffers the consequences of his own actions

♡ praising the hell out of and worshipping you once you tell him his no sex punishment is over

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐇𝐀𝐍 

♡ pouty boy.

♡ he was just fucking around and ended up finding out

♡ apologizing for days on end. He knows it’s just a week but that’s too long!

♡ doesn’t try and push it too much in case you get mad at him and make it another week

☾ ━━━━━━𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 

♡ understands where he went wrong and accepts the punishment and apologizes.

♡ sweetest boy for the whole week, just cuddles and kisses. Makes you your own batch of brownies

♡ he’s so hard to stay mad at that you tell him you’re cutting it short

♡ rejects it and says he’s serving the week long no sex punishment

♡ kinda finds it cute when you’re all pouty bc you just wanna jump his bones.

♡ agrees to help you get off though. Guided masturbation with that voice makes brian go brrrr

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 

♡ like lee know, just doesn’t believe you.

♡ pure shock when you tell him you’re serious

♡ apologizing for the whole week while your lowkey laughing at him

♡ fucks the smirk off your face once that week is up

☾ ━━━━━━𝐈.𝐍

♡ in shock but thinks he can do it.

♡ he can’t. He needs you

♡ consistently apologizing for making you mad and that it won’t happen again

♡ gets pouty when he realizes it isn’t working and your intent on making him ride out this punishment

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[miyaagis]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐love actually is all around. gojō s. + zen'in t.

had you paid a bit more attention to your surroundings, you would've recognized the dark-haired man entering the elevator with you or the light-haired man waiting right outside your building.

too bad you didn't.

explicit dark content‐mdni. ₊˚⊹ ⚝ modern au, stalker!gojo, fem!reader, stalker!toji, obsessive behavior, yandere-ish, masturbation, noncon filming. open ending, there won't be a part two.

word c. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ a little over 1,000

It took Gojō almost nothing to get Tōji Zen'in to accept the job.

(A mistake on Tōji's part—had he known what he knows now, he would've asked for more stacks of those brand new-smelling bills).

“Eyes on her 24/7.” The briefcase clicked shut as Satoru finished explaining the details. “I expect updates, at least,  every four hours.”

“You got it.”

But before Tōji could leave with the money, Satoru placed a hand on top of his, stopping him from walking away and earning a weirded-out stare from the gruff man.

“If I like what I see, I could add a little bonus.”

Tōji usually didn't judge his clients, it was a waste of his time. But the way Satoru openly offered money not to hurt, but to see more of you, made him curious.

“She an ex?”

He had hoped Satoru would take the bait and spill more information. But his question remained unanswered as he let go of the money and waved his hand dismissively. 

“You may leave.” Satoru’s lips curled up in a soft smile once he grabbed his phone, typing eagerly on the thin screen and not sparing Tōji another glance. “Get caught by anyone, and you'll be dealt with.”

—

A week passed, and Tōji still couldn't understand the situation.

You weren't an ex, at least that's what he concluded after seeing you make small talk with Satoru outside the fitness studio you worked at.

It only took him three days to figure out your routine, pretty simple and predictable.

[07:00] Wake up.

[08:00] Pilates with Gojō. 

He was one of your regulars, and Tōji easily noticed you lingered after class with a green juice and breakfast from your favorite place (courtesy of Gojō). 

[09:30] Shower.

Add ten more minutes if you decided to stay under the running water to play with your toy.

[10:30] Errand run.

[13:00] Lunch.

[16:00] Nap.

[17:30] Dinner.

[21:00] Sleep.

Lame, he thought. However, his day consisted of watching you. So he guessed his day was even more lame than yours.

—

Tōji stared at the notification on his phone.

[Gojō] A bonus for the video.

Ah, yes. That video. Tōji couldn’t lie, seeing you grind against your pink toy under the shower was a nice little show, and he figured your lover boy—aka Gojō—would enjoy it.

He put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans and was about to push his shopping cart forward when a woman’s voice stopped him.

“Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help me reach that?”

Tōji felt his heart stop for a second. Seeing you so close when you were never supposed to know of his existence had his brain panicking.

You had a sheepish smile on your lips, your arm stretched over your head as if trying to reach towards the fabric softener placed on the highest rack. He automatically looked down at your chest, the curve of your breast looking soft under the fabric of your thin cardigan, so thin that he could see your hardened nipple straining against it.

“Sure.”

Ignoring his heartbeat echoing loudly in his eardrums, he fetched the heavy container and placed it on your cart, accidentally getting a whiff of your perfume.

So damn sweet.

“Thank you so much!”

Tōji couldn’t even make a sound, deciding to just nod, hands buried in his pockets as he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

He knew he was fucked.

—

The next time Tōji saw you touching yourself was right before you went to bed.

You kept pinching and caressing your breast under your shirt while scrolling on your phone with the other, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen.

He wondered if you were watching porn. Maybe reading an erotic novel? His thoughts strayed for a few minutes before he finally caught himself daydreaming and quickly sent Gojō a text right as your hand disappeared beneath your panties.

[Zen'in] Check the livestream.

Not even a minute later, he received a reply.

[Gojō] Was already watching.

Freak. But Tōji’s frown disappeared once he realized his hand unconsciously palming his bulge.

Both men, from their own spots, watched with predator-like eyes as you pleasured yourself. Their cocks throbbed each time you closed your eyes, wondering how close you were to finishing.

Satoru, from the comfort of his own home, thought it was a shame that he couldn’t listen to your whines and moans. He already knew what you sounded like, at least from the soft grunts that escaped you during your pilates classes whenever you pushed yourself too hard. His thumb rubbed lazily over his flushed tip, squeezing it and edging himself while you toyed with your nipples.

“So fucking pretty.” Pride laced his tone, holding a glass with his free hand and swirling the amber liquid once before taking a sip.

And while Satoru peacefully enjoyed the spectacle, Tōji couldn’t have been more different than him.

His hand desperately stroked his shaft while watching with furrowed brows, his breaths heavy and uneven. He had never experienced such level of want, and it all worsened when the ghost of your perfume deceived his mind, drowning him with your presence.

—

Six weeks and several photos and videos later, Tōji couldn’t stand it any longer. The walls of his place were covered in all-types of pictures with one subject in common—you.

He didn’t know when it started, but it was too late to even try to stop. He had saved material for his eyes only, consciously deciding not to send it to Satoru and possibly risking more than his paycheck. But he was too far gone and didn’t care in the slightest.

He owns that shit, or so he liked to think. Why would he send it to Gojō? For a few extra hundreds? You were worth billions.

His fingertips traced a picture of you smiling brightly. He took that the day after he first touched himself while watching you. You weren’t doing anything extraordinary, just crossing the street while heading to the studio. And yet, you looked beautiful, visibly well-rested after that little self-care session from the night before. The cold winter breeze was possibly at fault for your hardened nipples under your sports bra, not that he complained, especially after fantasizing with having them in his mouth.

The mix of longing and awe made his chest hurt. Oftentimes, he had to stop himself from running into you again, since that would’ve ruined his plan.

—

Gojō’s booming laugh made his frown deepen, Tōji hated it when people made fun of him.

“She got you too, huh?”

He also hated it when others assumed things about him when it was none of their business. Unfortunately for him, Satoru had nailed it right on the head.

Tōji was irrevocably obsessed with you.

His unpleased grunt was all Satoru needed, reaching for a small remote control with a lingering smirk.

Smug bastard.

“Before I hired you, I had to do all the research by myself.” Satoru nodded at the screen behind Tōji, and with one click, CCTV footage showed up. Most of it was of the public places you frequented, the fitness studio’s street, even the ATM you always went to. He had done his homework for a year, and he was happy to finally see his little project move forward. “Let’s hear it then, Zen'in. What’s the plan?”

So that night, had you paid a bit more attention to your surroundings, you would've recognized the dark-haired man from the grocery store entering the elevator with you, or your charming regular waiting outside your building.

How unfortunate that you didn’t.

[bitchfitch]

My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.

Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.

Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.

Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.

So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.

We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.

Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry

this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)

the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.

Thin meat

Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,

Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part

The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style

As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.

Mustard -> jelly

He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.

Prep:

We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.

The watermelon

Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.

Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.

bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.

Salsa bad style

chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.

Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.

Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.

Putting it together

lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.

Slather in jam

Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,

spoon the salsa onto that

Melon

Another layer of salsa

another layer of thin meat

Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.

Brush with egg wash and more parsley

Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.

watermelington :)

I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.

anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.

[zepskies]

Just saw a TikTok where a woman says that her husband uses the dyson air wrap he brought for his wife more than her, why can I see Ben also acting like that 🤣

Lmfao oh, anon. That's really funny to imagine. 😂

I feel like Soldier Boy (Ben)'s been surrounded by hair stylists for most of his life, so might not be as well versed in managing his own hair. But he absolutely would be one to shave for himself, since that's more of a right of passage for men, especially one of his time.

However, when his S.O./girlfriend/wife comes into the picture, he'd probably start to get used to at least figuring out how to style his own hair at home... That's where the Dyson hairdryer comes in. 🤣

Imagine Soldier Boy (Ben) Using Your Hairdryer:

At first, Ben's intrigued and bewildered looking at this "stupid fucking thing," trying to figure out how it works with all these weird attachments.

Muttering to himself, "Looks like one of her dildos, for Christ's sake."

That thought might make him hesitate on actually trying it out, but when he finally manages to switch it on, it's like a lightbulb goes off above his head. Something inside him has just gotta try this thing.

He doesn't dare experiment while you're at home though. He's going to wait until you're out of the house, for at least a few hours.

He's going to try and fail a few times to actually do what he wants to do with his hair (a simple blow-dry). But eventually, "Ha!" He's done it.

You notice something different about him when you get home. You squint your eyes at him, looking at the gentle, downright shiny swoop of his hair to match his well-trimmed beard.

"Did you..." you trail off.

He raises his brows, feigning ignorance. "What?"

"...Never mind," you say, but you do tell him he looks handsome today.

Of course, his vain ass smirks in a way that says, I look handsome every damn day. (You roll your eyes in amusement.)

You do eventually catch him using your hairdryer. He's humming while he grooms himself in the bathroom, expertly maneuvering the various attachments as he sees fit.

It's the biggest struggle of your life to contain your shock (and laughter). You're torn between leaving him be to practice some healthy self-care...and your instinct to sneak a pic or two. Maybe even a quick video that you might just send to Annie and the rest of the boys later.

That's when Ben catches sight of you in the mirror. His look of concentration melts into a surly, frowning mixture of surprise and embarrassment. He switches off the hairdryer and lays it down on the counter. For a moment, he just stands there, knowing he's caught, bracing himself for your teasing.

Biting your lip, you go over to him and raise up on your toes, leaning one hand on his shoulder so you can sift your fingers through the soft brown strands of his hair.

You smile. "Looks good, babe. Good job."

Slowly, his lips form a familiar cocky smile.

"Damn right, it does."

AN: LOL I didn't intend for this to be a full-on headcanon/imagine, but that's basically what happened. 😂

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[lewdimagines]

𝓞𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄 (18+)

pairings : jake kim x reader, gitae kim x reader

content warning ⚠️: nsfw head canons. . .

JAKE KIM :

he definitely is nice and romantic.. the way he gives off lover boy is so mbejwgsjeh 😍😍, he is the type man to caress you and lead you while slowly but harshly pounding into your hole and whispering soft praises in your ear.. calling you his good (boy/girl) and how your taking his cock so well

he kinda gives off like prob..8 inches def a shower not a grower 🎀 he definitely has top 5 prettiest cocks but his cum is prob not as tasty as others since he mainly eats like ramen n stuff..please give this boy some fruits and a correct diet 😭‼️.

bonus…

jake had you in a big spoon position..its been like this for minutes probably hours even! You couldn’t keep up with this mans stamina not knowing how much times you had even came around his girthy cock, as he hit your sweet spots with every thrust forcing loud moans from your vocal cords “ please..jakee feels too much its too much baby~! “ he would kiss your tears rolling down your face as his thrust sped up slightly making you squeal out in overstimulation pulling out another orgasm from you “ shh..just take my cock pretty thats all im askin you to do baby. “

GITAE KIM :

THE TOTAL OPPOSITE FROM JAKE

js mean and rough :(( never gives you a break esp if you guys are dating/married he just wants to be in your hole all the time, how else is he gonna relieve his stress anywhere else? Its hard managing a cartel and being so hot, he is such and i mean SUCH a red flag

Soon as you say no to him he will throw a big fit making no other choice for him to fuck your throat and degrade you in how stupid you are and how you dont even compare to those street common whores.

9 inches. YEA HE IS BIGGER THAN JAKE AND SO WHAT 🤬🤬‼️ He is a grower at first you’d be relieved on how he is a average length..but as soon as you start gridding your hips on his lap at the club he is dealing at you felt something way more than average against the fat of your cheeks. ( he is a ass man )

he only is romantic when youre dating him!! If you’re js some night stand he is gonna be rough and aggressive to you all night not even giving you a break.

bonus. . .

“ GITAE- SHIT! “ your screams and moans would bounce off the club restroom his hands bouncing you back on his cock, plunging his hips into yours making wet slapping noises “ maybe if you..didnt tightened the fuck up this would be fuckin easier, right? “ he said his tone being menacing and rude your walls tightening up on his walls as you squealed out more your hands gripping on the bathroom sink. Your legs quivering as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g spot. “ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE “ your begging would fall deaf on his ears as he roughened up his thrusts pulling you back by your hair “ let me see that fuckin face yea? “ you could only nod bring to dumb to know what to say as your legs quivered pulling out an orgasm from you

[thatlotuscookie]

Hihi!! I got a silly lil request if u wanna write it =3

Soooo since Kenma from Haikyuu is prob very rich in timeskip, would u consider writing something where y/n is like “Hey honey I want Burger King” and Kenma misunderstands and buys the whole BK company and y/n has to make Kenma return it XD(bonus if the internet finds out and memes it or something)

✧･ﾟ: a/n: : Kenma’s lowkey chaos energy combined with his wealth and your grounded perspective made this such a fun dynamic to write. I hope you enjoy<3 thank you for the req

✧ Title: ✧ Burger King of My Heart ✧ ✧ Characters: Kenma Kozume x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Humor, Fluff, Established Relationship ✧ Rating: G ✧ Summary: When you casually ask Kenma for Burger King, you never imagined he’d take it literally—and buy the entire franchise. ✧ Content/Tags: Kenma Being Kenma, Rich Boy Hijinks, Social Media Memes, Established Relationship, Reader in Disbelief, Humor with a Dash of Fluff ✧ WC: 713 words // 4.1k chars

Life with Kenma Kozume was anything but ordinary. Between his highly successful gaming company and the residual fame from his pro volleyball days, he had wealth, influence, and a surprisingly practical approach to everything—well, usually.

Today, however, was shaping up to be one for the books.

You were lounging on the couch in Kenma’s sleek, minimalist apartment. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed a perfect view of the city skyline, but your attention was squarely on your grumbling stomach.

Kenma was stationed at his gaming setup nearby, wearing noise-canceling headphones and entirely focused on whatever strategy game he was playing. You admired how cute he looked when he was concentrating, but hunger had made you restless.

“Kenmaaaa,” you called, dragging his name out dramatically.

“Hm?” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I want BK,” you said, your words tumbling out lazily.

Kenma finally glanced over his shoulder, his golden eyes meeting yours. “BK?”

“Yeah, Burger King,” you clarified. “I’m starving. I need greasy fries and a Whopper, stat.”

He nodded once, a small, thoughtful “hm” escaping his lips before he turned back to his game. You figured he’d order delivery or suggest driving out to grab food later.

But Kenma Kozume, former volleyball star turned tech genius, never did things the way anyone else would.

About two hours later, Kenma wandered back into the living room, phone in hand. You’d half-dozed off in your hunger-induced haze, but his calm voice brought you back to reality.

“So, it’s done,” he said.

“Huh?” You blinked, sitting up. “What’s done?”

“I bought it.”

Your brain, still foggy from your nap, struggled to catch up. “Bought what?”

“BK,” he said matter-of-factly.

It took a solid five seconds for his words to register. “Wait. You mean... like the food? Where’s the food?”

Kenma tilted his head slightly, confused by your confusion. “No, the company. Burger King. You said you wanted it.”

The room went silent as you stared at him in disbelief.

“Kenma.”

“Yes?”

“You bought the entire company?”

“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the most logical solution in the world. “It wasn’t that expensive, all things considered.”

You gawked at him, your jaw practically hitting the floor. “I meant I wanted a burger and fries, not to own Burger King!”

Kenma blinked. “Oh. I thought you meant you wanted BK, as in... all of it.”

Your hands flew to your head. “Kenma, do you know how insane that is? You can’t just—wait, does the internet know about this?”

Almost as if on cue, your phone buzzed with a series of notifications. Grabbing it, you saw that #KenmaBuysBK was trending. Social media was already ablaze with memes and commentary.

One post read: “Imagine being rich enough to solve hunger by buying an entire fast-food chain. Kenma Kozume, everybody.”

Another had a photo of Kenma with the caption: “Me: I want fries. Kenma: Here’s your kingdom, Burger Queen.”

You groaned, scrolling through the chaos. “Kenma, this is everywhere!”

He shrugged, his calm demeanor unshaken. “People were going to find out eventually.”

“Kenma, you have to return it.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need to own Burger King! I just wanted food!”

Kenma sighed, pulling out his phone. “Fine. I’ll call my financial advisor.”

By the next day, Kenma had quietly backed out of the purchase, but the internet wasn’t ready to let the incident go. Memes flooded every platform, and even major news outlets picked up the story.

When you arrived at Kenma’s office later to bring him lunch, his coworkers couldn’t resist teasing you. One of them grinned and said, “So, Burger Queen, what’s for lunch today?”

You rolled your eyes, but even you had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Kenma, as unbothered as ever, simply handed you a small bag when you walked into his office.

“What’s this?” you asked, peeking inside.

“Burger King,” he said with the faintest hint of a smirk.

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Kenma leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. Because in his own unique, overly extravagant way, Kenma always found a way to show you just how much he cared.