#College application assistance

[edwisefoundation]

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[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.��� and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[depresseddepot]

applying to more jobs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!haha :))))))))))))))))))

[catsinmugs]

been spending the past week moving back into my apartment bc my last semester of college starts monday and thus have not played the sims.... did download the inzoi character studio and tried making mar!!!!!!!! hopefully will play ts4 tmrw

[upendraagbsc]

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[eggmeralda]

just woke up from the best film I've ever watched in my life only to realise it was a dream

[excellenthomeclasses1]

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[jcmarchi]

Robot trained to read braille at twice the speed of humans - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/robot-trained-to-read-braille-at-twice-the-speed-of-humans-technology-org/

Robot trained to read braille at twice the speed of humans - Technology Org

The research team from the University of Cambridge used machine learning algorithms to teach a robotic sensor to slide over lines of braille text quickly. The robot could read the braille at 315 words per minute at nearly 90% accuracy.

Although the robot braille reader was not developed as an assistive technology, the researchers say the high sensitivity required to read braille makes it an ideal test in developing robot hands or prosthetics with comparable sensitivity to human fingertips. The results are reported in the journal IEEE Robotics and Automation Letters.

Human fingertips are remarkably sensitive and help us gather information about the world around us. Our fingertips can detect tiny changes in the texture of a material or help us know how much force to use when grasping an object: for example, picking up an egg without breaking it or a bowling ball without dropping it.

Reproducing that level of sensitivity in a robotic hand, in an energy-efficient way, is a big engineering challenge. In Professor Fumiya Iida’s lab in Cambridge’s Department of Engineering, researchers are developing solutions to this and other skills that humans find easy, but robots find difficult.

“The softness of human fingertips is one of the reasons we’re able to grip things with the right amount of pressure,” said Parth Potdar from Cambridge’s Department of Engineering and an undergraduate at Pembroke College, the paper’s first author. “For robotics, softness is a useful characteristic, but you also need lots of sensor information, and it’s tricky to have both at once, especially when dealing with flexible or deformable surfaces.”

Braille is an ideal test for a robot ‘fingertip’ as reading it requires high sensitivity, since the dots in each representative letter pattern are so close together. The researchers used an off-the-shelf sensor to develop a robotic braille reader that more accurately replicates human reading behaviour.

“There are existing robotic braille readers, but they only read one letter at a time, which is not how humans read,” said co-author David Hardman, also from the Department of Engineering. “Existing robotic braille readers work in a static way: they touch one letter pattern, read it, pull up from the surface, move over, lower onto the next letter pattern, and so on. We want something that’s more realistic and far more efficient.”

The robotic sensor the researchers used has a camera in its ‘fingertip’, and reads by using a combination of the information from the camera and the sensors. “This is a hard problem for roboticists as there’s a lot of image processing that needs to be done to remove motion blur, which is time and energy-consuming,” said Potdar.

The team developed machine learning algorithms so the robotic reader would be able to ‘deblur’ the images before the sensor attempted to recognise the letters. They trained the algorithm on a set of sharp images of braille with fake blur applied. After the algorithm had learned to deblur the letters, they used a computer vision model to detect and classify each character.

Once the algorithms were incorporated, the researchers tested their reader by sliding it quickly along rows of braille characters. The robotic braille reader could read at 315 words per minute at 87% accuracy, which is twice as fast and about as accurate as a human Braille reader.

“Considering that we used fake blur the train the algorithm, it was surprising how accurate it was at reading braille,” said Hardman. “We found a nice trade-off between speed and accuracy, which is also the case with human readers.”

“Braille reading speed is a great way to measure the dynamic performance of tactile sensing systems, so our findings could be applicable beyond braille, for applications like detecting surface textures or slippage in robotic manipulation,” said Potdar.

Source: Cambridge University

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[k-hotchoisan]

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

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

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

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

Word count: 12.3K

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

apply for taglist here!

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

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

“Why not try for the department chair?”

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

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

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

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

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

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

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

That sealed your fate. 

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

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

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

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

Until now that is. 

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

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

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

“Come in.”

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

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

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

“What’s this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell were you thinking?

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

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

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

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

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

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

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

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

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

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

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

You glare at him. 

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

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

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

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

You did? “I did?”

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

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

“Is that why you kept-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

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

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

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

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

“See you too, y/n.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

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

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

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

“Well, I mean-“

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

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

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

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

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

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you asking?”

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

You laugh softly at his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You force a smile and shake your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

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

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

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

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

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

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

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

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

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

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

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

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

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

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

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

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

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

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

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

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

San is waiting for you to continue. 

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

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

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

It makes your heart flutter. 

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

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

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

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

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

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please what, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially one of them. 

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

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

He bites his cheek. 

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

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-sir…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh god. 

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

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

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

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

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

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

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

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

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

“No, keep your eyes on me”, he redirects once more, his fingers fixing your head in place. 

Then he slides his cock into your mouth and pulls out a choked moan from you. 

“That’s it. Good girl”, he grunts when you start bobbing your head, fucking his cock with your mouth. 

His fingers trail to the back of your head, but he’s using all of his strength not to force your head down. 

But as you pick up the momentum, it’s an automatic reaction to push your head down so his cock hits the back of your throat. Your eyes are watering but fuck you feel like you’re in fucking heaven. Your head spins whenever his wet cock is forced down your tight throat, and you break eye contact a few times, which San has to tap your jaw to make you keep eye contact while he fucks your face. 

“I’m cumming, sweetheart. Fuck. Keep that pretty little mouth open for me yeah?” He groans, bucking his hips, letting streaks of warm white paint your throat and mouth, watching the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes, taking his cum in your mouth like a good girl. His good girl. 

He smudges his thumb against the corner of your lips before his arms carry you up, only to dump you on the couch.

Your back is on the couch again, hands still tied behind your back and legs up with San pressing his body weight on you.

He props your leg on his shoulder, and he stretches you open inch by inch. You gasp when he fills you up, your walls immediately clenching around him. 

“So fuckin tight for me, sweetheart. You take me so well.”

His thrusts are growing more aggressive mixed in with the possession that’s bleeding in and it’s setting your whole body on fire. Your words are caught in your throat when he’s buried into you to the hilt. He groans at the way your pussy is fluttering pathetically against him. 

It feels so fucking good that nothing but stars engulf your vision when his cock stuffs you full to the hilt again. His name leaves your lips like a mantra on top of broken moans and whimpers, and it only makes San fill up the space in your pussy all the more better. 

His shoulders are so wide that he’s towering over you, his fingers forcing you to face him whenever you’re drifting because of the pleasure, his eyes feral when you look so fucked out for him. And when he combines his heavy thrusts with a squeeze around your throat, it makes your mind shut off and your cunt cream all over his dick.

“Good girl, looking all so fucked out for me.”

 His cock is hitting all the perfect spots, and it’s driving you insane with the knot tightening in your stomach at such a fast pace. You think you’re sliding off the couch but San isn’t letting you—especially not when his thrusts are keeping you on the couch. His name continues to leave your lips in broken moans every time he fucks you. 

San snakes his fingers to your scalp and he tugs sharply, enough to force you to look up at him. You’re tearing up again, and it feels so fucking good with the way he’s keeping your hair tugged while he fucks the ever-loving shit out of you.

“My name does sound much better when you’re crying it doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You choke back a moan when he hits your g-spot once more.

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Full. So full sir. Want more. Please. Need you to ruin me”, you beg once more, your mind floating in an endless euphoria.

“Oh, I definitely will”, San hums, watching in sheer pleasure as your eyes roll back when his cockhead presses perfectly against your g-spot over and over.

Before you realise it, your orgasm hits you like fucking train, spreading through your body like a fucking wildfire, engulfing every crevice of your body. 

He’s gonna break you, and you’re fucking loving it. 

“San-“, you cry out, not registering the way he’s wiping the tears off your eyes. “So good. You feel so good. Cumming so much-“ 

“I know, sweetheart. It feels so fucking good doesn’t it?” He asks with a smile, satisfied when you nod frantically while he rubs your thighs.

Your thighs are shaking from how good this all feels, cream staining your inner thighs and his cock when he pulls out. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart”, San reminds you. 

He turns you over, keeping one hand on your tied hands, while the other pressing your head against the back of the couch. He lines his cock back to your cunt, pushing into your hole once more. You choke on your moans again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes until he’s fully seated in you once more. 

The sounds are even wetter now, especially when you’re overstimulated, pussy just being so perfectly abused by Choi San. You fucking love the way his hands are around your neck, forcing you against the cushions when he fucks you dumb from the back. 

Your stomach is in knots once more, the feeling building up faster than the previous time, and all you can mutter is that it feels so good. San thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you’re not having banters with him and being this cock drunk for him. 

Then he pulls you off the couch, letting you catch a breath before he sits you on his lap, his cock still buried in your cunt, and starts bouncing you off his cock from below.

He alternates between melting your brain with his pornographic moans right at your ear and planting more love bites down your jaw. 

“Gonna cum again. You feel so fucking good in me. Oh god”, you hiccup through your tears, the sensitivity pushing your limit. 

“Cum as hard as you want, sweetheart. I’ll let you milk me dry, fill you up so fucking good that you’ll be leaking with my cum for the next two days.” 

That was enough to set you off. Your pussy convulses when your second orgasm hits, fireworks bursting in your eyelids, long drawn-out cries while San fills your tight cunt with his warm and thick cum, while his groans fill up in your ears. You feel his fingers massaging your thighs, coaxing you from your high. 

You’re dizzy, and light-headed as your head slumps against his shoulders, too spent to acknowledge the male behind you leaving more marks down your neck. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” San breaks the momentary silence, well aware that his softening cock is still in you. 

Your hand flies up to his chest to stop him, even though you’re still recovering from seeing stars. 

“We need to talk-“

“After we clean up”, he cuts you off, lifting you off his cock and carrying you bridal style to his bathroom. 

But you’re stubborn. 

“N-no. It wasn’t what you thought it was”, you say, feeling your tears well up in your eyes on top of the weight. 

The prickles are starting to form at the bottom of San’s heart, but he’s more focused on trying to hose you down with warm water. But he’s listening you run your mouth, not that he minded. 

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

Now he’s just confused. He stares at you. 

“We just had sex, y/n”, San reminds you, trying not to let the red reach his cheeks. 

“No—I mean Jongho and I. We didn’t kiss”, you clarify.

San doesn’t really know if he should believe your words or his eyes, but now he’s focused on lathering your hair and body. 

“That wasn’t what I saw”, he replies, avoiding eye contact. 

“That’s cause we did this-“ you huff, turning his head to face you, imitating the way Jongho had slid his thumb between your lips and his, demonstrating San the fake kiss. 

San only stares at you wordlessly when you pull back, only more questions than answers. 

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

Oh god. It felt like the more you explained, the more San was getting the wrong ideas. You let your head sit in your hands, unsure if it’s from the embarrassment or the fact that you don’t even know where to start. 

“It wasn’t a kiss, Choi San”, you groaned, your hands leaving your face, suddenly self-conscious that San is staring intently at you. “After we, um, fucked the first time, you acted like nothing happened, and I felt like shit about it, and I told Jongho and then…” you trail off, feeling your cheeks heat up again. It’s probably the hot water, at least that’s what you try to convince yourself with.

“I don’t kiss people I’m not in love with, San”, you sigh in defeat. Your eyes are downcast, but you feel his fingers cup your cheeks, and his lips press onto yours. You swear you could go another round again. 

The silence hangs in the air for a while, only the sounds of the shower filling the emptiness when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t do anything since after that evening because I wanted to properly tell you after the term ended.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

You blink. Somehow that shocked you more than the both times he fucked your brains out. 

You don’t answer him because your head is just swarming with so many thoughts, and San lets you do so, satisfied that he’s finally have you quieten down so he can finish washing you up. 

Even when he’s dressed you in his oversized hoodie, San peppers you with kisses, basking in the way you sometimes cover his face with your hands to stop him, which only rouses him to continue to attack you with his lips.

San’s arms are tight around you when the both of you are finally on his bed. You smell like his favourite body soap and he can’t seem to get enough of it—nuzzling against the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings. You think this is probably your favourite version of Professor Choi. 

Your fingers twirl around his splayed-out locks, and you speak. 

“Prof Choi”, you tease, and San looks up, and it’s the first time you actually see him pout—it almost makes you combust. 

“I told you to stop calling me that”, he frowns, burying his face, feigning trying to cut off physical contact from you, which only makes you laugh in response. 

“I just wanted to disturb you”, you respond, trying to yank him back into your arms. “I do have a question though.”

His head pops up from his pillows and he stares at you, waiting for you to speak. 

“When did you realise you had feelings for me?”

He pauses, giving himself a couple of minutes to think. 

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

“Prof Choi!” One of his teaching assistants calls out to him. 

He turns his head and attention to her, pushing up his glasses. 

“Yes?” 

“I need help with this part of the assignment. Could you help me check that I’ve marked it correctly?”

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

As he scans through her work, the teaching assistant’s eyes glance down at the band hugging his ring finger. 

“Prof, you’re married?”

San pauses his writing to glance at the glistening gold on his finger, and a small smile spreads across his cheeks. 

“You know, I used to wear a ring on my ring finger so students would stop asking me if I was married or not.”

She raises her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “So you’re not?”

“I am.”

Her eyes brighten, invested in her handsome professor’s love story. 

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

“All I can tell you is that she’s always been my favourite.”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @ywtf @woojirang @yuyusgirl

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network: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[justslowdown]

I've posted about how more people qualify for federal aid than know it, and how many programs there are. I want to specifically talk about free internet and cell service!

For free cell service and a phone if you need one (most let you keep using yours too), you need to make about $20,000 a year or less for a single person household.

For the Affordable Connectivity Program, which is internet specific and also will help discount phones, laptops, and tablets, the number is about $30,000.

For the ACP, if you're a student, receiving a Pell Grant qualifies you as well! I know some people were wondering if they could apply for SNAP/food stamps if they're in college. As long as you're over 18 and your legal residence isn't your family home (otherwise you'll need to include their income), absolutely.

Look up "[Your state] Lifeline providers" for cell, or "[Your state] Affordable Connectivity Program" for internet and help buying a tablet or computer. Do a little digging before picking a provider. In both states I've done this, some companies offered unlimited data, others didn't. You CAN receive both program assistance at the same time.

This might be an exception, but if you don't have all the documentation you need and it isn't feasible to get it together, it's still worth applying. I was approved and got a phone a couple weeks after doing a half-finished application, without utility bills or proof of address.

[thosewickedlovelies]

A guide to writing fics set in museums / with a museum worker character

Hey hi hello it’s your local museum worker here, offering you some insight and tips to writing museum-related fics! This is primarily organized as a list of different jobs you could have in a museum and what their duties entail. This post might also be useful to you if you’re considering working in museums and want to know What Goes On In There. Let’s go!

For simplicity/fic-writing purposes, I would divide museums into 2 very rough groups: large national or city museums that Have Money (think the Smithsonian or British Museums, or the Chicago Field Museum or the Royal Armouries Museum in Leeds); and smaller local museums. These could be local industry and culture/history-of-our town museums, historic houses, or  really niche subject museums run by One Person With A Passion.

Big national museums have a fuckton of staff and money (museums can never have enough money. But these places are very well-off compared to somewhere small that might always be hustling and writing grant applications). If you work here you’re likely to have a specific role in a particular department, and you probably won’t do much outside this role (ex., if you work in collections management, you probably won’t also design exhibits)

The smaller the museum, the more varied your workload will be/the more likely you are to be doing a little bit of everything. You’re probably organizing collections storage, manning the front desk, and desperately running fundraising efforts, all at once. 

To this end, smaller museums are more likely to be closed one or two days a week- you’ll be there, probably cleaning displays or managing storage, but visitors won’t be.

A lot of (most?) universities also have museums, so a college town setting is also doable. But the same big vs small museum disparity is still possible! At Penn State University, for example, the Palmer Art Museum is its own (recently redone iirc) building in the center of campus with a lovely plaza out front, while the Matson Museum of Anthropology is uhhhhh a couple classrooms in the Anthropology Department (which they’re currently rebuilding tbf, so we’ll see what they’ve done with it in 2025).

Types of Jobs

Curator

The one museum job that everyone can name. Nominally the person in charge. Probably laments that their job is way more admin than fun hands-on stuff now.

Actually this is the role I have the least knowledge of, but I think that’s partially because this job might vary the most from place to place? Structural organization can vary a lot between institutions, but I think the higher up you get in any field, the more your job tends to consist of meetings/overseeing, designating, and ~liaising~

A list of things a curator might do:

Planning or approving events and fundraisers, schmoozing with donors and members at said events, approving or designing a schedule of exhibits, publish outreach/advertising or research materials, oversee hiring, approve new object acquisitions (or de-acquisitions), generally make sure that the museum is working within the scope of its mission and if necessary, change or refine their mission

The curator might not necessarily control a museum’s funds; in this case they’ll liaise with the people who do, likely a Board of Executives or Board of Trustees. Once they get the money from these people, though, they could potentially redistribute it as they see fit.

 If you work in a fuckoff museum like the BM, you could also be the curator of a specific department, arranged by overarching subject, geographic area, time period, or even object type (eg Curator of Archaeobotany, Curator of Korean Collections, curator of coins from the medieval period). These categories can be more or less specific depending on what kind of holdings your museum has. I think these types of curators would still be able to do interesting things, as they aren’t the ones who Oversee The Whole Place.

You can also be an assistant or associate curator, like being an assistant manager.

Education/Engagement

These are the people who design fun extra activities (esp for kids) in the galleries or relevant events/workshops/lectures the public can attend. They might be called Engagement/Education Officer or Events Manager or anything similar

Again, the bigger the museum you work at, the more specific your role is likely to be. You might focus on web content/outreach and social media, manage the ‘friends/members of the museum’ program, or engage with shareholders, etc

Or you might do things like develop content and events to engage adult audiences. Workshops or lectures connected to new exhibits, after-hours visits. These people are also probably the ones with an eye on accessibility- you’ve probably seen advertisements for museums’ early or late hours for older visitors, or ‘quiet hours’ for people who might be overstimulated by normal museum hubbub, or tactile workshops designed for visually impaired folks.

I think most places would try to have someone specific for kids activities at the very least. They’ll be designing little activities or dress-up stations for the galleries, kiddie mascots or scavenger hunt trail kind of things, as well as, potentially, activities for any digital elements in the museum. They probably also coordinate school visits and act as a tour guide for classes, and will lead the kids in specific workshops or lessons in classrooms attached to the museum.

As a note on technology- some people would probably say that integrating digital elements into exhibits is the ~next big thing~, that museums have to get with the times in this regard, but opinions vary. Big science and technology museums are the most likely to have the most digital and techy elements in their exhibits, so if this is your setting, your character could also be a generic “tech person”. I would go so far as to say the smaller/more local the museum, the less technology you’re likely to have, but smaller museums are able to get grants, some of them potentially for specifically this type of thing, so it’s totally possibly that they have a few tablets with integrated activities, or some other Digital/Screen Thing.

Engagement Officers are probably the most likely people to be drafted for out-of-hours events, so that’s a potentially fun thing for your character to do. Some museums, particularly bigger ones, have event spaces attached that anybody can rent out, for weddings, galas, markets, etc, so they might also take care of these bookings as well.

Exhibit Design

This role has a lot of nebulous terms: exhibit coordinator, design constructor, exhibit programmer- but these are the people who design the exhibits. They’ll come up with a theme or narrative, a design scheme, choose the objects, write the text. They’ll probably come up with some marketing material as well, that matches the design scheme, or they’ll liaise with the marketing people who will.

These people might not be as familiar with the collections as the collections management folk (below), depending on how strictly divided your roles are, so they’ll likely consult with the collections people on choosing objects for a particular exhibit or theme (they say that good exhibit design builds an exhibit from the objects up, but I digress).

These people will also direct and participate in the install and deinstall (the actual terms) of exhibits- putting the objects on the right plinths/stands and arranging everything just so in the cases. Genuinely there’s a lot of psychology behind exhibit design- colors, lighting, the way you might design an exhibit to be navigated vs the path people will actually take through the gallery, people’s sight lines and where their eyes go first, how the display of any given object affects people’s perception of the importance of that object. Fascinating stuff, many books on the subject. 

There are also a lot of accessibility concerns to be considered here- how bright is the gallery, how large is your display text, at what height is the central eyeline of your cases?

Museums often loan objects to and from each other’s collections, so if you’re building an exhibit and you’d really like to include X type of object but your museum doesn’t have any, you can borrow some from another museum (this isn’t necessarily a guarantee- museums are allowed to say no to these requests, but I think manners would dictate that they should have a good reason)

Museums sometimes tour whole exhibitions as well- the objects, the text placards, maybe even the stands for super special or fragile items- and exhibit coordinator people are the ones who would handle those arrangements.

Potentially good opportunities for angst stories here- wow things come to life at your museum, you fall in love with a statue but oh no it’s only at your museum for three months

Collections Care

People who work in Collections Management have the most direct contact with the museum objects themselves. You probably work here if you prefer objects to people. When a museum gets new material, these are the people involved. They might not always initiate acquisitions, and the final approval is probably down to the relevant curator, but 98% of the time they’d be consulted (I hope).

A mind-boggling statistic is that most museums only have like 10% of their collections on display at any given time. Yeah. Forreal lol. But collections folk will know where the other 90% is and what’s in it (particularly the longer they’ve been there). 

There’s usually a head Collections Manager. Other workers might be a Collection Assistant/Associate, Collections Officer (we like calling people Officers for some reason), Registrar, or some variant of these depending on the specific flavor of your duties. 

Main job duties can be divided amongst documentation and database work, organization and storage of objects, and lite conservation. Just how much/how technical the conservation work depends on your own training, but also on the size/funding of your museum. The more money, the more likely your museum is to have its own lab with people specifically trained as conservators. More on them later. 

Here’s what happens when a museum gets new stuff!:

Ideally, it goes to a ‘quarantine zone’ first. This is a separate space or room where the objects can relax for a few weeks to a few months (ultimate best practice is actually a year, but, you know. that’s a long time) to ensure that they’re not harboring anything icky (bugs, mold, etc) that will infect the rest of the collections. It’s ideally super-sealed and climate-controlled, but the primary feature should be that it’s away from the main collections store.

Collections folk do the paperwork. They’ll give each individual object a unique number (following their preexisting system that will allow it to be identified distinct from all the other objects in the collection). They’ll create a ‘collections record’ for the object- documentation containing any and all information about the object. This includes the accession paperwork (everything that says ‘we legally own this now’); provenance info (all previous owners and everywhere else the object has been in its life); measurements and description (in painful detail); and conservation history and concerns (ie ‘there’s a crack in the side so pick up with care’, ‘this was repaired in the 70s so that glue is gonna fall apart any day now’).

(I'll say as a fic writer that this would be an great time to wax poetic over a beautiful statue or painting; you can’t write “This golden crown deserved to be worn by a great king, or maybe by that broody Roman general in the painting in Gallery B” in the collections paperwork, but you can think it.)

For fiction’s sake, your collections records could be either paper or digital, but in an ideal world a museum would have both setups, for security’s sake. So you’d fill out some long forms and/or input all the information to the digital collections management system (‘the CMS’, or referred to by your specific software’s name, as there are many out there). The CMS is not a static archive, but rather a living register that’s updated every time an object is interacted with. The object records also include where an object is at any given time (‘normally in Case E in the Fancypants Gallery, currently in Conservation Lab A for repairs’).

Once the objects are done in quarantine, they’ll go to storage. If they’re being displayed immediately, they’ll probably go to some interim storage space/shelf with other objects for the same exhibit and in that case only get a temporary setting. Every object will get labeled with their object number (directly on them, with a special pen that’s safe for this. Or if it’s really tiny, like a coin or jewelry, then their own tiny box will get the label). Small or fragile items, or items grouped together, will go in their own boxes (made of acid- and lignin-free cardboard or polyethylene plastic, like Rubbermaid totes; lined with polyethylene foam and then acid-free tissue paper). Stable ceramic vessels might sit directly on lined shelving, particularly if they’re very large or heavy, like many stone objects.

Listen, every type of object has a particular way(s) of storing that’s best for them, you’re gonna have to look that up yourself or consult someone if you need that level of detail

Ideally, before being stored away, objects are also photographed. This could be part of the Collection Officer’s duty, and/or your museum could have a photographer on staff. (say it with me:) This is more likely if your museum is really huge and/or has a backlog of unphotographed collections and has hired someone specifically, even if temporarily, to improve its collections documentation.

I would say a collections person, or anyone with a museum studies degree, should have some minimum amount of conservation knowledge that includes basic storage standards for different object materials, how to spot potential preservation problems (like if your bronze axe head is actively oxidizing or if that green spot looks the same as it always has since starting and pausing decaying), and maybe how to give objects a basic clean or deal with certain types of problems. But the nitty-gritty science is more the realm of Conservators, someone with a degree that ends in -Sci or who’s done some other certification course.

The general collections store should always be dark, slightly too cool for prolonged human comfort, and labeled to high heaven. Objects will most likely be grouped by material- ceramics/pottery, metals, precious metals and stones (jewelry or beads), stone, glass, wood, bone/ivory/other organic material like feathers or teeth or anything that can be decorative, textiles, paintings. A museum often has some paper material/documents, usually part of or related to a group of objects they acquired, but generally paper and photographic material is the realm of archives and archivists. Yet again, the bigger/more well-funded the museum, the more likely it to have a separate archive department, so your character could also work as an archivist in a museum.

Another thing the collections care folk probably do is ship objects. Remember how I said that  museums loan objects and exhibitions to each other? The stuff’s gotta travel somehow! If things are being shipped internationally, they’ll go in big wooden crates, with specifically dimensioned partitions inside. Then it will be lined with our favorite foam and tissue paper, cut so the objects sit snugly inside. I haven’t personally worked anywhere with a possibility of local shipments, so I can’t say where the threshold might be as to when a museum would just pay an employee to drive the objects over vs ship them with a shipping company. But the preparations would be similar, minus the big wooden crate but with extra-careful packing (and paperwork and insurance etc)

Conservation

Conservators are the people who work in labs with fancy equipment. Not every museum will have a formal conservator or a lab of any kind; sometimes the collections care person fills this role, or if something urgently needs care beyond the abilities of the museum’s equipment, they might send it away to a lab elsewhere, the same way you can send your old VHS home videos to a professional archive to be digitized.

If an object is actively deteriorating in a way that could harm itself or other objects (as opposed to like, at risk of fading bc the lighting is wrong, which is a straightforward fix related to the environment), that’s when a conservator would intervene.

Some methods/machinery by which you can analyze objects:

Ultraviolet (UV) and infrared (IR) light - Different materials absorb and react to light differently, which you can use to identify them. Useful for seeing things like the different layers of paintings

Stereo-microscopy (microscopes, of varying strengths)

At magnifications of x5-x100 you can see things like tool marks from an object’s manufacture, traces from wear, deposits, and coatings

At x50-x500, with a thin sliver of a sample, you can see (and hopefully identify) fibers, layers, particles, metallographic structures 

You can get information from objects without taking samples, but samples are usually worth the information. 

energy dispersive x-ray fluorescence spectrometry (EDXRF) - EDXRF allows you to identify the elemental composition of the surface layer of an object. So it might tell you what a tool is made of, and also the composition of the objects it was used on, if they left traces

scanning electron microscopy (SEM) - an SEM uses a focused beam of electrons to produce a magnified, high-resolution image of the surface of an object

X-radiography, both film and digital - X-rayy are beneficial for objects that might be covered by dirt or corrosion and can show you details of an object’s construction or hidden structural weaknesses

I’m not a conservator, so if you want more hard science-based info, ask one of them lol

Listen to me. If you take nothing else away from this post, let it be this:

 Once an object is in a museum, it is never seeing natural daylight again. Sunlight is the ultimate enemy of every object’s lifespan. If you need to see an object in the sun or moon light for ~magical spell reasons~, you will straight up be stealing that object to smuggle it outside.

Okay. That being said, you do hear (and could probably google) stories about museum employees stealing things from their museums on purpose to prove a point about security or insurance to their higher-ups, so like. Depending on your type of museum, it might not be impossible to steal from lmao. (Don’t tell anyone I said that.)

Possibly the most useful advice for you to keep in mind when writing your conservator or collections care characters would be that touching objects hurts them. It might not hurt them now, it might not even hurt them in ten years, but every time you handle an object, there’s a risk that you’ll damage it. Not on purpose, obviously, but to err is human. The simplest, most effective advice my conservation professor ever gave us was “don’t handle an object if you don’t have to.” That means don’t move an object without a plan and a place to put it, first examination should always be visual, not tactile, etc. Unfortunately, that means that your character cannot walk around lovingly handling and caressing their favorite objects (unless this is a Night at the Museum situation where the objects are caressing them back, ykwim)

Museum Technician

These people probably have a lot of different names, but basically, technicians are the background muscle of the museum. They do the technical construction of bigger pieces of exhibition material, up to and including the exhibition cases themselves. 

So they wouldn’t deal with the small mount that the object rests on, but they might build the big plinth that the mount sits on. They’ll help move things around the building, particularly big heavy things, hang big framed works, assist with exhibit installs, and generally do most things which might involve power tools/equipment or heavy lifting

I worked in a big museum that hired a third party company to supply their technicians; I interviewed at another place that hired their own. If you’re a small museum, you might just have a freelance person that comes in once or twice a week to help move things.

Other

Other miscellaneous roles one could have in a museum: researcher (for exhibits and/or collections), gift shop or cafe worker, security guard, room attendant, translator, archaeologist, consultant

Honestly, TL;DR? Just have your character be a consultant of some kind. “Oh no, I don’t work here, I’m Y’s friend. They called me in to provide some expertise on X subject that they’re doing an exhibit on.” This could work for literally any subject- history/archaeology/anthropology, art, transportation, science and technology, anything you might find pictures of in an archive, idk. This could get you into an office or meeting room of some kind in the ‘employee only’ space of the museum, or potentially all the way into the collections store if you’re giving them information they were missing about some objects. Otherwise you’d probably (hopefully) need a key or some other kind of security clearance to get into the collections store.

Whew, that was a ride, huh? I hope this guide was useful to someone! I’m always open to answering questions if you think I forgot something or if anyone wants more details <3

[explicit-tae]

Little Doe

An alternate world in which Predator Hybrids are the top of the Hybrid hierarchy. It’s Valentine’s Day and you, a Prey Hybrid, decide to help a Predator Hybrid through their heat. @whipwhoops @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @babycandy111

Word Count: 5.161

Warning: smut, hybrid/shifter universe, wolf hoseok, doe/deer reader, heat/rut sex, dirty talk, licking, oral sex, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, knotting, biting, impregnation/breeding kink,

Valentine’s Day Masterlist | Alternate Universe

“Jung Hoseok.” the man says, arm spread out to offer his hand to you. You take it with a smile, shaking it. His grip is firm, but polite.

“Y/L Y/N.” you introduce yourself before sitting down behind your desk. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jung-ssi.”

“Hoseok is fine.” the man smiles, flashing you a pair of perfect teeth. 

Your body flushes and you nod. “Yes, Hoseok.” you murmur, slightly embarrassed by your sudden change of attitude. “I-I got your paperwork. It appears to me that you are a Predator Shifter…?”

You were what was called a “heat partner”. In a world where Shifters walk freely alongside humans, predator Shifters and prey Shifters such as yourself, it was important for Shifters to have something for themselves. Such as a heat partner when they aren’t “mated” to anyone.

Heat partners are exactly what they are described, perfectly designed to assist a person through their heat - male or female. You had made the business proposal back in college and the business has since grown national - even as the CEO, you participated (only when top dollars were made to be earned).

Such as now, with Jung Hoseok.

The man is charming, you’d admit. Tall with broad shoulders and a sculptured face. Smooth skin with soft eyes and a pair of heart-shaped lips. In order to afford your services, the man was obviously wealthy - having stated in his application that whatever price you listed was what he was willing to pay. 

The kicker was - he was a predator Shifter. Your agency does strictly prey. That didn’t mean that you didn’t open another separate business for Predators - you had! You, however, were not running said business.

“Yes, I am.” Hoseok nods his head after your question. “I take suppressants to…mask my scent.”

No wonder, you think; There wasn’t any scent on him and that meant that he was dousing himself with suppressants on the daily. The thought frightened you a bit - just what type of Predator was he?

“As you know, Jung - Hoseok,” you begin. “We typically serve Prey Shifters here. Is there a certain-”

“Excuse me.” Hoseok suddenly interrupts. “I’m well aware of what agency I applied with. You are the person I’m looking for, after all.” Hoseok is direct when he speaks, never faltering and not a stutter in sight.

A predator indeed.

“Y-Yes.” you nod your head. “I’m aware, but-”

“Money is no issue.” Hoseok speaks. He was pleading, his eyes staring right into your own. He swallows. “I…I prefer not to have predator Shifters for my heats.”

You didn’t realize your hands were gripping his paper work in your hand until it began to crinkle beneath your fingers. 

“As you know we do not ask our customers certain questions due to confidentiality. However, you being a Predator Shifter, I must.”

Hoseok nods. “You’re asking what Shifter I am?”

You nod hesitantly. “I’m a deer.” you tell him, watching and waiting for his reaction.

Hoseok nods. “I can smell you.” he murmurs, voice low that it causes goosebumps to litter your skin - thank god you wore a long-sleeve shirt. Your head was ringing with alarm bells to get as far away from this man as possible.

“I-I can't smell you.” you try to smile but it appears more as a grimace. “If I may ask…”

Hoseok is hesitant, but he answers nonetheless. “A wolf.”

Hoseok can hear your heart increase by the second, pounding so loudly out your chest that he has to suppress a growl - something he does on instant rather than anything personal.

“You’re frightened.”

Terrified. “N-No-” he stuttered, shaking your head. You were lying to comfort him, but your sudden demeanor change told him everything he needed to know.

“Please.” Hoseok sighs out, utterly desperate. “I cannot handle other wolves or predators. They’re…” his nose curls. “...too dominant for me. They fight me.” he speaks, tone low. “You Prey are soft and sweet. Submissive.”

Now he looks like a creep, Hoseok thinks. Your eyes are wide and you want to run as far away as you can, but you’re a deer caught in headlights - literally. 

“I-I-” you’re unsure what to tell Hoseok. You’re frightened, yes, but overall, you wanted to help him. He had come to you specifically - the reason you’re unsure - but he wanted help. It’s an unusual request. Not very many Predators come here and pay for Prey, but it isn’t uncommon for them to hookup outside of their heat cycles. 

“I have a set price an hour…”

Hoseok licks his lips with anticipation. “Yes.” he nods hastily. “I would like to pay you more if you’d like.”

“That won’t be-”

“I want you to stay with me the entire week.”

Hoseok hears it again, your heartbeat racing. 

“I’m not going to eat you, Y.N.” Hoseok says, his eyes flickering with something different, however. “It’s just…I…I need you there with me all the time.” he doesn’t elaborate further and you’re far too afraid that if he does, you’ll back out of the deal. 

“I’ll need to see the place before your heat starts.” you slowly nod your head, placing his paperwork down. “Does tomorrow work for you? It’s for my safety.”

“Of course!” Hoseok nods. “Anything you need.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Well, for now we can sign paperwork.” you open a draw to your desk and grasp a black pen to sign your name on said documents. “If you’d like to take it home with you and read through it, you can.”

Hoseok nods his head and takes the documents in his hands. “Thank you.” he grins your way. “I’ll have them signed tomorrow.” he begins to stand, as do you. “Thank you for your time, Y/L-ssi.” he gives you his hand once more and you return the smile shyly.

“Y/N is fine, Hoseok.” you tell him, grabbing his hand to shake once more. You yelp when Hoseok lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it. His lips are soft, his dark eyes flickering up to look at you.

The drive to Hoseok home was a long one - understandably. He, after all, was a wolf shifter and like yourself, preferred to reside in a forestry area. The trees are high into the sky and the scent is natural. The area is quiet as you park your car, eyes roaming the large cabin in front of you. It’s at least four stories built with the finest wood with high ceilings windows. There’s multiple lights shining onto the porch that wraps around the entire cabin. 

You can smell them - not Hoseok, but more wolves. The smell is intoxicating, filling your senses and having you stiff in your spot. You swallow, your deer screaming to run away - far, far away from here. 

Your eyes widen when the door of the cabin opens suddenly and behind it is a tall man. His eyes are on you in an instant and you’re unable to move or look away. 

“You must be…Y/N?” the man says, strolling towards you. His footsteps creek above the wooden stairs as he makes his way towards you. “You’re a doe…” the man sniffs the air, an obvious attempt to smell you.

“You're scaring her.”

Oh no.

Another wolf emerges from behind the door. He’s a little shorter and behind him, yet another one, as tall as the first one. They all surround you, tall and dominant. 

“Your heart's beating so fast, little doe. We’re not going to eat you.” the second one laughs heartily. “My name is Jimin. Hobi told us a Prey was coming.”

“I’m Jungkook.” the third one says, circling around you for a better view. “You’re very brave. We don’t get a lot of doe’s around here.”

There’s a growl that has you cowering - as do the other three wolves. You’re now visibly trembling, arms wrapped around you. You knew that the three meant no harm - they appeared younger than you and overall playful. As a deer shifter, you were just naturally terrified of any predator and being on their territory didn’t make it easier for you.

“Go somewhere else.”

That was Hoseok’s voice speaking now and your eyes glance upwards from the ground to see him towering behind the three wolves. 

“I am so sorry.” Hoseok’s voice lowers when the three men scurry off, both apologizing and snickering. “They mean no harm. They’re just…playful.” he sighs. If you turned him down now he wouldn’t be upset with you.

“I-It’s okay.” you curse at the stutter in your voice. “D-Do they live here?”

“Somewhat.” Hoseok nods. “This,” he mentions to the large cabin behind him. “is my home. They come and go. They have their own homes on the land we’re on now.”

Hoseok picks up on your unease - it was natural. You were in a wolf's den surrounded by them. As a prey, you were like a shiny new toy to them.

“Please come in.” Hoseok offers you his hand to take. “It’s completely safe. They would not be here when I’m in heat.” 

You allow Hoseok to show you inside the large cabin. The scent is heavy of wolves and it causes you to stick besides Hoseok as he was the only familiar person you knew.

“I want to show you something.” Hoseok squeezes your hand encouragingly. “It’s where we’d be staying next week.”

You nod your head.

Hoseok ventures deeper into the cabin. It’s warm and would be inviting if you weren’t a Prey.

“I’ve been using suppressants to mask my scent but here,” Hoseok stops before a wooden door. “is where I can be myself. The scent will be…powerful.”

Powerful indeed. Upon opening the door, you’re hit with a scent so prudent. You’re stunned for a second, eyes widening. 

“That’s…your scent?” you whisper out.

Hoseok lightly tugs you inside the room. It’s large and appears to be like a bedroom, a large bed in the middle of the room. Behind it, a large ceiling window showcasing beautiful scenery outside. To the right is a door slightly cracked, you assumed a bathroom. On the far left is a bookcase with a desk.

“This is my den.” Hoseok speaks, releasing your hand but remaining close. “Similar to a nest.”

Hoseok watches the way your eyes scan the room. He senses that his scent is overbearing to you, dominant. For the last few weeks he’s been scenting it to assure that it smelt like him; that he’d be comfortable in the room for his rut.

“I hope it isn’t too much.” Hoseok speaks after five minutes of you calming yourself down. 

“No!” you shake your head, turning to him. “I know nesting is important to those in heat or ruts.” you tell him truthfully, having done so yourself. 

Hoseok grins at your statement. “Yes.” he nods. “I was wondering…if I could have something of yours. To remain here.” he swallows, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. 

You lick your lips as your body heats. 

“If it’s too much-”

“No!” you interrupt. “I-I don’t mind.” you assure. You were here to help Hoseok soon and if this is what he wanted, then so be it. After all, he was a client paying top dollar for your services. “Is my jacket alright?”

Hoseok nods his head with a shrug. “Y-yeah.” his cheeks reddened. 

You remove your jacket and hand it to Hoseok, body heated. 

“I…” you lick your lips. “...can scent some more things in here. If it would make it better?”

Hoseok’s eyes widen a bit but he nods hastily. “Y-Yeah! You can.” he responds all too quickly. “Would you like something of mine? So you can become accustomed to it?” he offers.

You nod your head as well, encouraging grin on your lips. “Yes, that’ll be nice.”

For the last week you made sure to leave Hoseok’s scent on yours - and it caused stress amongst the other Prey’s at the office. Your assistant was the first to cower, not walking into your office due to fear - she was a rabbit shifter - and instead, called you from her own office opposite of yours. “The scent is that powerful? You recall asking her, surprised. “It’s only his shirt…”

Your own scent was covered in Hoseok’s and by the time it was for you to go to his home - coincidentally starting on Valentine’s Day - your scent was the acute one. However, it calmed you, as crazy as it sounded, because now you were accustomed to Hoseok’s scent. You’re thankful that you were able to ease your way into it instead of being overwhelmed like you were the week prior.

Like promised, you sensed no other wolves shifter in the area and you were thankful for that. Being around Hoseok was enough for you - you’re not sure if you could handle a whole pack of wolves sniffing around you.

Hoseok had sent you a message a few hours earlier telling you that the door was unlocked when you arrived, along with more messages. You’re appreciative that he offered to supply your food, stating that he has already filled his home with various fruits and vegetables to satiate your diet.

You clench your bag in your hand as you enter Hoseok’s home. It’s eerily silent and you wonder just what the man was doing. You don’t dwell, however, and instead make your way down the long, wooden hall to where his den was at.

You open the door to the den and find Hoseok inside. He’s asleep, sweat lining his forehead and he’s shirtless, the comforter only covering the bottom half of his body. You close the door behind you and exhale, placing your bag on the ground and making your way towards Hoseok.

You tilt your head to the side and snort. “You are kinda cute.” you murmur, placing a hand onto his forehead to wipe the sweat away. 

It was the early stages of Hoseok’s head and he was only experiencing light chills and normal arousal - as the days led up, he would be utterly needy. 

You dip down into the bed beside Hoseok, slowly to not wake him. You lay on your side and close your eyes. You’ll be here when Hoseok wakes up.

You’re unsure when you fell asleep and for how long, but the large window that once shined with natural light now only displays a full moon.

You moan sleepily when the sensation runs through you. Your hips are being gripped, sharp fingernails digging into your skin.

“You smell so good, little doe.”

Goosebumps gather onto your skin at the voice - deep, raspy and full of needy lust. Hoseok was awake, grinding into you from behind. His lips are pressing wet kisses to the skin behind your ear, a low growl mewling from his lips.

“Y-You’re awake.”

“I smelled you from my sleep.” Hoseok’s lips are now on your neck, inhaling your scent. His mouth is salivating. “‘wanna taste you,  little doe. You’d let me, right?”

“Yes.” you nod weakly, whimpering. 

“So good, little doe. So submissive like how I’d known you’d be.” Hoseok flips you onto your back and cages you beneath him. Your eyes meet the obvious bulge in his shorts. His hands tug at your clothing harshly, tearing the fabric apart without a care in the world.

You don’t respond, only gasp at the action - and it drives Hoseok’s wolf crazy. This is what he needed during a time like this; someone who wasn’t going to put up a fight against him. Someone who was going to submit to him like his wolf wanted; someone like you.

“Such soft, pretty skin.” Hoseok mewls, his tongue poking out and dragging along your bare skin. His tongue is so warm and slimy, but you’re overly aroused. “Scent so amazing and tempting, little doe.”

A strangled moan releases from your lips when Hoseok’s tongue dips down between your breast and slides past your stomach. He pries your legs open and growls, eyes completely dark with lust. He inhales your arousal and doesn’t hesitate to dive right in. His tongue laps between your folds hungrily, nails digging into your soft thighs.

Your back arches, legs widening. This was your first time with a Predator, with someone so dominant. Prey’s weren’t quite vanilla as one thought, sure, but a wolf was different.

“H-Hoseok, please.” your hand tugs at his hair, unable to take anymore pleasure. Your eyes flutter open to look between your legs - a mistake. Hoseok was already looking at you, dark eyes zoning into your own. It causes you to freeze, unable to look away from him. Your arousal leaks over his tongue and his lips and like a man starved, he licks it all up.

“Little doe,” Hoseok growls, a trail of saliva dropping right onto your clit. “so sweet and all for me.”

You don’t get to talk, Hoseok is faster than you. Two, long fingers enter you swiftly - deeply. He pumps with vigor, determined to coat himself completely in your sweet arousal. Your pussy is tight around his fingers, squeezing and squelching for more.

“Does it feel good, little doe?” Hoseok questions rhetorically. You’re a moaning mess who’s coating his fingers with sweet honey, of course it felt good.

But, Hoseok was a wolf. He was dominant and confident - he wanted to hear you say it.

“Y-Ye-”

Hoseom bites your inner thigh, teeth sinking into your skin. 

“Y-Yes!” you screech, jerking. Your hands find your naked breast, eyes continuing to flutter with pure pleasure.

Hoseok’s fingers were scraping against your walls, hitting your sweet spot with each pump. His teeth grazes past your skin, lips pressing a firm kiss to your clit. His stamina is immaculate but what did you truly expect from a wolf?

Hoseok likes to watch your face as he pleasures you - his tongue flickering against the swollen bud as his fingers ram so deep inside of you that you’re screeching out in ecstasy. He loves to watch the way your eyebrows would scrunch together and the way you would gasp so loudly. His lips and chin are coated in your essence but he does nothing but savor the sweet, submissive taste that he has desperately longed for all week.

Hoseok’s calloused hand slams against your thigh harshly just as he feels it begin to close in on him. His eyes are furious at the audacity that you’d attempt to stop him from devouring you. He forces you against his tongue, two fingers never ceasing their movement. The noises he made we just as lewd as yours; slurping as if it’s a five course meal; and to him, it is.

“So ready to be full of me.” Hoseok groans against your clit, his eyes zoning in on the way your pussy squeezes his fingers, juices sliding down the palms of his hand and hitting his wrist. “Need to prep you first, little doe, before I take what’s mine.”

You weren’t sure you could handle Hoseok fucking you - you were overstimulated now. Tears brim your eyes with the amount of pleasure, and now with the way he spoke to you with such a sultry voice - you weren’t going to leave here alone, surely.

Talking was a bit difficult, but it was evident Hoseok wanted you to speak to him - to show him just how submissive you were. You nod your head and murmur a soft “please” and it’s all Hoseok needs to truly make you cum. Your thighs shake in his grasp and your moans grow higher and higher. They bounce off of the walls of his den and your body begins to shake rapidly beneath him. 

Hoseok encourages you to grind against his tongue, to take him just as much as he was taking you, but as of right now you couldn’t - and that was alright with him. You were going through your own high, your senses clouded in Hoseok; his scent looming over you dominantly and all you could do was lay against the soft bed as you cum the hardest you’ve ever had.

Hoseok wish he could have a picture of you like this - maybe even a painting in his den. Just for his eyes only to witness the beauty that was you, naked and covered in your own arousal and sweat and fully submitted to him. It’s a sight he would forever keep in his thoughts.

You’re panting, slightly trembling with overstimulation.

You bring out something in Hoseok - similar to a hunger that could never be satiated. If he could have you on his tongue for hours, he would. The bulge in his underwear is tight and screaming at him to let it be free. 

“Little doe,” you hear Hoseok call you, calloused fingers grasping your jaw to look at him. “even as you lay here trembling, your pussy longs to be filled, doesn’t it? I see you clenching around nothing, wishing it was me.”

You moan faintly, nodding your head. Even if you came as hard as you did, you in fact did want Hoseok to fuck you. The idea frightened your deer - you never had wolf and you’re sure he’s never had deer either. But the thought excites you just as you know it excites him.

You, weakly, sit up, eyes blinking innocently at Hoseok. He watches you, unmoving, as your hands settle at his own hips. “Wanna taste you now.” you murmur at him, lashes blinking upwards at him.

Hoseok growls, a deep rumble coming from his chest that startles you. You watch him with wide eyes and wait for him to speak. 

“I want to see your sweet lips around me, little doe.” Hoseok allows your hands to dip beneath his shorts. For a moment you’re stuck when you in fact tough his clothed cock. It twitches when it comes in contact with you, an obvious need to be touched. 

You gulp when you actually do see it in front of you. It’s large and veiny, the tip leaking with pre-cum and even if it does appear threatening at it’s large size (larger due to the rut and the need to breed), you’re mouth salivates to suck it.

Hoseok stiffens with your tongue licks up his slit, coating your warm tongue with the precum. Your hand wraps around the base and you waste no time in circling your tongue around the tip.

Such warmth and pleasure drives Hoseok crazy and he doesn’t hide his moans or grunts. He’s unmoving, unblinking as he watches you take him into your mouth, deeper and deeper.

You’re positive that you’d come to regret doing this - but you were full of arousal and lust for the man and needed everything he had to offer. You begin to suck onto his cock as if your life depended on it. The tip hits the back of your throat and your eyes water, but it would be a lie to say that you weren’t aroused. 

“Such a slutty doe you are.” Hoseok hisses, the filthy sight of you makes him want more. “So frightened by me but still want to be stuff full.”

Hoseok yanks your hair roughly and instantly, you submit - just how he wanted. He begins to thrust inside of you, taking your mouth as his own. He hits the back of your throat with each thrust, a strangle moan meeting him when he gets there. Your thighs clenched together for friction and your pussy does the same, wishing it was this very cock ramming inside of you. 

Hoseok's throat growls once more - so beautiful, he thinks. Tears streaming down your eyes and coating your puffy cheeks as he buries his cock deep in your throat. “When I look at you, I can see a sweet little doe in those eyes…” Hoseok was going to cum, never truly meaning to last long. But during his rut, he could cum so many times and still be hard within seconds, so did it truly matter? “...but then I look deeper into these eyes, and I see that devilious side to you.”

You moan, vibrating against his shaft. Hoseok thrusts deeper and deeper until you feel the salty substance reach your tongue. It’s warm and overpowering, but you’re forced to take it all - and never once do you complain or protest.

Hoseok yanks you off of his cock with a pop, saliva and cum dripping down the sides of your lips. Hoseok forces his own lips - so soft, you think - against yours in a needy, dominant kiss.

“Your pussy is calling for me, little doe. Begging to be stuffed with my knot.”

“P-Please…” you murmur weakly, full of need.

Hoseok snarls and within seconds, he flips you onto your front. He forces your legs apart and once more, snarls at just the visual in front of him; a wolf’s dream.

You yelp when you feel a harsh slap onto your ass, stinging. One hand slams against your back to remain firmly against the bed while the other digs its nails onto your waist. 

“Gonna fuck you full of my pups, little doe. Breed you just nice.” Hoseok grumbles, speaking more to himself, but you hear every word and damn did it sound nice.

Hoseok centers himself at your entrance, a grunt releasing from his throat. He rubs the tip between your sweet folds and then sighs shakily at how heavenly you feel.

“My sweet little doe…such a slutty body you have.” Hoseok begins to enter you, your walls completely heavenly; so tight, wet and serene.

Hoseok gasps fully when he’s inside of you completely. You do the same, a small sense of discomfort at the size of Hoseok, but you felt amazingly stuff as you had been wanting to.

Hoseok isn’t able to control himself and you’re glad that you prepared for such. He begins to pound into you with such need; deep and fast. His abdomen slams against your ass as he tries to go deeper with each thrust.

You cry out in pleasure and discomfort - it was going to take getting used to getting fucked by someone as dominant as him. But even your moans were that of pure desire, legs widening a bit more just to have in you deeper.

Your pussy is pulsating, Hoseok notes, and it drips all over his bed. He doesn’t stop his assault, unable to. Your moans give him the fuel to continue on, such sweet and submissive moans and wolf needs to hear when claiming what was theirs.

By the time Hoseok was done with you, you were going to be bruised with finger and hand marks. Hoseok grips onto your skin so tightly, but there’s no complaints your way. “Such a sweet pussy taking a wolf so well. A prey could never satisfy you like this, little doe.”

Hoseok wants to hear you say it. A hand claws at your throat and he pushes you back against his bare chest. Your breast bounces in the rhythm of his powerful thrusts. “Say it, little doe. After I’m done here with you, your pussy would only ever want a predator.”

Your hands find his thigh, muscle flexing when you do. It’s a small sign of resistance and that’s something Hoseok didn’t like.

“Stop trying to run, doe. I already got my hands on you, you aren’t going anywhere.”

You came at the words, so hard that you began to shake. Your arousal leaks down your thighs, but Hoseok was nowhere near done with you. He now has the desire to see your face as he fucks you and turns you around fully before him like a ragdoll. Both hands snake beneath your thighs as he enters you, thrusting just as powerful as before.

Your face contorts with pleasure, eyes widening just to snap shut and moans pooling out your sweet lips. 

“Pretty little thing,” Hoseok presses open mouth kisses against your face. His bed rocks and shakes vigorously, hitting against the tall window. “all mine to breed. You’d want that, wouldn’t you? To be bred by a wolf.” Hoseok spits, teeth clasping down at delicate skin.

“Y-Yes!” you cry, arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring him close. Your lips find his, both tongues devouring the other. You’ve dealt with many ruts and heats, but this one was far more intimate. Hoseok was a talkative person and it was difficult to not submit to the man.

Hoseok snarls. “Gonna give you all my pups, little doe. Get you nice and round just for me and me only.”

There was something about being predators and their need to breed that now has you wishing he’d do just that. It was the sex speaking to you - and his rut speaking to him - but all you could think about was being so full of his cum that breeding a few of his pups didn’t scare you. 

Jung Hoseok was a dangerous man.

“Want your knot.” you screech, your fingernails clawing at his back for him to give you what you wanted. “Want your pups.”

Hoseok was going crazy - his wolf was screaming at him to take you fully, bite that spot on your neck and take you as his; then you’d truly would be having his pups like your fucked out self wanted. But his sane part manages to hold himself back from his wolf claiming you.

“Gonna cum in you.” Hoseok grumbles, pushing you back against the bed and fucking right into you. His cock is so enlarged due to his rut and the knot in his system. A small bulge is seen in your stomach with each thrust and Hoseok had one goal in mind. 

You’re unable to speak as Hoseok presses your knees to your shoulders and pounds sloppily in you. His eyes are watching you, unmoving and not blinking. There’s a growl that reaches your ears when Hoseok comes closer. He’s dangerously close to your neck, teeth blaring. Your heart skips a beat, frightened with the sounds his  wolf is making and your deer wants to run for its life from the predator. 

“Gonna make you mine, little doe.” Hoseok’s voice is deeper than before, his breath tickling your skin. “Only mine to fuck pups into.”

You’re far too consumed in cumming for a third time that you don’t notice the meaning of his words until his teeth are biting the soft, delicate skin of your neck. You scream out in pain, pussy clenching around his cock just as he’s cumming. His cock swells inside of you, his knot pooling deep inside to do what it’s intending on doing.

You remain completely still and silent, your high and submissive nature not allowing you to protest, even if the pressure was becoming unbearable. Hoseok holds you close, his throat growling lowly, tongue twirling on the mark he has left freshly on your skin. When his high dies down, he’s positive he’s going to be in a world of trouble for marking you as his own - and the pain his wolf is going to feel if you reject him.

[pennylanewrites]

teacher’s aide (levi ackerman)

warnings: m!masturbation, voyerism, alcohol, smoking, age gap (15 years), me pushing my smitten!levi agenda

levi ackerman was an esteemed and recognised sociology professor. stern, strict and to the point in all of his lectures. most of his classes kept quiet, trying to take notes while he talked fast and went through powerpoint slides like it was the morning paper.

you had been working hard for that teacher’s aide position for two years, when you finally got the acceptance email. it was no secret on campus that professor ackerman’s assistants worked closely to him and got accepted in prestigious firms right after college, with his recommendation of course.

it was also no secret that professor ackerman was incredibly good-looking. his veiny arms and broad shoulders made up for his short height and the way his raven hair fell over his rectangular seeing glasses was so…

“y/n.” his stern voice shook you out of your thoughts. crap. the whole auditorium was staring at you. “the papers.” was all he said before going back to his laptop. you looked down at your hands, realising you were holding the class’s tests for more than you should. you cleared your throat and went through the auditorium, leaving a stack of papers in front of each student. as you walked down, your eye caught his.

levi noticed everything. he noticed how today you were wearing lipgloss instead of your usual lipstick, he noticed the rip in your tights that went down the back of your leg, your new platform loafers and the beads of sweat on your forehead. levi ackerman was not the kind of man that would catch feelings for a student, but you were so…good.

yes, at first he thought you were very attractive, and maybe that’s why he always rejected your aide application. but he also got to know you better every time you replied to one of his questions. you were the only student brave enough to raise their hand, and he appreciated that. sooner than later, you stayed back every day after class to clean up the mess of loose papers and pens, and before he knew it he was smitten.

maybe it was the way you brushed against him to clean the board and shut the projector, a timid apology escaping your lips, or the way you weren’t afraid to challenge him in a theoretical conversation about archaic philosophy during class.

or maybe…shit, how long have i been staring? levi looked away and cleared his throat when he noticed you trying to contain your smile.

class was over and you were going through your usual routine, marking left over questionnaires from the last lecture as he went through tomorrow’s one.

“sir, i’m wondering about…” you rolled your chair across the auditorium’s stage, holding onto his desk to stop the chair, “this one.” you pointed at a question on the paper.

levi was not one to lose his temper, but he was finding it very hard to contain himself when your knee was touching his and your perfume could reach his brain through his nose.

“well, this-this one…” he trailed off, watched you push your hair off your neck, leaving the bare skin on sight for him. god, he could eat you right then and there.

levi had never been more thankful for his phone to ring in his life. the vice dean’s name flashed on the screen, and you leaned back to allow him to get the device.

“i have to go…meeting…come by my office tonight, okay?” he scrambled to get his things and ran off, leaving you in the empty auditorium.

you let your head fall on your pillow, groaning with despair. he hates me. he can’t even talk to me.

you had seen him earlier with petra, his old t.a who graduated last year. he was laughing, for fuck’s sake. he was laughing and buying her coffee in the campus coffee house, and they were sitting over a book and…

“ugh! what is she even doing here?” you threw your pillow on the floor, but it hit you back in the face.

“oh my god, shut up!” your roommate kept hitting you with the pillow, until you grabbed it. “enough, y/n, please.”

“mikasa, do you think they’re dating?” you sat up on the bed, looking at the girl across you. “be honest, i can take it.”

“i think you’re sick. there’s something seriously wrong with you.” she scrunched her nose up in disgust.

“he’s so…”

“old.”

“mature.”

“he’s mature because he’s old.” your roommate kindly reminded you of your age difference. “get over him, please. even if he liked you, he’s your teacher. i doubt he would put his job in danger.”

your eyes lit up, an excited smile covering your earlier gloom.

“you think he likes me?”

“that’s not what i said. where are you going?”

you only grinned before grabbing your bag and barging out of the dorm room. your shoes squeezed against the polished floors as you made your way to the teachers’ wing, and to the third door to your left, your favourite wooden door in the world.

with a sigh, you lifted your fist to knock, but something made you freeze. you looked around to make sure no one was in the corridor, before pushing your ear against the door.

shit, shit, shit, shit

he was moaning. fucking moaning, in his office, when he had specifically told you to visit him. you thought of the possibility of him having a girl in there, even petra, but no one else could be heard. everything right in your head was telling you to turn around and leave, but your hand was on the doorknob, and you were slowly twisting it.

just one look. one look and i’ll-

your eyes grew wide at the sight. a half empty bottle of bourbon sat next to an empty glass, a cigarette was slowly burning on the ashtray, the first two buttons of his white shirt were undone. god, you could clearly see his nipples through the fabric. the desk obscured your vision, but you could see his hand moving up and down, up and down, up-

“fu-fuuuck.” his voice strained, his head fell back and you were wet a creep.

you turned around and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. looking at your reflection on your phone, you made sure pervert wasn’t written across your forehead, and turned back around.

two soft knocks on the door. levi fixed his hair quickly, buttoned his shirt and put the cigarette out.

“come in.” you entered the room and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“long day?” you pointed at the bottle, smiling softly. he chuckled and motioned for you to sit down. “i can come back some other…” you trailed off when he took another glass out, filling it halfway and pushing it towards you.

you fidgeted with a ring on your finger, unsure of what to do.

“i shouldn’t…”

“i won’t tell if you won’t.” he filled his own glass and raised it to you, before taking a sip. you smiled softly, taking a sip of the drink. it burned coming down, just like his gray stare on you did.

“i have the tests marked. that question i was wondering about earlier,” you took the stack of papers out of your bag, leaving them in front of the man.

“yeah, i looked it up. it’s actually-”

“i figured it out.” you cut him off. he raised an eyebrow and put his glasses on, looking down at the marked paper, and the right answer which you had wrote down in red ink.

“you did.” he agreed and looked at you through strands of his raven hair. “good girl.”

you froze. you could feel your whole face turning an ugly shade of red. a million disgusting thoughts ran through your head as he walked around the desk to sit on the chair across from yours. his muscles flexed as he reached over the desk to get the ashtray and his drink. you took a big sip of the drink, trying to convince yourself the sexual tension was just in your head.

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

“what?” he shook you out of your thoughts. he knew you were staring at him.

“nothing. i’ve never seen you like this.” you admitted, still sipping your drink.

“like what?”

like you don’t have a stick up your ass.

“relaxed.” you opted for the nice comment.

“i’m far from relaxed, trust me.” you watched as he placed a cigarette between his wet lips, lighting it with a white lighter.

“those are bad luck.” you took the lighter in your hand, fidgeting with it.

“huh. maybe that’s why my life’s shit.” he chuckled, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“come on…” your eyes fell on a book on his desk.

masculine domination, pierre bourdieu. you grinned, taking it in your hands to inspect the front page.

“take it. it’s for my doctorate students, but i think you-”

“i’ve read it.” you closed it and put it back on the pile.

“of course you have. you’re a smart girl, you know?”

he was praising you. and he was filling your glass again. when did you even finish the first?

“are you trying to get me drunk, sir?”

“i think you’re capable of controlling yourself.”

“don’t be so sure.” you mumbled, staring at your feet.

“what was that?”

“nothing!” you shook it off with a smile, but he had heard you just fine.

god, you wanted him so bad. as the hours went by, and the bottle came to its’ end, you became more and more impatient. you were scared of what you would do honestly, if one more drop of alcohol entered your system. but, were you crazy to think he wanted this too? why would he pour you a drink, and ask you all these questions, and make you laugh with stupid jokes if he-

“what are you thinking about?” he shook you out of your thoughts. you showed him the clock on the wall.

“that i should get going. some teacher thought it would be a good idea to have an 8 am class.” you grinned. you reached your hand out to return him his lighter, but you dropped it instead.

“that’s one lousy teacher.” he chuckled, kneeling on the floor to get the lighter. you waited for him to get up, so you could too, but he wouldn’t move. still kneeling, he came closer to you, his hands hesitantly moving to rest on the sides of your thighs.

internally, you were screaming. but not a single breath came out of your mouth as you watched him. he sighed and finally locked eyes with you.

“i’m not crazy, am i?”

“wh-what?” your voice came out as a whisper. pathetic.

“to think there’s something, right? here. there’s something here and i-”

“sir-”

“don’t.” he squeezed your thighs and you swore your heart would jump out your chest sooner or later. he straightened his back and got up, pulling you with him. “don’t call me sir.”

you let him seat you on top of his desk, you let him spread your legs and stand between them. he pushed your hair behind your ear and inched closer. his breath against your neck made you shiver, and a soft kiss forced a small gasp out of your mouth.

your hands trembled as you placed them around his neck, and his breath staggered when you played with the strands of hair that fell on his undercut.

“please kiss me.” he swore his knees would give when he heard your voice, so soft, so sweet. you were as needy for him as he was for you.

his strong hands met your face, his silver ring cooled your burning cheek. you closed your eyes, and his lips finally met yours. it was careful at first, both of you scared the other would change their mind. but all it took was you pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt, and he lost his mind. his hands slipped down to your waist and you arched your back to get closer to him, if that was even possible. your mouth trailed to his jaw, leaving sloppy kisses all the way down his neck. a playful bite made him gasp. you chuckled.

“stop. you’ll drive me crazy.” he squeezed your hip.

“good.” you grinned and leaned in to kiss him again, but his hand in your hair held you back.

“you have to go…” he managed between soft kisses down your chest, at least as far as your shirt allowed, “or i won’t be able to stop.” he held your hands, and kissed them both, maintaining eye contact with you.

“then don’t stop.” you whined, but your grin turned into a frown when he pulled you off the desk and fixed your skirt. “levi-”

“save something for later, right?”

his promise of a later was enough. you left him to clean up and walked out the door with a sheepish smile and a whispered goodnight.

your phone buzzed on your way back to the dorms, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw the name on the screen.

professor ackerman: wear that green dress tomorrow.

you raised an eyebrow.

just the dress.

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : med student!abby anderson x liberal arts student!reader ᥫ᭡

content: wlw relationship. modern college au. ramblings of fluff, maybe a touch of angst but nothing heavy. enjoy <3

a/n: my authority for writing this you ask? i'm an english major who gets asked regularly what i am going to do with my degree! also this is my first time writing about abby i just had to get this idea out of my head and on to the screen.

-abby decided at a young age to follow in her father's footsteps and become a doctor as well. she committed herself to studying science and math as a kid and occasionally disregarded her other studies like music, art, and english. she did enough to keep a 4.0 GPA but her heart was in science tournaments, young medical professional groups, and ap bio.

-she got into one of the best schools in the states for medicine and was a stellar student in organic chemistry, anatomy, and neurology. she knew she was going to do great on her MCAT, but unfortunately, she wasn't doing so great in some of her gen ed classes and it was impacting her gpa.

-that was how she found herself in a tutoring center in one of the older buildings on campus that was shockingly different from the science buildings she spent all of her time in. she had an appointment with you, but was so nervous to go and admit that she was having trouble in something as simple as art history or literature or communication.

-when she sat down to have her appointment with you, you immediately calmed her nerves and assured her that there was nothing wrong with needing some help in classes she wasn't comfortable in. you helped her ace her quiz and then she just kept coming in to see you. over and over. until she eventually passed the class with an A and no longer needed your assistance.

-and then, as luck would have it, abby got her own job as a tutor for science courses and who happened to walk in but you! the tutor who helped her pass her own difficult course.

-it was history from there.

-despite abby's commitment to her education, she was always able to carve time out of her schedule to be with you. she loves studying with you and filling up a room in the library with your stuff to prepare for exams together. she takes a whiteboard and writes all of her notes on it while you're rereading historical texts or revising your final paper about a painting abby doesn't really quite understand.

-she never makes you feel less than for not studying something "more difficult" as people have before. she loves hearing about your passions for history or writing stories or creating art. she'll come with you to art galleries and try to input her own thoughts from time to time about what she thinks certain pieces mean.

-she understands that graduate school applications are just as important to you as medical school applications are for her. you'll do practice interviews with each other and try on outfits for each other.

-abby will not stand for someone making fun of you for your choice of studies. you two once went to a family gathering on abby's side and when some of her family members began interrogating you on how you're going to get a job and even imply that you'll be living off of abby for your whole life, she gets all up in their face and comforts you later! you will not be sending birthday wishes to those family members anymore and she can guarantee that.

-if you guys get accepted in to schools that are long-distance from each other, you'll absolutely make it work. abby is so methodical that she'll never forget to text you and plans out times that either of you can visit.

-if you ever dedicate a piece that you've created in school to her, she'll positively swoon. like if you wrote a poem about her, she would print it out and pin it up on the fridge. if you painted her, she would hang it up on the wall. and she's the best model for those things too

-i imagine that dinners with your colleagues or friends are very random. abby has but a few friends in her residency and they're each as professional as her. you, however, come with a group of lively people who are discussing philosophical ideas or debating about a piece of art history and how its influenced modern culture. it would be an interesting combination to say the least.

-abby would just be so interested in anything you have to do and would never be critical of your choices. she sees the passion you have for things that lie far outside her field and appreciates it. your future apartment that you build years after meeting when you are each established in your dream careers is a mesh of medical textbooks and flashcards and models but also messy journals and thrifted antiques and poems written on sticky notes for her to find.

[dear-ao3]

hello and greetings to all my friends moving into college dorms this time of year!!!

while it is a well known fact that college dorms are often not cleaned at all between people, it is important to tell the administration about things that are absolutely Abysmal.

for example: things that are beyond broken, extremely dirty conditions, clear evidence of vomit/bodily fluids, anything that plain doesn’t work, etc.

to be clear, i am not talking about things that can be fixed with a bottle of clorox wipes, some disinfectant, or a screwdriver. these are things that are either a health hazard or are not in proper working condition.

my credentials on this matter: i was a resident assistant for 2 years. i’ve seen some shit.

here’s what you can do!!!

do not try to talk to anyone in person ESPECIALLY on move in day. all administration that can deal with your problems are probably dealing with bigger problems. move in day is an absolute mess. don’t try and bother res life on move in day unless you physically cannot move into your room for some reason (like there’s a clear cut maintenance problem). you can try to talk to someone, but chances are it won’t get you anywhere other than frustration. it sucks, but that’s the reality of it.

take before and after pictures!!! document everything!!! make sure your pictures are clear, take photos, etc. you will need these. show what you did to clean/fix the problem if necessary.

send a long and detailed email to the following people: the director of residential life, the head of facilities/ building management, the office of accessibility/ student services/whatever it’s called on your campus (even if it is not an accessibility issue usually these people are the fastest to respond), and the college president (often they won’t respond but it gets everyone else’s attention). if applicable you can also send the email to the head of campus safety/security and student health services/ health center). include your photos and make the email as long and detailed as possible. send this email ASAP. you need a paper trail. if you got get a response in three business days send a follow up email and go down to the res life office (often they will say they are busy and no one can speak to you, but sometimes you just have to annoy the crap out of them)

tell your ra. tell them multiple times. a lot of the time they can’t do anything about it, but they can tell their supervisor about it.

keep pestering people until you get an answer. don’t feel bad about it. you should not be paying tuition to live in a shit hole that violates health codes. a lot of the time they can’t move you elsewhere, but the school should still know about the problem.

get your parents involved as a last resort. generally offices hate dealing with parents but if you’ve exhausted all other avenues then go ahead and do it.

i wish you all the best of luck, remember that you are in college to learn and learning how to deal with stubborn administration is definitely one of those things. a little dirt is normal, but sticky carpets, broken glass, broken thermostats, etc, are not. you’re paying to go there, get someone to fix it.

[eddiediaaz]

hi guys, i am kind of ashamed and embarrassed to have to do this, but i figured it can't hurt to ask. basically i am really struggling right now (i know a lot of us are). i need financial help, so i set up a ko-fi page ☕

any kind of help would be so appreciated and i am so grateful for anyone taking the time to read this little post.

long story short: because of situations completely out of my control, i lost my job in vfx after almost 8 years and i am now forced to switch careers. i'm going back to school and can't find a part time job even tho i have been working non stop for 15 years. financial aid will only cover my rent, so i absolutely need to work 20 to 30 hours a week to cover the rest of my living expenses, but it's really hard to find a job. i am also currently over 10k cad in debt from my film school loans and credit cards.

signal boost would be appreciated, if you can 💕

my situation in more details under the cut for those who are curious

i was working in the vfx industry as a 2D compositor since 2016 (i have worked on over 40 films and tv shows), but in december of 2023 i lost my job due to the hollywood strikes (as expected, and as it should—i fully support the strikes). this was supposed to be temporary for a couple months where i could get unemployment benefits (only 45% of my usual salary though). unfortunately, on may 31st 2024, my government announced that they are significantly cutting the funding & tax credits for the vfx industry where i live. what does this mean? mass lay offs. thousands of canadians and other people in the world working in the industry are losing their career, including me. there will only be about 20% vfx jobs left where i live by 2025. vfx shops and production houses have already started to close doors here. i'm still mourning this career i have been working in for 8 years and loved, even tho it's been difficult and demanding at times (lots of overtime), but there are just no jobs right now (unless you are a senior vfx artist with decades of experience) and the future will only get more bleak. i could move abroad and follow the industry that is already moving somewhere else, but i don't want to do that on my own (i am already super lonely as it is!!) and i can't afford it.

my unemployment benefits will run out by the last week of september. in 4 weeks. i've been sending resumes everywhere, both online and in person, but i am just not getting anything in return. even tho i have over 15 years of experience working in various jobs and i have never been fired from anywhere. even tho my resume and cover letters are solid because they have been approved my professional counselors (a free service for people under 35 where i live). so much for they're hiring everywhere...

since my vfx compositing skills are very niche and not really applicable to much else, i decided to go back to school, taking college classes in the admin and excecutive assistant fields, since it's something that i think would be good for me and there are lots of jobs for that here. i will be getting some financial aid, but it's nowhere near enough to survive. it will only cover my rent, and that's because my rent is super cheap for my city. my college classes start on september 30 and i am excited for it, but also very stressed because i still don't have a part time job.

i've been living on my own with a small salary for over 10 years now, but it truly is the first time that i'm struggling this hard. i honestly don't have anything worth selling except some taylor swift perfumes, which i sold this week. i also have over 6k of credit debt and another 4.5k of school loans left to pay. at the bare minimum i will need about $1.000 CAD/month to cover my other bills and expenses after rent, hence why the need for a job ASAP. i am desperate and my mental health has been a huge mess. this is why i decided to open my ko-fi accounts. not that i'm expecting much, but anything can help, i think.

i don't have much to offer in exchange, except gifs? i'm wondering if (cheap, low price) gif commissions are a thing? i have no idea know, but i set up a poll on my ko-fi page to see if anyone would be interested.

thank you for reading if you've made it here, it's appreciated 💖