#and it’s basically run by a bunch of college students

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another. 

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice. 

You didn’t care to make it a third. 

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life. 

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?” 

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,” 

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,” 

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,” 

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,” 

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,” 

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,” 

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?” 

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom). 

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another. 

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets. 

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back. 

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have any food?” 

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age. 

Oh yeah, he’s rich. 

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?” 

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,” 

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up. 

“Where are we going?” 

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?” 

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,” 

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,” 

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,” 

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents. 

“Did you eat like this before college?” 

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,” 

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head. 

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart. 

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?” 

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,” 

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—” 

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm. 

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“We’re not—” 

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.” 

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’ 

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought. 

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,” 

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,” 

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes. 

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up. 

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,” 

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,” 

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?” 

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?” 

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,” 

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop. 

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics. 

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,” 

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning,  “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again. 

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles. 

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?” 

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,” 

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?” 

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?” 

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,” 

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile. 

“Get back to work.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked. 

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.” 

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking. 

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella. 

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else? 

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different. 

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory. 

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon. 

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?” 

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop. 

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see. 

“With you? It is.” 

“A party?” 

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—” 

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?” 

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,” 

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—” 

“Against my father—” 

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?” 

The answer was yes, of course. 

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them. 

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long night. 

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated. 

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?” 

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,” 

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look 

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,” 

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,” 

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk. 

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand. 

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them. 

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru? 

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said? 

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin. 

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being— 

What the fuck was he thinking? 

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money. 

First world problems, right? 

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being. 

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less. 

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred. 

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands. 

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot. 

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,” 

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully. 

Fuck it. 

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night. 

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,” 

You whip your head around. 

“Oh what the—“ 

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else). 

Fuck. 

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight. 

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure. 

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol. 

Until you finally reached his side. 

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,” 

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,” 

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,” 

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,” 

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch. 

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,” 

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“ 

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid. 

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,” 

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“ 

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet). 

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again. 

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering. 

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,” 

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?” 

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that. 

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,” 

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed. 

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,” 

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist. 

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath. 

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on. 

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans. 

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets. 

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble. 

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit. 

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?” 

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,” 

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?” 

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,” 

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought. 

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.” 

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice). 

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?” 

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“ 

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“ 

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl. 

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,” 

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?” 

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?” 

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“ 

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,” 

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body. 

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird. 

He honestly didn’t know what was worse. 

“What did you even say?” 

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed. 

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“ 

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“ 

“HUH?” 

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips. 

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?” 

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?” 

“Where?” 

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,” 

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?” 

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?” 

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“ 

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,” 

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?” 

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.” 

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”). 

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge. 

But you were on edge for a whole other reason. 

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie. 

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?” 

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working. 

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh. 

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,” 

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?” 

“Because I am,” you scoff. 

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark. 

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?” 

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,” 

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk. 

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,” 

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,” 

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,” 

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name. 

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far. 

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it. 

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so. 

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you? 

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,” 

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing. 

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath. 

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted. 

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout. 

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin. 

“So you were jealous,” 

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,” 

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it? 

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?” 

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“ 

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,” 

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing. 

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?” 

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him,  “No, I don’t,” 

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?” 

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore. 

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,” 

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,” 

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…” 

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,” 

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him. 

“Is this one of them?” 

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,” 

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck. 

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway. 

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom. 

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—” 

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise  “but I don’t want to stop.” 

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch. 

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”  

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,” 

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea. 

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,” 

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,” 

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—” 

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—” 

And you blink, “Really?” 

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—” 

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—” 

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,” 

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?” 

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?” 

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.” 

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips. 

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.  

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum. 

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest. 

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,” 

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection. 

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,” 

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,” 

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“ 

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good. 

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name. 

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder. 

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?” 

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“ 

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,” 

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“ 

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,” 

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,” 

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans. 

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,” 

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes. 

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?” 

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,” 

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh— 

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out. 

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“ 

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him. 

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes. 

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek. 

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips. 

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,” 

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,” 

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—” 

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile. 

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt. 

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you. 

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,” 

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own. 

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed. 

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.” 

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning. 

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—” 

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head. 

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,” 

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway. 

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side. 

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him. 

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son. 

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—” 

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—” 

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,” 

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—” 

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“ 

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“ 

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“ 

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head. 

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,” 

“No! I—“ 

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word. 

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“ 

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“ 

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off. 

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“ 

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“ 

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.” 

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back. 

It was for the best. 

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation. 

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night… 

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath. 

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him. 

Would you ever rid your mind of him? 

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.  

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest. 

“What?” 

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,” 

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?” 

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—” 

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit. 

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore). 

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment. 

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house. 

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked. 

Fuck. 

Those girls. 

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly? 

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night). 

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway. 

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night. 

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking. 

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,” 

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open. 

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter. 

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?” 

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“ 

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps. 

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls. 

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,” 

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,” 

“I’m not wallowing—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,�� 

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to. 

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another. 

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction. 

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted. 

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep? 

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms. 

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected. 

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?” 

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,” 

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?” 

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,” 

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,” 

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—” 

“Do you ever shut up?” 

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,” 

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—” 

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl. 

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,” 

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,” 

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,” 

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table. 

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

CRACK. 

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—” 

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?”  You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,” 

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,” 

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” 

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it. 

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,” 

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,” 

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,” 

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears. 

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,” 

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,” 

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention. 

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot. 

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,” 

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“ 

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles. 

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest. 

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left. 

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside. 

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“ 

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?” 

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?” 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“ 

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you. 

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin. 

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?” 

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.” 

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,” 

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?” 

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?” 

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.” 

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,” 

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar. 

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back. 

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,” 

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin. 

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh. 

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?” 

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?” 

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits. 

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again. 

“My one and only.” 

✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

[thehighladywrites]

THE VANSERRA BROTHERS, NSFW ALPHABET

pairing: lucien vanserra x reader, eris vanserra x reader, azriel and rhys mentioned

summary: doing the nsfw alphabet with the vanserras!

warnings: obviously nsfw, 18+, tw: beron🤢

amara’s note: doing it for my criminally underrated babes, trust there will be more vanserra content

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Eris: If this man is not in love with you or you’re a one night stand and a random person, i don’t think there’ll be much aftercare tbh. He would not be cruel, he would just not care. If he’s in love with you he takes care of you, is very caring and has a routine he follows. Cuddles is very important when ur mated bc he is criminally touched starved

Lucien: He is nice whether he’s in love or not. I believe Lucien makes ppl fall in love with him unintentionally bc of his caring nature. But he would def clean you up and let you cuddle next to him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Eris: For him: his fingers, he’s super skilled with them and he knows how to really use them. They look very nice too. For his partner: Their ass bc he’s an ass slaper and i will not elaborate

Lucien: For him: his tounge/mouth. Makes people go insane. For his partner: anything he can put his hands on. He does not discriminate, he loves every part of your body and he will show it

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Eris: loves painting your face. I’ll be so real, i see him smirking down at you when he cums on your face bc now you’re marked as his, the ultimate claim

Lucien: he loooooooves coming inside. Having your warmth wrapped around his sensitive cock as he spills his cum inside is his fav thing on earth

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Eris: You’re the dirty secret. No one knows about you, and i mean NO ONE bc he knows what happened to Jesminda and he will not let it happen to you

Lucien: before you got together, he used to make up scenarios in his head with you. Dirty scenarios but also sweet ones and he will never ever admit it ever

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Eris: tbh not a lot. with beron🤢 around, he has more important things to focus on like his survival and taking over the throne. He has had sex a handful of times but he doesn’t actively seek it out bc you know, he’s trying not to die

Lucien: okay so js like eris, i think he didn’t have a lot of time to have sex while he was in autumn. when he moved to spring, it was like a college student experiencing freedom for the first time. sorry but he becomes the sluttiest sexual being in prythian after helion. i fully believe lucien has been fucking around in every court, every city, every town. I know this male has a bunch of fans around prythian who pray they run into him again

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Eris: missionary, spooning, mating press

Lucien: 69, doggy, cowgirl with his hands behind his head as he watched with a smirk (slut move)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Eris: He isn’t very goofy, more serious when he is with a one night stand but with his mate he lets loose, he has fun and is very playful. 100% mocks your moans and very gently dumbs you down.

Lucien: is a jokester through and through, he makes dirty jokes, makes you giggle and is just a fun male to bed

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Eris: he trimms, regulary and is very particular about it. he has a happy trail😫

Lucien: either clean shaved or trimmed too. might fuck around and trim a lightning bolt just for funsies

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Eris: very romantic, in the bedroom it’s just you and him alone and he will pour his entire soul out, he will lay himself bare. It was something he didn’t wanna do at first be he has grown more comfortable with intimacy. He is very touch starved so any sort of intimacy soothes him

Lucien: a loverboy. he loves the closeness of being intimate, he loves how it is a private moment between two people and he will def make it a goal to be intimate atleast once a day

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Eris: would jerk off sometimes pre mated, but with a mate, he just fucks if he’s horny and you allow it

Lucien: jacks off infront of you, mutual masturbation is his thing. he does it while he is away at missions and imagine you in his head

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Eris: mommy kink, breeding, daddy kink, orgasm control, exhibitionism

Lucien: daddy kink, overstimulation, temperature play, spanking

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Eris: He prefers to be at home, whether it's in the bedroom, shower, or living room - anywhere familiar enough to make him feel secure. It's not just for his sake, but for yours as well. Being in a familiar environment allows him to be at ease, knowing the layout of the house so he can better protect you. In this comfort zone, he can relax and take his time, making sure youre safe.

Lucien: risky places, anywhere and everywhere. throne room, rhysands library, the spring gardens, behind ritas, on top of his kitchen table, just everywhere

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Eris: you having an attitude is a one way ticket to getting some dick. eris loves when you banter and he loves how feisty you get when you’re arguing with him. It’s a massive turn on seeing you all worked up. he’s a little shit so he provokes you to get you more worked up

Lucien: he loves seeing you all bruised up and tired after sex, it makes him go crazy knowing it’s him doing it to you. Just you covered in his marks is enough to get him going. Fucking loves it when other ppl see it, Rhys mentioned it once and Lucien’s head damn near couldn’t fit through the door bc it so fucking big

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Eris: humiliation. he knows first hand how it feels to be humiliated by someone who is supposed to be a loved one, so he will never ever do anything that will make you sad. also anything that hurts you physically such as knife play, extreme spanking and hardcore bdsm is a massive no. he wants to bring you pleasure not pain.

Lucien: he will absolutely not share you with anyone, it’s a massive no bc he wants any intimacy ti remain between you. He couldn’t live knowing someone looked at you as you came or experienced pleasure. it’s for him and him only

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Eris: lovessss receiving. there’s just something about your mouth wrapped around his cock that drives him to the edge of insanity. He loves making eye contact with you when you blow him, and if you keep it, he’ll nut within seconds. The visual of you on your knees makes him lose it, and he’ll cum right on your face, usually without warning. He apologizes right after though. he’s also very good at giving too, trust me this man is good

Lucien: EATER EATER EATER EATERRR, holy fuck this male eats good. he eats like he’s starving, i’m talking messy, spitting, licking, sucking. ugh he’s a munch

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Eris: depends on your mood, if you guys are hot and bothered then he will be a bit more rough. Otherwise he takes his time, worshipping every inch of you.

Lucien: he’s a slow sensual one and it drives you crazy bc no matter how needy you are, he will drag it out bc he loves seeing the desperation on your face. He also wants to savor the moment

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Eris: views them as a challenge, he likes to see just how quickly he can make both you and him cum in a short span of time. It’s not his preference but he still thinks it’s fun

Lucien: loves quickies bc he will do it everywhere, and i mean everywhere as long as no one gets to see your pretty face. will happily take you to a closet, someones bedroom, a basement, behind a rock js anywhere really

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Eris: down to experiment with anything as long as it isn’t hurtful to you

Lucien: his limits are your limits. he’s down to try anything at least once and if it doesn’t work out then it doesn’t work out

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Eris: he’s a high fae, bro has unlimited stamina but he’ll go as long as you want

Lucien: until you’re tired, just like eris, he’s high fae so he doesn’t get tired

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Eris: didn’t own any toys before you. he uses them primarily on you. would be open to the idea if you wanted to experiment. he likes using those couple toys where ur both get stimulation

Lucien: Has used and will use almost every toy known. Loves using them on you and watching you use them. mutual masturbation goes crazy tbh.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Eris: he’s a slutty one ngl he likes to tease just as much as he likes to be teased. he’ll do it accordingly tho bc he doesn’t like wanna deprive you of pleasure. he’s very unfair when ur being mouthy tho

Lucien: : It’s ridiculous with the amount that he likes to tease. He builds you up with his mouth, bringing you just dangling at the edge before pulling away. can be very VERY unfair but just like eris, he always satisfies you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Eris: okay so i fully believe he isn’t loud in the beginning bc he’s reserved. so like the first few times you have sex, he holds back and when you tell him to relax and to enjoy himself he let’s go. He’s a moaner and a groaner. Eris will let out the prettiest sounds when he’s close, murmuring curse words under his breath and talking about how good you feel around him.

Lucien: mostly soft grunts, raspy moans, quiet whimpers and literally does not shut up with praise, ever. so imagine those slutty raspy moans, yeah that’s him

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Eris: Fantasy is to fuck you and have Azriel walk in because he knows he's into you and it'll show him exactly who it is that you belong to. He would actually die of happiness if it ever happened

Lucien: he loves it when you wear slutty clothes bc he gives ‘wear whatever u want i can fight’ energy and that’s so fucking hot of him. he also teaches you how to rizz. 1000% will do that scheme where you flirt with a stranger and then he comes up and acts like the jealous boyfriend

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Eris: big dick, but not uncomfy big. he didn’t think about the fact he has an impressive size until you start praising him and just keep talking about his size. he has a lean and lithe body, not super buff but he has muscles for SURE, i just know his arms are ridiculously big. his abs are very visible too

Lucien: come on guys. we all know he’s got a third leg, let’s not even start. he knows it, you know it, i know it, prythian knows it. Okay he had massive biceps, i’m talking ‘crush-someones-head-like-a-watermelon’ biceps. he has a sturdy chest and nice abs. he is a warrior, he is BUILTTTTTT

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eris: listen he loves sex, he has a high drive and all but for him it’s touch. he yearns for anyone to touch him. he doesn’t voice it until ur mates bc he views it as a weakness to be touch starved until you tell him it’s okay, undoing centuries of berons🤢 disgusting words

Lucien: he has a high sex drive, he loves you, he loves sex and combining them is top tier

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eris: after aftercare, when ur all cleaned up and toasty under the covers, he’ll let himself sleep. he will stay up as long as ur awake

Lucien: he also cleans you up but he falls asleep first. his fav place is on top of you, under the covers with his head nuzzled into your neck

🏷️: @minaethrym @artists-ally @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @berryzxx @thelov3lybookworm @cupidojenphrodite

[wonysugar]

if you insist | jang wonyoung

synopsis: jang wonyoung, the biggest fuckgirl on campus, asks you, y/n l/n, an honors student, to study together after classes

pairing: scum!wonyoung x goodgirl!femreader

genres: college au, smut with plot lowkey and tbh that’s it help

tags: g!p wonyoung, college au, wonyoung is a fuckgirl, reader doesn’t know wonyoung has a dick, facefucking, cowgirl, wonyoung doesn’t care how reader feels in the beginning, wony is insufferable in this (sorry it must be said), some texting, reader and wony are both vers switches

warnings: none? just be mindful that wy kinda sucks at first but then we grow to enjoy her me thinks! (and she also has a dick so that’s that)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i wasn’t originally gonna make her have a g!p but inspiration struck me and i just had to. also, sorry for taking so long with this!! i truly hope you enjoy it<3

“so, any questions?”

that sentence alone wakes basically most of the class up from their deep sleep, this is one of - if not the - most boring class in your program. every session of his is a literal snoozefest, you hadn’t slept well last night so this would’ve been your chance.

but you still managed to stay awake, you needed to ace this next test, keeping a streak of good grades is your main source of dopamine, so failing it was out of the question. well, it’s not like you failed any of them, anyway.

the class comes to an end and the students all pack their stuff to leave. as you put your books away, jang… wonyoung walks up to you? ‘what the hell does she want?’ you think to yourself. she leans on the desk and runs a hand through her long straight dark hair, her other hand inside of her gray hoodie’s pocket. you look at her up and down, then finally set your eyes on hers.

“what do you want?” you annoyingly ask her, grabbing your bag and jacket, her being the only thing holding you back from leaving.

“why so uptight, girl?” she grins, looking back at her friends as they laugh at this whole interaction. her friend group was a bunch of ugly frat guys, you weren’t surprised she associated herself with them though, she’s the exact same (just, much hotter). “i was just gonna ask you if you were busy later, baby.” not-so-subtly eyeing your every curve, even slightly tilting her head to catch a better glimpse of your ass, cheekily smiling.

you roll your eyes at the girl, “i don’t want to fuck you, wonyoung. now, if you’ll excuse me-“

then, she leans in, her taller figure towering over you and stopping you from moving forward, your heart skips a beat, despite you not really wanting it to, “who even mentioned sex, y/n? oh you totally picture me naked.” she smirks, peaking glances at your lips.

“get to the point. what do you really want?” you coldly respond, trying to not pay too much attention to her literally staring you down.

she backs up from you, chuckling as she readjusts her already good looking hair. “chill shawtyy, it was a jokee.” you glare, “anyways, i was just wondering if you wanted to study together later, back at your dorm? i barely listened in class, i’d like to actually understand the lecture this time.”

study together? actually understanding the lecture?? since when did this girl ever care about studies?

“oh, so now you’re trying to get good grades, jang wonyoung?” you say with a scoff, earning a playful smile from her in response.

“i guess that seeing you work so hard motivates me, l/n y/n.”

i mean, what could go wrong? if she’s really trying to improve her grades, then who were you to stop that? that would just be wrong of you. plus, it doesn’t look like she’s lying, either. you notice the hopeful look in her eyes, is she waiting for you to accept? you chuckled,

“i’ll think about it.” you say as you walk past her. then, making you jump, she slaps your ass before putting her hood on and jogging over to her friends, earning a high five from one of them as they all laugh. she looks over to you and winks, “see you later, mama.”

you can’t lie, that pet name sent a chill down your spine and you unfortunately couldn’t tell if it was a good one or not. could it even be considered a pet name? anywho, you walk to your next class, excited to see what the rest of the day brings you. and you kinda wish it involved wonyoung, because despite denying it, you did find her very attractive.

you’ll just have to wait and see.

-

after getting wonyoung’s number from your very ‘popular on campus’ friend, huh yunjin, you’re hesitant to text her. i mean, it’s not like your life right now is all that interesting to begin with, so maybe flirting with a fuckgirl is gonna help you kill your boredom.

smiling to yourself, satisfied with your decision, you grab your phone and type a quick message as you make your way to the exit. after saving her contact, you’re about to set your phone back in your pocket, and you get a notification.

she already responded? you open your phone and type out your next responses as you see her messages.

what?

and she just leaves you on delivered after that? what the fuck is wrong with her.. and what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you getting butterflies?? this is anything BUT cute. the typos? the winky face?? god you can literally visualize her smirk just from reading her messages. despite all of that, you giggle to yourself, but then quickly mentally beat yourself up for it. she’s just joking, is what you thought. you type out your dorm number and put your phone back in your pocket.

you get in your car then drive to your shared apartment. upon arriving, you immediately start rearranging the place. i mean, it’s not like she would care about your dorm looking pretty anyway, since hers probably doesn’t look any better. you’re doing this for your own self, you told yourself. thank god your roommate wasn’t home that day, you’d have a lot of explaining to do.

hours quickly went by as you cleaned up everything, you turn on your phone, reading the clock, 5:54 pm.

she’ll be here soon. you mentally prepare yourself, putting on different, more comfy-looking clothes, then proceed to sit on your couch. bouncing your leg up and down as you await the ringing of your doorbell, looking at the progressing time on your hanging clock. ‘why am i freaking out over this?’, you think to yourself. it’s not like you’re meeting a date, plus she’s probably gonna be late. reassuring yourself, you come to the conclusion that it’s because you haven’t received someone over in so long. of course you’d be exci-

ding dong!

quickly, you rush to your door and open it, finding the taller girl, wonyoung, leaning against the door frame. well, she’s surprisingly here on time. she’s wearing a backwards cap, a black zip up jacket over a white oversized t-shirt and some gray sweatpants.

you weren’t expecting anything grand coming from her, so the look doesn’t faze you.

she smirks at you eyeing her outfit, “did you miss me, bae?”, making you sigh as you roll your eyes, stepping aside to let her in.

“you’re on time, that’s surprising.” you say in a condescending tone. in response, she chuckles, taking off her jordan’s, “how could i keep you waiting?”

she steps foot into your house, observing everything, but only for a quick moment.

“damn, you keep this place neat though huh?” right as you were about to brag about being a very organized person, unlike her, she quickly cuts you off, “yeah sooo…. where your room at?”

you give her a look of disbelief.

“god, y/n, it’s so that we can study properly. who the fuck studies in the living room?” you process that for a moment and look away from her in slight shame, she probably didn’t even mean it like that. then, as you’re about to apologize,

“that text i sent you is still on your mind, hm? you’re cute.” she says, chuckling as she’s grabbing your waist, gently pushing you against one of your hallway’s walls. you unintentionally gulp, looking into her eyes, then at her lips.

“you want me to, don’t you? you want me to fuck your brains out?” leaning into you, she whispers against your ear. you can feel her hot breath on it, making you shiver. but instead of actually doing anything, she quickly steps away from you, a smirk plastered on her face.

what the fuck.

“no but seriously, where’s your room shawty?” she nonchalantly asks, as if she wasn’t all up on you not even 5 seconds ago?? god, what is with this girl? you just blink at her in complete disbelief and confusion, then lead her to your room.

-

“so that explains why that phrase could be interpreted as a lot of different things. does that make sense?” you ask her, her gaze instantly meeting yours, like she wasn’t looking at the book. was she even listening?

“…what are you looking at.” you coldly add.

“sorry, i wasn’t listening.” she smirks, still looking at you, eyes darting back and forth between your lips and eyes. you scoff, mumbling an annoyed i know as you close the book in question, sitting up. you’ve had enough, she’s driving you insane.

“look, if you’re just here to sit around and do nothing you might as well just leave. i mean, you’re not even paying attention nor are you fucking me right now, so this just seems like a waste of time.” you snap at her. in response, her eyes widen, she definitely wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt. she then grins.

“which one are you waiting for me to do?” she smirks, getting closer to you.

frustrated at yourself for even wanting wonyoung to do you in the first place, an annoyed “fuck you.” was all that could come out of your mouth.

“i mean, if you insist.” she smirks, and places her lips onto yours, forcefully and roughly. quickly, she brushes her tongue along your lips, asking for entrance. you part your lips, allowing her tongue to roam around your mouth. before you could even realize, she was on top of you, her jacket and cap off and her hard on pressing on your stomach.

wait. her.. hard on???

you quickly push her away in surprise. she looked at you, a confused look painted on her face. “what?” she asks you.

“y-you. you have a dick??” you hesitantly ask her back. it’s not that you were against it, quite the opposite, even. but, it just caught you by surprise. since when did she… okay, dumb question.

she scoffs in amusement, “I thought everyone knew that? why do you think straight girls like me so much?”

ugh, nevermind, she was so much hotter when she wasn’t talking. before you could say anything else, though,

“you wanna see it, y/n?”

you reluctantly nod, earning a sly smile from her. quickly, she grabs the waistband of her not-so-boner-proof sweatpants and pulls it down, revealing black calvin klein boxers, her cock poking through.

“take it off.” she basically orders you, making you glare at her. you didn’t like listening to anything wonyoung said, but saying you were horny would be an understatement and you didn’t feel like stalling. you pull the boxers down, making her throbbing dick bounce up at you before sitting up.

dear god, it was big. you couldn’t exactly blame the girls who begged to fuck her anymore, cause if you knew it was that huge before, you would have thought about it a lot more. it’s girthy and veiny while being slightly above average size. it’s weirdly pretty for being used to fuck a bunch of girls, you keep that to yourself, though. you don’t wanna inflate her already huge ego.

before she could say anything arrogant about her size, you put the head in your mouth, slowly circling your tongue around the tip. quickly, you work towards taking the entire length as she groans and throws her head back. suddenly, though, as you’re still sucking, she unexpectedly grabs your head and forces her cock all the way down your throat, earning a gag from you and a moan from her.

“you were going too slow.” she specified, groaning and relentlessly fucking your throat. you would never admit it outloud, but you loved the way she was roughly pulling on your hair, using your mouth to get off. it hurt your ego, your pride, being used by a fuckgirl like this, being used by wonyoung like this. it was degrading, but you still loved it.

you keep letting her handle you like this for a long while, working your tongue on her tip and shaft in the process of her moving your head up and down her cock. hair all on your face, you didn’t even bother tying it, you liked it messy, and she apparently did too. her moans and groans getting higher and shorter, her grip getting tighter, you can only assume that she’s getting closer to finishing.

“fuck baby.. you’re gonna be good and swallow it all, okay?” she said, still using your throat. soon enough, she lets out a long moan and you quickly feel her dick slightly throb, spurting out a warm and thick liquid everywhere in your mouth, it was bitter and salty. you pull away and she looks at you, smirking and expecting you to swallow, which you don’t wanna give her the satisfaction of seeing. you wanted to see how far she would go, what she would do to you.

when she sees that you’re not doing what she asked, “come on, swallow it, you bitch.” she tells you, grabbing your jaw and smiling at you in a mocking way. you probably look like a huge whore to her right now, cum slightly spilling out of your mouth and everything. you glare at wonyoung and swallow all of it like she asked earlier, all of her semen, keeping eye contact. in response to that, she chuckles and grabs your cheek, patting it. “atta girl, you’re hotter when you do what you’re told.”

you roll your eyes as she chuckles and push her back on the bed, eyeing her still very hard dick. in a swift motion, you take off your jeans and panties, hovering over her. then, you sit down on it, slowly taking in all the length.

“you a virgin?” she asks you, holding onto your waist.

“no, why? you think i don’t know how to ride di-“

she grips on your waist and unexpectedly pushes you down onto her cock, making you accidentally let out a loud noise, a mix between a moan and a yelp. it was painful being penetrated so fast, especially by something so big but the sensation was also.. amazing. before you could have the chance to ask her to go slowly, though, she’s already pumping in and out, increasing her speed progressively. okay, now, it hurts.

“can you go slower for - mmh - f-fuck’s sake..”

“no? you take things too fucking slowly, i’m here to cum, not fall asleep.” she grunts, still lifting you up and down her cock, using you like she would a fleshlight. you notice that she gets a lot more annoying during sex, meaner, even. and you hate to admit it, but you’ve also noticed that you seem to enjoy it a lot.

“fuuuck babygirl, you’re so tight.” she mumbles as she presses her thumb onto your exposed clit and plays with it, earning a whimper from you. you feel your walls clench around her as you roughly bounce on her, taking in all of her length.

she’s fucking you so roughly, magically hitting all of the right spots, as if she knows exactly where they are. you couldn’t help but let out the lewdest most shameless noises known to man, it feels too good not to. she definitely didn’t use her mouth for much, but god did she know how to use her cock.

after a while of you bouncing up and down on her, you already feel like you could cum, despite trying your hardest to keep it in, to enjoy it a little longer. a knot was starting to form in your lower stomach, fuck, you were so close, and the fact that she was fucking you so roughly nonstop was making it so hard to keep it contained.

“fuck y/n i’m about to cum again..” she whimpers out needily, once again tightly holding onto your waist. you can’t let her though, not yet. you grab her wrists and pin them above her head, preventing her from touching you. a confused but very aroused expression plastered on her face.

“you can wait a little longer, right?” you ask, but in a tone that basically makes it seem like an order. she glares at you, gaze full of lust yet worry. you could tell she liked the sense of being in control, and that she felt vulnerable in this state. she usually was doing the fucking, not whatever this is. and she was even more frustrated that she liked it.

she moaned, chest heaving up and down from the effort she’s putting in to not climaxing, especially inside of you. you ride her dick, changing the speed to your liking. sometimes moving painfully slow, making her sensitive tip throb at the sensation, other times riding it like there was no tomorrow, she felt it everywhere, your slick running up and down her entire shaft in a fast motion. “c-can i cum yet? you’re being so - fuck - annoying.” she messily asks you, the feeling of you bouncing on her making her stumble over her words.

“maybe i’d let you if you weren’t so goddamn impatient.” you say, moaning out the words.

you were making it so hard for her, she actually thought she would pass out. thankfully for her, though, you quickly get closer to finishing, the noises coming out of your mouth getting louder and higher. then, you feel yourself clench around her length.

seeing you like this, hearing you call out her name as you came all over her cock, it all just made her arousal grow even more. she really couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“y/n please get off i need to cum ineedtocu-“

“cum inside of me.” you interrupted, you were still coming down from your high and you needed her to fill you up. you were on the pill, but she didn’t need to know that yet. you wanted to see how far she would actually go. “w-what? are you fucking crazy what if i get you pre-“ you cut her off by lifting yourself up on her cock, then back down, earning a cute moan from her.

“fill me up, wony. do it.”

upon hearing those words, the nickname, her eyes widen and she bites her bottom lip, throwing her head back as she pants from all the different feelings she felt. she would’ve actually thought about it more if she wasn’t horny out of her mind at the moment.

a mind blanking orgasm hits her, and you can feel the familiar feeling of her warm thick juices filling up your cunt again as you both moan in unison. she rambles out fucks and oh my gods as she takes it all in. watching her become such a mess just because of you.. if you weren’t so tired, that would’ve definitely made you wanna fuck her again. poor baby has probably never even been edged by a girl before.

you watched her as she came down from her high, head still thrown back as she’s panting and heaving. then, she lifts it back up to look at you, smiling shyly. was this the same wonyoung you knew? because if yes, she got significantly cuter.

you laid down on her, resting your head in the crook of her neck. you didn’t even bother pulling her dick out of you, it felt comfortable, and honestly? you were way too lazy to.

“so, are you gonna be telling this to your friends?” you jokingly ask her.

“they’d never let me live it down if they knew you got me begging for you, girl.. so, no.” she confessed, making you giggle.

“also shawty, if you do get pregnant, just be aware that i will not be taking care of the baby.” she adds.

you hum, “you’ll still fuck me whenever you feel like it though, right?”

she chuckles in response, “i mean..

if you insist.”

[plumbogs]

Making Sims 2 University Fun: my personal guide

I've noticed that while it's probably one of the most utilized of the expansions, TS2's university is generally seen as a slog. Which makes sense. It has a completely different gameplay loop than the rest of the game. But it's very handy to send your sims to college, especially if you use any of the various mods that limit careers based on education. So here's my big guide to making university an actual fun experience to play through (to me, at least).

The university expansion is, uh, very tailored to the 2000s college party time animal-house tropes. the pack becomes more fun when you treat it that way and let your sims be stupid young adults who streak and fool around on campus and throw parties. which, by default, is tricky because of the gameplay that requires so much skill building and assignments. which the rest of this guide will also deal with.

Note: I make some pretty big changes to normal university gameplay, to the point that it does require a bit of modding and at least one instance of fooling with simpe. there's probably also easier ways to do it, and of course everything is optional. maybe you do like keeping sims in dorms for the entire time and just three-speeding trough it all.

*mods: there are a few absolute must-have mods to me.:

TwoJeff's College Adjuster. It's basically an all-in-one controller to adjust semester timing, change semesters, plus a bunch of other features. The semester timing is the most important to me.

Active Classes is still in testing, but it almost completely changes how I play college sims. Once again, I'll detail gameplay later, but actually sending your sims to class makes for a much more fun campus experience.

No College Time Progression On Community Lots: this goes hand-in-hand with the previous mod.

Community Time: IIRC you have to do a little editing in SimPE to make it work right with University - this post explains what to edit. I don't know if I'm allowed to share the exact edit I made as a download. This might seem redundant after the last mod, but there's a reason for the madness: while one group of sims are in their active classes, the other students can do things on the home lot.

Instant Pledge for Greek Houses: This one is important for greek house gameplay, which is later.

SimBlender: There's like, 500 different edits of the SimBlender, and I think all of them have the main function needed for my college gameplay, which is teleportation. You can use a comparable teleporter if you fancy.

Simlogical's University Break is another important one for me, but it's not really necessary if you don't want it. I usually give the sims one break day per season - more on that later.

Autonomous Casual Romance is not required, but it sure adds a lot of fun to your college experience. You can also do any number of professor-limiting, custom degrees, etc mods and fixes you want.

*mods i do not use: there are mods to change the number of/length of semesters, but I seem to run into issues with them so I use the college adjuster to do the same things. I also don't really use any major overhauls, or mods that make term papers faster. I did have the tuition mod for a bit but grew tired of using it.

*general timing changes: I do seven-day seasons with longer lifespans for all sims and play rotations each day. These are the things I do specifically for university:

Four semesters: I only do semesters 2, 4, 6, and 8. Every time a new semester starts, I just use the College Adjuster to set the correct semester for each sim. I use the default length of 72 hours.

Synchronized finals: I use the College adjuster to reset the timer so the finals are all around 6-8am, and synchronized for each sim on a lot. This makes it easier to keep track of timing and skills. Also, all sims in university run on the same 3-day semester. Finals are the same day for the entire college each round. Once again, that just makes it easier for me to keep track of college-wide events for gameplay reasons.

Because this means there's 3 days per school year, and two school years per season week, it syncs better if they get a day off every Sunday using the University break mod.

Teens are sent to college on the same schedule. I send teens to school when they have 14 days or so left, with maybe an extra day or two if the college is currently in the middle of the semester.

*Gameplay: living situations: Here's where the meat begins. Now all your sims are on the same college schedule, they're all being sent to school, and now they need to actually move into college. I follow a real rule a number of colleges use: Every student spends a year in the dorms. Just their freshman year, then they have to move somewhere else. I find that this gives them a chance to meet dormies, adapt to being on college, and sorta figure out what kind of young adults they are. Plus, this gives them time for joining greek houses, which will be talked about later.

I do this because I like seeing sims as their own little characters with arcs and whatever and it forces me to think about what exactly they would be doing in college. Some sims get so frustrated with the constant mess of a dorm, some sims thrive by making friends with every dormie. Sometimes they start new drama with the others they came from high school with. Nothing quite like losing your high school sweetheart to some stinky dormie, after all.

After freshmen year, the students are kicked out of the dorms. They can get an apartment, they can rent a house, they can move into a greek house if they join one. Either way, they need to live somewhere. You can let them stay in the dorms, but I prefer somewhat smaller college households and divide them accordingly. Which gets into that whole greek house situation:

*Gameplay: greek houses. I gamify the Greek houses. I play SSU in my megahood, which comes with a fraternity and sorority, and you can do whatever setup you like there if you dislike gendered houses. Or abandon them all together and ignore this section. There are a few important elements:

Freshmen cannot live in Greek houses. They can, however, pledge while living in the dorms and move in right after their finals end. This includes dormies. There are benefits to the dorm, such as free housing, more social opportunities, usually more money per household since I cheat to make the greek houses actually nice to live in with things like pools and comfortable furniture, etc.

The Greeks have to be recruiting consistently. To keep the house going, they need to constantly be bringing in new members, either playable OR dormies.

Any recruited dormies are required to move in. You can townify them after graduation if you don't really get attached to them, but every member of the house is moved in. I use the instant pledge mod to get rid of that annoying requirement where they have to hang out on the lot so long before moving in. That, and they also move in after finals. You can teleport or invite them on and just ask them to move in. Whatever you want. Then, you must set them to be sophomores. Beyond that you can do whatever. They're playable now. Have fun.

You gotta let the Greeks party. Throw toga parties all the time and use a teleporter to maximize guests. Generally, ALL members of ALL greek houses are teleported to a party by default. Add more dormies, any friends, anybody in the dorms - the kids need to recruit and the easiest way is by forcing everyone on one lot. If you have autonomy mods or realistic alcohol, sit back and watch the madness unfold.

I don't really play wants-based, so playables that join greek houses is more based on vibes or friendship with existing greek members than wants.

*Gameplay: what do you mean we have to study??? Yeah. I made it this far before even bringing up the whole point of college. This is also where it gets a little more complicated and changed up, so bear with me.

I don't do wants-based, again, so I generally just try to make sure sims are at least passing by default. Whether they go beyond a C is up to whatever. I usually try to get knowledge sims to their 4.0s or sims that just seem like they'd take it seriously to max GPA.

ACTIVE CLASSES ARE SUCH A LIFESAVER. You can use the pre-made lecture hall or make your own. Put some skill-building objects in there, and if you like flavor theme the lecture halls around majors. I have a business/gen ed building, a science lot, and an arts lot, each with two classrooms (plus the library contains a classroom). I do believe I made an edit to the mod to make the class performance go higher with active classes, as well, so attending class every day is the bare minimum to get a passing grade.

The active class lots also contain career reward skill-building objects. These are nice because your sims can request to be taught by other sims on the lot. If you have a mod that allows non-students to visit uni lots, this helps even more with faster skill-building.

Every day, I send groups of sims with similar majors to their class. If there's a mixed-major group, each sim group gets one day in active class per semester. (So if there's an economics major, a bio major, and an art major, each one attends class on a separate rotation and the others do the normal autonomous go-to-class where they leave the lot and disappear). They attend one or both of the lectures and otherwise exist on the college lot to skill-build, socialize, eat, etc.

Outside of class, sims will usually research if they're not doing great. I honestly barely bother with assignments or term papers unless the sim actually wants to do them or are aiming for a high GPA. Maybe they go hang out at the lounge or downtown to fool around. Maybe they just fester at home. Whatever they want.

*other gameplay/storytelling things: I usually will take advantage of the aspiration change after their sophomore year if I realize that their aspiration just doesn't really jive with how they act. It's realistic to me. They had many years since being like, 13 when they first had their aspiration selected. I'd like to implement more in the way of holidays/events, personally, but that's not really relevant either. I usually give them an outfit change as well, and I like to go hard with the idea that they're going through a bunch of weird fashion phases. You know you want to give them a mohawk, just for a few days, don't you? Dye their hair red? Shave it all off? Have fun with it.

All of these things combine for me, at least, to make the college years a lot more engaging/interesting and less of a slow "move to a dorm -> study -> read books -> meet needs -> graduate" loop. There's a lot more storyline development that comes from sims being able to enjoy their time as young adults, too, such as the regular polycule jealousy explosions and party fights. It serves to break up anything they had going on as teens and give them a little direction to enter adulthood with. This concludes my little mini-guide, feel free to steal all my gameplay style or just take inspiration if you please. Or ignore it all and shake your head and call me an idiot. do whatever you want forever.

[icysinner]

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: eren is a better gift giver than you thought he was.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: not much, tooth rotting fluff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.093k

secret santa was arguably the only thing that made christmas as a college student exciting. everyone knows that as you grow older, christmas gets less and less interesting, but with the right group of friends, it has the potential to be just as fun as when you lived at home with your parents and siblings. sasha always organized the secret santa event, just because she took every holiday seriously as if her friends were her children.

just eren’s luck, the one year he gets to be your secret santa is the year that up until christmas, your friendship was becoming a lot more than just friends, meaning he had to put together a gift that meant a lot, he had no choice, you meant a lot. “connie, i’m fucked.” eren complained as he paced back and forth in their shared dorm room. “you stressin’ over nothing, she already likes you, she’s gonna like whatever you get her as long as you put some thought into it.” connie replied, not looking up from his phone as he offered eren the advice.

while connie was right, eren wanted this gift to be more than just a friendly gift exchange, he wanted it to mean something more than just that. “that’s the problem, i have no thought.” eren said, his tone completely serious, making connie laugh at him. “okay, that’s fair. ask mikasa to help you, she’s a girl, she knows what girls like. plus she’s close to y/n, you’re like a close second to mikasa on her list.” connie’s suggestion showed just how little “thought” eren had, because he didn’t even think about asking mikasa, and that was your best friend.

౨ৎ⋆ ˚ ❆｡⋆⁺₊❅.

“so, are you asking her to be your girlfriend with this gift or is that coming later?” mikasa asked, being sure to throw in the whole girlfriend thing. to be fair, you and eren have been dancing around adding the title to whatever the two of you have going on. “i think i wanna ask, but i don’t know how to pair a gift with something like that.” eren said, mikasa was more surprised at the amount of time he was really putting into this, she’d never seen him think this hard before. (and they have an english lecture together, so trust her.) “i think that she’ll like whatever you get her. she likes a bunch of shit, pick one thing and do it.”

obviously eren had thought of that, but that was basic, and you have everything you like already. “okay, here’s an idea. make her a basket.” mikasa suggested, making what seemed like a lightbulb go off in eren’s mind. “actually… i like that idea.” eren said, a million ideas running through his mind at once. if you liked so many things, getting you all of them at once was obviously the best idea. oddly enough, eren trusted himself enough to make it completely on his own, it wouldn’t feel genuine if he didn’t, he thought.

౨ৎ⋆ ˚ ❆｡⋆⁺₊❅.

everyone was assigned a secret santa on december eighteenth, which gave them a full week to decide, put together and deliver a gift. eren spent the entire week buying separate things from a million different stores for this one basket. he only asked for help when he needed an opinion on a color or which gift cards he should put in the basket. he’d completed this elaborate gift, and now he had to shake off all his nervousness in order to actually give you the gift.

—

eren

wyd?

y/n

not shit

eren

perfect

eren

don’t go anywhere or do anything i’ll be there in like 5 minutes

y/n

i’m nervous omg why u so cryptic for???

—

obviously, eren was your secret santa, but that’s not why you were so nervous. if it was just a regular gift, why would he calculate everything so well? nonetheless, you were excited for whatever it was. you lived in a single dorm, but it was across campus from your friend group, which was the only downside it really had. after all of his perfectionist behavior, shifting the basket around a million times to make sure you could see everything he put in it perfectly before you took it out, he arrived at your door.

it took some building up for him to actually knock, and once he did, all of the nervousness he had multiplied yours tenfold. you nearly shot up from your seat to go answer the door, opening it to a smiling eren, holding a basket in one arm and a heart shaped box with flowers in the other. your eyes widened as your face grew into a smile. “eren, no way.” is all you managed to get out of your mouth as you stared at him in adoration and disbelief. “you’re not gonna be able to look at all of the stuff if you don’t let me in.” his words made you snap out of this trance you were in as you stepped out of the way to let him in.

eren took a couple steps forward and set the basket and flowers down on the counter, but he kept the box behind him. “look at what’s in there first.” he directed, because he knew you well enough to know that your curiosity would make you want to know what’s so special that he’s hiding it. you pulled all of the stuff out of the basket one by one, looking like a little kid under the christmas tree again. “eren, how much did you spend on all this stuff?” you asked, your eyes widening with every object you pulled out of the basket. “you worried about the wrong thing, that doesn’t matter. you like it, right?” eren asked, to which you responded with a nod. “then that’s all that matters.”

“i need to get a vase, i wanna keep these.” you said to yourself as you sat them up next to the basket to make space for the last thing eren was hiding from you. the small comment made eren smile to himself as he held out the box to you. you looked down at it, reading the red cursive letters written on the dessert. “yes, duh!” you exclaimed in excitement, taking the box from his hands and wrapping him in a hug. “i don’t even wanna eat it, i just wanna save it forever.” you said, making eren laugh at you. “you say that now, but i know you well enough to know you’ll definitely eat it.”

[presidentofthelipglossclub]

GUESS WHO'S BIRTHDAY IT IS!!

in honor of my birthday here are some more rescue bots headcanons!!

they (as in constructed rescue bots) have extra color receptors which allows them to see more types of light than other bots, as well as advanced hearing (they’re also the only bots with noses so they have an extra sense)

all of them have outliers (its a requirement to be a rescue bot)

blurr changed his paint job (post s4, before he showed up in rid15) because heatwave and blades basically bullied him into it

the academy where they studied was on a moon of cybertron’s, and they actually spent very little time on cybertron itself. it was sorta like a field trip spot, and they went very infrequently

quickshadow was the academy's champion shot, and she won a bunch of competitions

the rescue bots all had specialties outside of what they actually did (heatwave was a history nerd, boulder studied xenobiology, blades took journalism, chase did psychology, quickshadow was a data analyst, hightide took astronomy)

hightide was actually friends with both orion pax and megatronus separately before they realized they all knew each other

in that same vein, servo and lazerbeak were longtime friends because they grew up together

optimus is so ridiculously tolerant towards whatever the rescue bots do that they actually have a running bet on how much they can get away with before optimus gets angry (he never once has)

blurr's reputation as most annoying bot ever has been intact since way before the war when he was a racer

blades got his name through an awkward mishap at an armory that heatwave never let him live down

related to that, all the rescue bots' "names" are really more of nicknames. their names are listed on documents but their primary identification is through serial numbers because they're cold constructs

boulder had a practically bullet proof reputation at the academy as the perfect student so whenever the others wanted to get away with something they always involved him

when salvage heard about DIY's he got super into them and started making tons of pointless stuff. he never even followed the good channels, only stuff like troom troom

chase succumbs to peer pressure ridiculously easy

heatwave gives really good advice but only on accident

quickshadow and hightide like to hang out and trash talk optimus whenever he does something they don't like

blades only has field medicine training, he's not cleared for any actual treatment outside of an emergency (he can do first aid and EMT stuff but can't, like, prescribe things or do surgery). this has not stopped him from trying things though.

salvage is actually from one of cybertron's colony worlds, but he grew up on cybertron

ok here's a fun little surprise is honor of my birthday: the humans are also included in headcanons!!

kade was actually very good at gymnastics, he just got bored of it

chief burns needs glasses but he prefers to wear contacts

dani had a very extreme scene core phase, and her hairstyle is a remnant of that

frankie has super high government security clearance as a super genius and daughter of one of the world's best scientists, so she knows all kinds of military secrets

doc greene and chief burns met in childhood, doc's family moved away, and then when he got older he moved back to griffin rock and reunited with the chief

graham is the biggest night owl because of college. sometimes, when he has trouble falling asleep, the bots invite him to movie night and they all watch reruns of old movies or shows

building off that, there are two kinds of movie night: the first is with the whole burns family, rescue team, and sometimes others such as optimus or the greenes. the second is less of a movie night and more of a "we need something to do while the humans are sleeping, let's watch trashy tv all night." this kind of movie night is really just the bots (minus whoever has night shift)

professor baranova actually used to be pretty upbeat, although she was a bit misunderstood because she's neurodivergent (i also headcanon that after the whole living underwater for 28 years thing she developed DID and multiple alters to cope with the loneliness, so she's now a system)

woodrow and optimus are in a qpr. optimus refers to him as his amica, and also privately thinks of him as his human partner

doc greene at some point developed a working synthetic energon formula completely independently. when ratchet first met him (post war, probably right before he was hired to work at the rescue academy) and learned about this he lost his shit

bumblebee and dani race together all the time when he visits

this is where i'm gonna stop this post, because it's pretty late for me lol. it was my birthday today, so happy birthday to me!!

also y'all PLEASE talk to me abt any of these headcanons i will be thrilled to elaborate!

[sentientcave]

WAIT WAIT WAIT i need to hear about the 141 paranormal investigators omg???

OKAY SO

Basically it's like, a non-military AU where they have a youtube channel and investigate haunted places and look for cryptids and junk. Ghost is the camera/editing guy, Gaz and Johnny handle social media and are the primary faces, and John is a professor of Mythology and Folklore on extended leave that became a permanent fixture after they interviewed him too many times. They're on an American road trip, and they chance upon a hidden town full of actual supernatural people and creatures. Cue shenanigans while the townspeople try not to get caught on camera. Also they meet a hot witch who runs the B&B (the only place to stay in town).

Here's some of all this silliness:

“Relax, Soap.” Price used his stern teaching voice, the one that could command a rowdy hall of college students (most of whom were only taking his class because they thought it would be an easy credit) to be quiet and pay attention. “If we get lost you’ll get to gloat about bein’ right, how about that?”

“Rather no’ get lost, but Ah suppose it’ll do.”

Simon and Gaz exchanged a look, both of them trying not to laugh. They were an odd bunch, by any metric. Gaz had started a youtube channel reviewing local businesses around Manchester while he was attending university, which is where he had met Simon (Or Ghost, as he had introduced himself back then), who had been the butcher at a shop Gaz wanted to review. Ghost had been told to give Gaz a tour, so he had, reluctantly, and Gaz had gone home later that week to find Ghost sitting in front of his computer, editing the video.

“You do shite work,” he’d said, the only explanation he had offered for his presence in Ga’s apartment. “Fine substance, but terrible camera an’ editin’.”

And well, Ghost’s video had done a lot better than any of Gaz’s previous ones, so he’d asked him to continue. Ghost suggested moving on to different content as well, to exploring some of the spookier sites around Manchester (Of which Ghost seemed to be intimately familiar, unnervingly enough), and they had interviewed Price a few times to give the videos an air of legitimacy, since he was a professor of mythology and folklore at Gaz’s university.

Johnny had been their missing link, however. They’d gone to do a video in Glasgow, and kept running into him everywhere they went. He’d provided some useful local knowledge, and had a channel of his own, where he mostly blew stuff up and did parkour around the city. The Glasgow videos all went viral, and the channel suddenly became something they could potentially throw themselves into doing on a more full time basis.

Price, chafing at the routine of teaching, asked to join them on a more permanent basis as well. And since he had the two things that the rest of them lacked (A car and a savings account), they agreed. That had been four years ago. And somehow, it was working. They weren’t exactly making a lot of money, but they were getting by, and Price had written and published two new books, using their travel and research to pad out what might have otherwise been dry, academic work.

Simon flicked the radio back on, the van filling with the sharp sound of static. They’d lost their last station somewhere along the drive. He fiddled with the tuner until an upbeat, overly patriotic country song came in clear.

Gaz made a disgruntled sound in the backseat. He’d made his disdain for country music clear somewhere back in California.

“Just tryin’ to get a traffic report. Untwist your knickers, Gaz.”

“If we’d stayed on the main road we’d no’ need a report.” Johnny could never stop himself from throwing in his two pence. “We’d be in it.”

Price reached over for the volume, and turned up the music, drowning them out as one song switched to the next.

[freddie-77-ao3]

sup yall we're vibing here

anyway. hey, my name's freddie, and i'm finally trying to write an actual intro/master post which... we'll see how this goes.

important stuff is highlighted in orange.

so, basic stuff:

as I said, my name's freddie. he/him pronouns. i'm a college student (majoring in accounting, might add a psych minor). not gonna say which college but i'm currently in california.

i've been on tumblr since 2019 i think? not under this account, this started as a fandom account and then spiralled out of control... really fast. um, my regular tumblr which i've not actually opened in ages is @chronicchthonic14 so. yeah.

not particularly relevant to this blog, but i might mention it at some point so, i have autism and adhd. and some other things but. like. that list is very long and those are the two most relevant because i promise if i come off wrong/mean, i didn't mean to, i just forget to make my words normal. but. those are the two most referenced. if for whatever reason someone wants to know more or has questions you can send an ask ig?

i'm scottish, born there. moved to US when I was four. finishing uni and moving back.

some quick warnings

this blog definitely contains cursing/vulgar language, whatever you want to call it, so if you're not comfortable with that, probably not the blog for you, as i don't tag cursing or anything for you to filter out.

if, for whatever reason, if i ever reblog something that contains a slur (against racial minorities, queer people, anything) i will ABSOLUTELY tag that though.

also if anyone has any trigger warnings they think any content needs, please let me know-- asks, dms, comments, reblogs

the cursing thing also applies for sort of dirty jokes? think that only applies to like. two posts and very not explicit. those aren't currently tagged but if they get any more explicit they certainly will be.

queer identity because the explicit reminded me, i'm asexual, and probably straight. maybe bi? dunno, don't particularly care. and i'm trans. ftm. this isn't the blog i talk about that on usually though, unless it relates to a specific ask or a fandom thing.

which, getting into what this blog is for because i can't think of anything else i need to add here (guys let me know if i forgot important stuff, please, i'm an idiot!!! i will forget the important stuff and write random shit instead!! i've already deleted three tangents from this!!)

sooooo

fandoms!! ones i write and/or post about or will potentially post about

percy jackson extending to hoo, toa, tkc (definitely post way less about this), mcga (again, way less). haven't read TSATS or COTG yet, but spoilers are fine. i post way more about minor characters. write fanfiction for and have some posted (both on here and ao3) and a bunch of snippets.

dcu-- films, comics, animated shows, all of it. personally, my favorites are young justice (the comics, not show version), new teen titans, and batman inc (batgirls, nightwing, and red robin esp). late 90s yj run is my favorite, and i loved the DCeased event. favorite batman comic is definitely court of owls run. no fanfics posted, but some on docs.

mcu-- way less so, but have a stucky oneshot. slowly making my way through in timeline order.

throne of glass. i'm an aedion and chaol apologizer because they do a bunch of dumb shit but then WHO DOESN'T in this series. fanfics in doc, not posted.

this would go on for ages if i listed everything so instead, here's an ask i answered on my fandoms/genres and everything. feel free to send me asks about anyone. if you send me something about radium girls i may cry though (tears of joy) so there's your advanced warning.

main things you'll see on my blog are incorrect quotes, snippets, and the occasional fic

this^^

my... idk, contact policy? seriously what do i word this

asks are always open, anon is on.

if you send hate... whatever. i'll probably delete it.

unless i find it funny. then I'll post it. there's really little you could say to me that would hurt.

when i say asks are always open, you can drop anything you want.

literally anything

you need to vent? want advice? want to request headcanons? request a fic? give me a prompt? ask random things about me? something else I've forgotten? go right ahead

if you want to ask me to update my fics? go right ahead. sometimes i forget i didn't post something.

send as many asks as you want, i don't care if it might be spam

i can't promise i'll respond to asks in a timely manner, sometimes i open my inbox and forget they exist for months, i'm sorry. if it's something you really want answered you can send another one

dm's are alright? if you want to be friends or something, go right ahead.

anyone can reblog any of my posts/comment/heart, i don't care. you want to heart 50 things in a row? i adore you. if i had kids, you would get my firstborn

if we're mutuals you can ask for my insta/give me yours.

now, other accounts:

anyway, i think that's it?

[the-burd-lord]

Heavily inspired by @deafenedsaltwater 's concepts. Idk what was in that post, but it sparked me to make a whole heap of sketches and ideas. Dunno how far I'm gonna roll with this concept, but for now it's rollin kinda far.

Loads of info below:

Four is the math teacher with X as his TA. Four's one of those teachers that really knows the material, but because they know it so well he thinks it should be easy for anyone to get. So they're kinda harsh with the students if they get something wrong.

Whereas X gives more positive reinforcements for students, and isn't as harsh with them. X doesn't know as much of the material, and probably looks to the teacher's textbook if they're lost. One of those teachers who kinda learns with the class.

Airy is the school's nurse and teaches the Home E.C. class, and he's awful at both jobs. When he's not starting fires or teaching the course like it's some kind of wilderness survival camp, he's mainly works as the nurse.

As a nurse, he misdiagnoses things constantly if it's not an obvious injury, and uses a bunch of herbal remedies for the few things he does know how to help with. Mainly scrapes and stomach aches.

Two often times subs in for him when Airy has to take care of a sick student, who often times will fake being sick so they can get Two to teach the class.

MePhone teaches coding and AutoCAD as an extra circular, and probably typing for lower grades. I keep slappin' a bunch of classes onto 'im cause I remember taking so many throughout high and middle school.

He doesn't enjoy teaching coding or typing since he doesn't see them as creative as making actual models for things in AutoCAD, even though the other two can be used creatively. MePad's kinda left to teach those classes despite being a TA.

Also it's a very hands off class where he gives them the basics of how to use the program, and the rest of the class is leaving the students to make whatever thing fits the assignment.

He's the kind of teacher who's real in tune with internet culture and reality tv so he uses a bunch of modern slang phrases or casually gives hot takes on shows if he overhears the students talking about them. Everyone thinks it's cause he wants to be "hip with the kids" when in reality he just has brain rot.

Clock's the history teacher. He discusses each history point with the same tone and enthusiasm, and remembers the years and eras with pinpoint accuracy. Kinda put too much emphasis on the dates, and how long events lasted, over the content of those events.

He's the teacher you can get to go on a long side tangent about something unrelated to the material, but they'd always find a way to bring it back to history.

Idk I also think it'd also be funny if he co-taught an economics class with Four (thinking there'd be a lot of math involved) when it's really more so about theories.

Out of all the teachers, Four and Clock are the most knowledgeable and could probably teach college level courses if they wanted to.

Animatic is the PE teacher with too much energy and gives the harshest workouts but thinks they're easy. Mainly cause he does them alongside the students and always has energy after to run laps around the school. Two would have probably told them to tone it down.

Speaking of-

Two is the health counselor and sub for Home Econ., but also has a bunch of unofficial jobs. They're the unofficial vice principal mainly cause the rest of the speaker boxes are kinda incompetent at their job, and they have to mediate not only students but teachers too (mainly Four and Animatic). As well as sub in for Airy, or even act as a supervisor, when need be.

Some other ones I haven't drawn yet are Daddy Long Legs as the music teacher, Popcorn as the theater teacher, and Hourglass as the English/Literature teacher.

The speaker boxes are the principle/VP/admin. They all kinda interchange with each other, considering how similar they all are also cause they switch out a lot in the original show.

Dunno who the science or art teacher would be, cause I'm mainly going after object shows I've seen. Honestly I may just swap some roles around.

Mainly doing this as a thing for funsies, but boy howdy is it a rapidly rolling snowball.

[bunni-v1]

Oh, I would LOVE to hear more about your college au!!

I feel like a lot of folks just age them up and call it a day, but I love when I run into people really detail their own au out. One thing I loved that I ran into once was the idea that each dorm was divided into majors - and that's part of your sorting. Pomefiore being Theater Arts (Epel, farm boy going to college to improve and modernize his town agriculture, is just extra horrified lol) though I figure they could probably pick their own minor.

Anyway, I adore hearing details!

TWST College AU (First Years!!!)

🍓Hiiiiii! Thank you for asking! I figured I'd just answer this informally since it shouldn't take too long! (And, to be honest, I don't feel like writing a bunch of headcannons for the entire cast :/)

I really like the idea of the dorms being sorted by major, but uhm... I see Ace as a Film major and Riddle as a Med School student so... that wouldn't really work for me?

The basic idea IS to age them up because I am a college student and I want to write about college students -- plus, the twst campus is set up A LOT like a college already, so I always felt weird that it was a high school? Even when I was still a high schooler playing the game, it never felt like a high school, so obviously I decided to just... change it because that's what fanfic is for.

I also didn't want to just... make them all 18. Like... consistency is important people! Leona is 24 now, sorry girlies <3

So I've talked about the age differences and explained Ortho and all that in my rules (read them please :3). I also mentioned that they act differently! The first years won't change too much, because they are still NEW college students, but they respond to things with more maturity than they would if they were just 15/16 year olds. Because... of course, they would. (I would hope 18-year-olds would be a little more mature.)

But I didn't talk about the structures that I changed, mostly based on my own schedule. I'm only gonna use the first years as examples so please forgive me for ignoring your faves <3

So, the first thing I changed is there is no homeroom teacher because we don't have homeroom teachers in college! So, students have multiple different classes throughout the day.

Let's take our little film major Ace, shall we? Ace's first class of the day is a 'core' class, which is the class he has with Yuu and Deuce. It's a basic magic history course that's required for everyone to take, and it's mostly filled with other first-years. Jack, Epel, and Sebek are all in the class too! This class happens three times a week, MWF. He has three other classes, two of which are major-related and one of which is another core magic class.

Each student has their own specific schedule, and they sometimes overlap with each other. This includes first, second, and third years. To give you a little example: Epel and Ruggie take a course on magic plants together!

Many of the courses at NRC have magic at their core -- because it's a magic school -- but their students are free to study whatever they please! That's why Ace is a film major because he wants to be. He cannot, however, pick what kind of magic he gets to study.

Because, of course, the kind of magic you study is based on the dorm you are sorted into. Students have to take at least four classes to do with their dorm's magic type to graduate. It's harder for some students and easier for others.

Epel, of course, hates Pomefiore because he HATES potion-making. He is also surrounded by many theatre majors because... well... just because your dorm doesn't decide your major doesn't stop the same types of people from gathering in one place.

Each dorm has a stereotypical major type associated with it. Many students in Octinivelle are business majors, Pomefiore is performing arts, Savanahclaw is the fitness kids, etc.

So, with all that out of the way, I want to go through the core cast of first years. Namely, their majors and the way I've tweaked their personalities.

Ace: As I mentioned, he's a film major! He loves movies, and he's such a geek about them, so he thought 'Why not!' To be specific, he wants to go into film writing, but he's not dedicated himself to it yet. He's still got four years ahead of him, so he doesn't have to worry about it too hard. Ace is a LOT more chill as a college student. He still teases his friends and he's STILL a huge dickhead, but he knows when he fucked up and needs to apologize. He's more willing to just back off when he needs to and accept his faults as his own, unlike highschool Ace in game. He's still got a firey personality and will stand up to authority, so at his core, he's still the same Ace, just a bit more chilled out.

Deuce: Is a first-generation college student, so he feels like he's got a lot riding on his back. He went into business, mostly because he felt like he HAD to if he wanted a good life for himself. However, he dabbles in a lot of stuff. He constantly does a ton of extracurriculars and is curious about all the courses at NRC. This Deuce is more self-assured than he usually is. He's confident in what he feels he wants/needs, even if it ISN'T what he wants/needs. He, however, still is not great at managing his anger. He still has really big outbursts when he's been upset by something, but he tries his best to keep a cool head and ALWAYS apologizes afterward to his friends.

Jack: You guys are just gonna have to trust me on this one. Jack is majoring in kinesiology with a minor in physical education. He wants to be a personal trainer/occupational therapist! In my opinion, Jack stays the MOST consistent among the first years. He's still pretty strong in his sense of justice, and he's reliable and generally pretty nice. The only thing I could really see changing is that he's a bit more approachable and he's more willing to talk to his fellow students.

Epel: POOR EPEL LMAO. He's an agricultural major, specifically in Agribusiness so he can help his family farm grow more, because he loves his granny so much. He also minors in Agricultural magic -- so, learning about how magic can be used to cultivate plants and the like. Imagine his surprise when he's shoved into the "performing arts" dorm. Epel has more come into his own as a college student. He'd be less pissy about his more feminine looks, though he still tries his best to appear more masculine. He's more willing to bite back at Vil than normal as well because he's an adult now and he doesn't wanna be pushed around.

Ortho: Kid genius! He's a robot, so of course he's a kid genius. Ortho is the only member of the cast who is still under 18 (he's 16 years old and in college!) He majors in computer science, specifically robotics -- he likes to understand how he works lol. BUT, he's an anthropology minor! He likes learning about humans too! He's still very much adoring of his brother, but he has a personality outside of that lol. He's sassy and witty, and really sociable! I'd go so far as to say he's popular around campus, especially since he involves himself in a bunch of different activities.

Sebek: Sebek majors in Magical Studies! It's a general major that can be filtered down into multiple different specific majors, but as for now, he's just Magic Studies generally. Sebek is... an oddball... even still in college. His love for Malleus has never gone away, nor has his dedication. He's like the kid you meet who never really grew up past their freshman year -- mostly because they were never really exposed to ideas outside of what they know. College would have him on edge because A LOT of it is just questioning what he knows, and he's not handling it well. I would say he's probably more awkward than anything. Not as in him making others uncomfortable with his weird behaviors, but him making HIMSELF uncomfortable because of it lol. (He still needs to grow a lot!)

That's all I can think of though! Thank you for asking, I loveeeeeeee questions!!

[gwydionmisha]

Sometimes when other Olds are complaining about young people and their phones, I think about the Student Union at my first college in the days just before email happened to ordinary people.

It was a very small school and the student union was basically a very large basement, with an eatery, a mail room, and a bunch of seating areas. The mail room was central and four times a day they delivered mail. You might ask, "How was there enough mail to deliver four times a day, when the post office delivers once a day?" Most of it was junk. You got the real mail once a day and the rest was fliers and things for activities, messages from Profs or other students, that sort of think. Most of it went right into the conveniently placed recycling bins.

I admit, like everyone else, I'd turn up for the big distribution of outside mail as you had to catch package delivery when the window was open, and given the poor taste and nutritional value of the crap in the cafeteria, something edible from home was a Big Deal.

Four times a day though, the students would gather if they weren't in class in the seating areas closest to the mail boxes. Some benighted souls would hover, hover, right in front of their boxes, listening excitedly for the squeak of the sort cart and the rustle of the student workers on the other side, eyes fixed on the tiny box window.

These people knew perfectly well that the other three deliveries were 80-90% junk mail. They sat or stood, desperate as baby birds waiting for the worm anyway.

People haven't changed, they are just waiting for a ping instead of a squeak and rustle.

Human nature is human nature. I think a lot of people from before email and texts are forgetting that they too have run to the mailbox when they saw the USPS truck or mail person put stuff in, or dove for the letters lot hoping for something good, or hovered by a campus mail slot knowing odds were it was all or mostly trash. I try not to forget that, even though I stopped hovering after a week or so, even though if I check my email more than once a day it's a lot, even though I don't text. Who the fuck are we too judge? We've all done the analog version even if we aren't currently doing the digital and I feel like a lot of people who were email users but not frequent texters are pretending we all didn't refresh email like 8 times a day in the '90's.

[rosewoodroad]

4, 12, 21, 23 and 32 for Wysma 👀

RUBS MY HANDS.

For this ask game! (Took me a while to get to it, but thanks for asking <3 <3)

4. What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

As a progeny, Wysma rarely left Rata Sum, let alone stepped foot outside Soren Draa. But he was obsessed with tales of adventures. When he wasn’t busy with homework or helping out his professor with lab work, he’d gather scraps from his projects to make figurines of great heroes, villains, and battlefields, to re-enact his favourite stories. Some were even mechanically automated!

Having an artistic outlet is something Wysma misses, though he’d be damned if anyone found out he basically made his own action figures as a kid.

12. What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

Terrible jokes. Dad-tier jokes and bad pickup lines are especially effective.

He also generally enjoys witty banter (both as a participant and a spectator. Especially as a spectator. I imagine being a bystander to an asuran roast/debate session is an incredible experience.)

21. What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

As a whole, Wysma doesn’t vibe with many conventional Asura cultural values. After a decade of interacting with the wider world, he finds it exhausting how everything back in Rata Sum has to be a competition. He hasn’t forgotten the stress of trying to keep up as a student, and as he gets older, it’s draining to see progress get held back by internal power grabs, bureaucratic shenanigans, or just plain stubborn pride.

23. What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Tough one! Maybe less that the other persons don't remember and more like it's not a big deal to them in the long run, but there are definitely childhood cringe moments for Wysma.

Back in college, he was enrolled in Statics, but only under pressure from his mentor who was a Statics professor. At heart, Wysma was more of a Dynamics guy and in his freshman years he was prone to making impulsive, experimental decisions in his work. There are a bunch of co-op projects and report cards he wrecked because of this.

As a Peacemaker rookie, he was very gung-ho about his duties as a civil protector but was terrible at following procedure, which left his superiors to clean up the mess and handle even more paperwork to bail him out of trouble (but those superiors had probably dealt with worse rookies.)

32. If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

Unlawful hoarding LMAO. He’s brought back unsanctioned mounts, horticulture, relics of mysterious origins and like 20 cats without consulting the local laboratory authorities (or his neighbours).

All those collections (and cats) scattered around the home instance is absolutely canon to him. He’s not even aware of how bad it is until he gets his homestead and realises how much he actually has to move over. The sole reason he hasn't been evicted from Rata Sum already is because he's the Commander and it would be terrible for the Arcane Council's PR image.

[griffonsgrove]

OC || Introductions

hello my darlings!! I've really been wanting to introduce a few of my main characters to you all!! I was thinking of possibly doing headcanons/oneshots/drabbles in the future! (May be purely self-indulgent but we'll see) That being said, This is basically a very brief intro and info dump about each character. So let's get started!!

All characters and art belong to me!! Like I've said before I'm an artist and draw scenes and characters. I have a shit ton of art of all these guys that I'd love to share if anyone's ever interested!

cw: death, murder, cannibalism? minor sexual themes (one of my ocs is an incubus), minor violence.

Night

I've had her the longest, I made her several years ago. She's literally just a self-insert for EVERYTHING I enjoy sshejwka. But on another note! This is Night, she's a humanoid griffin hybrid (griffins being the mythological beast, half eagle half lion). She's very sweet and friendly. She's so mom-coded omg. Like she'll bake you little treats, makes sure your dressed for the weather, and reminds you of things you need to get done.

She has this locket around her neck that she keeps close to her. This is because it contains her "soul" or "spirit" inside of it. Every griffon has one, and it's what helps her to transform. Which btw shapeshifterrrr. Her true form being that of an actual griffin. She's a gentle giant though don't worry.

Tom

I know what you're thinking and no, he's not related to Bill Cipher. Tom is a 25-year-old art college student. He's a no-nonsense kind of guy, and very easily irritated. He's a fine arts major and does a lot of painting. He HATES his roommate (there's literally nothing wrong with him he's so nice and friendly, tom is just a dick). He's got a pet snake!! He's a hognose named Poncho! He's a total stonerrrrrrr, it's the only time he'll be chill honestly.

He and his roommate live in a city style apartment, on the first floor, complete with a basement. Unbeknownst to his roommate, Tom has a secret black market business selling organs to dealers. The basement is where he does all the harvesting, it strictly prohibited for anyone to go down there. It makes hella money though, which he uses to help pay his tuition (art college is expensive!)

Orphan btw. His mom is Night actually (an adoptive relationship) She loves and cares about him very much, the same goes for him. He usually acts more behaved if she's around.

Roman

Roman is, well he's a--thing?? creature?? I haven't decided in all honesty but he's dangerous. He travels all across the country, making sure to be well hidden. He's a serial killer oop. His signature weapon being a bowie knife. Bros got some major sadistic and animalistic tendencies. Eats his victims btw. He can't rly show his face in public, and the mans gotta eat right??

He likes to hunt. His victims are essentially "prey" to him, and he does so enjoy the thrill of a chase. He's got a looooooong tongue (as you can see) he's accidently bitten it once or twice with those sharp teeth of his. Has a tail as well, yk what espeons tail looks like? yea it's like that. His ears are sensitive btw he doesn't like them being touched.

Can never stay in one spot for too long, constantly on the move, he's got great stamina and can run for quite a long time.

Damien

WOOO. RUFFmEOW. BIG STRONG MAN LETS GO RAGHHH. ya so this is Damien. As you can tell I love him very much and I'm so very normal about him. He's an incubussss (sex demon basically). Literal definition of a Himbo. He's a big beefy guy who's wholesome and sweet, despite his line of work.

Super flirty, and also hypersexual. It's what he feeds off of, and how he regenerates and gets his magic. which btw, he can be summoned!

He's got a looot of body hair, happy trail for dayysss! Also has a bunch of peircings, snake bites on his face, and nipple peircings on his pecks. He's got numerous scars littered all over his body too. He's really sweet an attentive, as well as respectful! What more could you want in a man??

Alecto

BIG WOMAN. she's literally just my "villain" version of Night, however she's not a self-insert. I gave her, her own story and lore. She's the main antagonist in an animated series I'm creating. Her name is based of the Mythological woman "Alecto" Who was a fury of the underworld, she symbolizes rage and spreads it across the world.

She's very quick to anger. "hot-headed" (Pun-intended). The back of her hair is literally fire, and it can grow and change depending on her mood. Those gauntlets on her arms are strong AF and razor sharp, you do not want to get on her bad side. Ngl, she kinda feral at times, yk how Miguel O'Hara literally ran on all fours to chase after Miles Morales??? Yea she does that.

She's evil muehahshegsh, but also classy. She's also really tall!!! like about 8'6'' DAYUM. she'll crush you.

--------------------------------------------------------

annnndd thats a wrap!! These are the main Oc's that I adore and use on a regular basis, they each hold a special place in my heart. I rly would love to do occasional drabbles or head canons with my babies at some point, but I'm not sure anyone would read/enjoy them 😭

Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoyed my small ramble about these guys, as you can see, I'm totally normal about them.

Oh!!! and if you're ever wanting any more of my art just lmk!! I mainly post my writing on this blog, but if y'all wanna see, I can def show!!

[vaguelyoriginaldrivel]

RANDOM TOWN GENERATOR

My longest-running campaign ended this year. Granted, that’s not saying much - only ran 9 sessions, started last fall, but still as of yet the only real “campaign” I’ve ever ran. Was some sort of “urban fantasy” thing, players a bunch of wizards (and one giant shrimp-man) driving around some undefined region of the USA in an again undefined recent past… though near the end I think I’d decided on it being set in Pennsylvania? Definitely a learning experience in a lot of ways for me, regardless. Anyways here’s some tables I made for it

Town name (d10):

Washington

Franklin

Chester

Dover

- 10. [random - roll prefix, suffix]

Prefix (d12):

Spring

Hill

Glen

George

Kings

Green

Arling

Clay

Ash

Gold

Mill

Fair

Suffix (d6):

field

lake

hill

view

ton

-Town

Notable Feature (3d10): 1-3. Can’t be rolled on a 3d10

Ignore everything else - this isn’t an ordinary small town, it’s a neo-nazi cult compound. They have guns and they don’t like you

Historic building - Weird modern house - all pods, steel, fiberglass, and concrete, with spherical pods covered in pods. Abandoned.

Ruins - Abandoned Shopping Mal

Speed trap town - local cops lurk on the side of the highway, entire town economy based on speeding tickets. Basically operates on piracy. Absurdly low speed limits not properly demarcated

Weird art installation - field of sculptures (d4 - abstract metal, cobbled-together trash, stone statues of animals and people, monoliths with inscriptions)

Historic building - haunted mansion, old style - wood, maybe some stone

Notable dam overlooking the town, potentially vulnerable to failure

Ruins - Abandoned Factory

College town - small local college dominates the local economy, most residents are students or staff

Tourist trap - Historic house (d4- Rotting wooden mansion with a ghost story, old colonial stone fort, weird modern house of a dead eccentric rich guy/ weird cult leader )

Large immigrant population from a distant country (ie not part of the Americas- like Kazakhstan or Swahililand or Lichtenstein, not like, Colombia)

Oddly high concentration of a hyper-specific specialized type of business - an entire district of dentists or dog groomers or something

Not a full on cult compound, but much of the town’s population do follow a specific esoteric cults religion like scientology or sedevacantist mormonism or something

Birthplace of some celebrity, statue in town square proclaims as much

Tourist trap -Giant sculpture, gift shop (d4 - historic figure, giant animal, mascot of attached restaurant, dinosaur(young-earth creationist))

Historic building - old colonial fort, earthworks and stone and wood

Geography - Subterranean water (1d4 - Hot spring, bottomless pit in a lake, water-filled mine pit)

Geography- Big rock (d4 - Balancing rock, weird outcroppings (like fang ridge nevada), meteor (in far-off museum, there’s a plaque next to the crater though), butte)

Geography - Weird Cliff (1d6: columnar jointing, waterfall, petroglyphs, looks like a face, church built into it, odd color)

Retirement community, no children whatsoever and everyone is either a senior citizen or a caretaker

Odd museum - animal (1d6- snails, songbirds, butterflies, earthworms, leeches, mice)

Odd museum - human (1d6- finger, ear, spleen, tongue, nose, lip, nail)

Odd museum - local cryptid (1d6 - sasquatch, lake monster, grey alien, weird alien (ie flatwoods), hodag, giant toad, devil)

Religious - large megachurch, drawing in the faithful from across the state

Weird art installation - small grove with (d4 - dollheads hanging from the trees, extensive etchings onto the bark, geometric statues in between the trees, the trees coated in colorful yarn)

Ignore everything else - this isn’t an ordinary small town, it’s some kind of hippy commune or cult compound or something. Either pseudochristian or pseudodharmic, flip a coin

Special - roll on Supernatural table

(intentionally weighted to be biased more towards the middle but I didn’t really check the probabilities here, might be way too hard to get the ones at the further poles)

Extra: Supernatural element. (d4)

Entire town was replaced with body-snatchers a few years ago. They’ll try to keep you in town for a few days - constantly surveilling you, in order to grow a body-double - when they’re done they’ll try and kidnap you to replace you with it the next time you wander away from the group. Body snatcher type varies - (Fae-esque boogeymen cuckoo-bird shapeshifters, pseudo-plant pod people, 1979 Alien style androids, etc)

Recent sightings of some kind of cryptid or something has drawn droves of “cryptozoologists” to town. This is a problem because some of you are cryptids. Coinflip if the cryptid in question is real or not

Entire town stuck in groundhog day loop - the US military has caught on and is using the town as a testing-bed/training site. Just like groundhog day, there’s one guy somewhere in town originating the loop - kill him or put him to sleep and it resets - make him learn the error of his ways - or keep him awake til midnight - and the effect ends permanently. The feds know about this, first thing they do every loop is send their special ops guys to bag him and hide him in a van before they start the raid in earnest. Outsiders, like you and the special ops guys, can enter the loop - no matter what happens, when the loop resets you’re plopped back outside right where you entered in exactly the state you were then except for your memories - even if you died you’re revived.

Certain nights, at the witching hour (12-1), local monsters and spirits and such emerge and walk the streets openly - certain stalls and shops pop up in areas that are normally unused, catering to this strange clientele, and others who sell mundane wares during the day reveal their magical affiliations at night. Also there’s street performances, music and dances and parades - and games, dangerous ones - ones you can join. The rest slumber on, but the magic that keeps them asleep does not apply to you. As magicians and cryptids yourself, this could be a good opportunity, but not all the spirits who’ve emerged are peaceful.

this is what the map of the actual campaign ended up looking like at the end btw

[vinetae]

Park Jimin as the hot professor who finds his goodie too shoes of a student in a strip club. It's safe to say that the classes after the encounter will be interesting.....

Ahaha! Perfect timing! I just came down with a really bad cold so I've got nothing better to do than to just sit in my reading chair and let my groggy, drugged imagination run wild LOL

This doesn't really make a lot of sense with the grant talk and stuff but IT'S A FANFIC, NONE OF IT IS REAL.

______________________________________________________________

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Pairings: College Professor!Jimin x Student!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Sexual content, foul language, 18+

Summary: You had asked your Psych professor for his signature in signing off your volunteer hours. Only a few weeks later, you two are caught at the same club.

Strip club to be exact.

Where you work, to be exact.

______________________________________________________________

Find my main masterlist here

Find part 2 of this - here

______________________________________________________________

The clock's rotating tick echoes through the hushed, crowded room. Pages flip, textbooks slam, and the sound of pencils scratching against the papers could only be heard. The professor's hands clap, as he explains. 

"Let's go over the basics for this class." His hand follows up the path of the beautifully sketched cortex of the brain, showing his students their materials. 

"What is this?" He asks, turning his body towards the class. A few laughs and mocks enter, as he keeps his professional stance. He chuckles, shaking his head. 

"This is called the brain. Many of you seem to not have one, apparently." 

They all 'ooo' at his comment, as the chalk clacks against the blackboard. His hands draw a new image, as a smile tugs your lips. This had been your favorite subject for psychology. 

"Mental disorders, such as Anti-social personality disorder and Borderline personality disorder are in the category of.. ?"

The class goes silent. He sighs, flicking his chocolate irises towards you. A smile peaks his expression. "Miss Choi?" You take a stand, making your way to the blackboard as he hands you the little piece of white chalk. You raise the chalk to the board, starting to explain out loud. 

"Anti-social Personality Disorder and Borderline personality disorder is in the name. Personality disorders. Therefore, they would be categorized under personality Disorders." You finish filling in the blanks, as you continue. 

"Mood personality disorders are far more common. Such as the notorious; Depression. While other disorders such as anxiety and PTSD, would be filed in Anxiety Disorders." You set the chalk down, turning to the class as you noticed some had rolled their eyes. 

"Indeed, Miss Choi." He flashes you a smile. He watches as you return to your desk, sneaking a peak at the way your hips sway in your stroll. He clears his throat before continuing. 

__

The classroom bell rings, signaling for the rest of the bunch to hurry onto their next class for the day. You're quick to rush as well, throwing the ton of your things carelessly into your bag. You hear the clicks of shoes, eyes glancing to catch sight of someone's expensive Dr. Martens. 

"Leaving so soon, Miss Choi?" His voice was smooth like skates gliding on ice. The mixture of new-shoe-smell and his orange blossom cologne had almost stopped your senses. You straighten your back, flashing him a smile. 

"I've got study group today." He hums, as you watch the sole of his expensive-looking shoes tap on the hardwood. He takes in a deep breath, admiring the peace and quiet. "Well, get home safely." He's about to return to his desk to clean up his workspace, as he turns around, sending you a little smile as he adds; 

"Wouldn't want anything happening to my favorite student."

__

The beat had boomed through the darkened walls. The red and gold lights stream all around the expensive looking establishment. Your feet stride to the bar, greeting your favorite co-worker. "Well if it isn't miss priss" She comments, sending you a wink. You chuckle, taking a sip from your sparkling water she'd slid to you. "Do you really have to use that name when I'm off the clock?"

She chuckles, flipping the hand towel over her shoulder. "Do you really have to look like the mother mary when you come in here to clock-in?" You giggle, taking another sip from your bubbly water as you shrug. She smiles, sliding over your new outfit. "Kim's changed the theme. Tonight it's mystery and masks." You nod, taking the little pieces of cloth before making your way over to the changing rooms. 

You take a step back, admiring the seam work on your expensive looking attire. The golden, sparkling jeweled piece cups the curves of your breasts, blue butterflies clasp in the front to give a little peak to your cleavage. The matching sparkles trail down the front of your torso, meeting to clasp with the golden jeweled undergarments that barely covered anything. You sigh, slipping the final touch on before making your way out of the changing rooms. 

__

Loud music echoed through the place. Jimin's head turns to the side, looking to find an empty seat. His chocolate irises flick off-beat to the music pounding in the area. A soft female voice calls out, as his head cranes to the sound. "First time?"

He chuckles, nodding softly. She smiles, cleaning the inside of the shot glass. He watches, eyes narrowing on the way her breasts peak out to give him a little taste. His tongue unconciously comes out to lick the pad of his lips. She smirks, sliding the filled glass over his way. "I'm not part of the show, you know." He's quickly pulled from his trance, nodding before bowing slightly. "Sorry.." 

She nods, a smirk tugging her lips. "Anybody catch your eye yet? Well, besides me." He takes a look around, watching the women take a spin around the metal and golden hued poles, legs coming out to give hint to everything they hadn't even tried to hide. He internally cringes at the sight. Spinning his chair back around, he shakes his head. 

The bartender hums, before a wide smirk paints her darkened features. The red and gold lights bounce off her powdered face. "I've got just the girl."

___

His eyes take a second to adjust to the dimmed lighting, as the large framed man had lead him to a narrow hallway before opening the door to a large room. The walls decorated with splashes of reds and golds, with a hint of black to draw some in. "Here?" Jimin asks, as the large man had nodded, before shutting the door. He takes in a deep breath before walking over to sit on the red leather seats. He leans back, legs spreading apart just a bit to seem a little more experienced. 

He's never actually been to a strip club you see. 

Of course, this might've been obvious already..

He actually had to Wikihow how to act a strip club. Of course he knew the basic rules, but was he allowed to converse with them? No talking? How much would it cost? Even though money hadn't been an issue but still..

He didn't want to upset any of the.. uhh.. dancers.

The price wasn't bad at all. He had no idea what the hell he just paid for though..

This all seems confusing.

Don't worry.

He's just as fucking lost. 

The music starts to fade in, a familiar song echoes through the empty room. His eyes trail up, watching as a fit, young looking women had appeared on stage. Her body decorated in revealing gold and black laced jewels, her hips sway to the music beat, as she's now standing right infront of him. He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. His eyes glance up to meet hers, but she's quick to dismiss the contact. Instead, her legs swing over, as she straddles his lap. He swallows the lump in his throat, as her fingers come to toy with the clasps of his white button up, her manicured nails scrape his adam's apple gently. Her body slides down before returning to the pole. The red lipstick that had been plumping her lips had smeared just a bit, giving her a more sultry expression. 

He watches the way her legs wrap around the pole, watching as her body gracefully spins around the golden pole. Her soft moves reminded him of someone he knew. The way her head follows the beat of her own rymth, eyes peaking through the golden mask that had hidden her features, adorned with a innocence he felt too familiar with. The bottom of his lip pulls in, biting on the flesh as his mind wanders around her body movements and language. She was excellent at hiding what she had truly been feeling. Yet, he saw something he'd seen too many times before. 

___ (Two Weeks Before) ___

The school bell had rung once more, another day complete. Jimin's eyes lay upon the only body left in his class, as she strides over, settling some papers onto his desk. "Can I help you?" Her smile beams with confidence, as she taps her finger against the papers she'd laid down. "I'd like to apply for being your assistant." He chuckles at her cute expression. It had been filled with so much confidence and determination. "I don't really have a need for a class assistant." She takes a seat in front of him, a pleading look plasters her features. 

"Mister Park, I know it's too early in the semester right now, but this is for a very good cause." He leans back, hand coming to run through his blonde locks before questioning her. "Is that so? What's this cause." His fingers come up to quote her urgency. She nods, sliding the papers closer to him.

"The mental institute that I'm applying for is wanting me to have more volenteer hours. I've already tried with the community service department, but they said they only take juveniles."

He hums, pondering her proposition. Her eyes burns his own with passion. He saw how much she wanted this. 

"What about your other classes?" She shakes her head. "Miss Lee already had an assistant." 

"Aren't you in humanitarians as well?" She nods. "Mister Im was quite upset at the request.." Jimin silently chuckles to himself at her formal language. He sits up in his chair, nodding.

"Alright."

Her face lights up as she watches him skim over the papers. "Really!?" She stands, excitement bursts in her veins. He nods, standing to settle her down.

"You can start today, actually." She nods, her smile being brighter than the sun. He packs the rest of his things, flashing her a quick smile.

"Start by organizing the class's extra supplies." She nods, as her hand reaches out to his. 

His hand comes to meet his, watching as her sleeve lifts to reveal a small, magnolia shaped flower wrist tattoo.

___

Fuck. Oh fucking shit.

Everything hits him at once. The small tattoo the performer had, had matched Y/n's perfectly. The lump in his throat growing twice in size. 

What does he do? 

He can't just pause this session and say 'Oh by the way, I'm your psych professor.'

Shit. 

If he knows it's her and she's wearing a mask, and he's not.. 

Does she recognize him??

Her walks strides close to him, her body standing tall between his legs. Her body sinks down, knees resting between the space of his thighs. Fingers trail along the zipper of his trousers before her head rises up to meet his. She watches the way his blonde locks fall to the front of his face, head tilting to the side. She leans up, whispering into his ear softly. 

"Are you nervous?" Her voice sounded like smooth honey. One he'd heard too many times before. Usually, just asking if he needed help filing the class's test sheets. He gulps, feeling the way her body turns around, giving him a beautiful view of her backside. Her torso rolls to the beat, hands coming down to hold herself in place as she grinds against his hardening cock. He groans, hands fisting at the sight. His head lulls back, trying to think of himself anywhere but here; 

Where his best student is giving him a lap dance. 

He couldn't do this. 

He's quick to gently push her off, rising to make his way to the exit. 

You pause, scoffing.

"What's his problem?"

Your eyes glance down, taking notice of a little ring settled in the crease of the club's leather couch. You reach down, admiring the expensive looking band. 

___

He takes in a deep breath before walking into his empty classroom. He smiles at the emptiness, setting down his  Prada briefcase. Just as he's about to start writing the lesson down on the board for the day, a voice calls out to him. 

"Mister Park!" She smiles, running over to his desk, setting her pink and blue backpack onto his desk. His jaw tightens, ignoring her. She pouts, standing in front of his body.

"Mister Park, I've completed the spreadsheets for this year's schedule." She smiles, taking a few steps back to stand at his side. Explaining her ideas, while he's writing today's lesson on the board.

"I've also come up with a new item list for all the students to follow so they can pass your class with flying colors! Here-" He turns away, checking his sheet of paper summary on his desk before continuing to jot down the lesson. Her eyebrows knit together in questioning.

"Mister Park..? Is something the matter?"

He finally turns to meet her frown features. Body slouched and mimics one like a puppy getting kicked by it's owner. He internally breaks at her pout. 

"Miss Choi, this is my class. You have no say in how I run it." 

"Yeah but I was thinki-"

"That's the thing! You don't think. You're here to clean up the gum from under the desks, and maybe sharpen a few extra pencils. The only reason I let you be my assistant was because it was for your resume so you could look like a perfect little straight A student." She backs away, a hurt expression paints her features. 

"I- I was just trying to help.." He scoffs, pointing at her desk.

"Take your seat, Miss Choi."

___

You knew you shouldn't have gotten too friendly with your professor. You just thought that he'd be a lot less stressed if he had a schedule for his classes. A few new pencils in line, and an organizer you'd bought him for secret santa a few months ago before winter break. You'd been in this class for almost two years, and he'd always been so kind and friendly towards you. You thought that returning those gestures would be the right thing to do. 

Apparently, he actually hated you. 

Your eyes screw at his words, the feeling in your chest tightening, remembering his cold tone.

'Little straight A student..'

You sigh, slamming your laptop shut. You couldn't get his harsh tone out of your head. 

___

Jimin lets out a deep breath, pinching the space between the bridge of his nose in frustration. Maybe he'd been a little too harsh on you. You'd just been trying to help.,

Hell, maybe you didn't even recognize him that night. 

He groans, plopping down onto the comfort of his bed, a hand coming to shield the light from his eyes. The room had gone quiet, as his mind gripes at him for ever saying those harsh things to you. The more he replayed the scene in his head, the more of a dick he felt like. He sighs, sitting up, reaching over to grab at the TV remote. Once he's settled in, he flips through the daytime channels that had been playing some stupid rom or sit coms. Just as  his eyes were about to lull asleep, the ding from his phone jolts his body awake. 

___

His leg eagerly taps against the marbled floor's flat. His eyes flicker around the restaurant, as he takes in a few deep breaths. The moment he'd gotten that text a few hours ago, he'd been nothing but a nervous wreak. He'd gotten a random text from an unknown number, asking for him to meet up at a nearby place to give his ring back. 

Stupid fucking idea to have your name emblemed on his ring. 

He mentally groans at the thought, taking another sip from his drink. The ding of the restaurant makes his heart drop, as his eyes set on you. Your mini-skirt that revealed your tight-covered legs had made him more drunk than fifteen beers ever could. Your black turtleneck had wrapped around your neck, a golden, small necklace decorated your neck gracefully. You're quick to take a glance around, before stopping on him. You smile, making your way over to his table. You slide in the booth, flashing him a professional smile. 

"I assume you're aware of why I asked you here." He tries to keep the atmosphere light and short. He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. She smiles, straightening her back. "You seem to be in a better mood." She comments, as the waitress takes her order. 

"I was feeling a little sick this morning." He watches the way her eyebrows knit together in concern, hands coming to clasp on the table. "Are you feeling better?" He nods. 

"I went home to take a quick nap, but then you texted. How'd you even get my number, by the way?" She smiles, leaning down to quiet her voice. "That's a secret, Park." He chuckles at her cute expression. Your light rosy cheeks and lips had been stained by the winter's harsh blows. The tip of your nose had resembled Rudolph's. That made him melt inside faster than Olaf. 

"So." She starts once more, sliding a small folder over the table top. He takes a silent gulp. 

"This was what I was trying to explain earlier this morning. This schedule has everything for this semester. You've always complained of struggling with organization, so I thought this might better with that. It contains contexts, a glossary, an index, cards, empty spaces for students to write their own thoughts, a feedback page so students can also make any comments about how well they're understanding the materials. What would need to be improved about it, and what you could do to possibly help them through the semester so they can do more than just just skim by."

He'd been all ears with your suggestions, until from the corner of his eyes, a familiar gold and black band wrapped around her index finger. He pauses, taking notice of the diamond placed right in the center of the ring. 

His ring. 

"So, what do you think?" He's pulled out of his thoughts by your voice. His throat clears as he takes a few glances around. You frown, leaning closer.

"You can just say you hate it, you know. No reason to avoid me.." He shakes his head, eyes glancing back to you.

"No, I'm not ignoring you, Y/n." You chuckle at his words.

"Loosing formalities, Mister Park?"

He chuckles, trying to hide the nervous tone in his voice. You watch as his eyes take a glance to your hand. 

"That's a nice ring." You nod, trying to be non-chalant about the story as possible.

"Yep, got it from work. Someone left it in one of the booths.." 

"I thought you said you worked at an animal shelter." Your eyes go wide at the realization. 

Fuck. 

"I.. quit a while back. I work in a restaurant outside of town now." He hums, taking a sip from his glass. "You don't think it's owner is missing it?" 

You shake your head. "Like I said. No lost and found, so my boss says we can keep anything we find." You watch as he raises as eyebrow. "That's odd. I used to work as a waiter as well, but we never got to keep anything we found. Seems like rules more fit for a club of some sorts." You choke on your water, turning away as to not cough in his face. 

He chuckles, setting his drink down to hand you a napkin. "Like a golf club of some sorts." You laugh along, trying to cover the absolute terrified tone in your voice. 

"You.. caught me. Hah.." You chuckle nervously. He smiles, taking a bite of his salad before continuing.

"Funny, Y/n. There's not a golf club around here for miles." 

You pause, trying to think of an excuse. "My.. father owns one. We go every Saturday." You watch as he raises an eyebrow. "Your dad makes you work at his golf club?" You nod.

"Well- I volunteer. Been doing it since I was 14." He nods, downing the rest of his glass.

"Does the ring have any writing? You might be able to return it to it's owner. Who knows," He takes a look at your folder, continuing. 

"Might even get something bigger in return." 

___

You sigh, spinning the circular golden jewelry piece around your index finger. His words ring in your mind, as guilt sets in. Even though it had been fair game, you still felt bad for taking the ring. It's not like you were going to sell it on the market or anything. You'd really loved the designs, especially the clear diamond set in the middle. It had reminded you of flowers for some reason. You loved it..

But it wasn't yours. 

So now here you were, sitting at the bar, waiting for your brain to make a decision. On one hand, you knew how important something can be to someone, and how it must feel horrible to loose such a precious item. On the other, you knew the ton of the men that come in and out of the club had been filthy rich, and probably could buy a million of these silly rings. 

Taking in a deep breath, you spin around to scan the club. You tried to remember what the man had been wearing. Something of a white button up and black trousers. 

Well this won't be difficult at all.

You make your way around the club for a few hours, pushing past the crowded groups of horndogs and co-workers who are giving lazy lap dances. After a while passes, you groan, taking a seat away from all of the crowded groups. You sigh, toying with the little golden and black band that wraps around your finger. The diamond shines through the dark atmosphere, glimmering even in the darkest of places of the club. Your eyes catch on a pair of black shoes stand right in front of you. Your eyes glance up, noticing the same sandy blonde hair illuminating more than the red lights. His hand reaches out, face being concealed with aid from the dark area.

"Care to dance?" 

Honestly, you denied. 

At first.

Hey man, listen. 

... *insert cricket noises here*

Okay there was nothing to explain it. 

You just wanted to have some fun, okay? You're off the clock anwyays. What's a little dance?

His hands come to gently trail up your sides, as your hips sway side to side along with the deep beat of the music. His lips come to tease the skin of your ear, as you felt his large arms wrap around your torso. Your body had been perfectly slotted between his chest and forearms, as he guides you through the songs. You felt high. You'd only ever watched from above, seeing all the crazy people going at it on the dance floor. You'd always scoffed at it, wondering why people just couldn't keep it in their pants but now..

Now you knew. 

"So what brought you here?" His voice is drowned a bit by the blaring music. Yet, you can still make out what he says. You tilt your head, giving him more access to the side of your neck, yet; he doesn't go for it. 

"I'm here with a few friends." You're quick to lie, reaching back to try and guide his lips to your neck. Yet, he stays right where he is. It felt more like a loving embrace than a quick grind on the floor. 

"Friends abandoned you I'm guessing?" You nod, turning around in his arms, but he keeps you still. Something about this felt off. 

"Who brought you?" You question, pressing your ass into his crotch. His hips move away, as you groan at his deny. He chuckles, a hand coming up to pet the crown of your hair gently.

"Myself." 

You really weren't in a loving mood right now. You wanted to get fucked, and that's it. Yet, this asshole had the decency to keep his hands to himself. 

Little fucker. 

"So why are you here?" You ask, reaching back behind to palm over his crotch. Yet, he's as soft as a pillow. His hand takes your wrist, as he chuckles against your ear, guiding your hand up to cup his jaw.

"Why so many questions?" He smiles, twirling you softly before pulling you back into his arms. You scoff at the move. You pull away, as he lets you go.

"You came to a club to spin a girl around?"

He shrugs. "Would you rather me be a creep?" 

"I'd rather you act like a normal person in a strip club." He raises an eyebrow at the comment. "How I'm acting should be the normal for any guy." You roll your eyes, walking away. He chuckles, following in your steps. You huff, spinning back around to face him.

"Listen man, this isn't the ninth-grade school dance. Either fuck me or go find a virgin mary to creep to." His eyes roll at your comment, as he folds his arms across his chest.

"So you'd rather have an asshole fuck you in the dirty alleyway of this club for maybe, what? A few minutes at most, than to have a real man take care of you like how it should be?"

You groan out, pushing at his chest a bit as you let out all of your frustration. 

"I don't need a gentleman, I need a good fucking. And your little goodie two shoes self ain't what I'm looking for." He chuckles at the name. 

"Thought you'd have the most experience with being a 'goodie two shoes', Y/n." 

You're quick to back away, but stand nowhere near as strong as he had. His arm comes out to catch your wrist, pulling you back into his sight of vision. Your eyes flash up to meet his, the professional aura had slipped with each passing second. The internal clock inside your head telling you to hurry up was ticking with cold blood. 

A smirk plasters his face, as he takes a look around the place. "So this is your father's golf club?" Your throat goes dry at his sentence. 

"Obviously not.." 

He chuckles, nudging your body forward before letting you go. His eyes take a glance back down to your hand, admiring the ring decorating your left index. 

"Got a reason for my ring being on your hand?" 

"Obviously I didn't know that it was your ring.." Your face lights up with idea to turn the tables. Your arms cross over your chest, finally finding your confidence his aura had drained of you. "Got any reason for being at a strip club?" 

"I was just about to ask you the same thing." 

Even though the music was blasting louder than a rock concert, the silence between you two had been deadly. His eyes matched the same, fierce and confident look you'd been trying to give off. 

"You grinded with one of your students." He chuckles at the accusation. 

"Actually, I danced. You were the one trying to grab my dick, were you not?" Your mouth screws at that. 

Fuck. 

He was right. 

"Well you were the one to ask." 

"didn't recognize you at first." He bites back. 

"At first?" Hah. You've caught him. 

His smirk screws tight on his face, the red and black strobes illuminate his aura even more. "I didn't want to be rude." 

"So you knew that I was one of your students? Yet, you still asked me to dance." 

"To dance. Once again, you were the one trying to implement more." 

You huff, tightening your arms in frustration. "Because I didn't think my professor would be at a strip club!"

He chuckles, voice lowering to a deep tone. "You don't think I have needs?" Your heart drops to your stomach. His smirk only urks him on even more. He leans forward, leaning against the bar's surface, sporting a relaxed position.

"Wants?" 

His lips brush past your cheek, tickling the shell of your ear as you hear the husk in his tone. 

"Desires?"

You shake your head, pushing him away quickly. "Well if you knew it was me, why'd you continue?" 

He chuckles, tilting his head to ask the bartender -your best friend- for whiskey sour. His head cranes back to you, smirking. She could obviously sense the tension between the two of you, but she had her own problems to deal with right now. 

His finger lifts, pointing around the room before contuining; "Does it look like we're at school right now?" 

You scoff. "You're a pervert." 

"Oh really? How so? I was just here, wanting to take a beautiful woman dancing, and she kept trying to grope me like a drunkie." He takes a sip from his glass, before settling it back down on the bar.

"If anything my dear, you're the pervert."

He chuckles, taking the extra lemon between his lips, watching as you swallow at the action. 

"I mean really, who's that desperate for a fucking that they just go at it with the first guy they see? That's how you get kidnaped." He shakes the lemon, acting as if he's giving you a lesson in morals. 

"For a psych major, Miss Choi, you're not very smart." Your hands fist at your sides. His pride swells a little too much in his chest. 

"Why are you acting like such an asshole!?" His eyes flick to yours, scoffing. 

"Why are you acting like such a brat?" You uncross your arms to hit his side. He's quick to catch your throw, eyes baring into yours.

"Not very professional of you, Y/n. What would the club think of their employee hitting a customer?" 

Your eyes blow wide. You can see his cocky smile from miles away. He takes another sip, watching as your forehead peaks a little vein at the top, your face completely red. 

"If you tell anyone I'll-"

"You'll what, Miss Choi? I'm the only psych professor on campus, and no other college will accept you so late into this semester." Your teeth grind at his words. 

"You're stuck with me, My dear." 

"Fuck. You." 

He sucks in a breath, before laughing at your anger. "Seems like that was your plan, wasn't?" 

You sigh, giving up. You had to suck it up to this asshole, at least for the remainder of the year. Your eyes shift from fierce and vexed, to soft and calm. 

At least you tried to give that off. 

He takes notice, laughing at the quick change. "Are you seriously worried THAT much about me telling someone?" His demeanor switches to one that mirrors yours as well.

"Who would I tell, huh? I've got no grudge against you, Y/n. You're my best student." You take in a deep breath, kind of agreeing silently to his words. He pats the barstool parallel to his, motioning for you to join him. You take a seat, sipping on the sparkling water you'd ordered previously. 

"It's just.. I don't come from a rich background like the other students on campus. There only reason I got in was because of my GPA and SAT scores that were through the roof. I had a three-thousand dollar grant along with the hope scholarship but.." You laugh at the reasoning for your job. 

"But?" He questions, leaning in to give you his full attention. 

You lift the can to your lips, taking a swig before continuing. "Tuition was fucking expensive.. I can't afford things like-" You take a glance down before motioning to his black suede Louis Vuitton suit. 

"that."

He glances down, chuckling at your pout. "I have noticed your style to be a bit.. diverse than the other students." 

Your eyes roll in your head at his choice of words. Of course your walmart plaid skirt and clearance section white button up from the men's department you tailored yourself was unusual. It didn't look like the other students Armani and Gucci outfits..

"Thanks for that." You laugh sarcastically. He taps on the counter as Milana sends him another whiskey sour quickly.

"Do you really have a passion for this?" He motions for you to take a glance around, watching as your co-workers dance on the laps of men who looked like they could already be considered for retirement settlements. 

"Oh of course. I just live for twearking on old geizers laps for a few bucks. Who fucking wouldn't." Your hand reaches out to ask Milana for another bubbly water but she hands you a shot glass instead.

"Trust me girly, you look like you need it." She pours the dark, syrupy liquid into your glass as your hand hesitates to pick it up. 

"Well did you run out of time for applying for more grants?" He questions, watching your hesitation towards your drink. 

"No. When I tried applying for the five-hundred grant, they denied."

His eyebrow raises at this. "Well, how many did you apply for?" 

Your voice goes silent. He takes that as a challenge to question it.

"Ten?" 

You shake your head. He continues. 

"Twenty?" 

You take in a breath, laying your chin on the bar's surface. "Try.. fourty-two?"

His eyes widen like cartoons at that. "Fourty-two grants?! Holy shit- You must have the money for sure now though, right?"

You shake your head. "Have to live on campus for at-least two years, remember? That's an extra eleven-thousand I didn't have." 

He scoffs, getting annoyed by your situation as well. His eyes soften, laying his head down to match your own. "I didn't know it had costed you this much, Y/n." 

You nod, straightening your back before shaking your head. "No matter. It's just life, you know? Gotta do the shitty stuff to make your future bright.. or whatever the fucking board says." He chuckles, before nodding in agreeance. 

"You know if you were to ask, you'd been doing such an amazing job at being my assistant, I would've paid you for it." You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. 

"Wouldn't be considered volunteer work then, would it?" He sighs, nodding. "You're right."

He takes another sip from his refill, teasing the cherry stem between his teeth. "There's has to be a better way than just being these asshole's wet dream." 

You shrug. "It's not really something my professor should be worrying about anyways." 

He takes in a deep breath, glancing around the room before an idea pops into his mind. 

"I can just write it off as volunteer work. You only need my signature as confirmation, right?" You nod at his question.

"Wouldn't they be suspicious of it?" 

"They've got too many things on their plates than worrying if a teacher is paying his student to help out in his classroom." 

Your voice lowers, only really wanting the idea to be heard by you.

"Sounds like the beginning of a porno.." 

He however, is quick to catch on, chuckling.

"dirty way to put it, I would say." Your cheeks go red at his tone. His eyes glance up to yours, lips wrapped around the edge of his glass, giving you a teasing 'what?' look. 

He sets his glass down, holding his hand out to reach yours. 

"So, deal?" 

You extend your to meet his, giving a firm shake. 

"Deal."

____

Taking in a breath, his smile radiates confidence and joy as he walks through the halls of the corridor where his classroom is. Students crowd around the halls, splitting down the middle as he makes his way through.

He greets them all with smiles and hellos before reaching his classroom. He takes his keys out to unlock the door, walking in, his eyes set upon your little figure fitting up under the empty space of his desk. He chuckles to himself, walking over to set hi briefcase on top. He bends down, tilting his head at your knelt position. 

"Cleaning included?" 

"Ow!"

You're quick to jump, which makes your head bump on the desk's underside. You whine, scooting out from up under before rising to meet his level. "A screw was loose under here. I thought I could tighten it with my hand." A greasy smile spreads his face.

"Now that sounds like the beginning of a porno." 

You scoff, turning your body away to place the stacks of paper in front of him. He glances down with a confused look. 

"These are the index and glossary portions of the guides I talked to about at the resturant." He nods, flipping quickly through the pages before taking a look up to meet your eyes. 

"Very.. thick." He awnsers, scanning over bits of the papers. Leaning back in his chair, his legs spread wide a bit, carding a hand through his blonde locks. "Did you have breakfast?" 

He watches as your eyes glance down quickly to his lap before switching back up to meet his own. Your cheek sinks in a bit at his physic as you shake your head. 

"I don't usually eat breakfast." 

He hums, leaning up to push his metal bento box to your side of his desk. You shake your head in denial. 

"Come on, breakfast is the most important meal. Here," He sits up, extending his arm to hand you his sterile chopsticks. His eyes narrow in annoyance at your stubborness. He leans forward, picking up a small bite of rice and spam before holding it up to your mouth. "Eat." 

"I'm not hungry." 

He scoffs lightly, scooting his chair closer to yours. "Bite." 

"I said I'm not hungry-"

"Open."

It took you a few minutes to realize his knee was slotted between yours, body propped up, barely being a few inches from yours. He's sat on the edge of his chair, as you take notice in how large he actually was compared to you. 

"I-..I'm not hungry.." 

"Did I ask?" 

You're quiet. 

He takes it as a notion to edge you on even more. "It's not polite to ignore your superior, Miss Choi. Once again; did I ask?" 

Your throat dries at his words. He's seemed to keep his professional tone, yet there's something else lurking behind it's superiority. 

"N.. No."

"Then open." 

Your mouth slowly falls wide just before the bell starts to ring, as students start flooding classrooms. You're quick to rise from the chair, returning to your desk. Jimin sighs, closing the lid on his bento box before standing to write the lesson of the day. 

___

Your stomach starts grumbling quickly as soon as class had started. Students starting pouring in like fish as the seats had been quickly filled. You groan silently, hand holding your stomach in agony. Usually, you'd be fine right now. But ever since you got a whiff of his ham and rice meal, your stomach could not shut up about it. Your vision had even started going wonky only a few minutes in. 

"Young-il's mother has been suffering from hysteria, paranoid ideation, and hallucinations. Which of these could Young-il's mother be diagnosed with?" His voice is drowned out by your gurgling stomach. Your eyes wince in pain, tapping your leg on the floor as a vice to gain some relief. 

"Miss Choi?" 

Fuck you were hungry. 

"Miss Choi?" 

If only you had taken that damn bite when he offered!

"Miss Choi.. ?"

"Fuck!" You whine, watching as all of the student's attention flashes straight to you. 

Oh shit..

"Are you feeling alright, Miss Choi?" Your eyes glance up, as he watches you wince in pain. He notices your hand clenching your stomach.

"U-huh." Your eyes switch to the board, squinting to try and figure out what the fuck he was explaining. 

"Uhm- I think his mother's diagnosis would be stimulant p-psychosis." He nods hesitantly before returning to his board.

"Correct. The usual symptoms for stimulant psychosis are paranoia, disorganized thinking, hysteria, hallucinations, and many more. Very good, Miss Choi." You nod silently, patiently waiting for the bell to ring so you can get some food in your stomach. 

Having prayers anwsered, the bell comes quickly after as the students clear out as quickly as they had flooded in. You stand up in a hurry, packing your thinks before making your way towards the exit. His voice catches your attention before you're able to leave. 

"Are you alright? You look a little pale-" You turn around, nodding. 

"Lunch time." You hurry towards the door before turning around. "Are you not coming?" 

He shakes his head, motioning to his bento box. "Cafeteria's too loud a lot of the times. I just sit in here and grade papers." You nod before rushing to the lunch room. 

He chuckles, watching as you run for the exit, taking a bite of his lunch. 

_____

"Thank you." You bow before taking your tray of goodies, quickly making your way back to class. After you had a few bites of the rice, you felt a lot better. Your hand reaches for the knob, before you heard a giggle coming from inside of his classroom. You move away from the glass so that you're not seen. 

"I just wanted to thank you for last night. Those papers never would've been graded on time if it wasn't for you, Jimin." 

"No problem. I had a little extra time on my hands anyways." Your eyes peak through the glass, gasping silently, watching the way the woman's legs swing back and forth on the front of his desk. Her hand reaching down to tug at his loose button up, manicured nails trailing along the prominent line of his jaw. 

"You know, I've always loved pyschology as well." His eyebrow quirks, lifting his eyes to meet hers. "Really? You seemed more like a sorority type of girl." She smiles, flashing her pearly white teeth, brushing his shoulder. "Ah, you're so funny! So what, am I like a sexy cheerleader or something?" 

He thinks for a second before replying. "No, more like the girl from Legally Blonde." She straightens at the comment. "Oh, so the sexy lawyer?" 

He shakes his head. "Nope, just look like you belong in a sorority. You know, with all the glitter and stuff." She chuckles before pulling on his collar to straddle his lap. Her hands drape down to grab at his, to steady her by the waist. 

His eyes widen at the sudden move, eyes flicking to the classroom door. "Uhm Miss Kim I don't think is a good ti-"

Her finger comes to press against his lips as her head lowers down to his waist. "Think of it as a 'thank you'. You know, for helping me with the papers?" 

He clears his throat, as his body goes stiff at her touch. 

"It's lunch period right now and I have another set of students to te- oh fuck.." His hands grip the arm rests, head lulling back as her lips wrap around the tip of his cock. She moans, coiling her hand around the rest of his length before moving it up and down. 

His hand comes to tug at her loose bun, carding through her black locks. His head falls back against his chair, mouth parting to let a certain name slip from his lips. 

"Fuck.. Y/n.."

Miss Kim's too deep into her own thoughts to notice the slip up. 

"Mmm how dirty of you, Jimin. Getting blown in your classroom.. what if a student was to walk i-"

At that, your body flies forward, the door slamming open as your figure hits the floor. Your lunch tray spilling all over the cold flat as the two stumble to fix their clothes. 

"Oh fuck!" He yelps, pushing the teacher off to fix himself. Your jaw drops at the scene. 

"I..I-" You're frozen in a pile of cold wheat noodles, kimchi and rice. Miss Kim is quick to adjust herself before trying to shoo you out. Mister Park just sits there with eyes just as wide as yours. 

"What the fuck are you doing!? Get out!" She yells, stomping her expensive high heel on the floor. 

You stutter, trying to pick up your things as your mumble a string of sorries. 

Once you've got to you're feet, you rush out slamming into a few people on the way. 

____

The following few days were a nightmare. You'd been extremely silent, and honestly? Jimin didn't blame you. 

You watched your professor get blown by another teacher.

He groans stuffing his face into the palms of his hands, wanting to crawl in a hole and die. 

He watches from his desk as you bend down to scrape the last bits of gum from up under the tables. He'd been pretending to grade more papers for the last hour and he had enough. He quickly stands, packing the rest of his things into the pockets of his briefcase.

___

Once he's gone, you bang your head onto the floor, not caring if it was goin to leave marks in the morning. 

Stupid.

Fucking

Stupid. 

You groan, standing to finish the rest of your duties. You're just about finished wiping down his desk before your hip bumps into the corner. 

"Fuck.." You whine, rubbing at the raw skin before taking notice of the little crack that had appeared. Your eyes squint some more, seeing a little shiny thing hidden away from sight. Looking around the room for any witnesses, you let curiosity get the better of you. 

Your hand wraps around the metal handle, popping the drawer open easily. 

"Y/n?" You jump from your spot, quickly shutting the drawer to back away from his desk. Your eyes flash up, seeing his large frame sling his briefcase onto his shoulder. A concerned look paints his expression. "Why were you in my desk?" 

"I- Uh.." Your eyes trail around, trying to find anything to back up your story. 

Truth is, you didn't even know why you were going through his drawers. 

You'd never been one to snoop around other people's belongings..

His arms cross his chest, eyebrow quirking at your stuttering self. "You..?"

Think, Y/n!

"I was looking for a pen!"

He quirks, walking over to his desk to shake the pen cup in the corner. "You were saying?"

Your hands comes to clasp in the front, head bowing from shame as you avoid eye contact. 

"I.. don't know why I was going through your things.." 

He hums, leaning down to catch your eyes, bringing your gaze to follow his back up. "You don't know why you invaded my privacy?"

You huff, biting the inside of your cheek from frustration. "It was her fault! She should've locked the fucking door at least!" His eyes widen at your tone. "You mean Miss Kim?"

You nod, not even realizing that's why you were snooping in the first place. 

"That doesn't explain why you're going through my stuff, Y/n." Your hands clench into balls at the thought. "I don't know, okay!? I hit my fucking side on your damn desk and it popped open! When I tried to go and fix it, it opened even more and I saw-" You stop, not really remembering what you had seen. 

Until some remembered what was next to his desk.

"You saw... ?"

"I saw my papers." Your eyes glance up to his, your blood starting to boil. "I saw my papers.. in your trash can." 

He quickly leans over, seeing your once neatly folded and organized ideas for the classroom thrown carelessly into garbage. His eyes widen, reaching down to pull the folders out. His eyes take a quick glance back to you before continuing. "I didn't throw these away, Y/n. You remember when I said how much I loved your ideas." 

Your head shakes, tears starting to well in your eyes. You worked for hours on end trying to perfect those. You wanted to do good in his class, and maybe he'd even give you some extra credit points for having such a high work ethic. 

"You never said how much you loved them.." 

"What? Of course I did." 

You sniff, drying your cheek with the puff of your sleeve. "In the restaurant.. Before class.. You kept changing the topic." He shakes his head, trying to catch your gaze once more. 

"Y/n, I loved your ideas." 

Your cheeks flush red, finally looking into his eyes. Yours, being glassy and watery. "Why did you keep avoiding them, then?" 

He reaches over, handing you a tissue. "They're thick folders, Y/n. I've had three classes today, I just haven't had the time." You wince from his words, replying. 

"I gave them to you over a week ago.." 

His eyes widen, mouth dropping to the floor as he tries to find something to stop your crying. "Y/n- I- I'm sorry.." 

Your face burns as your voice amplifies. "I worked forever on those! The estimated reading time was only about an hour!" 

He chuckles. "Estimated reading time? I didn't know you put so much effort into them-" 

"Of course I did! I wanted you to be proud of me!" That makes him pause. His hands suddenly felt heavy, as everything in the room had felt like it was more noticable than before. 

"Y.. You wanted me to be proud of you?" He watches as you sniff, teary and glassy eyes delve into his. His voice felt faded and nearly gone. He searched for any words, but nothing came to mouth. 

You take a deep breath, wiping the rest of your tears away before finishing. "Guess it doesn't matter anymore." 

You reach down, slinging your backpack over your shoulder about to make your way to the door before his wrist catches yours, pulling you into his chest. Arms coiled tightly around your frame, as his chin rested atop of your head. 

"I am proud of you, Y/n. You're my favorite student, you know that." You half-heartly laugh at his words. Eyes glancing up to meet his. 

"Do I? You seemed pretty occupied with Eun-ji."

His eyes bare into yours. "You mean Miss Kim?" He chuckles, loosening his grip on you. "She's your superior, Y/n. We don't use informal with teachers." 

Your arms reach around to clasp his waist, pulling your body flushed against his. "Really? What will happen if I do, Jimin."

His throat swallow a large gulp at your words. Your grip doesn't faulter on his body. 

"Y/n I don't thi-" 

"No. Don't you fucking tell me about formalities when you're supposed to be calling me by my last name as well." He's frozen. 

Because you're right. 

He's let it slip one too many times. 

Fuck. 

He watches your frown slip into more of a smile-smirk at his silence. "Teachers don't pay their students. Teachers don't hug their students. And teacher for sure don't moan their student's name. Do they?" 

Your grip loosens to snag his tie, pulling his body closer to yours. He groans as you rub your thigh against the tent of his suit pants. 

"Fuck.." He chuckles, running a hand through his hair before giving you a smirk. "You were watching me?" 

You lean back, planting your ass on the flat of his desk, pulling him between the space of your thighs, guiding him like a puppy by his tie. "How could I not? You could practically hear her from the other side of campus." 

His hands comes to caress your waist, leaning his head further down to meet your level. "How dirty of you." 

"Mmm, taking dirty talk from her?" You bite back, watching as his jaw tightens at the catch. His head lowers, nose brushing the side of your neck, inhaling your flowery scent. 

"Don't like it?" He quirks, leaning back a bit to watch your expression darken. 

"I want you to use your own words." 

A smirk tugs the corner of his lips. 

"Alright." 

His hand comes to trail and back of your spine before reaching inside to quickly pop your bra apart. You gasp at the sudden movement, his hand coming to kneed your outer thigh. His breath trails along your cheek, brushing the shell of your ear. 

"On one hand, I want to stay true to my promise and take you on a date, eat out at a nice restaurant, and take you back to your place like the gentleman I am." 

You scoff, caressing the side of his cheek, whispering. "And the other hand?" 

His voice lowers to where not even an echo can pick it up. "I want to put you in your place for ever using informalities with me." 

You smirk, rubbing the inside of your thigh against his outer thigh. "So I'm not allowed to use your name?" 

He chuckles, pressing you further into the surface of his desk, whispering into your ear. "Only when you're moaning it." 

"Fucking fine by me." A light slap to your out thigh makes you jump. "Another thing. It's not very ladylike of you to curse like that, now is it?" 

"Oh? So you don't want, Oh Jimin! Oh fuck, Jimin! Oh my God." Your faked moans make a little deep growl emit from his chest. 

"Brat." 

Your tongue comes out to lick at your lips, sucking on your bottom one. "Yes?~" 

He chuckles at that, shaking his head. "Dirty girl. Was this your little plan all along?" 

You shrug, innocent look peaks your expression. "Maybe, maybe not." 

"Volenteer service?" 

"Oh, that's real. I've got 82 hours left." 

He hums, watching as your eyes flash a little with your cute demeanor once more. "And the money situation?" 

"Broke as shattered glass." 

He chuckles at the joke. "Cute." 

You pout, wrapping your legs around his waist tighter. "Not sexy, stunning, gorgeous?" 

He shakes his head. "More than appearance, my dear. Body language?" 

You scoff, loosening your grip from his neck. "Yeah? What does my body language say?" 

He quicks a smirk before tugging on your white button up collar, face flush to his. "Needy." 

You whine, hips unconsciously grinding up against his own. He chuckles at the motion. 

"Submissive." 

His hand comes to trail along the skin of your neck, using his other hand to support your back. 

"Aroused." 

You whine out, pulling at his neck to bring your body closer to his. -if that was even fucking possible-

"You take too long." 

He laughs, watching you fidget in his arms. "And you're too impatient." 

"You know, I think Eun-ji tried doming you." He chuckles, pulling you up with his body a bit to get more comfortable. 

"Still naughty of you to be watching." 

You shrug, contuingng. "Just saying. I think she was like a domnatrix or something." His eyes roll playfully. 

"Why? Jealous?" 

"Of you? hell yeah. I mean she's pretty hot teacher, not gonna lie. I mean I'm sure some of the other students have thought the same-" 

He scoffs, pulling away. "Then go fuck her." 

You pout, playing with the fabric of his tie. "I'm not gay, dude." 

His eyes narrow, gripping your wrists to pin on each side of you. "Call me dude again and I'll make your ass redder than santa's fucking sleigh." 

You smirk, wrapping your arms back around his neck to catch his anger. "Oh so it's fine for you to cuss? Yeah, cause that's fair." 

"I'm older." 

"Psh, by a few years." 

"six years." 

your eyes roll at his words. "Psh, ain't nothing." 

His hands slam onto the desk, reminding you of how trapped you actually were. "You know what?" 

He backs away, leaving you frustrated on the desk. He starts buttoning his shirt once more, fixing his tie before picking his briefcase he'd thrown down for a hot minute. 

"Hey wait where are you going-" He smirks, walking over to the door, acting like he's about to walk out before you yell out. 

"Hey! You! Come back here and fuck me like a man!" 

He turns around before sending you a wink. 

"I'm good." 

______________________________________________________________

Haha. Oneshots are the easiest AND hardest things to write. This took about three days I think? I've lost count with all of my works.

For the person who requested this, you can ask for a part two if you want. (AKA lots of smut lol)

I hope you enjoyed!

______________________________________________________________

©vinntaege 2023. I do not condone any translations, copies, modifications, or repostings anywhere for ANY of my works.

[secretgamergirl]

"They Don't Teach Kids About Computers These Days!"

I see variations on this a LOT these days. Sometimes it's people in their teens/early 20s being frustrated at how they're expected to know everything about computers, sometimes it's college professors straight up HORRIFIED when they realize they have students who don't have any understanding that their hard drive, a school's internal network, and on a public website are completely distinct places for a file to be located, and I kinda figure the weird stress a lot of people seem to have about the concept of getting a game and not having it just go into their Steam library specifically is a related issue.

Now on the one hand, obviously, I sympathize with this. I have a series of posts on this blog called How A Computer Works, because... I want to teach people about this stuff. (That's still ongoing by the way, I've just got a lot else going on and need to settle on the scope of the next lesson.) On the other hand, uh... I'm from the generation before the one that apparently has all the computer literacy problems, and nobody taught us this stuff in school... and the next generation up wouldn't possibly have had access. So was anyone taught how to use them?

Now I say "they didn't teach my generation how to use computers in school" but that isn't technically true. I see a lot of people call people my age "the Oregon Trail generation" when this topic comes up. Sort of on the edge of Gen X and Millennials, going through school in that window where Apple had really really pushed the Apple ][ on schools with big discounts. And they did have "computer classes" to learn how to do some things on those, but... that isn't really a transferable or relevant skill set.

Like, yeah, if you're below the age of let's say 30 or so as of when I'm writing this, the idea of what "a computer" is has been pretty stable for your whole life. You've got some sort of tower case, a monitor, a keyboard, a mouse, and in that tower there's a bunch of RAM, a processor, video and sound cards of some sort, and a big ol' hard drive, and it's running Windows, MacOS, or some flavor of Unix going for the same basic look and functionality of those. It's generally assumed (more than it should be, some of us our poor) that a given person is going to have one in their home, any school is going to have a whole room full of them, libraries will have some too, and they are generally a part of your life. We can probably make the same sort of general assumption about IPhone/Android cellphones for the past what, 15 years or so too, while we're at it. They're ubiquitous enough that, especially in academic circles where they're kind of required professionally, people are going to assume you know them inside and out.

Prior to the mid-90s though? It was kind of a lawless frontier. Let's say you have a real young cool teacher who got way into computers at like 5 years old, and now they're 25 and they're your computer class teacher in the mid-90s. The computer they got way into as a kid? It would have been this.

That's not a component of it, that's the whole thing. A bank of switches for directly inputting binary values into memory addresses and some more switches for opcodes basically, and then some LEDs as your only output. Nothing about this is other than the benefits of fundamentally understanding some low level stuff is going to be useful at all in any sort of practical sense if you sit down a decade later with one of these.

This at least looks a bit more like a computer you'd see today, but to be clear, this has no mouse, no way to connect to the internet, which wasn't really a thing yet to begin with, and no hard drive, even. You did not install things on an Apple ][. You had every program on a big ol' floppy disk (the sort that were just a circle of magnetic film in a thick paper envelope basically and were, in fact, floppy), you would shove that in the disk drive before turning the machine on, it'd make a horrible stuttering knocking sound resetting the drive head, and just read whatever was on that right into memory and jump right on in to running Oregon Trail or a non-wysiwyg text editor (i.e. there's no making bold text appear on screen, you'd just have a big ugly tag on either side of your [BOLD>bold text<BOLD] like that). It was not unlike popping a cartridge or disc into an older video game console, except for the bit where if you wanted to save something you'd have to take the disk out while it was running and pop a blank one into the drive to save to.

So when I was a kid and I'd have my "computer class" it'd be walking into a room, sitting down with one of these, and having a teacher just as new to it as I was just reading out a list of instructions off a sheet like, "flip open the lock on the disk drive, take the disk out of the sleeve, make sure it says Logo Writer on it, slide it in with the label up and facing you, flip the lock back down, hit the power switch in the back of the machine..." We didn't learn anything about file management beyond "don't touch anything until the screen says it's done saving to the disk" because again, no hard drives. I guess there was a typing class? That's something, but really there's nothing to learn about typing that isn't where every key is and you only (but inevitably) learn that through practice.

Now, overlapping with this, I eventually got myself a used computer in the early 90s, very old at the time, but not as old as the ones at school. I had a proper black and white OG Mac. With a hard drive and a window-based operating system and everything. And... nobody taught me a damn thing about how that one worked. My mother just straight up did not touch a computer until something like 2001. I didn't really have any techie mentors. I just plugged it in and messed around and worked everything out. Same way I worked out what I was doing with older computers, mostly on my own at the local library, because that computer class wasn't much, and how I was totally left on my own to work out how to hook up every console I ever owned, which was slightly more involved at the time.

That forky bit in the middle was held in place with a pair of phillips headscrews. Had to keep the VCR and cable box in the right daisy chain order too.

Enough rambling about how old I am though. What's the actual disconnect here? How did my generation work out everything about computers without help but the next one down allegedly goes dear in the headlights if someone asks them to send them a file?

Well first off I'm not at all willing to believe this isn't at least largely a sampling bias issue. Teachers see all the clueless kids, people asking online for help with things is more common than people spontaneously mentioning how everything is second-nature to them, etc. Two things stick out to me though as potential sources of the issue though:

First, holy crap are modern computers ever frail, sickly little things! I'm not even talking about unreliable hardware, but yeah, there's some shoddy builds out there. I mean there's so many software dependencies and auto-updating system files and stuff that looks for specific files in one and only one location, just crashing if they aren't there. Right now on this Windows 10 machine I've got this little outdoor temperature tracker down in the task bar which will frequently start rapidly fluttering between normal and a 50% offset every frame, and the whole bar becomes unresponsive, until I open the task manager (don't even have to do anything, just open it). No clue what's up with that. It was some system update. It also tries to serve me ads. Don't know if it's load-bearing. Roughly every other day I have to force-quit Steam webhelper. Not really sure what that's even for. Loading user reviews? Part of me wants to dig in and yank out all this buggy bloatware, but I genuinely don't know what files are loadbearing. This wasn't an issue on older computers. Again, screwing around with an old Apple ][, and old consoles and such, there wasn't anything I could really break experimenting around. It was all firmware ROM chips, RAM that cleared on power cycling, and disks which were mostly copy-protected or contained my own stuff. No way to cause any problem not fixed by power cycling.

Next, everything runs pretty smoothly and seemlessly these days (when working properly anyway). Files autosave every few seconds, never asking you where you actually want to save them to, things quietly connect to the internet in the background, accessing servers, harvesting your info. Resolutions change on their own. Hell emulators of older systems load themselves up when needed without asking. There's a bunch of stuff that used to be really involved that's basically invisible today. The joke about this being "a 3D print of the save icon" already doesn't work because how often do you even see a UI element for saving? When we still used disks regularly, they held next to nothing and would take like half a minute to read and write.

And don't even get me started on launchers and start menus and all that.

So... basically what I'm getting at here is if you feel like you never learned how to properly use a computer, go get your hands on an old computer and mess around. There's yard sales, there's nice safe runs in a browser emulators, hell there's kits to build your own. That or just look for someone wearing like a Mega Man T-shirt or playing a Madonna CD (hell maybe just any CD these days) and start politely asking questions, because again just because everyone who knows this stuff just had to work it out on our own doesn't mean you should have to.