#but with enough effort. time and patience. anyone can make anything they want.

[elysiuminfra]

i was watching video essays digging into AI and what people who advocate for AI generated music and art think about it. i could not wrap my head around why on earth anyone would want to cheat and skip all of the fun parts about making something. it's because all they care about is profit, popularity, or some other personal gain. AI artist dudebros see it as a way to gain something, they don't make it for the love of art at all. it's not a mindset i can fully understand but it does make sense. they see artists as people who are in it to make money, since alot of the time an artist's job IS art, because they themselves want to profit off of AI art. but they miss the whole point of why artists are drawn to their mediums and it's because we love the process. at least in my case art defines the way i see the world entirely. it's not something i could ever just put down. i LOVE art and i don't think i could ever stop making it, even when theres no profit incentive. like ohhh i get it now. THAT's why they're so insufferable. AI artists literally only make AI generated images for some kind of personal selfish gain rather than for the love of the medium, and then attack actual artists trying to make a living. same with AI generated music. it's all for the money, for the popularity. is this obvious to most people? definitely. but i genuinely could not fathom why someone would want to just..... skip the blank canvas. they don't want to go through the "imperfect" stages of making art and get right to the finished product. but i'm of the belief that with enough training yourself, enough time and patience, anyone can learn to draw. but they just don't want to put in that kind of work. its very sad

[temptress-writes]

📜Roll Call

A/N: my favourite, moody professor. feral. he's actually such a twat.

Content Warnings: coarse language

Sexual Content: Degradation, spitting, light bondage, spanking, slapping, age gap (10 years)

Word Count: 21.5k

Now, sit straight for Professor Styles.

***

Oxford University, 1992.

“Are you actually going to put the effort into my class or do I have to get you a tutor?”

It wasn’t what she was hoping for after handing in an assignment. She fought back the hot tears that sprung into her eyes and hoped he didn’t see how wet they were. She was exhausted, overworked to the bone trying to balance her studies and a part-time job.

He’d handed back the papers at the end of his class, and not long after escaped to his office down the hall. She’d chased after him, fumbling to keep up with him while her mind was jumbled over the failed grade. She’d done plenty of assignments with him and he’d passed every single one.

“I… I don’t understand. I studied the material—“

“Well, clearly you didn’t study it enough. The years are all mixed up. If you want to be the historian that you say you do, that usually comes with not mixing up dates. I mean,” he held the paper in front of him, reciting the words she’d written. “Julius Caesar was assassinated in March, 43 BC. Incorrect. He was assassinated in March, 44 BC. You should know this, it’s basic stuff.”

“I’m sorry, I swear it was a simple mistake—“

“Simple mistakes will cost you your grade. In fact, it has.”

Her heart dropped. “Is there anything I can do? I can fact-check and write it all over again. Please. I want to pass this paper. I—I need to pass.”

He was always this mean. This… hurtful. He had no leniency towards so much as a falsely placed comma, and she could see her incorrect information pained him deeply. He was right. It was basic stuff, and internally she knew it. However, she’d been slammed with studying and had simply made a mistake.

But he had no patience, no care if anyone in his class was overwhelmed with what he pushed onto them. He’d been given the same load when he himself was studying. In his view, being pushed to the brink was what made him great at what he did. So, he showed his students the same respect as his professors once had.

“What makes you think I have the time to give you special treatment, Violet? I have enough papers to grade as is, adding yours to the pile all because you made a mistake will only set me back.”

“It’s one paper.” She begged, near on in tears again. She eyed the plaque that had his name engraved in the gold, avoiding his eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, he eyed her through his wide-framed glasses. He tapped his fingers against his thighs, clad in soft beige plaid pants. Her eyes fluttered towards his sweater, the striped shirt underneath. She lost herself in the pattern as he mulled in his thoughts.

“I want it on my desk tomorrow morning by nine o’clock.”

She could have jumped at the relief she felt. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just this once. I won’t be so easy on you if it happens again.”

“It won’t happen again.” She grinned, grabbing the paper from his outstretched hand.

"Since you're rewriting it—do you want my honest opinion?"

"Of course." She whispered, always one to accept constructive criticism. She knew he wouldn't hold back and she mentally braced herself.

"I was bored reading your paper."

She gulped, blinking in surprise but he continued, not concerned about hurting her feelings. That wasn’t what he was there for—to teach her.

"I expected more from you, Violet. To be frank, I’m disappointed. There was no depth to it. No excitement. You did the very bare minimum. You gave me a bunch of facts, with some of the dates mixed around. What’s more, is that nothing about this piece made me want to read it. Tell me, what makes history so exciting?"

"Uh, I guess learning about—"

"The stories. The stories make history so exciting. Stories of the people, their daily lives, and the fight for survival and victory. History would be nothing without the stories it tells."

"Yeah, I understand, now. You're right."

"Of course I’m right. Retelling history has to be gripping. Write it again and pull me in."

His eyes scanned over his pager, alerting him that a staff meeting was about to commence. He stretched out his neck, grabbing his folder and eyeing her as he stood.

He hated the way his eyes observed her frame. Soft corduroy pants, a graphic t-shirt of a band he had never heard of. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail, half splayed over her shoulder as she twirled a lock between her fingers.

What he didn’t hate was how she feared him. Her eyes were wide with intimation as she stared at him. She was clearly so desperate to please him, not wanting to disappoint him or let him down.

She wanted to do this paper for him as much as she did for her grades. That’s why his tactic was to be cruel. To keep her at arm’s length, but also to keep his mind at bay from wandering into risky territory.

"Is there anything else?"

"Oh, that's all—"

"Great. I have somewhere to be."

The expectant look he gave her threw her off, but she very quickly gathered his meaning. She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and gave him a soft smile, hoping to lessen his harsh expression, yet all to no avail. His expression remained the same. She turned to leave, barely getting through the threshold before his voice reached out.

“Nine o’clock, Violet.”

“Yes, professor.”

She left his office, winding her way through campus, smiling at her classmates as she passed them. Oxford University. Rich with history and success. Abundant with opportunities fit for her dreams. It knew no bounds of imagination, with its old and infamous buildings and all the tales held within them.

There was something about history that made her feel alive. Reliving the past through depictions, art, studies, and discoveries. It was what drove her.

So when she’d landed her dream Ancient History class, taught by a very highly adored historian, Harry Styles, she knew that she had a lot to prove.

She raced back to her flat after a stop at the supermarket for brainfood and energy drinks. She got stuck in, completely starting again, double and triple-checking her facts to be sure.

Her Walkman kept her company, and she cycled through her favourite CDs. She even went above and beyond, adding small details to her work that weren’t overly relevant but she knew Professor Styles would enjoy reading.

As grumpy as he was, she wouldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for him. For his focused gaze, his deep voice as he stood before the class and taught, and how his dimples flexed when he was talking or hiding his irritation.

Oftentimes, she’d allow herself to admire him. To see him as a simple man. Rich in thought and graceful in the way he so confidently carried himself. He was effortlessly smart and passionate. Young but full of experience, which she found impressive amongst the older faculty.

In his early thirties, it was remarkable how far his career had soared already.

He was gorgeous. Poised and proper, with inklings of something more unhinged that she could sometimes spy through his carefully placed mask.

But then she’d shake her head and chastise herself for thinking such thoughts about someone so above her.

He was known to be a sucker for details and personality. He hated textbook answers, even though his whole career and teachings relied purely on facts. So, she spent extra time being a little more pedantic than usual.

She wanted to impress him. He was one of the most successful historians of his impressively ripe age of thirty-two. She’d never wanted to let him down and she had to prove to him that she had what it took to be in his class and be worthy of his teachings. It was what motivated her to piston through her assignment and perfect it.

She was going over her paper, adding some final flares when her flatmate knocked on her door.

“Vi, you’ve been working on that for hours.”

“I know,” she wrote furiously, so hyper-focused on the spread of papers and books in front of her, “it’s due tomorrow.”

“You need a break, come get a drink with us.”

Violet was that person that worked herself to the bone to maintain her grades. She was a people pleaser, and that trait stretched to her professors. She clung to every word they said and took every assignment seriously.

“Due tomorrow, Alice.” She repeated, barely blinking as she wrote and mouthed the words out to herself.

“Please take a break before you lose your mind.” Alice could sense her friend falling into that mindset where she neglected everything aside from whatever assignment was due.

Violet sighed, pausing her work and turning to face her. “Who’s we?”

She soon found herself dressed in an attire that completely contrasted her university jumper and sweat pants. A tiny green dress, and a little makeup applied to her tired face to make it seem as if she were actually getting any appropriate amount of sleep.

They made their way to the local bar they often frequented, meeting their group of friends who had already started on the drinks. It was then that she realised was extremely overworked and tired.

Her study load was never-ending, piling on top of her until she was suffocating. She had to take some time for herself tonight or she’d go crazy. Her mind was constantly whirring with assignments and tests and studying.

Her paper was mostly done. She’d have a few drinks and then head home to finish it off. It was only nine o’clock, and she figured an hour or two wouldn’t hurt.

By ten o’clock, she was feeling lighter. She stayed true to her word, only having two drinks before cutting herself off. She knew she’d have to leave sooner rather than later, but her friends were renewing the energy she had been lacking. She couldn’t leave the source of such liveliness.

There was one guy in the group who had been pining after her all year. They shared a few classes together, including Ancient History with Professor Styles. He had a bright smile and a sense of humour that she enjoyed.

“Hey, Vi.”

“Hi, Charlie, how are you?”

“I’m good, yourself?”

“Not bad.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled. “Can I get you a drink?”

He made her laugh all night, stuck to her side to enjoy her smile up close. They flirted, sending each other sultry gazes and warm, suggestive touches.

She couldn’t even deny that she wished it was someone else she’d rather be with tonight. A certain professor who wore glasses, sweaters, and displeased frowns. Perhaps that was why she threw herself head first into Charlie, wanting to forget about her sinful desires.

She felt warm and gooey, needing something to focus on other than that damn paper and the professor who was expecting it.

So, when he led her down the hallway, kissing her lips and her neck, she didn’t hesitate to get lost in him.

Too lost to see her professor sitting at the bar watching as she pulled Charlie into a supply closet.

“I have to say, Miss Walters. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

She huffed out a breath at his expression. It was like he was almost smug about it. About her having to rewrite a whole paper, work that would take weeks crammed into one night.

He was being truthful. The paper would have been difficult to complete in one night, he’d known as much when he told her that he wanted it the next morning. It was a test.

He didn’t want to be played around by his students. He was tough on them for a reason, and barely ever handed out second chances as he had done with her.

So, to know that she had been out last night when she should have been at home was an insult. She’d fluttered her eyelashes and taken advantage of the one sliver of good nature he had in him. And here she was, a pleased smile on her face with her paper before his very eyes.

She was wearing makeup as if to hide how tired she was. It wasn't because she had stayed up all night writing his paper, but he already knew that. He looked at the assignment dubiously, doubting its contents.

“Well, I did it. Correct dates and everything.”

“It’s longer.” He said, flipping through the pages and noticing that there were a few additional ones compared to the initial few she had handed in.

She absorbed her surroundings, his office was deep woods and dim lighting. His desk was large and cluttered with books and assignments to grade, and the room was framed with bookshelves, awards, diplomas, and expensive-looking knick

knacks.

“I took your advice and made it more exciting.”

He wanted to reprimand her. Tell her that adding extra fluff didn’t equal excitement or any weight to her assignment. But he swallowed his sour mood and nodded, placing the paper flat on the desk and leaning back in his chair.

His outfit was darker than his usual palette and style of light colours and unique sweaters. Instead, he donned a black shirt, a black suit jacket thrown over the top with charcoal pants. She could tell that he was in a bad mood, somehow even more irate than usual.

“I’ll review it over the weekend.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut. She very clearly wanted to say something and he raised a brow in encouragement.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the second chance. I hope you enjoy it.”

Enjoy it? He’d never had a student wish that he enjoyed something they handed in. They simply wanted to meet the criteria and pass.

She turned to leave, feeling overwhelmed by his scrutinising gaze. She’d handed in the assignment, and had a bit of time to cram in some study before her first class of the day, which just so happened to be with the grumpy professor.

"Violet."

"Yes?"

He tapped his neck, eyeing hers. "I want that covered before you come to my class."

Her cheeks flushed with heat, her hand coming up to cover the hickey on her neck. She thought she'd done a good enough job with her concealer this morning, but apparently not.

She didn't even have the nerve to reply before she left the room, utterly mortified.

He stared after her, wondering if he'd embarrassed her. Probably. He disregarded her feelings, viewing the mark on her neck as inappropriate. He wasn't sure why the hickey bothered him so much.

Perhaps it was because she'd clearly had a late night last night, and it wasn't with the company of his teachings. He watched her take that man into that supply closet and the evidence of that was staring him in the face.

He didn’t want to look at that fucking hickey on her neck because then he knew he’d have to face the reality of the fact that he was jealous.

Jealous of one of his other students putting his hands and mouth on her. His student in that tiny green dress, cheeks flushed with arousal and drink. He imagined it. How she'd taste on his tongue. The sounds she'd make. The way she felt.

He had felt pathetic about the whole thing, sitting at the bar all alone and sulking. He’d polished off his drink at the bar after watching it happen. He’d just as quickly gone to his cold and empty home to wallow with a bottle of tequila and some Aerosmith.

Fuck. He couldn’t think about this. About her soft thighs in her tiny skirt and her bouncy ponytail. Or the way she called him professor. It wasn’t right and he felt sick about it.

He checked his pager, seeing it blank and sighing. He needed something to do so he couldn’t keep thinking about her. And then she’d be staring at him during his class, her eyes wide and wandering.

Almost panicked about the prospect of being near her again, he picked up her paper and began reading it to distract himself.

Following a strenuous battle with her concealer and the sizeable hickey on her neck, Violet entered Professor Styles’ classroom. It was mostly covered, there wasn’t a lot she could do in the way of hiding it completely. However, in the back of her mind, she was perplexed that he found it his place to even say anything.

Surely he just wanted to mortify her. He had been a student once, he knew the means of getting lost in dark hallways with another warm and desperate body.

She spotted Charlie sitting in the center of the seats and he waved her over. She smiled, shaking her head. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him just yet, especially considering he was the cause of her marked neck.

She took her usual spot up front, always wanting to bathe in the professor’s teachings, and found herself lost if she was stuck in the middle of the seats.

Professor Styles wasn’t in class yet, and she took the time to prepare her notes in an organised spread on the desk in front of her. She didn’t even notice him silently enter, setting up at his desk with a look of disinterest.

Her body felt heated. Not the warm embarrassment of him pointing out her hickey, but because his gaze was on hers as he set down his satchel. She held his eyes, right until he looked away to retrieve the folders that held the material he needed for the class.

Decidedly ready, he stood at the center of his territory up front, his suit jacket parting as he slid his hands into his pockets. He eyed the class through his glasses, noting that no one had realised he’d entered the room yet. Except for her.

He sighed, wrinkling his nose before looking down at his oxfords. He cleared his throat, somehow garnering everyone’s attention in a split second. He leaned back against his desk.

“As you’re aware, I’m obligated to drag you on a class trip abroad in the coming weeks. I’ve heard your suggestions as you’ve not so subtly given them to me.” He eyed the mouthy students in question. “However, the board and I have discussed it and we’ve come to a decision.”

Students started chattering loudly, and Violet sent a friendly smile to her friend next to her but otherwise kept her attention on Professor Styles.

“Quiet, or you’ll be staying behind while I go on holiday by myself!”

His demand was heard loud and clear, and everyone became tight-lipped and watched him. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, already dreading the idea of this trip.

The university board had been grilling him about it, and he’d been pressured into making a decision that pleased them with ridiculously limited time to sort it out.

“Pompeii.” He said simply, letting it sink in for his students.

Violet felt a rush of excitement. Pompeii—preserved in Naples, Italy, was rich with history and had been on her bucket list for as long as she could remember.

It was a monumental part of history, and she could not wait to see it in its glory and stand where devastation rocked an ancient city so long ago.

The class talked loudly, bursting and bubbling with enthusiasm. Professor Styles remained unphased by it all, waiting until the chatter had died down before he spoke again.

“We’ll be staying in Naples, however, the focus of our trip will be Pompeii. This will be your final paper and will be half your grade. This isn’t a holiday or a time to slack off. You’re here in this room for a reason, that applies to this trip as well. Think about the history there. The people, the politics, the daily life. The power of nature and the terror that it entices.” He took a slow breath, as if bored or tired. Perhaps both. “It wasn’t my first choice, naturally. But seeing as it is one of the most famous natural disasters in ancient history, the board saw it fit to touch on, considering it differs from any other material we’ve studied so far.”

“Can’t we go to Paris instead, Professor Styles?” One of the girls at the back of the glass giggled. It was clear that the only reason she took this class was for someone nice to look at. “It’s the city of love.”

“Love?” He laughed but it was void of humour. “If you want love, you’re in the wrong place. Maybe if you spent less time daydreaming, and more time paying attention, you wouldn’t be failing my class.”

Violet laughed under her breath, doodling in her notebook. His eyes went to her at the sound, wondering if she found the girl's suggestion funny or his response.

She looked up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulder. He clenched his jaw and looked away, locating the documents that contained everything regarding the trip.

He handed piles to the desks in the front row, telling them to take one and pass it back. He stopped before her, placing the papers in her waiting hands and staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“See me after class.”

“Me?”

His voice was low and deep. “Yes, you.”

She was perplexed. See him after class for what? He said that he’d go over her paper during the weekend, so she doubted it would be about that.

Maybe he wanted to torment her about her neck some more. Really rub in the embarrassment and taunt her for it.

It was hard to focus during the whole class. She jotted down notes every now and again, but her mind was honed in on him. Even more so than usual. The authority in his tone as he told her to cover her neck, his confident stance, and the way his lips caressed words.

He rambled on about the trip, what to expect, and in turn what he was expecting from them. He adjusted his glasses, searching the student's expressions and finding her eyes. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek before looking back at his notes.

By the time class had ended, she had written down things she wasn’t paying attention to. She’d been paying attention to him. Only him. And she couldn’t even fool herself into her fascination with him strictly existing just because of his teachings. It was far past that now.

She gathered her things, the room emptying of students. She stood, her gaze falling to him, stood behind his desk organising his folders.

She approached his desk, standing before it. She noticed that his jaw clenched, looking up at her from the frame of his glasses and raising his brows.

"You wanted to see me?"

“I did.”

She waited as he righted his desk, ensuring everything was in order before he finally regarded her.

“Your paper. I want to talk to you about it.”

Her stomach dropped. “The paper I just handed in?”

What would he have to say about it considering it had only been mere hours since he’d received it? She felt a flash of irritation, wondering if she’d ever be able to please this man.

“I don’t have time this week, so it’ll have to be next Monday. You’re my last class so I’ll be able to give you all of my attention.”

She felt warm at his words. At the promise of having his full attention, her body was alive with need and desire. His eyes were so intense, deep, and thick with thoughts she could see the complexity of.

But as the foggy haze of her absurd fantasies cleared, she frowned. Monday? It was Thursday now. Why didn’t he bring this up closer to the time? Did he just want her to stew in her worry until Monday?

Surely he couldn’t have read her paper already. Maybe he’d read the first paragraph only to crumble it up and lob it into his trashcan.

“Is it that bad?”

He shot her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “Monday, Violet.”

As she left the classroom, completely vexed and anxious, Charlie caught up with her.

“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Who?” She felt like she was barely there as she navigated the old building toward her next class.

“Styles. I mean, that paper we just did, for example. He ignores all of my hard work and focuses on the shit I’m doing wrong.”

Violet shrugged, “I mean, isn’t that what makes him a great professor? He points out what you need to improve on to do better.”

“Whatever. I feel like there’s no winning with him. At least we have this trip. You and I can ditch the group and do our own sightseeing.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes sparkled at his suggestion. And maybe if she wasn’t so hung up on someone she had no business being hung up on, she’d reciprocate Charlie’s enthusiasm.

Monday. She’d be seeing her favourite, constantly disgruntled professor on Monday.

It wasn’t hard to keep herself distracted until then. She attended her classes, her study load growing as each one passed. Her flatmate held a party on Saturday night, in which she’d spent most of it pressed up against Charlie, however avoiding his advances of something more.

He was sweet and funny but he wasn’t what she wanted and she was just a fuck to him. She felt bad that she’d even let that night happen. She’d just needed to feel something, something that wasn’t the ever-pressing crush she had on her professor.

She was wrecked with intolerable thoughts about her assignment. Was he going to fail her again? Tell that she wasn’t cut out for his class that she’d battled so hard to get into?

By the time Monday came around, she was a nervous wreck. She settled herself into a private nook in the library, her Walkman on hand and her collection of her favourite CDs.

She read every single piece about Pompeii that she could find. She wanted to be even more prepared for the trip, and have a better understanding of what it might entail.

And maybe having more knowledge of it would impress her professor.

Her last class on Monday was with him. As she entered and took her usual seat, he was setting up his material, dressed in plaid pants and a cozy looking sweater.

He used the knuckle of his pointer finger to adjust his glasses and flipped a pen in his other hand, staring over his class agenda.

She just loved watching him. There was something in his mannerisms that was so fascinating. He was mesmerising in the way he carried himself. From his large hands, which she always stared at, to his ever-expressive eyes.

The first time she’d spotted the cross tattooed on his hand, she had to go into the bathroom after class and slip her hand between her legs to quell the dampness there.

With a deep sigh, he focused on the class and ran a hand through his curls, though they fell back into the middle parting as always.

He seemed even more put off today. He spent most of his time voicing more details about the trip to Naples and running through multiple checklists before handing them out.

Where he would usually throw her a glance, he didn’t even look at her today. Not once. His seemingly permanent frown was set deeper.

Instead of his usual drabble, he had some poor soul at the front of the class read out the daily lives of those who lived in Pompeii before its demise.

She jotted down notes, but her eyes kept flickering to where he sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as if he were being read a lullaby.

As class came to a close, he stood, telling everyone to start preparing for the trip.

“Please refer to the list I handed out, and if you have any questions…” He twisted his lips, clasping his ringed fingers together. “Don’t.”

Her nerves were running haywire, sending electric currents through every part of her body as she stood with her bag and began to approach his desk. He was busying himself with the sprawl of clutter on the expanse of the aged wood.

She stood before it, and he looked up briefly before gathering a stack of papers and sliding them carefully into his satchel.

"Not here." His voice was so low that she felt it swirl in her ears like a thick, dreamy fog.

She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling intimidated to be alone with him again. Until a student approached the desk and asked for his aid on a project, and all she could do was stand there and wait.

"I just don't know how to make the connection." The student said.

He leaned over, staring at the paper. He nodded and then looked at Violet, "go and wait in my office. I'll only be a moment."

She felt her heart drop to her stomach at the authority in his tone. He looked at her for a second before focusing on the student who needed his help.

She tried to brush off her nerves as she arrived at his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk. She had no idea what was about to happen, but since it was regarding her assignment, she was beside herself with anxiety.

He stepped into his office with a sigh, running his hands along his thighs before taking a seat. He sifted through the drawer in his desk, taking out her assignment and reading over it.

“I’ve read your paper.” His voice was void of any emotion and it made her feel uneasy.

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she picked at the hem of her dress and avoided his eyes. He held up her assignment and stared at it.

“Violet… this is one of the best things a student has ever handed in to me.”

She took in a sharp breath, looking at him with wide eyes. She almost didn’t want to believe him. Or what was more believable was that he’d be jesting and then fail her. This wasn’t like the usual grumpy professor that she knew and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“I—Thank you, professor.”

“I could tell that it had potential when you handed it in. I’ve written some notes for you, but I wanted to go through them with you now.”

This was unheard of. He graded papers, jotted down brief notes behind his reasoning, and moved on. But this… this was beyond anything he’d ever done.

He was known for being insufferably unfair to his students. Yet he’d given her a second chance, and was now praising her work and wanted to express why.

“Okay.” She nodded, adjusting in her seat and trying to calm down her racing heart.

“Overall, it’s a well-thought-out paper. You have complete control of each point made and where your sources come from without sounding too recited. There are facts here, and you’ve shown how the influence that ancient Rome had in its prime is perceived nowadays… impressively. You’ve portrayed its people and politics really well.”

“Thank you.” She was struggling to believe this was actually happening.

“This is why I made you redo it. What you initially handed in was bland. But this is… you. Your authentic self and thoughts.” He gestured to the paper. “You’re passionate, and I can feel that when I read it. You’ve taken every aspect of what makes ancient history so fascinating and made it your own.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now.”

There was a flash of emotion across his face, his dimple appearing ever so slightly with a quirk of his lips. “Take my praise. I don’t give it often.”

“Wow, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His tone was suddenly warm, and his gaze brushed her neck for a second before finding her eyes once more.

“Professional opinion aside,” she toyed with the question on her tongue, feeling overwhelmed, “did you enjoy it?”

There it was again. Her question made his brow furrow in thought. He rarely enjoyed reading his student's work. Oftentimes, he was too preoccupied doing his job to feel any sense of enjoyment.

Why was it so important to her that he enjoyed it? He’d praised her work, and she wanted to know if he relished in reading it.

No one was as surprised as him when he found himself nodding slowly. “I did, actually. I like that it kept me intrigued and that I could sense how deeply you feel for the past.”

She wasn’t in his class for the wrong reasons, like he could see a lot of his students were. Some weren’t interested in anything past staring at him for an hour and then bullshitting their way through every paper they had to write. But she had a reason to be there, a drive to explore the past.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

Her expression was so burning and focused on him that he felt it in his gut. He remembered how she looked in that guy's arms and he swallowed, wondering if she would be just as soft in his.

He cleared his throat, shaking off the fog of her. She crossed one leg over the other and he blinked at the sight of more skin exposed under that sweet little dress she was in.

She released a breath as he stood, relieved that this whole interaction was one of positivity. She was elated that he had enjoyed her work, and moreover was elated that he had praised her as he did.

But as he stood, he rounded his desk and went behind her before he closed the door to his office.

She felt a wave of adrenaline wash over her, being alone with him. She questioned if he was even allowed to close the door, but she didn’t want to stop it from happening.

She watched as he walked in front of her, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed.

“Why history?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, everyone has a reason for their majors. Whether you’re in it for archiving, research, or curating, you’ve got a reason for choosing history. My question is why.”

She straightened under his scrutinising gaze. He adjusted his glasses before his hands rested back on the desk, curling around the lip of it. She stared at his rings, mesmerised.

“I find it fascinating to observe how humanity has changed, to see how we’ve improved and what we still need to work on. I like studying the past, preserving the stories, the art, the structures they left for us to see their legacy.”

He was floored, although his expression remained a trained unreadable one. To meet someone with these values wasn’t uncommon. However, she had a way with words that he adored.

Like every aspect of his own passion was laid out on her tongue and given back to him in a gentle vocal caress.

“So, you’re just as intrigued by their way of life as well as learning from their mistakes?”

“In fewer words, yes.”

“You’re in it for the right reasons.”

“Are there any wrong reasons?” She frowned.

“Greed.” He said simply, not giving any clarification.

“Why do you teach?”

He tilted his head, his hands smoothing down his strong thighs. “I have a lot of experience in the field, as you may know. I wanted to extend that knowledge to people with the kind of drive I admire. The lust for research and preserving history. I’m good at it, and I have a lot to give you so that you can be just as good.”

His choice of words turned her mouth dry. I have a lot to give you. She knew he meant a lot of his wisdom and knowledge, but his eyes were sparkling with something she couldn’t decipher.

“I love your class.”

“Is that so? Is that why you asked if I enjoyed your paper?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “Are you trying to impress me?”

She smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. I like the assignments you give us and the way you teach. It’s informative and exciting at the same time.”

“I like that,” he said, mulling deep in his thoughts, “it’s a nice change. To have someone care about their studies as opposed to struggle through them.”

“Oh, the struggle is still there.” She laughed and she spied a hint of a smile teasing his lips before he could disguise it.

He took a step forward and her eyes followed as he gauged how close he wanted to get. She gripped the arms of the chair as he stood in front of her, a jeweled hand reaching out to brush a few strands of her hair away from her face.

She hoped he couldn’t tell how hard she was shaking. Their eyes didn’t leave one another as his fingers brushed softly down, moving her hair away from her shoulder so he could look at her neck before he retracted all touch completely.

“You covered it.” He mumbled, his voice so low that she thought she imagined it.

“I did.”

“Good gi—“ He cleared his throat loudly. “Good. It’s not professional.”

Her brows raised at his almost slip up. She wondered if he was going to say exactly what she thought he was. And she almost begged him to call her that. Just once. Just so that she could go home and think about it in the shower, alone with nothing but the memory of him.

He leaned against his desk again, his gaze searing. She couldn’t breathe and pressed her thighs together to dull the ache his touch had left.

“Do you want to impress me, Violet?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’m going to give you some extra work to do for me.”

For me. Her eyes fluttered. “You are?”

“I am.” His voice was slow, dreamy. “For my enjoyment, and your benefit.”

This, he thought, is where he should stop. He could feel the vapour of arousal lick at him in warm swirls. The way she was looking at him had him near crumbling. So innocent and intrigued by the prospect of impressing him. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself again. From going too far.

“My benefit?”

“Yes. I’ll reward you, of course.”

“What kind of reward?”

“Whatever the teacher’s pet wants.”

Her entire body became warm and gooey, though her nerves did not settle. Instead, they amplified the longer he simply stared at her, unwavering.

“What does this extra work entail, Professor?”

He didn’t smile—although he wanted to, and straightened. He rounded his desk, producing a small stack of papers, the top one decorated with his sprawl. He walked back over, handing it to her.

He looked her in the eye, his face serious. “Only do what you want to do. Extra work and rewards. Do you understand?”

“Okay.” She said simply, feeling overwhelmed and heated. As if he had read her mind, viewed her deepest, darkest fantasy of being his pet and making it a reality. Her mind was buzzing with what extra work he’d have her doing.

“There are only a few things there.” He nodded to the papers. “Some extra assignments if you can do them as well as this one. Also, some preparation for the class trip if you’re up for it.”

She scanned through the list, seeing the assignment topics from subjects he’d vaguely taught them about. She felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of doing more for him.

“And my reward…?”

His lips twitched like he was amused. “Extra credit, of course.”

She felt a pang of disappointment. But then what else was he meant to offer her? She wasn’t about to turn town extra credit or the chance to impress him. She was already on his radar as someone he could count on. The thought made her all giddy and warm inside.

“I’m very grateful, professor.”

“You have potential. As you finish each one, come and see me.”

“Thank you, I will.” She nodded. She’d try her absolute hardest to complete them, and as he said, only the ones she wanted to. She eyed the list again.

He stepped forward once more, and she braced herself for the contact again. She was still spiraling from when he touched her. Her cheek still tingled from his fingers and she felt desperate to have that feeling renewed.

But then someone knocked on the door once before entering. “Hey, Harry, I—oh. Hello.”

Another faculty member she recognised from the economics department. Her cheeks flushed as he eyed her before looking at the grumpy professor in front of her.

Harry. She’d always known his name, but hearing someone actually call him by his first name made him seem more… real. Less like a history robot and more like the man she fantasised about.

“Forgive me.” He cringed, “I didn’t know you had company.”

“That’s generally why you knock.” Professor Styles grumbled, however checking his watch with a sigh.

“I did—"

“Get started on those, Miss Walters. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”

Blushing, she stood and ducked her head, leaving the room hastily. The list was crumpled in her fist as she made her way home. Alice was ready to ask her about her day, and they quickly got distracted watching reruns of some old sitcom. But the list he’d given her stayed on the forefront of her mind.

And as the week dragged on, she made her way through the few assignments he’d given her. They weren’t full-length assignments and differed heavily from the kind he handed out to the whole class, as he’d stated. She found them quite easy, the basis of them fitted her strengths.

Had he tailored these to her? Had he enjoyed her work so much that he wanted more? It was like he’d hand-picked his favourite topics they’d briefly covered in class and was now asking her to do what she pleased with them.

She spent all of her time between classes in the huge library. It was undoubtedly her favourite section of Oxford, and she spent many hours getting lost in the ornate building, the old books, and the history they shared.

She sat at one of the aged desks, a sprawl of books in front of her as she finished up her second extra assignment. She took on his advice. She double-checked her facts, and added drabble that made the paper more exciting and gripping to the reader. Him.

She’d even gotten a head start on the third assignment he’d given her. Although she knew she’d have to spend more time locating sources for the topic, she figured it would look good if he saw that she’d started it. All she wanted was to impress him. To prove herself. She knew she had the talent, and he was fully appreciating it.

As her day wrapped up, she found herself swirling through the halls towards his office, a completed assignment in hand. Considering their class trip was only in a matter of days, she figured he’d be too busy to see her.

She approached the oak door and knocked, hearing his voice on the other side telling her to come in.

She opened the door, and his eyes fell on her immediately. On her pretty yellow dress and the hem that fell to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was in its usual ponytail held together with a pale blue scrunchie. He liked watching it swish through the air as she walked.

“Hi,” she said softly, while his expression was hard. “I finished another assignment. Do you have time?”

Technically? No. He had a pressing amount of things to grade. But the hope on her face and the way she looked so fucking pretty made it impossible for him to turn her away.

He moved his work aside, clearing his mind so that she was the only thing on it. “Take a seat.”

She took a deep breath and entered the room fully, leaving the door open which was a detail he didn’t miss. She placed the assignment in his hand and he felt the urge to read it immediately. To be wrapped up in her thoughts.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” His voice rolled through her ears like a steady stream tumbling over smooth rocks.

“I felt inspired.”

“By what?” He tilted his head.

“Not what,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Who.”

A sliver of a smile touched his lips before it was gone without a trace. “Okay, then. Who?”

“You.”

“Me.” He parroted as if he didn’t believe her.

“You always have inspired me, but hearing what drives you and how you came to teach made me want to work harder. To give history as much as you’ve given it.”

He felt something warm him. He was almost bashful at her praise, where usually it would inflame his ego. But coming from her, from her earnest and sweet heart. It was different.

“I’m glad you find my teachings useful.”

“They really helped with this paper.”

“How did you find it?”

She mulled over her thoughts. Endearing. Intriguing. Enriching. “The perfect amount of challenging. It made me think but my thoughts came naturally.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips. “I knew you’d apply all that I’ve taught you and pull through.”

“And I hope you enjoy it as much as my last one.”

“I’m sure I will. Come and see me tomorrow after your last class and I’ll give you my notes.”

She liked the idea of hearing his musings on her own work. He saw her potential and her drive. Enjoyed what she handed in and told her how much and why.

“Tomorrow.” She smiled a little, standing and slinging her bag up to her shoulder. “I can’t wait.”

There was something in her tone at the sentiment. The hue of it. A soft, wispy colour as pretty as her dress. He wondered if it was flirtation but quickly threw the idea aside.

He couldn’t wish for such things with his student, no matter what signals she sent him. But she was his little teacher’s pet now, and something about having that claim on her was driving him mad.

After a grueling study session in her well-loved nook of the library, she went home to pack for the trip to Naples. There was a checklist criteria for what to bring and what to leave behind.

She threw some of her favourite summer dresses into her suitcase, a few pairs of shoes, and a few extra outfits of baggy jeans and band t-shirts.

She had class with Professor Styles the next day, in which he’d handed out light material in preparation for the trip. Essential knowledge and ground rules.

It seemed he viewed the whole ordeal as a burden. An annoyance. He was taking twenty students away, with only one other member of the faculty joining to help him out. A teacher, who happened to be from Naples, would be staying with their family between class adventures.

He’d rather be sunbathing in Naples than traipsing around ancient ruins with students he despised. Mostly.

He didn’t acknowledge her for the whole lecture, save an initial glance as she’d taken her usual seat. But he’d almost switch off any form of warmth he had towards her when they were in the class environment.

He was his usual grumpy self, impatient with everyone and snapping at anyone who was talking when he was.

She had a free period to end her day, and she used it to finish up some assignments for her other classes as well as work on one of the extra ones he had given her. It was about half done, but she knew to prioritise her other class papers over this one.

She made her way to his office again, and this time it somehow meant more. She felt the weight of entering his space, and it was because of how he seemed to change around her.

That icy demeanour of him melted just enough for her to see the genuine man that lay beneath it.

She knocked, waiting for him to tell her to enter before opening the door. His outfit palette today was soft browns and beige, his glasses perched on his nose while his eyes gleamed behind them.

He looked at her briefly before nodding to the seat and turning back to his work, his expensive ballpoint pen twirling between his fingers. She stared at the bright yellow pen with a smile, noting how it was the exact opposite of his mood; bright, sunny, and cheerful.

She sat in the chair and realised that she felt less and less nervous with every moment she spent alone with him. She’d never felt uncomfortable around him per se, but his intimidating nature was a constant reminder that she couldn’t want him. Shouldn’t want him. But she did.

His jaw worked on a piece of gum, and he frowned as he adjusted his glasses and continued writing on whatever he was working on.

She decided to get comfortable, settling deeper into the chair, figuring he was deeply enthralled with his work. She eyed the bookshelf to her left and scanned his personal library.

She didn’t even realise that he was trying to get her attention, too focused on his book collection, searching for clues as to who he was. Who he was outside of this office, outside of his profession.

“Violet?”

“Hm?” She turned to face him.

He retrieved her assignment from under a stack of other ones he was grading. “I’m wondering why every assignment you’ve given me hasn’t been as good as these last few.”

Oh. Her brows raised. It was a compliment to her most recent work while putting down everything else she’d given him prior to these. She’d always had the drive and passion, but it was evident that something had changed.

“I guess I just felt more inspired. I’ve enjoyed these topics a lot and felt compelled to do them well.” She frowned. “I thought I’d done well with every other assignment, though.”

“You did—obviously, as I passed you. You clearly didn’t do them as well, however, hence my praise.”

“That’s very nice to hear, especially from you.”

His lips quirked at her sheer and utter adoration for him. She valued what he had to say, looked up to him, and the influence he’d had in the younger demographic of Ancient History.

“Well, you deserve it. You work hard, and you’re driven by your passion. That’s rare to come by.”

She could only imagine what he himself was like as a student however many years ago. Like her, he’d studied at Oxford, and after not too long in the field, had felt the need to come back but as part of the faculty.

“Thank you.” She replied, unsure of what else to say. She felt like she was being pinned to her seat by his searing gaze and she wriggled in it, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Help me with this itinerary for the trip.”

“The itinerary?”

“It’s mostly done. There’s a bunch of books and brochures here, if you see anything you’d particularly like to do, add it to the timesheet and make it work.”

She gawked at him like he’d grown three heads. Her? Help him with the itinerary for the class trip?

“Isn’t this your job?” She felt brave enough to ask. “Like, am I allowed to be doing this?”

“Yes it is, and yes you are.” His tone was so final that she didn’t feel a ribbon of unease lace through her mind.

She scooted forward so that she could use the desk, while he sat at the other side and graded papers. She scanned through the travel brochures and circled things she thought could be educationally beneficial, and eventually started going through the itinerary.

She loved planning and organising, and she wondered if he knew that. Maybe he’d picked up on how pedantic she was about her own class planners and thought this little job would be fun for her. He wasn’t even marginally wrong.

Over her work, she risked quick glances at him. Ones that dared to adventure over his posture, his stern, and concentrated expression. The way he chewed on the tip of his pen, how he would take off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He was so endearing and she found herself watching him more and more, getting lost in how effortlessly beautiful he was.

He was still grouchy and short with her when she asked questions, and she had smiled whenever he’d huff and grumble under his breath at whatever he was grading.

“You seem particularly melancholy today.” She observed softly, and his eyes flashed to hers before he placed his pen down and laced his fingers together, leaning forward on the desk.

“Am I always melancholy?”

“I think so.”

“And you’re always vibrant.”

As bad as his mood appeared, he seemed to enjoy her company.

She mulled over the itinerary that he’d drafted, editing bits here and there. She had a sprawl of books on his desk, scanning through top tourist spots and mapping out the best walking routes.

There was a moment where he took a break, stretching his arms high over his head with a soft groan she almost missed. She hadn’t even realised that she was looking at him, enamoured and intrigued by his display of exhaustion when he always seemed so energised.

“Stop staring.” He stared at her over the frame of his glasses, his head tilted down.

She blushed, looking down at the itinerary. “I’m not.”

“I saw you.”

“Sorry.”

He watched as she focused a little too hard on a not-so-interesting book and he smiled. He’d called her out, as if he hadn’t been staring at her, too.

She hadn’t realised the time, unknowingly lost in her work for almost two hours. His pager beeped and he checked it, flipping his pen between his fingers as he read.

He reached over, grabbing the itinerary, pretty much complete, and nodding as he scanned it. He could see the depth and excitement that she had added to it and he suppressed a smile.

“I’ll go over this tonight.”

“I added a few different things there. Restaurants, as well as some historical sights and important cultural landmarks.”

He nodded, impressed. “Very good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“As for the next assignment, I want that tomorrow.”

“We fly to Naples tomorrow.” She frowned,

“I know.”

His icy and cold guise returned. He was her professor demanding something, and she could hardly turn him down. The paper was half done and lucky for her, it wouldn’t be difficult to complete.

“Okay.” She nodded, standing and gathering her things. “It’ll be all yours tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond, turning back to his work. She’d learned to decipher his cues, and took his silence as her own time to leave. She had a lot to do before their trip and she took one last glance at his solemn expression before leaving.

As she closed the door, his eyes went up to the door. Then to the chair where she’d been sitting. His office now felt like a void of who he wanted to be. Influential, important, inspiring. All things that he rarely felt while he was stuck in an old classroom all day.

But then students like her came along. The ones alight with wonder and fascination that wanted to have his success touch them. They weren’t in his class simply because it was a requirement. They were in his class because they were eager to harbour influence of their own.

She spent all night going over her pack list, finalising her outfits and essentials for a couple of nights away. She dotted back to her paper often, wanting to have it complete. She struggled to wrap up her conclusion, and no later fell asleep on her bed, surrounded by her books and topic materials.

Her alarm went off, shrilling deep in her skull. She groaned, killing the sound and stretching. Checking the time, she noted that she only had a matter of hours until she needed to be at Heathrow airport.

She was in some type of trance as she got herself ready. She showered, ate a light breakfast, and readied her luggage. At the last minute, she grabbed the assignment that needed to be done and shoved it into her purse.

After securing a seat on the train, she got to work on it. Tossing back and forth between an abundance of different conclusions. Why did preservation matter? Why were artifacts archived how they were? How were stories of history pieced together?

All such basic questions to her whirring mind, and yet she struggled to encapsulate her thoughts in the unique way that she knew he loved. With a sigh, she put it away. She’d finish it on the flight.

After she arrived at the airport, she headed towards check-in, her small turquoise suitcase in tow. That's when she saw him, and she stopped dead in the hustle of travelers.

She had never seen him so paired back. He was dressed far more casual than his dress pants and sweaters and suits. But he was no less fashionable. She eyed his black, loose fitted pants, the worn vans on his feet, and yellow-stained sunglasses. As loose as his pants were, his t-shirt was anything but. A graphic white one that hugged him and left little to one's imagination.

And tattoos. Lots of them.

She'd only ever seen the cross on his hand and the inklings of something on his wrist. But she could see that his full arm was covered with them. Smatterings of ink, personal depictions, and dedications.

The ship on his upper arm rippled as his muscles flexed, his designer suitcase in his hand.

He looked grumpy, like always. However, the yellow sunnies over his eyes concealed some of his irritation.

His eyes found hers and he peered at her as she approached. She smiled, shy and suddenly nervous about this trip, and moreover, him.

She noticed that the rest of her class was already present, and Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he greeted her. Professor Styles' mouth twisted at the physical touch between the two before clearing his throat.

No one was paying attention until he stuck his fingers into his mouth and released an ear-piercing whistle, quieting down and facing him.

“Roll call. Be quiet.”

It took some time for every student to settle down, far too excited and chatty to keep quiet enough for him to call out everyone's name to confirm their presence.

As he called out Violet’s name, she raised her hand and watched his expression sour at Charlie's arm still wrapped around her.

Not wanting to be inappropriate, she slowly stepped away from Charlie, who was far too concerned with scoping out the other girls who were around.

They gathered, waiting in line to check in per Professor Styles’ instructions. He handed out the finalised itinerary that they had both worked on, and now everyone had their own copies. She wanted to approach him, but he was busy keeping everyone organised while the other teacher talked at the front desk.

It wasn’t until they were on air side, that he found her in line for coffee and pursed his lips.

“Did you finish the assignment?”

“Almost.”

He raised a brow, his arms crossed and accentuating his muscles and how inked they were. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost.” She affirmed, not missing his look of surprise at her tone, but she continued. “I’ll finish it on the flight.”

“We’ll be in the sky for five hours, Violet. I expect it to be done, so don’t get distracted.”

She almost snorted. What could possibly distract her on a flight? And right on cue, Charlie popped up next to her with a cheeky grin.

“How’s it hangin’, sir?” His grin widened as he stared at their disgruntled professor.

“Fine.” He grumbled, staring Charlie down before looking at Violet. “I want it before we land.”

As he sauntered off, Charlie released a sharp breath. “You’d think he’d crack a smile considering the fact that we’re going on holiday.”

“Of course, you’d see this as a holiday.”

“I heard our hotel has a pool.” He bumped his hip against hers.

She gave him a fake smile, worming out of his hold. “Can’t wait.”

Half way through the flight, she’d found herself polishing off her paper, just how he ordered. The conclusion was strong and unwavering, her skill and passion shining through each word.

She’d managed to avoid sitting next to Charlie, instead, she was next to two girls she enjoyed talking to, although they were a bit quiet during class and outside of it, it was so different. Everyone seemed to busy themselves with studying the itinerary for the trip, bubbling with excitement.

She read over her paper twice, thoroughly proud of it, and she couldn’t wait to have her favourite professor read it. She knew he was a few rows back, and stood, remembering that he wanted it before they landed.

Standing with a stretch, she made her way towards the back, scanning the faces for his, and finding those expressive eyes almost immediately. He was sitting alone in a row of three seats, and she wondered if he’d just gotten lucky or paid for three tickets.

His attention had been on a book before he’d found her eyes. She didn’t get the chance to study the cover of it before he was tucking it away and staring up at her expectably as she came to a halt by his row.

“Yes?”

She held up the completed paper with a look of triumph. “It’s done.”

He felt at odd sensation of pride wash over him. To be fair, he had given her quite a lot to do. And for her to finish it within such a small frame of time, while maintaining the immaculate value of her work, was an incredible feat.

So, he actually smiled. It was small but big enough that his dimples indented his cheeks a little.

“Attagirl. I knew you could do it.”

Her cheeks flushed at his praise and his smile. Two glimmeringly beautiful facets of him that she’d never seen, especially the latter. Fuck, his smile. So soft and serene and dreamy. It was verging on heartbreaking that he didn’t wear it more.

“I hope it’s good.”

“Knowing you… it will be.”

“You’re too kind.” She said bashfully.

He flipped through the assignment, nodding his head with pursed lips. He opened his mouth to say something, gesturing to the empty seat next to him before the sound that accompanied the lighting of the seatbelt signal interrupted him.

He sighed, adjusting his glasses before buckling up. “You better get back to your seat.”

She nodded, unaware that it took everything within him to not invite her to sit on his lap.

They landed in Naples in the early hours of the afternoon, and were shuffled onto a waiting bus towards their first destination of the trip. Professor Styles had done a roll call and had already lost all patience with the loud group he was stuck with.

Their luggage was sent to their hotel, where they’d be turning in after their activities. They were given a tour of the huge city. The driver pointed out landmarks as they passed them.

The expanse of the ocean was pristine cerulean, invitingly crisp, the shore framed with exquisite buildings that crawled up the steep cliffsides. It was bright. Awash with blues and yellows and pinks and reds. Hues that depicted such a lively city so well.

Violet practically had her face pressed up against her window in the bus, admiring how glorious it was. It was densely packed with culture and entertainment and history. She was itching to get out and explore, smell the fresh air and taste the experiences on her tongue.

Their first tourist spot was the National Archaeological Museum. Professor Styles separated his students into two groups, one with him, and one with the other teacher.

To her delight, she was with him, and by the look in his eyes, he was just as happy about it. Maybe he even planned it that way. What he didn’t plan on, however, was Charlie sneaking into his group so that he could be with Violet. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the flash of irritation that almost blinded him.

The museum was phenomenal. Showcasing historical artefacts that had been unearthed by many. There was an abundance of exhibitions, which they were led through by their professor.

She took photos on her disposable camera, one of which had him in the frame, and she wouldn’t realise until she got her film developed.

Following the tour of the largest part of the museum, he turned to face the group. He had noticed Charlie being a nuisance, especially towards Violet and he made a point to ask her about it if he got her alone. He cleared his mind, trying to remain professional but struggling when she was staring at him like she was.

“Archaeologists and historians work together to teach the world about history. About daily lives, historical events, and structures. They excavate the history, and we tell its story. I hope you all feel inspired by what we’ve seen today because I want you to choose a piece and include it in your assignment.”

The group murmured, gathering their notebooks and fluttering around the exhibitions, attempting to find one that could merge in with the topic seamlessly.

Violet found herself on the second floor of the impressive building, completely enamoured with how beautiful it all was. Rich with history and chronicles of the past.

She found a detailed model of what Pompeii had been in its prime. Detailed, intricate and precise. Her eyes wandered the tiny streets where people walked thousands of years ago.

It changed her perspective, seeing it all laid out in front of her gave it so much more weight in her heart. She felt the passion and interest wrap warmly around her like how the Italian sun had kissed her skin; new, inviting, and blissful.

She took a few pictures of it, wanting something to refer back to just in case. As she stared through the lens, she felt a presence behind her. Her professor, stood tall and intimidating, though his expression was composed yet warm.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” He nodded towards the model.

“It’s amazing.” She breathed, sharply aware of him standing next to her.

His shoulder brushed hers and she froze. She wanted his touch. Wanted him to out his hands on her and praise her. She hadn’t stopped thinking about when he reached out and brushed her hair away in his office.

“Is he bothering you?”

It appeared that their minds were in two separate places. Her, desperate for his attention, and him, desperate to keep Charlie’s attention off of her.

“Who—Charlie?”

“Because if he is,” he continued, frowning. “He can do his assignment back home.”

And perhaps knowing that she and Charlie shared a night together, sending him away wouldn’t be strictly for her benefit. He felt protective over her, and yeah, he was jealous. He wanted her and he hated to admit it. But seeing her here, in this city, in this room, felt like the final nail in the coffin.

“It’s fine, I can handle him.”

If only she knew how much he saw the depth in that statement.

“Okay, just let me know.”

“Why?” She was perplexed. His tone was almost… territorial. It was more than a teacher protecting his student.

“Because I want to take care of you.”

Her eyes fluttered as they found his, and she felt a rush of arousal spark between her legs at the sheer hunger on his face and in his tone. Fuck. This couldn’t happen. He was her professor.

This was far from appropriate but the way he was looking at her like he wanted to devour and savour her at the same time was driving her wild.

She didn’t know how to respond, but let him take her hand and lead her towards some shelves in the back of the room. They housed artifacts from Pompeii, preserved from excavation sites.

She barely had a chance to look before he was leading her on towards the Gabinetto Segreto. She frowned, halting.

“What is this?”

“My favourite exhibition.” His eyes told her nothing but mischief, and he made sure the coast was clear before ushering her in.

She was taken aback. His favourite exhibition threw all inhibition out of their minds. Sexually graphic paintings, carvings, molds, and statues. Incredibly erotic and lewd.

He watched her in the room, thankfully empty of any other museum visitors. She approached a particularly sensual painting, framed in deep marble, a woman on top of a man, both in seated positions.

“What do you think?” He asked her, his veins thrumming with life and excitement.

Her cheeks were warm, and she was very aware of his gaze on her in the room full of sexual depictions. “I think… people have always had fascinations about bodies. About sex. It’s humanising to see it depicted so early in human civilisation.”

Was it normal for that to turn him on so much? She was clearly feeling the intensity of the room and yet was in her mind enough to give him an answer that reflected her passion for his class.

“Mm.. and how does it make you feel?” His voice was so low as he came to stand behind her.

“Feel?”

“To be surrounded by ancient erotic art. How does it make you feel?”

She let out a shaky sigh, unsure of how to answer. She felt lightheaded and heated and knew the only way to quell it was to have some attention between her legs.

He picked up on her silence, thinking maybe she couldn’t gauge what kind of response he was wanting. “I’ll start. It makes me feel like recreating every piece of art in here.”

Her eyes widened at his confession, feeling so shocked that he would go in that direction but so pleased that he did. Was he just as deep in lust for her as she was for him?

“Me too.” She breathed out, and he swore lowly.

“These were all excavated from Pompeii and Herculaneum. They were kept in brothels, homes—anywhere, really. They had an appreciation for erotica and displaying it. So they allotted this space in the museum. For a time, they only allowed men to come in here and view it.”

She could listen to him talk for hours, and then she realised that she did. And loved every millisecond of it. How his lips caressed words, how he spoke a few octaves lower than most, but it was still a milky and warm voice that rang through her ears.

“Lucky me.” She smiled. He wondered how she truly felt. Aside from the obvious, she found it almost funny to think that people thousands of years ago were fortifying lands and yet found a common ground in sexual art.

He huffed out a laugh and her heart just about stopped at the noise. “Not as lucky as whoever had this hanging on their wall.”

He pointed to a large painting of a couple embracing, his skin golden against the woman’s fair skin. The preservation was amazing, aside from slight erosion of the colour and some cracks near the bottom.

“It’s very intimate.” She observed. It was—like everything else in the room—sexual. But the strokes of paint were soft, their hold on each other even more so. Love. Care.

He wanted to know if someone had held her like that. So gentle, savouring every inch of skin. Worshiping her like the piece of art that she was.

After a filling dinner at a nearby restaurant, they all found themselves at their hotel. They gathered their room keys, and each partnered up to share a room for the trip. As Violet and her professor were the last two standing in the lobby, they eyed each other awkwardly.

“This has to be a mistake.” He frowned, staring at the concierge. The other teacher was staying close by with family. Harry was sure that he’d requested his own room in the hotel. This couldn’t be happening. “Is there another room available?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He sighed, clenching his jaw. He wanted to hole up in his room and order expensive wine and listen to music. Now he had to face the reality that he’d be sharing a room. With her. Maybe he’d sleep out in the hallway.

Instead of making a scene and taking out his frustration onto the person at reception, he stared at Violet, whose eyes were wide with what appeared to be apprehension.

“I can find another hotel to stay at.” He said lowly to her.

“With the number of people you’re caring for, I would advise against that, Sir. The nearest hotels are also fully booked.”

Harry glared at the concierge. The concept of staying in the same room as one of his students was a harsh pill to swallow. A jarring sensation. He was being faced with one of his deepest fantasies but now all he felt was that he was a creep.

He sighed, and met her eyes. “Come on.”

She blinked away her surprise and followed him. She could see how tense he was as his knuckle jabbed the button to call the elevator. She bit her lip and stared at him.

“Professor—”

“I swear to you I demanded a separate room.”

She frowned, seeing the worry in his eyes. He thought she saw this as something he had planned out. He felt sick about it.

“It’s out of your control. They clearly messed up the bookings, it’s fine.” She assured him, although her nerves were shooting through the roof. She had no idea how the night was going to go, or the rest of this trip, for that matter.

They arrived at their room and he took a deep breath before opening it. It was lavish, thought she expected him to book nothing less. A small seating and kitchen area, and a set of double doors that must have led off to the bedroom.

He located his duffel bag dropped off by the staff and rummaged through it. “I’ll take the couch.”

She stood awkwardly in the room. “Oh, okay.”

He took his toiletry bag, sauntering into the en suite in the bedroom. “Just gonna shower.”

Her eyes followed him, his tense body language putting her on edge. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. Once she heard the shower turn on, she quickly changed into her sleepwear, soft silk pants, and an old t-shirt.

To keep herself busy and keep her anxiety at bay, she began working on her assignment for the class trip. Taking notes and jotting down observations she’d made. She was cozied up on the window seat, overlooking the city with a soaring heart.

He came out, his hair dripping, wetting his white t-shirt. The grey sweats on his bottom half left her speechless. Now, this was the most dressed down she’d ever seen him.

“We should get some sleep.” He said, eyeing the notebook in her hand.

“Yeah, o—of course.”

“And don’t worry I… I’ll see about getting another room tomorrow. Surely they’ll have a free one by then.”

“I don’t mind.” She blurted out, worried that he thought she was seeing him as utterly inappropriate. “It’s not… I mean, it is kinda weird but this whole mix-up is out of our control. We’re adults. We’ll make it work.”

“You’re right.” He huffed out a breath, seemingly relaxed at that. They could make it work. It was going to be a mission to shelf his attraction to her, but he kept putting on his professional hat, even though her wandering gaze was warming him up inside.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She breezed past him, and he could smell her sweet scent.

“Good night, Violet.”

She paused at the door, about to close them when she turned back to look at him with a sultry expression that made his dick hard.

“Sweet dreams, professor.”

Suffice it to say, his dreams were anything but.

“Listen up! I’m not in the mood to repeat myself.”

It had been an eventful morning and they hadn’t even left the hotel yet. They were piled into a bus, and Charlie was sitting next to Violet, chatting her ear off.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off her professor's disgruntled expression. How she’d seen more of him than any student had before.

How he’d hidden his smile when she offered to make him coffee that morning, how his voice was far deeper after sleep.

How he’d effortlessly slipped back into his cold and disheartening demeanour after he’d gotten dressed. A pair of grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt. She tried to brush it off and pretend it didn’t bother her, but she wanted his warmth and all he gave her was soft glimpses of it before he shut her out again.

“Remember what we are here for. Keep your minds open and explore this unique opportunity. I won’t be supplying material when we return to class, so gather everything you need today. Is that understood?”

The students nodded, hearing him loud and clear. Violet checked that she had her notebook and disposable camera on hand, feeling inspired to make this assignment her best one yet.

Pompeii was everything she had dreamt of and everything she never knew she could experience. It was a phenomenal sight to see. To really walk the streets which had been wandered down before. Where lives had fled as Mount Vesuvius unleashed its wrath, coughing up poisonous ash and spewing deadly lava.

She trudged through the fallen streets, imagining what it must have been like. Danger looming. Harrowing screams. Grasping for valuables as they fled.

Her disposable camera seldom left her hands, and the click of her taking shots set off Charlie’s impatient streak in him.

“Let me give you a personal tour.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“I really want to focus on this.”

“Come on, Violet. You’ll have way more fun with me.”

She sighed as he attempted to take the camera from her hands. “Charlie, please. It was one night and it won’t happen again. Let it go.”

“Why the sudden switch up?” He frowned.

“I just… I want to focus on passing this assignment, okay?” And she was bored of him. Another, far more intriguing man has eclipsed her every thought.

“Fine by me. I’ll show someone else around.” He sauntered off and she glared at his back.

She rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the task at hand. At being in such a beautiful place, struck by such a disaster.

The class had all spread out by that point, and she fought to stay by herself. She worked best that way, alone with her thoughts. No pressure to fake her interest in anything aside from the historical site before her.

She sat at the edge of a small field, framed by stone arches and fallen buildings, crumbling walls. She began to sketch out the scene before her, listening to music on her Walkman, lost in her work as Duran Duran blessed her ears.

She felt the presence of someone sitting next to her, and she looked up, surprised to see her grumpy professor. His mouth moved as it formed words and she frowned, pulling her headphones off.

“I’m sorry?”

He looked amused, albeit annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “I said, I didn’t know that you could draw.”

She smiled sheepishly, staring down at her drawing. “It’s just a rough sketch. I’m a visual learner, so it helps, gives me something to refer back to if I need it.”

“It’s pretty good. You could incorporate it into the assignment.” He seemed impressed.

“That’s allowed?”

“Only because I said so.”

She bit her lip to hide her smile, although he saw her cheeks become a stunning shade of pink that he associated only with her. Like saturated carnations or his favourite ice cream, boysenberry with strawberry swirls.

She was worming her way into his brain like a rotten apple and he could only sit and watch the decay.

“I just called the hotel. They’re still fully booked—”

“Last night wasn’t horrible.” She said. “We both kept to ourselves and slept well. Unless you want a turn in the bed tonight.”

It was his turn to blush now, and she didn’t miss it.

“The couch is fine.” He grumbled, embarrassed.

She wanted to tease him. To tug that soft side of him out. But a large part of her knew he’d reprimand her for it. Use his authority on her. Not that she’d mind, but it wasn’t a way to get through to him in the slightest.

“What’s on the itinerary, then?”

He shot her a look. “You should know, considering you did it.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like what I chose. If I remember correctly, I put us down for an afternoon of relaxing at the beach and self-appointed activities.”

“I never did ask what self-appointed entails.”

“Well, it could entail a number of things. Exploring the city, working on papers, grading papers,” she leaned in towards him. “Anything, it’s just downtime.”

“Downtime.” He parroted.

“That’s a completely foreign concept for you, isn’t it?”

He stifled a laugh and nodded. “Any and all free time I have is spent on you,” he cleared his throat, “my classes, I mean.”

“Maybe take some time to relax today, then. Even if just for a few hours before dinner.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed, staring down at her Walkman. “You always carry that thing around.”

He was a lot more observant of her than he was ever going to admit. And they both picked up on it. He stared at her red and white sundress for a time, wondering if she’d worn it just for him to agonise over. He had been all fucking morning. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

As she opened her mouth to respond, he stood with a gruff, “I need to check in with everyone else. Keep working.”

She did, the sun browning her skin, her tiny sundress the only thing he could think about as he talked with other students and showed them around.

She ventured Pompeii some more, taking pictures, penciling quick sketches, and let her eyes wander over to him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. But he always was, and they both looked away quickly.

Charlie seemed to forget all about the rejection she’d given him by the time they were at the beach and lounging on sunbeds. Violet had taken a dip, but was mostly into reclining in her little yellow bikini.

She slipped her shades up onto her head as she took in the scene before her. Most of the students had joined them, a few had ventured into the city.

But it was a rarity any of them got to see the sun and sand like this, so they practically melted in the experience, vowing to never leave.

She let her eyes scan the beach, her book tucked into her side on a dog-eared page. She enjoyed people-watching. Seeing her fellow students thrive under the golden sun, and seeing families make memories.

And Professor Styles. Stretched out on a sunbed far from everyone else. Yellow swimming shorts, bronzed skin, decorated in tattoos, both arms flexed as he stretched them above his head.

Her mouth dried at the sight. How toned and prominent he was. She could easily imagine herself sitting on top of him, mapping out each tattoo, licking, kissing, biting. Admiring.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, he looked up, a lone finger sliding his shades down to look at her. And lip quirked up on one side in a subtle smirk that made her toes curl. So, he got especially cocky when he was half-naked.

She tried to turn her attention back onto her book, but it was an effort to think of anything else other than him. She craved his touch, even though all he had given her was a whisp of it in his office.

They were dangling themselves in front of each other, temptation and lust awry, waiting for who would take the plunge first.

Following a game of cat and mouse, trying to catch each other’s eyes, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner at a local restaurant.

She beat him to the room, grabbing a quick shower, almost ready by the time he entered the room.

He could smell her sweet perfume as he entered the room, the air humid from a long shower. She was sitting at the vanity in the bedroom, swiping mascara on her wispy lashes.

Her eyes met his in the mirror, disappointed to find him dressed in a t-shirt, those same yellow shorts allowing her to see his tattooed thigh.

“How was your downtime?” She asked him.

He came up behind her, still watching each other in the mirror. “It was good. Although, a girl was gawking at me the whole time. Didn’t think my body was that atrocious.”

He was teasing her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, and so she played along.

“I’m sure atrocious was the last thing on her mind.”

“You think so?”

“Maybe you should have asked her.”

“I thought about it.”

She held her breath. “Did you?”

“Mm. Thought about inviting her over to my sunbed… asking her what had captured her attention. I knew what she was thinking but I just wanted to hear her say it.”

“Say what?” She breathed out. His eyes were so intense. Molten and demanding, holding hers with such a ferocity that she felt it between her legs.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now Violet, when have I ever given you the answers to a test?”

She released a shaky sigh, tilting her head away from him, allowing him access to her neck.

He smirked at her eagerness. “You’re a bad girl. Finish getting ready.”

“Then stop distracting me.”

He growled deep in his chest, taking a step away from her. “Don’t talk back, Violet. Ever.”

He sauntered into the bathroom, locking the door with a click. She fanned herself with her hand, quickly slipping on a white summer dress and heading downstairs to hang with her classmates.

Everyone was unaware of the fact that she and their professor were sharing a room, and she cringed to think about how they’d react if they found out.

The attraction they had for each other was undeniable, but she saw it as harmless flirting. Until… he touched her. Until he took her into that erotic room. Until he told her not to talk back. She was fucked.

He led them to the restaurant, pointing out architectural phenomena, and different historical sites for them to make note of. He looked so pretty that it hurt. Light pink dress pants and a matching blazer, a white singlet underneath. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his curls falling down on his forehead messily.

She lagged behind, and he noticed, subtly falling back, She was stopping to take pictures of different buildings, in awe of the structures and local ways of life.

He slowed his pace, keeping close to her just in case. She wasn’t overly warm towards anyone else in the class, and it made him feel glad in the sense that she focused on his class, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she had many friends outside of class.

Perhaps that’s why he was so protective over her. How territorial and irrational he became towards her. How enamoured by her he was. Buy her words and her confidence, whether in corduroy pants or little sun dresses.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear relaxed, but he was crawling out of his fucking skin. He needed her. Wanted her. Had to have her. He just didn’t know how to do so. He sucked at talking to women, but he knew how to fuck.

Just getting them on their backs was the hardest part for him. He had never struggled with men, but women terrified him for some reason. Especially women like her.

He kept watching her like she’d drop a clue behind a step on the cobbled street.

And when he noticed that one of her sneakers had become untied, he felt his heart begin to race.

The group was further ahead, and he fell into step beside her, grabbing her hand to garner her attention.

She turned to look at him with wide eyes, her camera clicked, and as she spun around, his face fell perfectly into the frame. But the two of them were too focused on his touch to notice.

“Your lace is untied.” He explained simply, his touch gone.

She looked down, “oh.”

“Let me,” he knelt down on the ground, lifting her foot up onto his raised knee. She gasped at the feel of his fingers wrapped around her ankle. How they softly caressed her skin before they got to work tying her lace.

His ringed fingers were a wonder to watch. So precise and nimble. She felt her cheeks tinge pink as she stared down at him on his knee for her. And when he looked up, it was almost as if he was in awe. Worshipping.

His hand slid up her ankle, cupping her calf and sliding higher. And then he dropped his touch, realising how inappropriate he was being.

“Thank you, professor.”

His jaw clenched slightly before he stood, adjusting his suit jacket. “We should catch up with the others.”

They were the last to enter the restaurant, and the universe pushed them together once again with two remaining seats. Next to each other.

Her leg was still burning from his touch and she wanted to experience it over every inch of skin on her body.

It was a wonder she could even focus on eating. He was so powerful in his presence. Even when she wasn’t looking at him she could feel him. This tar-thick sensation next to her, begging to be pulled in, begging to have her attention.

He ate his meal in silence, drinking a cider, offering bits to the conversation here and there.

She was a nervous wreck. She could smell his cologne. How it was sweet and spicy and sultry all at once.

At some point, restless and on edge, she crossed her leg, her foot accidentally nudging his ankle. He shot her a look through the corner of his eye, his mouth on his drink.

She blushed, apologising to him under her breath. But he moved his leg towards hers a little before retracting. Intrigued, she extended her foot out again, letting it trace up his leg.

“Careful.” He warned lowly.

She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Or what?”

“You don’t want to start trouble with your professor, do you?”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe I do.”

“I pegged you for a good student, Violet. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“I’m a good girl where it counts, professor.”

“Then be a good girl and go settle the bill. We need to get an early night.”

He handed her his card, watching as she stood and went to pay. He eyed her thighs at the hem of her dress, remembering how soft she’d felt as he tied her shoelace. How lulled her expression became when she was teasing him under the table.

He thought about how it felt to be kneeling before her. How if he leaned forward just a little, he’d be able to see up her dress. See the colour of her panties. Flick his tongue out and get a long-awaited taste.

He skipped the dessert menu because he knew nothing would satisfy the sweet tooth he had. Only she could quell the craving.

Fuck. He couldn’t share a room with her tonight. Not unless he wanted to fuck her against every surface of it.

The walk back to the hotel was tense for the two of them. They tried to avoid each other, she tried to spark conversation with other students, while he conversed with the other professor who was probably triple his age and insufferable to talk to.

He felt especially creepy when he realised the most interesting conversations he’d ever held had been with a student of his. One who was ten years his junior.

The other professor split off, heading to his family home while Harry was in charge of leading everyone back to the hotel.

He was back to his short and curt self, subdued by his own thoughts. She eyed him, wondering if he regretted getting so comfortable with her. Because she sure as hell didn’t regret anything.

Everyone parted ways, heading to their designated rooms, while she lagged behind, completely on edge.

Their eyes met as they leaned on opposite walls in the hallway. Waiting. Gauging.

“I should find somewhere else to stay tonight.” His voice broke through the tension.

Her heart dropped and she started to panic at the prospect of him leaving her. “You don’t need to do that.”

He sighed, torn. “Violet…”

“I promise I’ll behave. You won’t even know I’m here.”

He watched her, internally debating. Could he behave? And would she stay true to her word? It was later in the evening now, and he hardly felt like trudging around the city until he found an available room.

He sighed again and nodded, entering the room wordlessly. She followed after him, watching as he stripped off his jacket and ran his hands through his hair.

She slipped into the bedroom, and as she went to close the door, decided to leave it slightly ajar. An invitation.

He sat on the couch, spreading his arms along the back. His mind was a jumbled mess, the only clarity were liquified swirls of violet skies that gave him a sense of constant.

His eyes found movement in the gap of the bedroom door and his mouth went dry. Violet pulled her tiny white dress over her head, her matching white bra and panties revealed to his hungry stare.

She pulled her hair free from its ponytail, the yellow ribbon falling to the ground in a tiny silk puddle.

She bent over, unlacing her sneakers before pulling them off. He knew he had to look away. But he couldn’t. He was staring directly between her legs. The softness of her hips and her thighs. His stomach clenched.

Reaching back, still facing away, she unclasped her bra and let that fall to the floor carelessly. He internally begged her to turn around. But he knew that if he saw her bare tits it would be game over. He already felt like he was going to finish in his pants.

And then she stepped out of view, appearing moments later in a white silk camisole and matching shorts. He looked away quickly as she exited the bedroom, trying to hide the fact that she’d put on that show just for him.

“Can you please help me?” her sweet voice caressed his ears.

He still didn’t look at her. “With?”

“My necklace.” She came to stand in front of him. “It’s tangled.”

He eyed the dainty jewelry around her neck and wondered how his hand would look in its place.

“Do you ever take yours off?” She nodded to the cross pendant dangling from his neck.

“No. It stays on. Always.”

“Even when you—”

“Turn around, Violet.”

She giggled and turned while he stood, his body shaking with desire. She scooped up her hair out of the way, a few strands tangled in the clasp of her necklace.

“You like doing that, don’t you?”

“Doing what?”

“Teasing me and acting oblivious to it.” His fingers began to unwork the tangles of her necklace.

“How do I tease you?”

“Well, the little show you just put on is a great place to start.”

She smirked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He growled and brought his hand around, cupping her throat and encouraging her to lean fully against him.

“Don’t make me out to be a fucking pervert, Violet. Prance around in your tiny little shorts all you want, just as long as you know that you’re doing so for me.”

“We’re not in the classroom anymore, professor. No need to boss me around.”

“Brat.” He said through his teeth. “I’m always the boss.”

She gasped out in the authority in his tone, at the sureness in his actions. His hand around her throat just like she’d imagined a million times while he taught a class.

“I know you daydream about me.” He whispered in her ear. “I can see your mind wander when you’re sitting at the front of my class. You think about all the things you want me to do to you.”

“That’s a bold assumption.” She continued to tease him.

“Mmm.” He rumbled in her ear. “And I bet you’re wet right now.”

“You’re wrong.” She whimpered.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

She stepped away, staring up at him. “H—How?”

He feigned a bored expression, shoving his hands into his pockets with a sigh. “You’re a smart girl, Violet. Figure it out.”

All confidence she had was shredded away by his condescending tone and she released a shaky breath. Prove it? She sat down on the couch, finding his eyes willingly.

Fuck. This was everything the both of them had been daydreaming about. Releasing the tension that had been building between them ever since she started his class.

He would have stopped her if she didn’t want this. And she wouldn’t have given him a show if she didn’t’ want it. She slipped a hand down her shorts, her eyes lulling while his widened at the scene.

Her fingers found her core, throbbing and wet already. She whimpered, trying to look unfazed but he could see how much her legs were shaking.

“That’s a good girl. Let me see.”

She retracted her hand from the silk of her shorts and displayed her fingers, glistening with her excitement.

He grabbed her wrist, investigating the wetness. He tutted. “Now, what are we going to do about this, hm?” His eyes met hers and she melted.

“I don’t know.”

His gaze hardened on hers. “Part of your studies have been based on problem-solving, Violet. I know I’ve been doing my job right. The question is: have you been a good student?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shaking.

“Is that so? Then tell me how we solve this problem that you have.”

“Problem…?”

“You’re sitting in front of your professor, dripping for him. Tell me how we can fix it before you make a mess.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Touch me.”

“Raise your voice when you’re speaking to me.”

She cleared her throat, mildly embarrassed. “Touch me.”

“Touch you? I could fail you for this behaviour that you’re displaying. I can’t think of one reason not to.”

“Please,” she whispered, “please, touch me.”

He sat on the coffee table opposite her. “I can’t risk it… we can’t—”

“Please. Just once, it’s all I will ever ask of you.”

He stared at her, his expression disgruntled. Like she was causing him actual annoyance by asking him such a thing.

“Fuck it.”

He took her fingers past his lips, saturated with her wetness, and sucked on them. Cleaning them and tasting her. Heavenly and sinful.

She gasped as he did so, unable to even wrap her head around what was happening before his lips met hers, his hand on the nape of her neck.

“Kiss me.” He ordered against her and she obliged, whimpering as his tongue found hers.

He stood and leaned over her, pushing her back into the couch. He pulled away momentarily, as much as it pained him.

“You want this?”

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him but he shook his head.

“Words, Violet. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you.” She assured him, glad to finally have the words leave her mouth.

“Show me,” he breathed out. “Show me how much you want me.”

He sat back on the table again, leaving her panting and shaking while he slipped his glasses from his face. She bit her lip, finding every ounce of courage that she had before slowly slipping her shorts down her legs.

His eyes never left hers as she got herself comfortable, and he untangled her shorts from her ankle, his cock hardening further when she giggled playfully.

She spread her legs a little, her hand finding its way back between them. He hissed as she played with herself, and he could hear how wet she was as well as see it.

He leaned forward, his hands on her thighs. “Are you this wet for me during class?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Are you lying to me?” His hands smoothed up her legs and he could feel how hard she was shaking having his touch on her.

“No…”

“Mm...” His hands found her sensitive inner thighs and her legs spread further, enticing him in. “I think you’re lying, Violet.” His thumb brushed her sensitive clit and she gasped. “I think…” A little more pressure. “You sit in my class, fantasising about me.” Small circles. “And then you go home, get yourself off and imagine that it’s me doing it.”

“Please—”

“Am I wrong?”

“Fuck,” she cried out as his fingers built up speed and pressure. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“I never am.” He smirked, pulling her so that she was laying down flat on the couch.

His mouth found her cunt in a deep kiss and she rolled her hips up towards him, his hands cupping under her thighs to keep her where he wanted her.

Her back arched at the sensation of his mouth. So wet and hot and skilled. She’d known how good he was with his mouth, as she’d listened to him talk for hours. But this was something else, and she knew she’d never look at his lips the same again.

His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he moaned against her, loving how sweet she tasted. How she was shaking and he’d only just gotten started.

His tongue found her clit in delicate flicks, sucking and nibbling it until she was gasping.

The straps of her camisole fell down her shoulders, and her tits came into his view. Her nipples were pebbled from the cool air and he reached up, pinching and squeezing them with deft fingers.

All he could think of was the fact that she was lightyears better than anything he’d viewed in Gabinetto Segreto. But he knew that before he’d seen her naked.

His ears were ringing with how good she felt and he couldn’t wait to feel her wrapped around his cock. God, he’d grasp onto the feeling forever. He could already see himself begging shamelessly at her knees for a pity fuck.

Her hands came down and entwined with his curls, determined to make a mess of them. She had spent far too many hours admiring the perfect shape of them and the precise middle parting.

He groaned as she pulled them, his eyes finding her blissful expression. He ate her like he’d never had a satisfying meal in all his years. After tasting her, it felt like he hadn’t. And nothing would ever suffice again.

She brought Gabinetto Segreto fucking shame.

He gave her a finger, testing the waters with what she could take. Her body went lax before tightening up in pleasure. His jaw dropped at how warm and snug she was.

“Oh, pet. You’re going to get me addicted to this pretty little pussy, aren’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up in desperation. The way he was talking to her. Encouraging her and talking her through it. It was all so surreal.

“Professor…”

“What?” He pulled away, annoyed to have her interrupt.

“It’s okay.”

He frowned. “What?

“I—It’s okay. You don’t have to…”

“Don’t have to what?” He was getting pissed off now.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What, make you come?” He frowned further, bewildered.

“It’s hard for me to do that.”

His eyes softened and he crawled up her body, his hand cradling her jaw tenderly. “Has anyone ever made you come, pet?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just my vibrator.”

He pouted a little. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? I bet you get so creamy… so relaxed and soft.”

She could feel his hands massaging her body, but she felt lightheaded with how he was talking to her.

“I can make you come, pet. As many times as you want.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to do a thing. You just lay back and let your professor look after you, okay? You deserve it after all of your hard work. I’m very impressed.”

“Really?” Her eyes were wide.

“Really. Daddy’s going to reward you, now. Would you like that?”

Her eyes lulled the second that word fell from his mouth.

“Yes.”

“My good little pet.”

His mouth found her core again, reveling in her taste and the feel of her. He helped her relax enough that she could simply feel the pleasure and nothing else. She had been so stuck in her mind but now all she could fathom was pure bliss.

He gave her two fingers, massaging a spot inside of her that she had not discovered before. It was overwhelmingly intense. Pressure and sensitivity and euphoria.

“Relax, Violet. Can you do that for me?”

She focused on keeping relaxed, but almost laughed at his request. How could she relax with his head between her thighs?

She must have done a good enough job because he moaned, closing his eyes and kissing her cunt almost romantically.

He wanted to watch her. To guide her and talk her through it. He came up, licking inside of her mouth, sucking on her tongue.

You’re doing so well.

So sweet for me.

You’re milking my fingers, pet.

Breathe, that’s it.

He could tell she was close and he was watching her in awe. Watching her write in pleasure that only he had ever been able to entice from her. He was far too in his head to feel smug about it, but he knew he’d come back to that later.

“Oh…”

“That’s right,” he coerced. “You’re gonna come all over my fingers, I can feel it. Fuck, do it on my tongue instead.”

He swiftly placed his mouth on her again, paying all of his attention to her clit while his fingers worked inside of her. She was pulsing and it drove him to take her harder, moaning against her.

His arm tensed, the veins in it prominent, snaking around his muscles. He couldn’t fathom why the men before him hadn’t got her here like this. He was addicted to everything about her. Her body and her mind. Her jaw dropped in pleasure.

His mouth latched onto her clit ferociously, and the intensity of it knocked her over the edge of bliss. She writhed around, crying out as it overwhelmed her. He pinned her down, helping her ride the wave.

“Thaaat’s it, pet. What a good girl.” He soothed her as she came down.

She gasped out, grabbing his wrist as he slowly fucked her with his fingers.

“Fuck.” She smiled, meeting his eyes.

“How did that feel, hm?” He checked in, his mouth and chin drenched in her. He kissed her inner thighs, pulling away.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He came over her. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?”

She barely had time to register what was going on before he ripped her silk camisole from her body, discarding it behind the couch.

“Hey!” She yelled out. “That was expensive.”

“Daddy will buy you another one.” He promised, his eyes falling over her bare breasts. “Fuck, look at you. Gorgeous little thing.”

She moaned as he gripped her breasts, toying with her nipples. He spat down on her chest, wiping his spit around her tits with a devilish grin.

“You’ll let me do what I want, won’t you, pet?”

“Yes.” She whispered, meaning it.

“The next time you’re in my class,” he pinched her nipple. “I’m gonna make you sit on my lap. Make you read out your paper while I play with your clit and fill your cunt with my cock. Make you cream all over me while everyone watches.”

“Professor—”

He stood abruptly, ridding of his shirt and pants, allowing her to see him as bare as she’d ever seen him. His inked torso and arms. His strong thighs and toned tummy. She felt her insides melt and warp.

He grabbed her hand and placed it over his clothed cock, hard and throbbing.

“Feel what you do to me?” He asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to hold her still while her hand felt him. “I get so hard every time I see you. I can’t fucking stand it.”

Her mouth was watering and she shifted forward, kissing along his length. He growled lowly, feeling his cock twitch and his balls tighten.

“You’re a naughty pet. Come to my class in those tiny dresses because you know I think about pinning you against the wall and slipping inside of you.”

“I wish you would.” Her eyes were wide, staring at his.

He tilted his head, gripping her hair in his fist, his rings catching. “You do, don’t you? Little whore.”

She nodded eagerly, whimpering when he pushed her face forcefully against his crotch. He leaned down, his fingers finding her pussy, slick from her orgasm. He hummed, gathering her wetness and spreading it along his covered cock.

“Messy girl. Clean me up.”

“Make me.”

He glared darkly, his nostrils flaring at her disobedience. He gripped her hair hard enough that tears formed, and he moved his hand to pinch her jaw until she opened it.

“Tongue out.” He barked and she slowly did as she was asked. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, clean me up or I’ll fuck my fist and make you watch.”

He spat on her tongue and she hummed, swallowing before leaning forward and licking off her wetness from his crotch. His brow furrowed at the sight. His feisty little pet.

She sucked on the tip of him over his boxers, and he whimpered before pushing her away. He quickly rid of his boxers, impatient. He had to be inside her. He prided himself in his ability to last but that seemed to be irrelevant when it came to her. Just looking at her naked and pouting was enough to set him off.

She reached for his cock, hard, a bead of pre-come on the tip. He throbbed in her palm, so hot and ready for him. He ran his hands through his hair, his body tingling.

She took him past her lips, her eyes fluttering. His head fell back on his neck as she took his tip, sucking and flicking her tongue against the slit. He encouraged her, his hand tangling into her hair.

“Take more.” He rasped, moaning loudly when she fit half of him in.

She used her hand to work on what she couldn’t fit yet. He was losing it, spitting down on his cock to get it nice and wet before forcing her to take all of him.

She choked on him, her eyes watering as she gagged.

“Fuck,” he gritted his teeth, his abs flexing as he pushed his hips forward.

Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. His thumb wiped under her eyes, smearing it further. He wanted to destroy her.

He took her throat in slow, rolling thrusts, allowing her to breathe and watching when she tapped his thigh when she needed a break.

She picked up her pace, and his knees buckled. He attempted to pull away but her hands wound around his thighs, holding him in place.

“Pet,” he whined, “you gotta stop.”

She eyed him mischievously, moving her mouth harder. Faster.

He swore, grabbing her hair and practically ripping her from him. He threw her back and slapped her cheek before gripping her jaw and pressing his face against hers.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

She giggled, her cheek stinging, but it fuelled her arousal.

He clenched his jaw, holding hers harder. “You promised you’d behave.”

The feral rage in his eyes made her gulp. She did not fear him, per se, but feared what he’d do to her as punishment. Feared that she’d like it too much.

She wanted him warmed up to her. But she wasn’t sure that he was capable of that.

“I am behaving, professor.”

“I don’t think you are.”

She frowned, pouting. His expression softened, loving how she looked all vulnerable when she did that little face.

He cupped her reddened cheek, looking at her wet eyes and swollen lips from his cock.

She opened her mouth to protest, to apoligise, or to plead. She wasn’t sure.

“I—”

“Shh.. sit back and take my cock, pet.”

The willingness in her eyes melted him and she fell onto her back, pressing her legs together with her knees bent and swaying them side to side.

He took a step forward, fisting his cock with a shaky breath. He had fantasised about this for so long and now that it was finally happening, he couldn’t believe it.

“You look so good.” He complimented, his voice low. His hands ran down her body, feeling every inch and every curve. He settled over her, hitching her leg high over his hip.

“So do you.” She breathed out, her hands running down his sides, feeling the muscles flex.

“You were made for fucking.” He spoke his thoughts, running the tip of his cock between her slick folds. “Made to take me. Made to be used by me.”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up. “Take me. Use me.”

He kissed her, pushing his hips forward a little. She made a soft sound as he pushed inside of her, able to take the tip of him before her body tensed.

“You’re so big.” She whimpered, wide eyes staring up at him.

“You can take it.”

He held her in place, pushing forward and breaking through her tightness. She gasped as she took half of him, and he reached down, rubbing her clit to lessen the sting.

She mewled softly, her body relaxing as he slowly took her. He pushed all the way in, and he swore quietly as she rippled around him.

“Attagirl.” He praised. “I knew you could do it.”

“Oh… my god.” She moaned, her eyes watering at how fucking good he felt. He was so big that she felt him everywhere. He was pressed snugly against that spot he’d found not long before and the pressure of it was blinding.

It was the fact that they definitely should not be doing this that made it feel so much fucking better.

“I’m going to move now.” He informed her, retracting his hips until only his head remained inside of her. He slammed back in forcefully and she cried out, her back arching.

He didn’t stop. He screwed into her relentlessly, pounding her down into the couch. She couldn’t get a single breath in with how hard he was fucking her. His touch never left her clit, until he wrapped his arms around her and stood, holding her up as he fucked up into her.

She bit into his neck, his skin warm and damp beneath her. Her nails embedded themselves into his shoulders, trying to hold on as he took her.

He pressed her against the wall, his head dropping back with a growl. She watched him in awe. The sheer power he exerted on her body was blinding. He was so in control, so feral and animalistic but in control nonetheless.

She had never had someone fuck her like this. He was confident in the classroom, but having him even more so while he was naked and inside of her was something she never knew that she’d experience.

She gripped onto his hair, near on sobbing as he took her. “Professor…”

“Harry.” He gritted out, his curls a mess.

“H—Harry, please.”

“Please, what?” He breathed out, grunting. “Tell me—fuck—tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

His hand wound around her throat, his gaze searing on hers. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, pet.”

“My clit.” She whispered out. “I need it, please.”

“Fuck, say my name again.” He huffed, staring at her desperately.

“Please, Harry. I need it.”

He groaned, pushing two fingers in her mouth until she gagged, getting them wet. Then he connected his fingers to her clit and rubbed in delicious circles. Her toes curled, her hands raking down his shoulders and sides as he took her.

“You like that?” He checked, knowing full well she loved it with how tight her pussy was around him.

She nodded, whimpering as he slapped his hips against her.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Your pretty little cunt is squeezing me like a fist. Dirty girl letting me use you like this.”

He placed her on her shaky legs, slipping down to his knees. He aided her in placing a leg over his shoulder, opening her up to him. He latched onto her core with a loud moan.

“Taste so good.” He said between licks, her core trembling around his tongue. “Love feeling how my big cock is destroying your pussy.”

He ate her, addicted. He held her up as her body became weak with pleasure. His fingers found her core, fucking her with two fingers while his mouth sucked and nibbled and licked her clit.

She looked down at his face, seeing his eyes closed as he ate her. He was enjoying it just as much as she was. Her professor was on his knees for her.

From tying her shoelace to eating her out in a matter of hours.

He loved being able to taste his cock while he ate her. Able to taste where he’d claimed her and destroyed her. His dick twitched, missing the warmth of her. Wanting to spread his cum inside of her and watch it leak out.

He grabbed her, bending her over the window seat. She stared at the view of the ocean as he stared at the view of her.

“Spread your legs.” He ordered.

She bit her lip, looking back at him. She pressed her legs together and wiggled her ass.

He glared, slapping her ass. “Whore.” Another slap, to which she cried out, clawing at the window. “I said open your fucking legs.”

He kicked her legs open forcefully, spreading her cheeks and staring at her dripping cunt. She moaned as he massaged her skin, his thumb dipping to press against the tight opening of her ass.

He spat down on it, massaging gently before he bent his knees, guiding his cock back to her drenched heat.

She held back her pleasured cries as he fucked her, his skin slapping mercilessly against hers. His thumb played with her ass, watching as she moaned and flowered open to him. His to use.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Take me so fucking well. You love having my big dick fill you up, don’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips back against her thrusts.

He slapped her side. “Don’t you?”

“Y‑Yes, Harry!”

He grabbed her by her throat, pulling her back while he kept fucking her. His lips found her ear, biting on the lobe.

“Call me daddy.” He growled. “Call me daddy and I’ll let you come again.”

She could feel the swirls of it blooming and she swore, her walls clenching around him.

“Please, daddy.” She whimpered, loving calling him something so naughty. “Please let me come.”

“You need daddy to rub your pretty little clit? Huh?”

“Fuck, please, yes I need it.” She gasped, her tits bouncing, drawing his attention to them. He played with her nipples. Twisting and tugging before his touch veered south, finding her clit with an expert touch.

She exploded around him, her body growing lax against him. He allowed her to melt onto the floor, not stopping his thrusts as he helped her through her orgasm. He screwed her on the ground, grunting animalistically in her ear.

They were sweaty messes, writing and naked on the floor as he took her, feral and obsessed. He lifted her ass up, taking her harder and harder, his hands gripped tightly onto her hips.

She clawed at the carpet beneath her, trying to hold onto anything that would keep her steady against his intense thrusts. The sheer power he had was astonishing.

He picked her up, sweeping knick-knacks and a lamp off a side table with a smash, throwing her against the newly cleared surface. Her chest was pressed against the cool wood, and he quickly began fucking her again.

Her knees betrayed her, and he spun her around, sitting her up on the side table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, their bodies pressed tightly together, sweaty and needy.

He pinned her back to the wall, his hand around her throat. They watched where they were connected before locking eyes, moaning before kissing with an intensity that made her toes curl.

He couldn’t get enough of her. His body was wound so tight with arousal, the feeling of finally having her driving him wild.

“Fuck,” he panted, “so fucking good.”

She purposely pulsed her cunt around him, his head going dizzy.

“St—god, you have to stop.”

The expression he wore was hardly an incentive to stop, and she did it more.

“Stop, stop.”

Pulling back, much to her dismay, voiced with a displeased moan, he stepped back from her. He grabbed his cock in his fist, playing with himself while she sat there watching. Desperately writhing, her chest heaving.

She whimpered as he fucked himself harder, the pleasure displayed clearly on his face. She shuffled forward a little, wanting to be the only form of bliss he felt.

He glared. “Did I say that you could move?”

“No, but—”

“Do as you’re told or I will come all over my hand while you watch.”

She bit her tongue, settling back into place with a pout. He chuckled lightly, his stomach tightening at the sight. He wanted to come so fucking bad but he wasn’t done with her.

“Get on all fours, pet.” He instructed, his fist still wrapped tight around himself.

She slowly lowered herself to the floor, on her knees in Infront of him before getting on her hands as well, on all fours just like he asked. He smiled proudly at her, watching her wait for the next instruction.

“I want you to crawl to the bedroom for me.” He purred. “Slowly.”

She bit her lip, hiding her smile, trying to remain unfazed. She did as he asked, just as she always had. Always wanting to impress him. He stalked behind her, watching the way her hips were shaped, watching how her ass swayed as she crawled, watching how her hair fell over her shoulders. She looked back to meet his eyes before picking up her pace a little.

He felt something spike in his bloodstream, and he ran after her, grunting as he picked her up and threw her onto the bed.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He chastised her as he followed. She crawled away, curled up at the top of the bed. “You want to run, pet?”

She shook her head, a mischievous smile lighting up her face as he narrowed his eyes.

“I better make sure you stay put.”

She watched as he went out to the lounge, fishing through his duffel bag before heading back to the bedroom. He began wringing a sage green tie between his hands, eyeing her.

He made his way towards her, gauging her expression. “Give me your hands.”

She did as she was told, mesmerised.

“Good girl.”

He tied her wrists up, not too tight, but tight enough that she wouldn’t slip out. Then he tied them to the white iron headboard, her arms stretched up. He couldn’t resist reaching down to bite and lick her nipples until she was whining and begging him to take her.

“You want this cock?” He shuffled forward until he was kneeling over her chest.

She nodded eagerly and he gripped the hair on top of her head. “Open your mouth. Taste your pussy on my cock before I give it to you again.”

She opened, her eyes fluttering when he pushed his dick into her mouth, all the way, not letting her adapt to his size. Just letting her taste him. Feel him.

“So pretty with your mouth full, aren’t you?”

She choked, her eyes prickling with tears that threatened to roll over before he pulled away. And then he was flipping her over, pulling her up onto her knees and elbows and fucking her so brutally that she feared the whole hotel would hear.

He made noises that were animalistic. Feral and unhinged. He fucked her so hard that neither of them could see straight. Hitting her so deep she could feel it in her throat.

He wasn’t sure he could last much longer, and he wanted to hold her. He moved her to her side, spooning behind her. He lifted her outer leg up, slipping his throbbing cock into her drenched heat with a deep, rolling moan.

His fingers found her clit again, and she reached back to kiss him messily. Their tongues met, wet and unashamed. He wanted her to come again, and his cock screwed into her relentlessly while he drew tight circles on her clit.

“Come for me.” He panted. “Please. I need it. Give me another one, all over my cock. You can do it, pet.”

She whimpered, her brow furrowed as he growled, taking her harder than he had all night. Her orgasm shattered her before she knew it was upon her.

She keeled forward, and he wound his arms around her to keep her steady while she came, crying out his name so loud that he had to give her two of his fingers to bite down on.

He swore at how tight she became when she climaxed, her walls pulsing and clenching around him. He fought to hold on, but his body was overworked and she felt so fucking good.

With a whine, he untied her hands and gently moved her onto her back, slipping inside of her with a long sigh. He took her, deep and slow and with a fluidity that had her legs shaking.

He wanted to come staring into her eyes. With her legs wrapped around his waist. His name was on her lips as he pounded into her relentlessly.

“Will you tease me again?” He asked her, his eyes searing.

“Yes.” She gasped out.

“You’re my little fuck toy.” He was a mess. “Mine to fuck and fill with my cum. Reward you for your hard work in my class. Make you come every time you pass.”

“All yours.” She breathed out, desperate to get him there. “I’m your dirty secret, professor.”

“Can’t fucking stand how you make me feel. Filthy fucking girl. Tell me you want my cum.”

“I want your cum, professor.”

“How bad do you want it?”

“I need it so bad. Please, fill me up with it.”

He growled out her name, burying his head in her neck and biting on the skin. His orgasm rocked through him, and he fucked her through it, not caring when she cried out in discomfort.

He wanted this. To fill her. Claim her. Stake his mark seeing as she’d sought after him. Teased him and poked until he gave in. He’d rip every one of those sundresses off her for a taste of how magical she was.

Like visiting all seven wonders of the world and discovering millions of new ones all at once.

***

I hope you enjoyed x

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Spoiling You

G/N. Soft/Fluffy. Masterlists

"I'm craving-"

Sentence not even finished, Gun has already paused his game and stood up. He hears the object of your heart and stomach's desire, plants a kiss softly atop your head then strides out the door before you even realise.

"...Huh?"

An hour later, a bag full of delicious goodness is deposited in your hands.

.

.

Frankly, what you want, you always get. Gun spoils you.

Trouble is, even if you briefly mention you like something in passing, he would still commit it to memory and it would be in your possession the next day, if not within the hour.

That man takes things to extremes. In fact, sometimes even a passing glance is enough for him to open his wallet and spoil you rotten.

"I feel bad," you tell him, after you find an entire new seasonal wardrobe awaiting on your bed, gift wrapped and bagged.

You had forgotten that an outfit had caught your attention yesterday and your eyes flickered over to the store window.

Gun didn't.

"Don't."

"You spent so much on me though,"

"I have it." Gun says, and you almost swoon from his very much understated flex.

A thought pops into your mind-

"... Is it a kink of yours?"

"What?"

"Being a sugar daddy. Sorta."

Gun pulls a face, "No." 

A predatory glint appears in his eyes and a smirk spreads. "-But I can show you some more of mine."

.

.

If the way he treats you is any indication of his past relationships, you're surprised he's not completely broke.

Actually, maybe what is more surprising is your own self constraint. Your morals.

If you had asked your past self what you would do if you were presented with what appears to be unlimited funds, and you could buy anything you wanted, then you thought you would go fucking hard.

However. Along with gratitude, you feel a pang of guilt despite Gun’s continuous reassurance and unexpected patience.

But gradually, over time, the guilt lifts as you learn this is one of his love languages. A combination of gift giving and acts of service that makes your heart completely melt.

The only difference between him and the average person is that what he considers a normal amount to spend on you is more than some people's entire annual salary.

What's worse is that he never particularly wants anything.  Honestly, he's a complete bitch to buy gifts for. It's almost impossible for you to reciprocate his generosity.

In return though, all Gun ever wants is your time and loyalty. You happily give both in spades. 

(And you pour your efforts into handmade presents instead.)

.

.

"Did you always go this crazy in past relationships?" You ask, gesturing at more gifts you're surrounded by. 

You talked about your favourite band, and the next day boxes and boxes of official merch, their entire discography - signed, was handed over to you.

"Past relationships?" Gun asks, head tilted, single brow arched. As if your question wasn't straight forward enough.

"Y'know. People that you've dated before."

"I haven't dated anyone before." 

Oh?

Gun says that like it's no big deal. Like it isn't the sweetest fact ever. Like... How on earth is that even possible?!

"For real?!"

He nods, and god. You fling yourself at him.

There's no breath of surprise, no stumbling. Bless his unhumanly fast reflexes. His arms are already open, he's poised, steady and unwavering, like he's always ready to catch you.

You make indecipherable noises. You tell him he is adorable and Gun protests that he is not. That just makes him more so.

You're his first relationship, and he doesn't tell you this today, but he also intends for you to be his only one too.

[novella-november]

See, here's the thing about generative AI:

I will always, always prefer to read the beginner works of a young writer that could use some editing advice, over anything a predictive text generator can spit out no matter how high of a "quality" it spits out.

I will always be more interested in reading a fanfiction or original story written by a kid who doesn't know you're meant to separate different dialogues into their own paragraphs, over anything a generative ai creates.

I will happily read a story where dialogue isn't always capitalized and has some grammar mistakes that was written by a person over anything a computer compiles.

Why?

Because *why should I care about something someone didn't even care enough to write themselves?*

Humans have been storytellers since the dawn of humankind, and while it presents itself in different ways, almost everyone has stories they want to tell, and it takes effort and care and a desire to create to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard or speech to text to actually start writing that story out, let alone share it for others to read!

If a kid writes a story where all the dialogue is crammed in the same paragraph and missing some punctuation, it's because they're still learning the ropes and are eager to share their imagination with the world even if its not perfect.

If someone gets generative AI to make an entire novel for them, copying and pasting chunks of text into a document as it generates them, then markets that "novel" as being written by a real human person and recruits a bunch of people to leave fake good reviews on the work praising the quality of the book to trick real humans into thinking they're getting a legitimate novel.... Tell me, why on earth would anyone actually want to read that "novel" outside of morbid curiosity?

There's a few people you'll see in the anti-ai tags complaining about "people being dangerously close to saying art is a unique characteristic of the divine human soul" and like...

... Super dramatic wording there to make people sound ridiculous, but yeah, actually, people enjoy art made by humans because humans who make art are sharing their passion with others.

People enjoy art made by animals because it is fascinating and fun to find patterns in the paint left by paw prints or the movements of an elephants trunk.

Before Generative AI became the officially sanctioned "Plagiarism Machine for Billionaires to Avoid Paying Artists while Literally Stealing all those artists works" people enjoyed random computer-generated art because, like animals, it is fascinating and fun to see something so different and alien create something that we can find meaning in.

But now, when Generative AI spits out a work that at first appears to be a veritable masterpiece of art depicting a winged Valkyrie plunging from the skies with a spear held aloft, you know that anything you find beautiful or agreeable in this visual media has been copied from an actual human artist who did not consent or doesn't even know that their art has been fed into the Plagiarism Machine.

Now, when Generative AI spits out a written work featuring fandom-made tropes and concepts like Alpha Beta Omega dyanamics, you know that you favorite fanfiction website(s) have probably all been scraped and that the unpaid labours of passion by millions of people, including minors, have been scraped by the Plagiarism Machine and can now be used to make money for anyone with the time and patience to sit and have the Plagarism Machine generate stories a chunk at a time and then go on to sell those stories to anyone unfortunate enough to fall for the scam,

all while you have no way to remove your works from the existing training data and no way to stop any future works you post be put in, either.

Generative AI wouldn't be a problem if it was exclusively trained on Public Domain works for each country and if it was freely available to anyone in that country (since different countries have different copyright laws)

But its not.

Because Generative AI is made by billionaires who are going around saying "if you posted it on the Internet at any point, it is fair game for us to take and profit off," and anyone looking to make a quick buck can start churning out stolen slop and marketing it online on trusted retailers, including generating extremely dangerous books like foraging guides or how to combine cleaning chemicals for a spotless home, etc.

Generative AI is nothing but the works of actual humans stolen by giant corporations looking for profit, even works that the original creators can't even make money off of themselves, like fanfiction or fanart.

And I will always, always prefer to read "fanfiction written by a 13 year old" over "stolen and mashed together works from Predictive Text with a scifi name slapped on it", because at least the fanfiction by a kid actually has *passion and drive* behind its creation.

[lily-fics-11]

I Can See You: Chapter 8 (Ellie Willaims, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

It’s been over a month, and I am so sorry! I’ll have a little life update at the end in case anyone cares lol. Thank you to everyone for your patience and support:)

Chapter 8

Your first date with Ellie, who is officially your girlfriend:)

Word count: 4k

CW: *Ellie and reader are both 18*, profanities, sexual innuendo/references, briefly talking about food

Deep breath in. 

An hour until Ellie picks you up for your first date. The hottest girl in school, the hottest girl you’ve ever seen.

Deep breath out. 

Time to get ready, time to get perfect. 

Before washing your face you splash cold water on it first to focus. This is actually happening, it’s not some elaborate day dream. 

The normal skin care routine first, then all the makeup and prep you would usually do for a date or party. A tried and true hairstyle that  always looks good on you. 

Hours had been spent picking out an outfit the night before. Changing into it, you look in the mirror and adjust yourself until your appearance is deemed perfect. 

The buzzing of your phone continues the whole time you get ready, the group chat wanting to hear more about Ellie and the date. They get an answer here and there.

Caroline is protective as usual, telling you not to fall for any of Ellie’s tricks, or let her turn you into some elaborately planned one night stand. 

Melissa was getting intel from her sister, since she is on the lacrosse team. The locker room was full of whispers about you and Ellie after the game. The underclassmen who don’t know Ellie as well thought the whole thing was cute and romantic. The upperclassmen are a little more divided. Some of them feel bad for you, assuming that it won’t go well. Abby and her friends think Ellie is doing it all to spite her. The rest are hopeful that this will mark the official end of all the Ellie girl drama they’ve been so happy without over the last month. 

Nicole is the most nonchalant. Knowing how strong and smart you are, she doesn’t question whether or not you can handle yourself. Though she doesn’t understand it, she knows the effect that you can have on women. If anyone can change Ellie, it’s you. In all honesty, Nicole is most excited to hear your review of the new restaurant more than anything else. 

Then there is sweet, sweet Teresa. Bless her heart she is so excited for you. Asking for pictures of your outfit, hyping you up, and telling you how cute you and Ellie are together. 

Ellie rings the doorbell at 7:00 on the dot.

When you open the door she offers her hand for you to take. “Hello beautiful,” she smiles and drags you into a kiss. Her soft lips welcome you like you’ve just arrived home. She smells good, having just sprayed her perfume. The earthy and woodsy notes have become so familiar. The scent is strong as it washes over you, fogging out everything but Ellie. 

Ellie leads you down the steps but she isn’t looking forwards, but back at you. Taking you in, looking you up and down… there are stars in her pretty green eyes.

“You got all dressed up for me,” she points out, admiring all the effort you put into your appearance. “You look great. Well you always do, just a little fancier tonight.”

“Thanks, you know you look pretty good yourself?” You giggle. 

Ellie, with a slight blush in her cheeks, opens the passenger door of her beat up pickup truck and helps you in. Sitting down herself, she plugs in her phone and turns the music low enough to talk over it, but it’s still loud enough to make out the song that’s playing. She’s playing your favorite song. 

Backing the car up and putting it into drive, Ellie puts her hand on your thigh. But she doesn’t just let it rest there. She grasps your leg so that she isn’t simply touching you, she is holding onto you. 

A smirk creeps up on your face when you take a moment to look at Ellie’s hand. Her veins are well defined. Her fingers are long, adorned with silver rings. 

This small gesture, it’s protective. Possessive. It has your heart beating like you’ve just run a marathon. 

After the car stops you go to open the door but Ellie puts out a hand to stop you. “I’ll get it for you.”

Your face warms and you busy your hands by adjusting your clothes. It’s not that you hadn’t expected chivalry from Ellie, it’s just causing butterflies in your stomach now that it's your first date and it’s actually happening. 

Ellie opens the door and once again takes your hand to help you get out. Her hand is a little sweaty. Is she nervous too? THE Ellie Williams, feeling this way about you?

Walking into the restaurant hand in hand is a surreal experience. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in a window. The reflection of a cute couple is mirrored back. 

The hostess seats you at a quiet spot in the back corner. It’ll be a nice place to just talk and enjoy each other's company without any prying eyes. 

Sitting across from Ellie, you find yourself admiring her beauty, as always. Like a song you can listen to on repeat for hours. It’s something you’ve done a thousand times and will continue doing. The way freckles are dusted over her fair skin and a faint flush colors her cheeks. How her lips curve into an adorable grin. That sparkle in her eyes. 

“I’m so happy to be here with you baby,” Ellie tells you with a hint of shyness “to be your girlfriend.”

“B-baby?” You stutter, surprised by the replacement of the word ‘babe’ with ‘baby’. The word itself feels more significant, as well as the way she says it. It holds a certain conviction. 

Ellie looks down and starts fiddling with one of her rings. “I feel like ‘babe’ is too casual. You’re not just some girl, you’re my girl. You mean so much to me.”

“I like that,” you tell her, placing your hands on top of hers. Ellie looks up at you, meeting your gaze, and her posture relaxes with the familiar feeling of your touch. 

“We should probably look at the menu,” Ellie says, though clearly not wanting to let go of you yet. Nodding, you use your free hand to pick the menu up so you don’t have to let go of her. She follows suit, and you both reluctantly look away from each other and at the menu. 

The waitress takes your drink order while you look over the menu.

“It was nice to meet Joel,” you tell Ellie after taking a first glance at everything.

Ellie peers over the menu with a relieved smile. “I’m happy you got to meet him. It was nice to meet your friends too.”

That receives a chuckle in response. “You don’t have to lie, baby. They weren’t particularly nice to you.”

“They were just being protective. I think it’s good that your friends care so much. So tell me, what did they think? I’m sure they had something to say.” Ellie questions cautiously, putting down her menu to give the conversation her full attention. She laces her fingers through yours to properly hold your hand. 

After tilting your head to the side and taking a moment to go over everything they have said you giggle and admit “they don’t know what to expect.”

Ellie’s free hand nervously grabs the back of her neck.  “That’s my fault isn’t it.”

Squeezing her hand for reassurance softens the worry in her eyes.“It’s just as much my fault. I obviously hadn’t told them it was you I was talking to, but I didn’t really tell them anything. Just that she played lacrosse and went to North, half of it was a lie. I told them there was a girl and that was all I gave them aside from them seeing those hickies on my neck. So when I was like ‘surprise, the girl I’ve been hiding is my girlfriend and actually you all know who she is.’ I was already on thin ice for hiding things from them.”

Ellie nods sympathetically. “You are very close to them, makes sense that they don’t like you keeping secrets. Especially when the secret has the reputation it does.”

Smirking, you tell her “believe it or not, they were way more chill when they talked to you than when I first broke the news.”

The look on her face is one of disbelief. “Seriously? That was them being ‘more chill’?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, seeing the reaction it got from her. “They didn’t even believe me. At first I just told them it was a lacrosse player from our school. They guessed everyone but you and assumed there was a sapphic they didn’t know about before they even considered you.”

Ellie’s eyes narrow. “So they asked about Anderson?”

Biting your lip, you give her the truth. “That was their first guess.”

She looks both offended and disappointed. “They didn’t even guess me? Why not? Am I not good enough?”

Squeezing her hand and giving her a gentle smile, you try and help her relax. “No, they knew that before now you didn’t do relationships.”

Ellie's expression is one of extreme embarrassment. “Oh. Wow,” is all that she can say, and it sounds strained. 

But her expression softens with the way you look into her eyes with deep compassion. “I told them that you aren’t like that anymore. That you’ve changed.”

Her posture straightens and her attitude perks up.“I have.”

“I know that baby. They’ll see,” you promise her. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Ellie is dead serious. It’s obvious that she is devoted.

“I know you will. You are going to impress them. They’ve already started to warm up a little, even if it doesn’t seem like it yet. You actually won Teresa over already.”

Ellie lets out a long breath and smiles. “Tell Teresa that I say thank you. And that she’s a saint.”

“She was very impressed by your romantic gestures and hard launch,” you giggle. 

Seeing you giggle melts Ellie’s heart. “I’m glad she appreciated it. But I wasn’t trying to impress anyone except you. I just wanted to show you how much I care about you.”

“Melissa and Nicole should be easy to win over,” you assure her. “Jackie, Melissa’s sister, is the new freshman on varsity. Just make sure she feels welcome and is adjusting okay. Nicole? She likes Dunkin’ Donuts.”

Ellie’s nod is dutiful, she gives you a salute. “Be nice to the new girl on the team, get an extra coffee when I stop there for you. I’ve got it covered.”

“That’s 75% of the friend group!”

“And the other 25%?”

“Caroline is very stubborn,” you sigh.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” Ellie is very eager. 

“Well, being nice to Jackie will give you some bonus points. Maybe give you, I don’t know, 7%. Doesn’t matter how many times she is told that you’ve changed, she needs to see it. Actions speak louder than words with Caroline. I think that seeing you treat me well over time is what it’s going to take,” you explain to her. 

Ellie nods, looking determined. “I’m going to treat you well. Treat you the best. Everyone will see how much you mean to me.”

“You’re sweet Ellie,” you smile at her. 

She squeezed your hand. “You are.”

“Sweet enough that your friends approve?”

“Well you talked to Paz. I only bothered to talk to my other best friends,” Ellie explains.

Brooke, Anna, Danny, Tim and Mark. Brooke is a soccer player, Anna plays volleyball. Extremely popular, effortlessly beautiful, exceedingly influential. Danny and Mark are lacrosse bros, Tim plays football. Seemingly douche bags, but not the worst of the worst. Brooke and Danny have been an item since freshman year, but Mark is a player like Ellie. Like Ellie was.

You look at Ellie expectantly.

“I’ll start with the good news. Brooke and Danny seem excited for someone else in the group to be in a relationship. Mark is disappointed that I won’t be playing the field anymore. He also asked why you….” Ellie trails off. 

Smiling at Ellie, you reassure her. “You can tell me the truth. 

“Mark wondered why if I was going to have a girlfriend why not… a girl we usually hang out with.” Ellie bites her lip. “I told him how great you are, he’s coming around.”

She doesn’t say anything else, just nervously focuses on her menu.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I’m not offended or anything. What about Anna and Tim?”

She takes a deep breath. “They, uh, will be harder to convince. They think you are using me, that you’ve got an ulterior motive. They think that since you are smart you must have manipulated me into a relationship, that’s why you are the only one to ever get me to settle down.”

The stress on her face melts away when you squeeze her hand and give her a soothing smile. “That’s not unfair, they are just looking out for you, the same way my friends are looking out for me. You’re acting different, it makes sense that they would question why.”

Ellie nods. “I’ve changed for the better.”

“I know that, soon they will too.”

“So uh… do you want an appetizer?”

After ordering you decide to lighten the mood and tease Ellie. “You never told me you had noticed me before I became your tutor.”

“Well yeah, of course I did. Just look at you,” she chuckles. “First time I noticed you, Paz said it wasn’t worth it, that you’re smart and you’d know better. I was too much of a horny little shit not to listen to her. Then any time I looked at you over the years those words were in the back of my mind.”

“I guess that’s fair enough. So what was different this time?” This is something you’ve been dying to know. What changed? 

“When I used to play the field, I would flirt with every girl the same. Talk about lacrosse, all the championships I’ve won. But you didn’t give a shit.” Ellie laughs and starts tracing circles on your hand with her thumb. “I’d never met a girl that wasn’t impressed by that stuff. You weren’t condescending, even though you could have been. It was your job to help me… but it was more than a job to you. Nothing about you was shallow, it was impossible for me to be, even though I normally was. I was starting to feel all that when we played that guessing game. So when I looked into those pretty eyes of yours, after you made me guess what color they were? It was all over for me.”

Once the waitress has served your food and walks away Ellie clears her throat. “Can I… take a picture of you? To put on my story… I wanna show you off.” She’s never sounded so shy before. 

Biting your smile and nodding, you tease her “you know we don’t even follow eachother on social media?”

Ellie’s eyes widen. “We have to fix that right now.” She’s dead serious, even has a sense of urgency. She passes you her phone so you can add each other. On every form of social media, she insists on it. While on Ellie’s phone you see that she has a space aesthetic as her background.

“I like your wallpaper,” you comment while switching from one app to another. “Very space nerd of you.”

“Hey- it’s a nice wallpaper!” Ellie defends herself with a sheepish smile. 

With a smile on your face you let her know you’re only teasing “Baby, I think it’s cute. It’s very you.” After finishing the social media following Ellie takes back her phone when it’s held out to her. 

“Now can I take your picture?” Ellie questions eagerly, like a kid asking for a cookie.

“Only if I can take one of you too,” you giggle. 

Ellie asks you to pose for the picture, but even when you do, her smile is still bigger than yours. 

“Can I see?” Ellie playfully rolls her eyes when you request to see the picture before she posts it. 

“You look perfect, but I guess,” she chuckles, turning her phone. Your eyes are full of joy, a cheesy but genuine smile with a hint of a giggle. “Do you approve?” Ellie teases. 

Nodding your approval you smirk at her and unlock your own phone. “My turn!” 

Watching Ellie pose awkwardly and fixing her hair? It’s possibly the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Her freckled cheeks are flushed pink and she smiles bashfully. When you snap the picture you know that it’s your new favorite. 

The both of you post the photos on your stories, all smiles and excitement to be showing eachother off.

“Now that we have followed each other on social media, and posted each other… I realized that I still have you as ‘tutor girl’ in my phone.” Ellie bites her lip.

You start giggling. “And I’ve still got you in my phone as ‘space nerd’, we should probably change that.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Going to add some cute little emojis or something?”

“Of course, and the picture I just took as your contact photo.” The two of you change what you need to in your phone and put them back away. To enjoy each other's company. 

“Should we get desert?” You ask after you both finish your dinner. 

Ellie smirks. “Well I have movie tickets for us, so you might want to save room for snacks.”

“What are we seeing?” You question with eager enthusiasm. 

“Do you remember that one movie you mentioned?” Ellie asks, not sure if you actually would.

“You remembered?” That movie came up in conversation very briefly, but Ellie does remember the little things. 

“Of course I did. I always pay attention to everything you tell me. Sometimes I write stuff down if I think I might need it later.”

“Like how you took a picture of my Dunkin’ order. Before we even started dating,” you laugh. 

“We weren’t dating but I wanted to impress you. I was kind of dating you in my mind before we made things official…” Ellie blushes. 

Ellie insists on paying the bill instead of splitting it and you leave to go to the movie theater. 

“Baby, what do you want?” She asks at the concessions counter. 

“Um… I’m not sure. I kind of want candy but I also kind of want popcorn.”

“Then get both,” Ellie says nonchalantly. 

You shake your head and laugh. “I don’t need both.”

“But you want both, so I’m getting you both. I already know your favorite candy so you can’t stop me,” she smirks. “Anything to drink?”

“Hmm… I want to get a slushy. But water is better for eating popcorn, so I’ll get water.”

“What flavor slushy do you like?” Ellie smirks.

You softly elbow her in the side. “Ellie you don’t need to get me both.” 

“Yes I do!” She pouts. 

“Blue raspberry,” you sigh. 

Ellie orders everything and insists on paying for it once again because ‘she was the one that asked you to go on the date’. You made it clear you won’t let her always pay for everything and that you plan to spoil her any chance you get. Ellie also tries to carry everything by herself, but you take the drinks so that nothing gets spilled. 

In the theater you sit in the back row. While organizing the snacks and drinks Ellie put up the arm rest between you. “The water bottle has a lid, it can go anywhere. I, however, can't go anywhere. I have to be as close to you as possible.”

Getting comfortable during the previews Ellie wraps her arm around you and you lean into her, resting your head in her shoulder. She kisses the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. You chat before the movie starts, trading starry eyed smiles. 

Once the movie starts the two of you quiet down. Every once in a while you feel Ellie move a little, and eventually you realize it’s to look at you. She’ll stop watching the movie for a few minutes so she can stare at you, and then she has to ask what she missed after starting to pay attention again. Occasionally, Ellie will subconsciously kiss the top of your head. 

At one point she leans over and says “I want to put you in my lap and kiss you but I don’t want to do that on our first date. I want to treat you like a lady.” That makes you giggle. Hearing your laugh makes Ellie’s smile even brighter, it makes her want a kiss so badly, it’s visible in her pretty green eyes. 

At the end of the movie you walk out with Ellie, hand and hand. You see a few people from school and you catch their attention, but that doesn’t even matter when the date is going so well. You and Ellie pay them no mind. 

Ellie parks in your driveway and turns the key in the ignition. 

The urge to tease Ellie was too strong to resist. “I made it out alive.”

She just smirks “You aren’t out of the car yet.”

“Plan on killing me?” You laugh. 

Ellie’s eyes narrow seductively. “Well I plan on taking your breath away.”

Before meeting Ellie this hot to nerdy loser ratio didn’t seem possible. How can she look so unbearably hot while saying something so incredibly cheesy? Now isn’t the time to try and figure that out. “Then get to it, Williams.”

Ellie leans over the center console to cup your face in one of her hands. The other finds itself on the inside of your thigh. She closes her eyes so you follow suit, she lets her lips slowly find yours. She isn’t gentle for long. Ellie starts soft but abruptly deepens the kiss, as if intending to hold back and subsequently failing. Her grip on your thigh tightens but instead of pulling you towards her she presses further into you, practically crawling over the center console. 

“Ellie,” you whisper breathlessly, “come here.” Grabbing onto her and roping her in, she climbs over the center console and clumsily falls into your lap. One of her hands tangles into your hair and the other goes right for your chest while her lips find yours once again. 

You reach for Ellie’s shirt to try and pull it off, but she stops you. 

“Are you okay?” You ask breathlessly, face red and worried.

“Good, so good,” Ellie nods with a smile.

“Then why did you stop?” You ask, holding her face in your hands to get a good look at her expression. 

“We are in a car. Before this we’ve messed around in the library, and a classroom. You deserve better than this. We deserve better than this. If we keep going… I’m not going to want to stop, and we can’t have our first time together in a car.”

You brush a piece of hair out of Ellie’s face. “You’re right. I want our first time to be special*

Ellie cups your face with a gentle hand and gives you a sweet kiss before climbing back into the driver's seat. She takes your hand in hers, intensely holding your gaze. “You’re special. And perfect. And beautiful.”

Blushing, you nervously adjust your shirt for a distraction and look down.

With her index finger on your chin, Ellie tips your face back up. “I mean it!”

“I know you do,” you smile softly, “you’re sweet.”

Ellie chuckles, “I’m just telling the truth.”

Beaming at her, looking into those beautiful eyes, you run a hand through her auburn hair. “You are pretty great too. Beautiful, flawless, extraordinary.” Ellie’s eyes widened, but they are starting to look a little sleepy. Her tiredness is evident. “You had a long day, I’m sure you want to get home and wind down.”

“But that would mean leaving you,” she pouts.

That makes you laugh. “You’re going to have to do that eventually.”

Ellie’s freckles nose scrunches up, brows furrowed. She’s unwilling to accept that. 

“We can hang out again tomorrow,” you promise her, running your index finger along her jawline. 

“I’m going to a party tomorrow tonight, do you want to come with me?” She’s hesitant but hopeful. 

“Is it the one at Kyle’s? My friends want to go because ‘everyone’ is going to be there.”

“Yes, actually!” Excited surprise lights up her face. 

“So, you gonna be my date to the party?” Ellie practically begs. 

You smirk. “Is that an invitation?”

“Of course it is! I want my beautiful girlfriend by my side.”

Ellie walks you to your door and kisses you goodnight, you make her promise to text you when she gets home safe. 

(Space aesthetic wallpaper and Ellie’s outfit are from Pinterest)

I didn’t mean for it to take this long😭 Here it is in chronological order: I went to see my girlfriend and got to meet her daughter for the first time (it was the best day ever). I got sick for a while:( I took a spontaneous trip to see my bestie who lives in Chicago (I live in NY) and then got sick again. My ex (that I’ve been broken up with for over a year but hurt me so bad) texted me confessing her love a week after I posted my girlfriend for the first time and it fucked with my head for a bit lol. Also, I also got a part time job, and I like it a lot! So I’ve been working along with studying for my professional engineer license. I had some issues with filling prescriptions/getting my medications (for mental health) and that really threw me for a loop. I’m hoping now that I’m into the swing of things with work and things have seemed to settle down I’ll have more time to write!! It’s been a lot besties and I’m doing my best😂

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @everegretseverything, @mikellie , @lamolaine, @0pheli4 , @soupycloud, @radioheadfan699 , @callmelola111, @hysteriawillnotsuccumb , @normalthing111 , @3isosoup, @lmaoo-spiderman, @cqliflower, @ellstronaut, @boobdrug, @liasxeatt , @that-queer-fanbase , @benthoee, @charminglilly , @ellieslittleslutt, @dinanellie, @h4by43iie

(I’ve mostly fixed the tag list I think, lmk if you’ve change your @ or want to be added:))

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to do anything to help my roommate's baby?

More of a "was I an asshole" rather than "am I an asshole?"

I (21F) am a college student living in an apartment with two roommates, Anna (22F) and Mica (23NB). I've lived with Anna for two years now and Mica for one, and we've all always gotten along great with no major issues apart from the fact that Anna's boyfriend of several years is emotionally manipulative and incredibly insecure and jealous, but that's an issue for another time, except that I don't like him and make no secret of it. I also don't like children, never want children, and crying babies is one of the biggest overload/meltdown triggers I have because it stresses me out and also triggers some violent intrusive thoughts (I have autism and OCD, which both of my roommates know about, but never cause any significant issues and I don't act on those thoughts.) That is to say, I should not and do not want to be around children.

Anna and I live far enough apart over the summer that we only see each other during the school year, and this year I'm a junior and she's a senior. I showed up at the beginning of this school year and lo and behold, Anna is about five months pregnant. Turns out it happened toward the end of last school year, she didn't tell anyone at first, and didn't bother to mention it over the summer (which I'm pissed about). I was NOT expecting one of my closest college friends to be about to have a baby, let alone one that I'm living with.

For the next few months, I helped her out, drove her to doctor appointments, etc, because of course the shitbag boyfriend lives like three hours away (where Anna lives when she's not at college) and refuses to drive over to help her out himself. However, I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with the baby once it's born. I wouldn't be helping her with diapers, wouldn't babysit, don't want her to put formula bottles on my shelf in the fridge, won't play with the baby or anything. I don't have the patience for that, I don't want the baby in my shit, I work 20 hours a week on top of my classes and homework and do not have time or desire to deal with a tiny human.

Fast forward to when the baby is born, Anna keeps saying she's looking for somewhere else to move, wants to move back full time to live with her shitbag boyfriend, have him help with the baby. Our other roommate Mica helps occasionally with the baby and is willing to do basic stuff and occasionally rocks him to sleep when they're sitting on the couch and stuff, but I refuse. Several months later Anna still hasn't moved out and has barely made the effort she says she will, she talks about the boyfriend a lot but I have literally NEVER seen him in person since the baby was born (he was there for the birth and that's it, drove her to our apartment afterwards since I didn't want to be there, then left again).

If there's ever a time when I'd be the only one home at the apartment and Anna asks me to babysit for a little while, I change plans and always leave so I'm not there even if it just means doing homework at the campus library instead of my room. Anna is exhausted and literally does nothing around the house anymore, never comes grocery shopping with Mica and I because she refuses to leave the baby home alone but doesn't want to take him to the store, I'm doing all of her dishes cause apparently she can't do that either, she asks us to do her laundry and cook dinner and everything for her now and I feel like we're being treated/put into the role of the baby's father.

I cannot stand children, I don't think Anna has any excuse for trying to make us care for her child, she seems to expect us to take care of him while she's in class and she can barely even afford her own share of rent and groceries and stuff let alone a baby (or hiring childcare), and I made it clear even before the baby was born that I wanted nothing to do with him and will not engage with him or do anything for him, and I think my "it's your fault you had a baby, sucks for you, now deal with the consequences" attitude is what might make me an asshole here but I'm so exhausted and my mental energy is always drained from the damn kid screaming and crying and making a mess of the house.

Mica talked to me privately recently and mentioned that they understand that I don't like children and that they're also upset with the fact that Anna can't take care of a child herself when she's a full time college student without a job and a shitty boyfriend who's barely in the picture, but they want me to try to engage more and have a bit of sympathy for Anna and not leave her completely stranded with an infant. I don't want children, I don't want to live with one, and don't want to have to care for one.

It's now April as of writing this and I have since moved out of the apartment (Anna and Mica still live together), I left in January at the start of spring semester when on-campus dorm housing was available and live with another friend whose roommate transferred the prior semester. I still see Anna around campus but I feel like the baby completely ruined our friendship but I still hang out with Mica a lot and occasionally get updates that way. I'm much happier, my mental health is better, and I'm not living constantly stressed and on edge because of the baby, and Anna still hasn't moved in with her boyfriend despite saying she's trying to for months now.

Was I an asshole for refusing to support my roommate and her baby, and essentially giving the ultimatum of "either the baby goes or I do?"

[quixotical-lymbo]

Warnings/Tags: Just some tooth-rotting fluff and very brief mention of mortality. Word Count: 600+ words

Wow! You and the monkey king! What a pair of peaches you two are!

Did he make the first move or you? Surprisingly, I think you would have to be the one to make the first move. Obviously, Wukong could have easily done it—we all know how assertive and confident he is, but perhaps he wanted you to do it to see just how serious you are about courting him. 

Sometimes, he'll drop certain hints or try to steer you in the right direction to confess. Things like 'I wouldn't mind if you stayed longer', 'You hungry? I know a great place we can eat at, just the two of us though', or 'We would look really good together wouldn't we? Ehh, maybe not…who knows?' 

After you make that first step and confess, he'll act surprised before asking what took you so long to say anything. Wukong will tease you for weeks on end about how long you took to confess if you don't shut him up

Anyway-

Where do y'all usually do dates? Your home, his home(s), festivals, and rarely do the two of you go outside of China for dates unless Wukong is feeling extra adventurous. Since he's retired, Wukong has a lot of time on his hands when he's not helping MK save the world or training his successor. Other than the locations, I think Wukong would have a lot of things on his 'bucket list' for the two of you to do. 

Gifts? Oh, oh, be prepared to be swamped with gifts ranging from random flowers that remind him of you, bugs, artifacts, and other extravagant things you couldn't possibly fit in your home. It wasn't until you piped up about the bugs did Wukong stop with the creepy crawlies. 

PDA? Of course, but depending on your preference he can be full-on touchy and obnoxiously sweet, or he could be discreet and have a hand on you somewhere. Just expect to be kissed, hugged, or touched in some way every five minutes or so.

If PDA truly bothered you, Wukong would refrain from doing anything–but when the two of you are finally alone he'll stick to your side like glue and it'll take a while for you to peel him off of you. Good luck ^^' 

First kiss? Perhaps after the first few dates you two shared your first kiss together.  

How he acts around them vs others: I think Wukong would act the same, just more handsy and playful compared to others. Bickering about trivial things, pinching you at random times but not enough to hurt, getting in your face to stare at you whenever you aren't putting your full undivided attention on him, and that kind of stuff. 

Of course, there's the omission of information and white lies that you will not tolerate. Wukong could fool others, but you wouldn't stand for dishonesty especially while the two of you were in a committed relationship. 

At first, it was hard getting Wukong to understand this boundary, but not every relationship is perfect–still, trying to break habits that have lasted for who knows how long is VERY difficult. That's why the two of you started off with the little things. Sure, Wukong slips up from time to time, but he genuinely is putting in an effort to not withhold information from you whether it's regarding life-threatening situations or things like how he is feeling. 

Wukong would definitely take every chance to show off to you, especially whenever he was teaching MK. Sparring without his top, taking a few moments to flex in certain angles–he'll even blow you a few kisses from time to time. 

And you'll eat that shit up every.single.time.

Generally, you're going to need to have a lot of patience and be open-minded when dating Sun Wukong. If the relationship could be described with one word then it's a rollercoaster. There's the ups and downs, perhaps a lot of downs (like the fact that he's going to outlive you), but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[ddarker-dreams]

Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.” 

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered. 

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin. 

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.” 

“Clouds are meant to be admired.” 

“Case in point.” 

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?” 

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…” 

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible. 

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement. 

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.” 

“Then hand me over to someone who can.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker. 

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” 

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright. 

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most. 

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.” 

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath. 

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself. 

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.” 

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body. 

It’s you who kisses him. 

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself. 

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection. 

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part. 

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.” 

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes. 

Such is your capricious nature. 

[lovingmimiii]

Hi, could you please do General Relationship Headcanons for Loona x Male Reader? Thanks for your time!

AAAAAAAAA another request!!! Thank you so much Anon for requesting to my blog! I just want to warn you that I never wrote for HB characters but I have been watching the show so if anything seems out of character PLEASE inform me so that I can improve!! 🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

ᡣ𐭩 General Loona x Male! Reader Headcanons! . . . 🧸

🧸ྀི ~ As we all know, Loona is a short tempered woman. She’s apathetic and shows little matters that are going around her and has a usual scowl on her face. Everyone and their mama know who Loona was before even interacting with her. So when you first saw her you pretty much wanted to stay out of her sight…

🧸ྀི ~ But Loona on the other hand—she had an interest for you. She didn’t know how to express that she might as well be pretty fond with you despite struggling to be fond of anyone else. It was a new feeling for Loona and she didn’t know how to cope with it.

Sometimes this would cause her to be more rude to you than she usually is with everyone else as to try to push you away if you ever tried to communicate with her. She hated herself for it but she didn’t know how to deal with it in any other way besides the way she is used to.

It made her feel twice as bad because you were just an innocent guy who seemed like he’d be an overall sweetheart despite the dump you’re living in. She always feels guilty about her constant lash outs towards you when truly you never did anything to make her this upset.

🧸ྀི ~ It didn’t take Loona to notice how despite how she is towards you, you genuinely believed that she wasn’t that sort of person deep down. She could tell that you were a man of patience and that sort of brought her over the edge and caused her heart to skip a few beats or so. It was quite comforting to see someone give her a chance at being able to break that stone barrier of hers.

🧸ྀི ~ Soon enough, your relationship with Loona grew from being one sided enemies. acquaintances, friends, and then a straight up couple. If took awhile to get where you guys are now but it was worth it!

🧸ྀི ~ Loona tries to learn how to communicate with you better than being an overall meanie to you :(, thank god your one patient man who knows how to deal with a woman like her.

🧸ྀི ~ Loona probably takes control over the relationship because she just has that sort of energy despite not showing it.

🧸ྀི ~ Sure, sure…she doesn’t pay no mind to her surroundings. Always on her phone and drinking…but when her boyfriend is in the room? Oh, all of her attention is on him.

🧸ྀི ~ I’d say that Loons will also try to be more affectionate towards you since you’re always so affectionate towards her.

Quick and sudden kisses are a big thing. Seeing her just suddenly peck your lips and scurry off just makes you laugh.

Maybe some acts of service are her biggest ways of showing you how much she loves you. She may be lazy but that sorta slips when you need something. i know it may seem like she doesn’t care all that much but she truly does love you and she wants you to have the best, better than she had it.

I feel like Loona wouldn’t be the one to try to plan dates and you’re always the one taking her out and stuff like the handsome gentleman you are. However, on rare occasions she’d bashfully ask you if you want to go on a date with her (Hence her cursing herself out mentally) knowing that you’d say yes anyway.

Loona will have the times where she will be protective of you. You’re most likely the best thing that has happened to her in awhile and she can’t lose you.

🧸ྀི ~ One thing Loona is grateful about is how you’re willing to take the time out of your day to put in the time and effort into allowing her to get vulnerable and intimate with you. You’ve showed her that you wouldn’t rush her into something she wasn’t exactly ready for and it brings her comfort. She feels like she doesn’t have to put on a show or rush anything with you because of how patient you are with her. To me, I think that’s one of the key things that a healthy relationship needs to have because patience can go such a long way in a relationship and it’ll build so much more trust and understanding within the relationship. So, I see this being something that Loona recognizes you for and she is happy to have a man like you in her life. Loona is willing to try to do the same act of patience with you as well because she loves you deeply and she wants to be able to share that feeling with you🤎

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 PAVIA - Love Languages (giving)

Headcanons and analysis on Pavia's love languages and the way he likes to show affection.

yeah ok ive been playing reverse 1999 what about it <3

it might be a little too early to write anything for it, given the lack of in-depth content, the awful translation and all, but who cares lol

Pavia as a whole - his speech pattern, the way he presents himself, his appearance, line of work, relationships, etc - can easily be described as brash and straightforward. That direct sincerity and lack of restraint is part of what makes him dangerous. One can always count on Pavia to do and say whatever he wants, whenever he feels like it, regardless of time and situation.

When it comes to showing affection, no one thinks Pavia is capable (let alone willing) of forming lasting or meaningful friendships with anyone other than his pack of wolves. They all expect the same direct and selfish behaviour from Pavia in romantic endeavors, and he delivers wonderfully.

If someone manages to catch his eye, then he'll pursue them and make his intentions very clear - romance is optional and reserved for more "difficult" targets, but he's not the type to put in the effort. All of this inevitably leads to heartbreak and a long line of partners, each and every one fully convinced on being "the one" that would steer Pavia back onto the right track, into a more honest life.

Of course, this just applies to all those fleeting flings and whims, the superficial relationships everyone around him takes at face value to justify their hatred and disapproval of him.

Unless you're part of the pack, it's near impossible to know how Pavia acts around those he truly cares for because of his solitary lifestyle, to the point where those people might not even realize that Pavia cares about them and is actively trying to be nice. His love languages are unorthodox - as well as hidden under a few layers of nonchalance and casualness, I'd even argue that Pavia himself struggles to wrap his head around the concept of caring for someone other than himself - but with enough patience and attention to detail, they'll get easier to spot! Once you understand Pavia and his MO, it all just clicks into place.

Giving: Quality Time, Gifts

[Quality Time]

In this case, the term is used very loosely, as it doesn't exactly match the usual definition - there's no uninterrupted outings nor intimate one-on-one conversations, just an intense presence orbiting around as you go about your day.

This is what Pavia considers "quality time": inserting himself into the lives of those he cares about, entirely unannounced, to follow them until he's had enough or drag them around to do whatever he feels like doing if their routine is much too boring for his taste. The confidence he displays when disrupting people's lives paints him as a jerk with little to no care for their business - after all, how can it be quality time if you can't go buy groceries in peace because Pavia keeps trying to sneak weird shit into your cart and expecting you to pay? It's all pretty on brand for him, to use his presence as an obstacle and annoyance, the same way others have used it in the past as punishment.

But this is Pavia we're talking about. He prefers solitude, he doesn't care for company and he's turned loneliness into both a weapon and a shield.

It's always been very clear to him that no one wants to stick around, so for Pavia to offer his company in this manner is not unlike a stray dog testing the waters, seeing if it's safe enough to come out of hiding. He's gauging your reaction to his antics, his existence as a whole, under the pretense of bothering you because "he feels like it". It's kind of a privilege (and a miracle) to have Pavia seek you out without a bounty for your head! Consider yourself lucky.

But to address the two most common outcomes of this love language - if Pavia takes the lead and drags you around, it means you'll be involved in the most random fucking shenanigans.

Sometimes, he just lets you hang out with him, and you know you're dear to him if he allows the pack to play and relax around you. Sometimes, you're witness to his mercenary work and other shady jobs, willingly or not (he'll call you a coward if you don't want to bury a body with him). Sometimes, he takes you shopping only to dare you to get a five finger discount with him because he sure as hell isn't paying for all this shit. Sometimes, you see him argue for fun with people he doesn't even know. Sometimes, he shows you the hidden gems of his city and then leaves to see how you find your way back.

On one hand, it's a test - to see how you'll do should he choose to stick around for longer than what's acceptable for someone like him. On the other, he wants you to be part of his world, not only small glimpses of it - it's all or nothing. So it's only fair that he shows you the type of shit that you'll be getting into if you allow him to stay. Or rather, to welcome him when he comes and goes as he pleases.

On those scarce days when he prefers to follow you around, he's mostly driven by curiosity. Pavia rejects every conventional notion of leading a "normal" life, to be part of all those blubbering idiots and their made up rules, but he's still curious about how it all works. Do you really just wake up early to get prepared and then go to a job you don't even like? For like, a third of the day? Then you go home? And then you pass out for eight or more hours? Why the fuck would you even do that? Quit your job, what's the point. Live a life of reckless abandon.

He pokes fun at everything that he doesn't like, teases and bullies nonstop (one would have to be delusional to think Pavia's attitude softens around his loved ones, in fact, it gets worse), gets in the way and makes everything harder for you - but then you realize...

No one else has given you any sort of trouble, if else they've been nicer. There's been a sale everywhere you've gone to buy whatever you need, maybe you've been given a surprising discount. If you bump into someone, they apologize profusely. If you make any sort of mistake, it's forgiven immediately. There's always a seat for you no matter where you go, and the world seems to bend at your will for a split second.

You can thank him for that, by the way. Others would kill to have such scary dog privileges. And if things don't go the way he expects them to, that's fine too! He's ready to throw hands at the drop of a hat!

[Gifts]

This one is pretty easy and straightforward! Pavia likes to give things to his loved ones, as long as he doesn't have to pay much for them and as long as they don't ask anything from his personal collection or belongings (he's very territorial). Easy! Oh, and if you ask him directly for something, chances are he'll end up not getting you absolutely fucking nothing - but he'll praise you for trying anyway!

He's a hoarder, so he assumes that others also want lots of interesting and pretty trinkets to spruce up the house. His collection is more of a statement, and one could argue that him wanting to hoard is a direct consequence of the way he was brought up.

Somewhat unrelated, but I do like the specific headcanon about how Pavia is very easy to scam based on various lines in-game, like his glasses being a cheap copy of an actual italian brand and how most of his accessories are described as just garbage with no real value. Either that or he simply doesn't care enough about really owning any expensive brands, but likes to brag anyway.

No matter the reasoning behind it, giving gifts is an important part of Pavia's love languages.

However, he never aims to get you something that you've been eyeing for a while or something that could be useful - it's usually things that remind him of you, for better and for worse. Or really, anything he gets his hands on.

Pavia might show up one day with the ugliest little creature on a keychain, saying that it looks like you. And then, some other day he might show up with some matching earrings he made from scrap metal. If he's feeling particularly nice, he treats you to gelato, his favorite, or he'll have a bunch of fancy clothes or jewelry. Some of the gifts are questionable, and their origins even more so knowing the way Pavia operates and all, but it's up to you to ask him where he keeps getting all these things. It's pretty easy to tell, especially when the clothes are definitely not your size and the jewelry is all pure gold, with small blood stains. You'll have to forgive him, the guy is messy!

If you ever choose to throw away his gifts, Pavia won't hold it against you - it's your shit now, he couldn't care less what you do with it. Sometimes, you think he's simply using you as extra storage or as his personal trash bin.

You'll only see him visibly angry if you lose or throw away something that he specifically made for you. Those are the only gifts that really mean something to him, that should mean something to you! Pavia expects you to wear those little earrings, bracelets or whatever he ends up making - none of his wolves wear collars, so this is the closest thing you'll have to being officially accepted into the pack.

[shxtodxroki]

𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝙰𝚜 𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

Summary: What’s it like being in a relationship with Tamaki Amajiki?

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, brief description of a panic attack, mentions of food

Pairing: Tamaki Amajiki x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

- First things first, getting together with Tamaki isn’t a quick or easy process in the slightest, and it's important that you recognize that before trying to pursue anything with him

- It’s painfully obvious to everyone who’s ever seen him that he’s very anxious and doesn’t put himself out there or take risks easily, so getting into a relationship with him requires a lot of patience, kindness and understanding

- That’s how he knows that you’re the person he’s meant to be with, though. You weren’t put off by how long it took for the two of you to get together, you stuck by his side and continue to show him every single day that you love and care for him despite his anxieties, and he appreciates the effort you put in so much more than he could ever tell you <3

- But back to when the two of you got together lol

- You’d definitely have to be the one to ask Tamaki out officially. No matter how much he wants to be with you, he just can not force a confession directly out of his mouth

- Believe me, he’s so infatuated with you that he has tried, but the words get caught in his throat and his breathing quickens rapidly, causing his vision to get spotty and tears to fall from his eyes

- He falls into a complete panic attack, so even though he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone before, he knows he’ll never be able to confess to you :/

- Luckily for him, you like him too! :)

- You’ve been friends with Mirio since you first came to UA due to his friendly, talkative and extroverted nature, and of course when the two of you started getting close, he just had to introduce you to his “super amazing best friend Tamaki!”

- And it definitely took a few meetings for the two of you to warm up to one another. Tamaki’s shyness made interactions stiff and awkward for a while as you didn't know how to help him feel comfortable around you, but you continued to try to reach out to him, and Tamaki worked hard to push through the anxiety in his gut and meet you half-way in your efforts once he realized you were serious about wanting to be his friend

- From there feelings just kind of developed naturally on both ends. Your personalities fit together easily, like puzzle pieces finally being connected, and you were both drawn to each other in a way neither of you had felt before and mutual crushes eventually bloomed between the two of you

- And you had your suspicions that Tamaki may reciprocate your feelings, as he tried to show you this in his own way after realizing he’d never be able to confess his feelings to you directly, so one day after lots of debating and searching for signs of his feelings, you decided to bite the bullet and just ask him out already, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t scare him off and lose the friendship you had built up completely if you were wrong and he didn’t reciprocate your feelings after all

- Fortunately, you had nothing to worry about, though, as Tamaki eventually managed to sputter out an admission that he would really enjoy going on a date with you after his shock eased up enough for him to get the words out

- Once the two of you finally get together Tamaki’s very much not a PDA person, though I’m sure everyone could have guessed this

- PDA means that attention is on him, and that’s just something that completely makes him freeze up in public

- He doesn’t mind hand holding, though, as that doesn’t draw much attention, so holding your hand or linking your pinkies together is his way of showing you love and affection when the two of you are in school or out in public together

- Because Tamaki’s so shy and quiet, he doesn’t get a lot of time to share his opinions, and he spends a lot of time in his own thoughts. Of course he has Mirio and Nejire to talk to, he’s comfortable around those two, but they’re the only people he was really able to be completely open with until you came along

- But being with you just makes him feel so comfortable, for once in his life he doesn’t feel like every action he takes or every word that falls from his lips is being judged, so he opens up to you in a way that very few people get to see from him

- Eventually the two of you get to the point where he’ll blurt out whatever’s on his mind to share his thoughts with you when the two of you are alone, and it always leaves a smile blooming on your face at how comfortable he is around you as you respond to his opinions and share your own silly, mindless thoughts with him

- One way Tamaki copes with his anxiety when he’s at school is by gnawing at the skin on his lips when he feels stressed, which leads to his lips being pretty chapped most of the time

- He was really self-conscious about it and nervous about kissing you at the beginning of your relationship because of this, he always avoided pressing his lips to your skin in any way out of fear that the rough, jagged skin would make you uncomfortable

- But eventually he confessed these fears to you when you asked if you could kiss him after you two had been on a couple of dates, and you reassured him that you didn’t mind his chapped lips in the slightest, and that you’d never judge him for something like that

- And after that conversation you make sure he knows that you carry chapstick around with you and that he's welcome to use it if he likes, but that you personally couldn’t care less if his lips are always chapped and will happily kiss him either way. You just don’t want him to feel self-conscious when, in your eyes, he’s the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, so if some chapstick can alleviate some of his anxiety and make him feel more confident then you’re happy to lend yours to him

- He likes it best when you put it on his lips for him, though :] It’s such a gentle and domestic act that it makes his heart absolutely swell with love for you as his face is covered in a cherry blush at your close proximity

- You also carry around snacks for him, since you know it’s important for his quirk! You keep his usual snacks that he eats before training on you at all times, so that you can offer them to him if he forgets his own or even if he just needs a little pick-me-up 

- And in return he always carries around an extra water bottle just for you :> 

- He knows that with how busy your lives are it can be difficult to remember proper hydration sometimes, so when he buys himself a water bottle he also buys one for you (and customizes it with cute little stickers of your interests/favorite things like the previous, thoughtful boyfriend that he is <3) and keeps it with him at all times so he can make sure you’re staying hydrated whenever he sees you (which is like, all the time lol)

- Oh oh oh! So y’all know those cute little couple heart-shaped lamp things, the ones that let you send a tiny message to your partner and they’ll receive it on their lamp and that you can control from your phone?

- Tamaki totally buys those as a gift for you on your anniversary or something like that. At first he was worried you’d think they’re lame and cheesy and wouldn’t like them, and he was very thankful when you got all excited about the gift and wrapped your arms around him as you pressed kisses across his face and thanked him profusely

- He knows you get to see each other pretty much every day, but he still likes being able to send you a “good night, I love you” message on the little lamps every night, and he likes being able to turn off your light for you to make sure you get a good night’s rest <3 (He knows he could just send the message as a text, but this feels more cute and personal to him)

- One of the best qualities Tamaki has in your relationship is that he’s an excellent communicator. The thought of losing you makes him feel physically ill, so he never wants any serious issues to develop between the two of you and always communicates whenever he’s having any kind of trouble, and encourages you to do the same with him

- If there’s an issue he wants to resolve it calmly and quickly before it can blow up or get out of hand, and if you’re struggling with something and need support, then he always wants to be right by your side helping you through your struggles however he can <3

- I know I said this before, but he’s seriously so, so thankful for all that you do for him. You help him through his meltdowns and panic attacks and the stress of being a hero-in-training and you absolutely light up his life, he truly thinks you’re brighter than every star in the sky and he just wants to show you the same love and care that you always do for him

- He wants to repay your kindness, to be an equal in your relationship and support you the same way you always support him

- And y’all know how he always refers to Mirio as the sun? Well in his mind you’re his star, he kind of sees himself as the night sky and you light up his world, filling him with a brightness that helps keep him going and allows him to be just as amazing and beautiful as you <3

- “Star” eventually becomes one of his pet names for you, and his other favorites are typically “babe” or “angel”. He only uses pet names when the two of you are alone or maybe around Mirio and Nejire on his best days, though, so you always cherish them whenever he uses one

- And even after you two have been dating for years, he still flushes at every nickname or ounce of physical affection you give him <3 He never gets tired or bored of you and your affections, you’ll always leave a swarm of butterflies in his stomach no matter how long you’ve been together

- Cuddling with Tamaki is typically a balance between him being the little spoon and you being the little spoon, depending on the day

- If he’s had a rough day or is feeling down he likes to be held by you, burying his face into your chest as his safe space as he allows his breathing to even out and his mind to clear in your gentle hold while you whisper sweet words into his ears

- But sometimes he also wants to hold you, to show you he can protect you and comfort you as well. Especially when you've had a rough day, typically he’s not the one to initiate cuddles but if he can see you’re struggling then his mind fills with determination and he easily wraps you up in his arms, running his hands up and down your back to soothe you and holding you until your stress or pain dissipates <3

- Overall Tamaki’s genuinely the most soft, gentle and loving boyfriend you ever could have asked for. All he wants is to make you happy, to prove to you every single day that he’s worthy of your love and that he loves you unconditionally as well <3

Request - Anonymous said: Could I get some headcanons for Tamaki? I love him so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹 anything fluffy please!

A/N: AAAA y’all I always get so excited to write for Tamaki, this was so much fun and he’s literally my favorite character so I’m ALWAYS down to write for him! :D This actually ended up being way longer than I meant it to be because I’m delusional for him lol, but I hope you guys enjoy this! I have the next 5 days off of school thanks to testing for the younger grades lol so hopefully I’ll be posting more writing these next couple of days! My requests are also still open as of now, so if you have any requests feel free to send them my way and I’ll get them added to my request list (linked in my navi) asap! :)

Taglist: @rebloglikeyouneedtoo @papijean @trashy-bowtie @thekaylahub @eunoiasa @applepie-macaroon @ghostofscarley @lemonadae-caekie @swiftbyul @shinsosmatcha

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[beelsfav]

minors and ageless blogs, do not interact. 1.6k words. (whb) fem! beelzebub/afab! reader. footplay near end.

Beelzebub loved to claim that she was fantastic at sex. Between her clones, skillful mouth, and willingness to try anything, what was there to want?

Truthfully, you'd love for her to put more effort into your trysts after she gets home from spending months traveling.

A part of you knows that she does it to bully you. She loved to see you pout and whine whenever you were so desperately chasing your high, laying back in her perfectly fluffed pillows to watch you sob while riding her.

Today it was a long string of nudes, videos, and audios while you were out. Half of them was her begging and pleading for you to ditch Amon to join her while the rest were just messy videos of her getting off with a pair of your underwear pressed to her nose and mouth.

(You'll ignore how your shared laundry basket was now toppled and scattered across the room.)

The toy she brought home today was new but not entirely lost on you. The many times you had the funds to look through whatever shop called to you that week, you clicked over it curiously before ultimately moving on to the next.

Maybe you forgot to close a tab on your browser. It'd be the most likely explanation for how Beelzebub knew to buy the double-ended dildo, giving you a view of half the toy snuggly tucked inside her sex as her hand lazily rubbed circles on her clit.

"You're not going to make me do all the work, are you?"

She has the audacity to look offended, leaning onto her elbows with twitching fingers. "I would never!" Gesturing for you to join her on the bed, Beelzebub tilts her head to the side and rolls her hips to entice you. "Besides, when have I ever made you do all the work?"

In the few months you've been staying in Abyssos you'd need three hands to list every time. It'd undoubtedly leave you with trouble functioning, a missing Beel, and needing another hand, but that was a battle for another day.

Instead, you kneel on the bed and begin to strip. She watches you while her hand saws the toy in and out, pants and moans heaving out of her mouth as she clenches around the toy. The hand not working the dildo finds itself tweaking one of her pierced nipples and you can't shove your shorts off fast enough.

Beel yanks your arm and shoves you into the mattress once you're free. She ruts the curved end of the dildo into your folds while her hands anchor themselves on your hips, thumbs spreading your ass and leaning back so she can better savor the view. "D'you want my fingers first, or d'ya wanna skip to the fun?"

Your hips rock into hers when she stills, back arching to try and get the shaft of the toy to slide against your bundle of nerves. "I don't care," you sigh into your arms, holes fluttering when she breaches your ass with her thumb, "just hurry up."

Even if you can't see her, the smile on her face is loud as she pulls away and catches the tip on your opening. "Didn't anyone teach you patience?" Her hands leave your body before swatting at the backs of your thighs, massaging the skin while she makes her way down to your calves.

Beel lowers herself until she's sitting, forcing your legs to straighten out so you're laying flat on your stomach. She guides the tip of the dildo until it pushes its way inside your walls, pulling you by her hold on your legs and sighing when your sexes are flush against each other. You both let out garbled moans when she hooks a thigh over one of yours while the other fixes itself under your other.

Nails dig harshly into your thighs, no doubt drawing blood. "Fuuuck," she cries, rutting her bushy mound against yours. The curls and texture of her unruly hair winding around until it's brushing against your clit, your sighs and keens growing in volume.

The muscles in Beel's thighs tense as she pulls away ever-so-slightly, taking the toy with her. The grip her calves keep on your legs is near bone-crushing, using the leverage they offer to push and pull until the dildo is halfway out of your cunt, pulsing and clenching until—

"Hand me that, babe!"

It's an effort to dig your head out of your arms and stop teeth grazing against the skin. When you're successful, you cock your head to better look at Beel, brows furrowed and slowly losing the heat coursing through your blood.

"What?"

"The remote— the small one— hand it over."

Following her finger pointed at the nightstand, you reach out for the item before looking it over. "If I give you this," you start, holding the remote out of her reach, thumb rubbing over the smooth rubber of its buttons, "will you be normal about it?"

"Normal," she parrots with a snort, ignoring the glare you give her. Her fingers flex expectantly, smirk painting her lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Curling the leg under hers, you shake your head and try to pull her (and the dildo) back to you. "Then don't worry about it. I'll hold this."

Beel sucks her teeth and drops herself from her elbows, dragging you back until your flush against each other again. She lets out a heaving sigh when her clit presses itself between the globes of your ass, hands squeezing until it hurts as she ruts and bucks before pulling back.

She sets herself into a rhythm before long. Clench, pull, slam forward, clench, pull, slam, clench, pull—

"SHIIIT!"

Her yowl in the air is louder than the throaty noise you release into your arms. Beel's hips dropping onto the bed stabs the shuddering toy into the walls of your cunt, the shaft of it pressing against the most sensitive part in your walls while the head presses dangerously close to your cervix.

While starting off at the highest setting wasn't your intent, you can't say you hated it. Your nails claw into the sheets while your moans muffle themselves with the pillow, thighs trying to jolt and twitch from where they're now trapped around Beel's.

When she gains sense enough to pick herself up, Beelzebub takes a steadying breath before yanking you against her again. She's mindlessly babbling about how good it feels while throwing her leg across your stomach, hands now clutching at your thighs to keep herself grounded as she rolls her hips against yours.

You reciprocate the action as best you can as your sensitivity grows. "Beel, Beel," you gasp, bundle of nerves getting itched and scratched by her bush and the coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. "I can't— mm— fuck!"

"Y'feel that? Y'wanna co— hmm!— Y'almost there?" Her back arches and the tip of the dildo jumps against that spot in your walls again. Forcing you to straighten your legs, Beel curls her stomach so she can press her lips to the bottom of your foot, tongue darting out to lick the sweat sliding out it before she goes back to speaking. "You'll let me taste ya' after, yeah? Wanna keep the party goin' a little longer?"

God, if you didn't want that. The pressure in your sex was getting more and more noticeable, the squelching of your combined wetness against your clits and the toy ringing in your ears seems to be the only thing you can hear. It feels like tears are trying to slip from behind your lids, your throat burning from the gasps and hiccups she manages to pull from you.

When your high washes over you and oversensitivity is jolting you like shocks of lightning, Beel seems no closer than she was before. Another press of another button through your haze gets you both twitching, her mouth mindlessly drawing your toe inside so her tongue can begin laving at it.

You flinch when her teeth run over the sensitive skin, sobbing when she begins to grind with a new fervor.

"Fuck— ugh— me! Shit!— mm!— God damn it!—" Beel curses and curses, claws digging into your thighs until you're sure she drew blood. She manages to pull you into her more, moaning at the way your teeth sink into her calf.

She keens when she finally comes and you can't help but follow after when her rutting becomes more focused on hitting your clit again.

You're quick to shut the toy off and collapse as though you're boneless. Beel's panting with a smirk when she gets over her high, clenching around the toy and dragging herself up and off the toy. "Atta' girl," she rasps, rising to her knees so she's straddling you. Her hand grips the dildo and pumps it in and out of your cunt before pulling it out. "That felt a lot better than what I've ever given you, didn't it?"

A weak moan leaves your throat as she manhandles you onto your back. "Mhm." Short and curt because, quite frankly, you don't think you could manage anything else. It was nothing like when she brought her clones in, but it was still something. "Was good."

When you pry your eyes open and force yourself to look at where she hovered above you. Most of the dildo is pressed down her throat, a finger and a thumb keeping it from sliding down to her pit of a stomach as her throat bulges around it. She's slow to pull it out, letting the taste of your mixed wetness linger on her tongue before tossing the toy across the room.

Beel leans until you're pressed chest-to-chest, the chill of her nipple piercings transferring into yours. She sniffs and tongues around your neck, smile growing as her hands find purchase on your hips before beginning to wander.

"You can take some more then, can't you?"

[suuuupernovaaa]

plltxe

plltxe [p·ḷ.ˈt’·ɛ] v. speak

Anonymous Request: Can I request a Lo’ak fic where his female mate is scared to love and open up to him as she finds it hard to trust people, and he is so patient with her and doesn’t pressure her in any way. He sees her crying one day and is gentle with her and is so happy that she is finally opening up to him and being affectionate with him?

Y/N has a stutter, and Lo'ak is furious when someone makes fun of her for it.

1,296 words

Sometimes, even though the words are perfectly strung together in my head and I know exactly what I want to say, it takes so long to get them from my mind, past my lips.

Some words get twisted, others I get hung up on, and I have to speak in as few words as possible so that I can get my point across.

As a child, I was teased mercilessly for it. For quite a time, I stopped talking, and I focused on perfection in every single area of my life, besides speech.

I am a profoundly excellent hunter, a beautiful flyer, I can weave beautiful tapestries on the loom, fish enough to feed the clan, create fine jewelry and clothing, and braid hair in ornate patterns for special occasions.

The only thing I cannot do, is speak. Not without great effort, and great anxiety.

Lo'ak has never cared. He talks enough for the both of us, and any spoken sentiment I send his way, he sits patiently and attentively, listening.

Lo'ak is kind, and generous, and too good for me. I know I have kept him at arm's length, but it's a habit. No one has ever had the patience for me before - not even my own parents - so it's hard to imagine that he will not get sick of waiting for me to say what I mean.

Soon, we are to be mated. He asked, and I replied with one word: yes.

Still, it feels as if I haven't really let him in yet.

--

Lo'ak returns from a long hunt with his father and brother, dragging a sled behind him with their kills. They drop the meat off at the fire pits to be prepared and used later that evening, and without hardly a goodbye, he turns and leaves his family, looking for her.

She is not in her hammock, so he checks the next place he thinks he'll find her, and he has luck.

There is a small pond, not too many paces from home tree, where children swim during the day. It is too shallow to be of much use besides that, but there is a branch that hangs over, just tall enough to sit on and dangle your feet in the water; she comes here a lot.

Lo'ak approaches, but she doesn't notice. As he gets closer, he realizes why. She's crying.

He has never seen her cry, and he stops in his tracks. Y/N isn't a woman of many emotions. She smiles and laughs a lot, but she keeps her true self at a distance from everyone.

He knows why. He saw how she was treated, growing up, because of her difficulty with speech. He never understood why it mattered to anyone - he thought she was smart, talented, skilled and beautiful.

Lo'ak approaches slowly, but announces himself as he steps onto the branch.

"Y/N," he says.

With a gasp, she turns to him. She places her hand over her heart, indicating that he startled her.

"Sorry," he whispers, sitting next to her. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

She turns back to the water, her wet cheeks reflecting the moonlight.

"You can tell me. Anything, you can tell me."

To Lo'ak's surprise, she leans over, placing her head on his shoulder. Without hesitation, he wraps his arm around her waist. Even though he's concerned for her, he can't deny that he's thrilled to be holding her so intimately.

"Come. Come home, and we'll talk," Lo'ak says. "Away from anyone."

She nods, and takes his hand, allowing him to lead her the short walk to the alcove they have carved out of the side of home tree. Once inside, Lo'ak is relieved to see that she is no longer crying, but he still wants to know what happened.

"Did someone hurt you, Y/N?" he asks.

She shakes her head, and grabs his arms. She sinks to the floor, crossing her legs below her, and pulls him along. He sits in front of her, and her hands move from his arms, down over his elbows and forearms, and finally, they hold his own hands.

He grips tightly to her.

"You can tell me. Take your time."

She takes in a deep breath.

"I... went hunting," she says, in the slow cadence she usually adopts. "It was good." She stutters on the word good, stopping and starting a few times, until she finally gets it out. She takes another deep breath, and closes her eyes. "I brought the kill to the pits. Marek thanked me," she pauses her. Sometimes, Lo'ak has noticed, when she really gets into a story, the words come easier. Her cadence picks up, just slightly. "He said, I must like to spend time with animals. Because, they don't care... I can't talk."

As she finishes her story, tears pool in her eyes again, and she looks down, her face ashamed and embarrassed.

The rage that overtakes Lo'ak's entire body is powerful, unlike anything he's ever felt before. Childhood teasing is one thing, but Marek is a grown man, making fun of a woman - his woman - for providing for their clan.

Lo'ak sees two choices ahead of him. The first is to get up right there, find Marek, and beat him so badly that he himself never utters another word. Maybe he could grab Neteyam on the way, and make sure Marek never does anything again, at all.

Though he feels momentarily blinded by rage, he knows that's not what his future mate needs.

She needs him here, now.

"I will kill Marek later," Lo'ak says through a tense jaw, and a ghost of a smile crosses Y/N's face. "Your skills at the hunt are unmatched, Y/N. You provide for us all." He reaches down, touching the ornately woven rug below them. "You have woven beautiful rugs that nearly half the alcoves in home tree are adorned by. People see them, and think of you, gratefully. Kiri and Tuk tell everyone that it is you who so beautiful braids their hair for every dance and feast, and they've told me how jealous all the other women are of your talents. It is true, Y/N, that you speak differently from the rest of us. You do not speak worse. You speak differently. It is slower, and it is worth waiting and listening to. Everything you say holds meaning. Every word out of Marek's mouth is useless garbage, and it would be better if none of us ever had to hear him again."

He could go on, and on, all night if she needs - but she falls forward into his arms, crawling into his lap, heaving sobs into his chest.

Shocked, he wraps his arms around her, and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I will kill him tomorrow," Lo'ak whispers.

Taking deep breaths, Y/N looks up at him. "Not sad," she replies, and points to the tears on her face. "Happy. Feel lucky, to be your mate."

The rage in his chest subsides, replaced by an overwhelming wave of pride and love towards his amazing woman in his arms. He leans back against the wall, and she settles between his legs, resting on his chest.

Her breathing slows, in and out, and he thinks she may be drifting off. It is not lost on him, that this means she is comfortable with him, being vulnerable to him for the first time ever.

He stays awake half the night, just reveling in the feel of her laying on him, the soft sounds she makes in her sleep, the way she lays so still on him. He hopes it means she's comfortable.

He will kill Marek tomorrow, and hopefully every night after, they will sleep like this.

[blacktofade]

Fic: gemtho [NC-17]

Inspired by the "game" from Gem's S10E03 (aka I found an excuse to write filth).

--

“You said I could take anything,” Gem reminds Etho, who stares up at her, eyes wide and skin flushed above the line of his mask.

“Yeah, but I meant — ”

Her hands work at his belt and then his pants, getting both of them open, pushing and shoving for what she wants.

“I made my choice,” she says, managing to slip his pants far enough down his hips that she can see he’s half-hard already. “I’m gonna take you.”

His hands are tight on her waist and his mask shifts in time with his breathing, but he doesn’t argue. Not even about the fact that she has him flat on his back in the grass just outside of his home, where anyone might see.

“You could’ve just asked,” Etho groans when Gem spits into her palm and reaches down to stroke him.

“It’s about the game,” she reminds him, and it feels good to have the weight of him in her hand again.

They haven’t done this since they moved, swept up in the chaos of starting over, but she’s missed it — missed him.

And it’s clear Etho feels the same, because it hardly takes any effort to get him the rest of the way hard, the curve of his cock and the wet tip of it making Gem ache inside.

Etho’s hands slide higher, groping at her in a way he doesn’t usually, not unless she really gets him worked up, and she finds out quickly that it’s what she needs.

Part of her wishes she was wearing her skirt still, because if she was, all she’d have to do is tug her underwear to the side and she could take him. Instead, she has to pull back, away from everything she wants.

Etho grunts, but it doesn’t take Gem long to kick off her boots and slip out of her pants and underwear, and Etho stares like he can’t get enough, even after seeing her bare so many times before.

Briefly, he reaches down as though wanting to get his fingers on her — or maybe in her — but she bats his hand away, too impatient for anything that’ll slow her down.

“Gem,” he tries, voice tight, but Gem’s already holding his dick steady, guiding him into her as she slowly sinks down.

Etho’s head tips back, his throat bared, which makes it easy for Gem to fold forward and get her mouth on it.

He feels so good filling her up and he doesn’t move, letting her set the pace she wants, even as she works a bruise onto his skin. The fact that he doesn’t tell her not to makes her even wetter, knowing he wants to walk around with it, that he’s okay with anyone seeing it.

She digs her teeth in, just enough to make him moan as she finally settles on his hips, his cock as deep as she can get it. It’s been long enough that the stretch of it stings a little and she knows she’ll feel it later.

She gives the line of his jaw a final kiss before pulling away, sitting back and looking down at him.

His headband has shifted, his hair a little tangled and flyaway, but he’s breathing hard and staring back at her with dark eyes.

“Still wish I’d taken something else from your base?” Gem asks and Etho exhales forcefully.

“No.”

She smiles at the fact that he answers, like he knows she’d force him to if he didn’t, and then rolls her hips, giving him what he clearly wants.

He lets out another breath and Gem continues, enjoying the feeling of him nudging so deep inside, and she keeps at it for a long moment, reaching between her legs to rub at her clit to help adjust to him.

She could come like that, given enough time, but she doesn’t think she has the patience for it. After so many weeks with nothing but her own hand, she wants Etho to make her come hard and fast.

“Y’know, I never said you couldn’t move,” she muses, watching Etho’s expression shift. “You’re doing that voluntarily.”

His gaze tracks her and she sees the moment he understands, and she feels the moment he understands when he brings his hands up to her back and the world starts to tilt.

Somehow he manages to roll them, slipping out of her only long enough to untangle his pants from around legs, before he pushes her thighs open again and shoves back inside.

She laughs, throwing her arms out and enjoying the softness of grass beneath them.

Etho fucks her with a strength she still hasn’t grown accustomed to, still takes her by surprise, and it’s exactly what she needs.

“God,” she groans, curling her legs around his waist, trying to pull him even deeper with every thrust. “I missed this.”

The frantic snap of Etho’s hips wordlessly says he feels the same, but she can see it in his expression, too. The way he stares at her as though he’d try to find her in any universe they fell into.

She shuts her eyes and turns her hands palms-down, clutching at the ground beneath her, breathing hard and chasing the feeling growing inside her.

Etho moves against her, though his thrusts never stop, and Gem startles as his mouth finds her own, mask no longer in the way. She pushes a moan between his lips alongside her tongue and he kisses back with a fierceness she’s never felt from him before.

It’s like it’s the only way he knows to tell her he never wants them to be apart again.

“Yeah,” she says against his mouth when he finally breaks away to catch his breath, and she hopes he knows it’s the answer to his unspoken question.

Their bodies are loud in the silence around them, but she can hear and feel how Etho is already beginning to lose rhythm, the way he trembles trying to keep up the pace.

“Want me to pull out?” he asks, lips grazing her cheek and Gem shakes her head.

“Don’t care,” she pants, because either way she’ll have to wander down to the river to wash. She’s so wet, she’s a mess already.

Etho adjusts, just enough that every thrust manages to rub her clit at the same time, and she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Etho,” she begs, and in no time at all, he has her coming the exact way she’s needed — deep and devastating.

She’s still shaking from it when Etho gets a hand under one of her knees and pushes it up, fucking her faster but with none of the precision, and when he follows her over the edge, it’s with a loud groan that she can feel through his chest.

He keeps moving — maybe to push his come a little deeper, though probably just because it feels good — and with how wound up she feels, she knows she should take advantage.

“Keep going,” she tells him. “Just a little bit more.”

He’s probably sore and oversensitive, but he still obeys, and Gem reaches between them, circling her clit with two fingers just long enough to make herself come again, the second orgasm hitting sharper, but just as hard.

“Gem,” Etho says, sounding a little astonished, a little broken, but Gem lets herself go boneless with a laugh, her legs dropping from around Etho’s waist.

“God, I needed that,” she sighs, and Etho carefully pulls out before dropping into the grass beside her.

She stays there, eyes closed, catching her breath, a gentle tugging at her hair that suggests Etho’s playing with it as he rests next to her.

She can feel his come dripping out of her, cooling quickly, and yet can’t bring herself to care.

When she opens her eyes, Etho’s watching her, but when he notices, he smiles — a rarity for her to see.

Carefully, she rolls toward him, throwing one leg over his own and bringing a hand up to his face, thumb nestling in the dimple of his cheek.

“I’m glad we’re neighbors,” he tells her, and happiness bubbles up through her chest and escapes as a laugh.

“I’m glad, too, Etho.”

When she leans in to kiss him, he meets her halfway.

[merakiui]

I love your apocalypse au so much omg. Especially with Riddle like MMMMMM

How would the rest of the compound leaders treat their brides? (Including RSA and Rollo if that’s okay)

:D thank you for enjoying it!!

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, misogyny, apocalypse logic, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, obsession)

Riddle is controlling. He has built up a system with rules and it must not be broken. Naturally, these rules extend to you and he expects you to follow them. He may seem cold and mean and immensely difficult to get through to, especially when he has such a short temper, but if it weren't for Trey's placating words and actions you probably would have found yourself cast out long ago. Riddle has to learn to live with you, much like how you have to learn to live with Riddle. He only took you as a bride because it's part of the rules, so for a while he views you as more of an obligation rather than someone he might want to spend a life with. It takes time, but Riddle will warm up to you and, hopefully, soften enough to be lenient when it comes to the rules. Always so efficient, he has a schedule listing all of the days in which he hopes to try for a child with you, and leading up to those times he'll be sure to prepare you well in advance. If you can smooth his rough edges, you'll find he can be a pleasant, caring husband. And perhaps a child is what he needs to learn patience in order to keep his anger in check!

Leona is respectful with you. He makes sure you're given proper treatment by those around you, and if anyone has a problem with you they have to take it up with the leader first. Though he can be lazy and oftentimes most of his work falls to Ruggie to complete, he is honest about what he wants. He has no need for mind games or intricate webs of lies. Leona is fairly blunt about it: he picked you because a leader needs a bride and you're supposed to give him children, but if you're against it he's fine with it. It's not like he's desperate to have children any time soon, and you're an interesting herbivore. If anything, he keeps you around because you're amusing and he likes using you for sex. If you know how to take advantage of good things, your relationship with Leona will become very give and take. It's important to note that, though you may annoy him at times, he never raises a hand to you or snaps at you or treats you cruelly. Leona respects you a lot, even if he never admits it outright, and he knows just how admirable it is for you to be able to take on the roles expected of a bride. He supposes that, after spending so much time with you, he's come to tolerate you. (In Leona language, that means he likes you. <3)

Azul is all business, so he views your relationship with him as a mutually beneficial transaction (i.e. he's rather distant with you and only does what's expected in a bride-husband relationship: the bare minimum). To be crudely blunt, he knocks you up and provides you with a comfortable environment and everything else a pregnant bride would need and in return you give him children, company, a reason to boast to other compounds about his sweet, healthy, always-pregnant bride. It's a lovely deal made even better when you take into account how truly lonely he really is. Azul's married to his work, so he never has time for relationships outside of compound leader duties. But his connection with you forces him to make a conscious effort to build something wonderful and everlasting, and he's always been a secret romantic at heart. It's no surprise when he finds himself considering you from new angles, no longer viewing you as a contractual obligation but rather as his bride to love forever and always. You may hate him; you may love him, or you might be indifferent on the matter. But one thing is very clear: Azul won't let anyone else have you.

Kalim treats you like you are the sun, the moon, and the entire universe all wrapped into a single person. He simply adores you, and he'll spoil you rotten even if he hardly knows you. Living as Kalim's bride is arguably the easiest and most comfortable compared to the other compounds. Kalim ensures you're fed the most delicious meals and snacks, you're given the warmest, nicest-smelling baths, and that your clothes are always tailored to fit you wonderfully (including the maternity wear that you'll eventually fill into). It can be overwhelming to receive such genuine care and respect from him when times are so uncertain and the world beyond the compound is dangerous. You suspect there's more going on behind the scenes, but why should you bother worrying when Kalim is always taking such good care of you? It's a normal relationship for the most part. You just can't leave, you're bound to Kalim forever now, and you're expected to have lots of children. But then that's the new normal of the world. Nothing can be done to change that, right? :)

Vil is critical of you. He always is with everything in his life. After all, even in an apocalypse, he will look and act his best and most beautiful! So it's natural he would want you to reflect your own natural beauty. Though that may seem like he's overly scrutinizing or even strict when it comes to your diet and what you do in your free time... Truthfully, Vil just wants you to lead a happy, healthy life, and since you're his bride he wants you to be able to revel in the wondrous glow pregnancy will bestow upon you. Vil also has schedules he sticks to. He expects you to follow the one he prepares specifically for you, which means you're expected to eat healthy foods and snacks, exercise alongside him, allow him to prepare you for pregnancy, and so on. Even though it's overwhelming and tiring, Vil does care for you quite a bit. It may be hard to see when he's scolding you for sneaking unhealthy snacks or trying to sleep in when you're meant to join him on a morning jog, but he just wants you to be at your best!

Idia neglects you. A lot. He only agreed to take a bride because it's what's expected and his parents wouldn't stop not-so-subtly bringing it up when he'd check in with them on occasion. It didn't help that Ortho was in his ear talking so excitedly about how he can't wait for his brother to find a special someone who he can settle down with! Idia has no interest in you, preferring to spend his days playing games or working on side projects. He lets you do your own thing so long as it doesn't cause any troubles for the compound, and if anyone hounds him about how he ought to start sleeping with you Idia complains and complains. He's not interested in 3D. It would be so much better to just fuck an anime girl in VR...or something. If you're really so desperate to be filled, the doctors can just inseminate you and he'll never have to come within touching distance. But of course his opinion will change when he finally looks at you rather than through you and begins to truly consider a real relationship with you. And since you're all his, you'll have no choice but to accept him whether you want him or not. It's really such a good cheat code!

Malleus is new to this sort of relationship. He was most likely your friend before your husband, as he values the sentimental nature of relationships forged over time. He wouldn't choose just anyone, and he feels drawn to you the most so of course it's no surprise when he takes you as his bride. Malleus is suffocating, always hovering you (even more so when you're carrying his clutch), but he just can't help it. He loves to be around you, to feel your presence, to be wrapped up in your warmth. He is so infatuated with you and everything that you are, and he doesn't spare you of the compliments, showering you with them in the quiet private of his bed chambers, whispering them into your skin like prayer. Malleus is sweet and gentle with you, and he's very protective of you. If he can't accompany you, then you'll find yourself in Silver or Sebek's care. Like Kalim, having Malleus as a husband isn't terrible. He wants you to like him for him, and he wants you to be comfortable. But since you were friends (and still are) before becoming husband and wife, he's much more familiar to you and that helps in fostering a stronger bond.

Neige loves, loves, loves you!!! He's so head over heels. The two of you probably met by pure chance. Maybe you delivered his laundry to him or you served him a meal once, but in Neige's eyes that was when your fairytale began. It was a chore to track you down, but once Neige finds you he's quick to make you his bride. He's so blinded by love and willing to do anything and everything for you that it can often feel so stifling. He never gets angry with you, and he's so patient. Even if you might fight him, he remains devoted, hopeful that one day you'll be able to see his perspective. He wants to build such a nice family with you so that this fairytale can have its happily ever after. Even if getting there means he has to be a little nasty and deceitful, he'll do whatever it takes. After all, love is always stronger than hate! You might not like him now, but soon you will. All it takes is time.

Che'nya thinks you're so fun to play with. He's always been mischievous, so it's highly likely he was visiting you during your shifts in the compound. Sometimes it was to bother you by swiping laundry you were folding and dancing around the room while invisible, chuckling at your attempts to snatch it back. Other times it was to simply watch you in secret, noting how you interact with other brides, how you look after the children, how you spend extra time in the kitchens trying to teach yourself new recipes. Che'nya is rather impulsive in his decision to take you as his bride, but he doesn't regret it! The way he treats you doesn't change one bit. If anything, he's even more attached to you than he was before, and since you're all his now he gets to have so much fun filling you up every single night.

Rollo has views that are very...dated. You're not sure if he even likes you; he's always frowning and scowling, and he never smiles genuinely at you (or at anything or anyone unless it's to put on an act). He needs you as much as you need him (if it's for the sake of breeding for repopulation, that is). He's not as strict as Riddle, though. So long as there is order and you're obedient in following traditions, he's fairly tame in your relationship. Like Riddle, you also have to warm up to Rollo and he has to warm up to you. But perhaps he's long since warmed up to you and you have no idea. He's considerably sweeter in private, and if you're on good terms with him (i.e. you haven't given him any reasons to severely dislike you), he treats you well. Of course this kind treatment is as much of a blessing as it is a shackle. You're still expected to follow the traditions of the compound, and it's non-negotiable that you'll bear his children.

[stardustjmk]

hello! I saw that your requests for Greta are open, and I was wondering if I could request something for Jake? I am hard-of-hearing, and I suppose I would love to read something about how that has an impact on Jake and Reader's relationship. If you have any specific questions or anything, just let me know! I can totally help out. I hate to say it but I'd love for it to be a little angsty, like, obviously hearing loss is not a choice and maybe Jake is just like... still upset that Reader can't fully hear things and asks to wear headphones at concerts. I would assume IRL Jake isn't an ignorant jerk like that but maybe for this he's just hurt that he isn't able to fully be heard literally and takes offense that like the headphones make it seem like he is being ignored. Thanks in advance!❤️

Loud and Clear | J.T.K

Summary: In which Jake does his best to be understanding and mindful of his hard of hearing partner, but a particular request upsets him.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x gn!reader | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Warnings: angst, jake being unintentionally ignorant. | Word count: 2.6k

Note: I am not the best at writing angst, since I crave fluff, but I do hope there’s enough of it to fulfill your expectations 🥹🫶🏻 Thank you for requesting!!

DISCLAIMER: I myself am not hard of hearing, nor do I personally know anyone who is. The last thing I want to do is offend anyone, or anything along those lines. So, in the case that something in this story comes off as offensive, please understand that is not at all my intent. Also please let me know if that is the case, so I do not repeat any mistakes.

There was a point in time where you couldn’t see yourself being anything more than a friend to Jake Kiszka.

When he first showed romantic interest in you, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t scare you. After all, you’d been met with numerous challenged relationship, and it was rarely your fault, to put it simply.

That being said, Jake was persistent, unlike any other guy you’d ever had interest in. He showed you, time and time again, that he would take every challenge, and erase it the best he could. Not once did he make you feel bad, or guilty for being hard of hearing, and he certainly didn’t let anyone else make you feel that way either. So, between his persistence, patience, and love, you let yourself fall for him, getting wrapped around his finger.

Jake does his best to learn sign language, along with other means of communicating, but being so busy with making music, doing shows, and all the other tedious tasks of his job, it’s hard find the time to attend classes or do lessons online. Especially given that in order to make that happen, he usually has to sacrifice time with you, or friends, or family.

You know he does his best though, and it shows in the way he speaks to you, which in turn is enough in your book. Not to mention, guys you’d seen before had much more free time on their hands, but never put in the effort to learn, whereas Jake manages to find time no matter how busy he is, all while keeping up his relationship with you.

That’s not to say you don’t have your struggles with him, though.

You can recall a few moments where he’d gotten impatient, trying to explain something to you. One time, he’d waved it off, and even though he explained that it wasn’t because of you, but more so the point he was getting at just stopped being that important to him, it still hurt to be dismissed, when you were trying your hardest to understand. From that moment on, it was very rare for him to be frustrated, but you could sometimes see his shoulders slump or lip twitch. You did your best not to take it personally, and most of the time, he would make up for it whether it be outright apologizing to you for it, or cleaning up his act as soon as it starts - nevertheless, his patience and understanding always outweighs the few occasions where it isn’t so.

All things considered, this might be the worst situation you’ve been in with him.

You hug Jake’s arm as he talks to the boys backstage, the four of them preparing for the show they’ll be playing in a few hours. Jake wears a small, proud smile, evidently excited to finally have you come to a show. The four of them talk to one another, and between looking at their lips, along with the occasional signed words they’d picked up on, you could follow along fairly easily.

Each one of them had learned at least some basic sign language, but Jake had learned the most by far. In fact, when you met his parents for the first time, you were almost shocked by just how much of their words he was able to sign to you. Now, he does the same, and you find yourself with a smile that mirrors his, heart swelling with nothing but love for him.

Your eyes scan the room, and when your gaze lands on a cluster of neatly placed noise-cancelling headphones, you realize that you’d left the ones you brought in Jake’s dressing room. It would likely be easy to go retrieve them, but you’d be lying if you said the “Greta Van Fleet” stickers on the ear muffs didn’t appeal to you.

So, you wander back to the conversation, and wait until a good time to grab Jake’s attention. When it comes, you tap his shoulder gently. He immediately gives you his attention, and you take a moment to admire the smudged liner that beautifully enhances his brown eyes, making your head spin with how good it looks on him.

“Would it be okay if I take a pair of those headphones?” you ask, gesturing to the table, and Jake is quick to nod his head, but it seems he didn’t exactly process it, because as you grab a pair, his brows furrow. “Wait, why do you need them?” He asks. You told him once that your ears are sensitive to loud sounds, but it was months ago, and honestly very brief, so you aren’t upset that he doesn’t remember.

“My ears are sensitive, remember?” you try to jog his memory, and he nods slowly. He does remember, and also recalls reading something about it, possibly back in school, but it still makes his shoulders slump and mood falter. He tries to mentally reason with himself, knowing that you can’t help it, and that he wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, but Jake is known to be stubborn. Anyone who’s close to him knows that and has likely experienced it at least once.

You try to shake off the guilt that bubbles in your stomach - it’s not your fault.

However, as time passes, instead of getting over it, Jake only seems to grown more frustrated with you. It makes your heart ache, to think back on when you first met him. Even though he’s just as sweet now as he was then, a part of you thinks that he wouldn’t react like this if you went back in time and found yourself in this situation.

By the time you gather the courage to confront him, it’s not exactly a convenient time. The opening band is set to be going on in just a few minutes, and you should be making your way to your seat, but you decide it can wait. “Why are you mad at me?” You ask suddenly. You’d been watching Jake make his last adjustments to his makeup, outfit, and guitar (at least, the ones he could do backstage), and it was silent the whole time. You could feel how upset he was, and in a way, it made you mad, which is what made you ask.

“I’m not mad at you,” Jake says, not even bothering to look at you, when normally he’d be fully focused on you, knowing it makes it easier for the both of you. It’s a clear sign that he doesn’t want to talk, and your stomach turns. You’d never experienced this with Jake - shit, you could barely imagine experiencing this with him, given how he’s acted thus far.

A part of you starts to freak out, as this has happened before, in other relationships. Things go well, then something happens, you get blamed - even though it isn’t your fault - and then they break things off. Is Jake going to break up with me? you think to yourself, suddenly dreading the trip to your seat, and the hours following where you’re going to be expected to be happy.

“You are mad,” you say, a little more stern this time. He still refuses to look at you, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. “Jake,” you say, almost certain that your voice is shaky. He finally looks at you. “I just…” he sighs, “The music means so much to me, and the thought of you not hearing it is upsetting,” he explains. You watch his lips as he talks, eyes flickering between them and his hands as he tries to sign it. It’s slightly relieving, knowing that he’s not so mad as to completely give up communication, but there’s still a weight on your shoulders.

Before you can say anything, the boys are being rounded up, and Jake gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. “My mom will help you to your seat,” is the last thing he says before heading off with the other boys, making your heart sink. Your lip trembles, and tears well in your eyes, but you force them away. With shaky hands, you grab your headphones and soon meet with Karen, finding your way to your seat.

Despite the lingering sadness in regards to your predicament with Jake, you do your best to enjoy the show.

The lights turn back on, the boys disappear, and the once screaming crowd now evolves into chatter throughout the arena. Karen has been nothing but sweet to you, and as you both head back stage, she links her arm with yours. You’re coming up on a year of being with Jake, and at this point, you’re close enough with his mom that resting your head on her shoulder as you walk isn’t a big deal to either of you. In fact, she presses a kiss to your head, making a small smile form on your lips.

You aren’t sure what to do when you see Jake, so you hesitantly walk towards him, standing awkwardly to the side as he talks to one of the tech guys. As their conversation comes to an end, Jake turns to you. It’s clear that he also isn’t sure what to do, but he chooses to take your hand in his, gently guiding you back to his dressing room.

He seems gentler now, which is relieving, but you’re still worked up about the whole situation, and you’re sure it’s still on his mind as well. You take a seat on the small leather couch that’s in his dressing room, occasionally glancing at him as he changed out of his sweaty suit, and into a pair of old jeans, and one of his beloved button ups. Since it’s a Nashville show, you assume he’ll worry about a shower when he gets home.

He turns to you and walks towards you, eyes locking with yours. You’re not sure what to expect. He lifts a hand and brushes his knuckles against your cheek before cupping it. It’s a silent apology, that, and the way the look in his eyes begs for forgiveness. “We can talk about it later, okay? I don’t want to brush anything off, but I also have to-“ “I know, Jakey,” you stop him, turning your head to peck his palm, before standing up. “Do what you have to do,” you tell him, grabbing your headphones off the couch arm where you’d rested them, as well as making sure to grab the ones you’d brought. You kiss his cheek then walk to the door, opening it as to press your previous statement.

You aren’t sure exactly how long it is before Jake is done, but you do your best to wait patiently. You talk to the other boys, to his mom again, and eventually just linger around Jake himself, trying not to get in the way as he does what he can to help get things packed up.

After some time, everyone finishes up, and you’re back to where you were earlier, with your arm wrapped around Jake’s as you leave the arena. You say goodbye to the boys, along with Jake’s mom, then head your separate ways. The walk to his car is quiet, and you can only assume he’s also thinking about what to say, and what’s going to be said when you talk. He opens the passenger door for you, shutting it gently once you’re settled, then heads to the drivers side.

He waits to start the car, and instead looks at you. You figure he wants to go ahead and talk, and you ultimately decide sooner is better than later. “You said that I can’t hear you, and that upsets you,” you remind him of his words, giving him a chance to correct you, or add onto it, but he just nods. You look at him, and the look on his face reads that of guilt, but also a hint of his own frustration is mixed in with it. His silence gives you the floor to speak, but you can tell he’s worried.

You reach over the console and take one of his hands in yours, then use the other to gently direct his face towards you. His eyes meet yours, and you offer a half smile. “I do hear you, Jake,” you start. “Maybe I can’t listen to it the way you do, or the way your fans do, but I hear it, Jake. I see it, too…I feel it. I feel the drums, I feel the vibrations your amps, I see the way you react, the way the crowd reacts- Jake, I hear you loud and clear,” you conclude, and you can tell that it hit him particularly hard, with the way he sighs shakily and squeezes your hand.

He nods, processing your words, then waits for you to continue. When you stay quiet, he takes over, “Talk to me, please. I know you’re hurt and I just- I want to fix it, so please talk to me,” he says, taking over the role of assurance and comfort. “I just need you to hear me too, Jake,” you say, sighing softly. “I love you so much, and the idea of you being frustrated with me over this…it just hurts, you know? I didn’t ask for it,” you explain. You aren’t attacking him, or even trying to make him feel bad, and he knows it, so he lets you vent, without interrupting. “I know, and,” he pauses, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before laying it on his lap. He uses his hands to sign as he talks. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that,” he says, and the way you can see the wheels in his head spinning extra fast, trying to make sure he doesn’t mess up, makes you crack the faintest smile.

“I love you too, and I promise that this won’t happen again, okay?” he says, and you nod, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. He kisses you back, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. You practically melt into him, the way he’s so delicate and passionate all at once making you crumble. When you pull away, he’s wearing a grin. “Now, you’re more than allowed to decline…but I think maybe we need a do-over, if you want to come to one of the next shows,” he suggests, and much to his excitement, you do agree.

When the next show rolls around, Jake gifts you a pair of noise-canceling headphones. You open the mix to find a pair of bedazzled ones, black rhinestones making up the majority of them, with “Greta Van Fleet” spelled out in carefully placed silver rhinestones. “The rhinestones were Josh’s idea, weren’t they?” you ask, making him let out a genuine laugh. “You bet it was Josh’s idea.”

This time around, things go a lot smoother, and Jake makes sure to look extra hard for you in the crowd. The smile on your face, the bedazzled headphones - which you eventually found had your initials embroidered on the underside of the headband part, along with “all my love” in jake’s handwriting - which he comes to absolutely adore, the way you’d dressed up for the show, all of it makes him fall even more in love with you. Not to mention, he watches you for longer than he might should, but it’s worth it to see you enjoying yourself, and that’s when he realizes that you do hear him, loud and clear.