#i hope you know i was literally sitting in class instead of the project i have due in a week

[nguyenfinity]

This month's feature is Crazy:B, with this edition releasing alongside their new Valentine's Day single 'Lovebug'! (written and produced by my hopes and dreams)

art-only version below the cut!

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses. 

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy. 

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly. 

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials. 

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has. 

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed. 

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer. 

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal. 

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come 

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party? 

i can be ur escort ;) 

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you. 

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before. 

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes. 

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself? 

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy. 

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly. 

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway. 

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy. 

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are. 

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood. 

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can. 

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams. 

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird. 

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room. 

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact. 

but not so bad. 

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.” 

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

So, that deja vu fic got me thinking.. and what if katsuki has a childhood friend (obvi friends w deku too) where he is always trying to impress her and class 1-a notices or ( if you’d like them older ) the agency notices and starts betting on when he’ll confess to her. turns out, she actually confesses first and everyone is happy (and slightly disappointed… nobody got their money) 😋😋

Also, when i saw the notification “@cashmoneyyysstuff started following you” i have never hit a follow back button so fast 😭🫶

Remember you’re amazing, take care of yourself, drink water, stay safe, and know that you are loved ❤️

bet on it, bet on it !!

there's definitely something going on between you two, and your classmates are determined to figure out when it'll finally happen

a/n: WAAAA @itzjustj-1000 this is soo cute ! especially since katsuki being a loser n tryin to impress us instead of just confessing is honestly adorable. ALSO ALSO ur LITERALLY THE SWEETEST !! ur the loveliest it's a given i had to follow u !! i tried to honour ur request as best i could, i hope you like it ! also say it w me yall: WEEWOOO WEEWOOO CHILDHOODFRIENDS TO LOVERS ALEEEEEERRTTT(yall r forcing my hand atp (not that im complaining tho))

fem reader, katsuki is a whipped little loser, katsuki likes getting praised by reader but acts like he doesn't challenge (fails miserably), kaminari n sero are little shits, m*neta (he doesn't say anything creepy don't worry <3) everyone is in their 2nd year in this one. lemme know if i missed something else !

for as long as izuku midoriya could remember, you and kacchan have always been a packaged deal.

deku remembers all the way back in primary school, how kacchan would bend over backwards to impress you, spending his days trying to win your praise like he was collecting it. whether it be showing off how good his reading skills were, or showing off his newly acquired quirk to you at any given chance. (away from the eyes of the teachers, of course)

or even with silly things. like the time he showed you how long he could hold his breath underwater. it didn't matter, as long as he could show it off to you, he would.

deku remembers how pride would fill his childhood friends face, cheeks practically glowing and a smile basically reaching his ears. a simple "woooah, you're so cool kacchan !" had the boastful blonde giddy for the entire day, chest puffed out as he walked ahead of everyone, with you right next to him, of course. (you were the only one worthy enough to stand by his side after all)

and though he spent his time trying to win your praise, he also needed your attention constantly. katsuki constantly demanded your attention. he's the only one who's allowed to sit next to you in class, you're always the one he picks first when it's time to pick teams to play dodgeball. he's your partner for every project and you're the one who walks beside him when you and your friends go venture out in the woods to go out on your adventures. and even though they would usually take place in the park, katsuki always claimed he'd be the one to protect you if anything were to happen.

as kids, deku was probably the only one who noticed how hard katsuki tried to impress you.

and he's probably the only one to notice how he still does it now.

"sooo...kacchan totally has a thing for yn, agreed ?"

"mhm. definitely."

"yup."

"'m suprised you just noticed that now, kaminari...actually i'm not really suprised." jirou drawled, twirling one of her earphone jacks around her finger.

okay, so apparently he isn't the only one who noticed.

kaminari pouts "i noticed ! i noticed, like, ages ago !" he huffs into his folded elbows on the desk " i just wanted to see if you guys did !"

"you'd be stupid to miss it." sero cuts in smoothly. their grouchy homeroom teacher somehow ended up absent, leading to an impromptu free period. which in turn caused for loads of gossip he had somehow gotten roped into. kirishima, kaminari and sero were talking about you and katsuki, happily chatting off about something they couldn't hear from where they were sitting.

"maaaannn, bakugou's way too lucky, scoring such a pretty girl. what's he got that i don't ?!" kaminari whines. kirishima shushes him lightly, afraid to rouse the attention of a certain blonde they just so happened to be talking about

"now that i think about it.." sero wondered, leaning onto kirishima's shoulder "midoriya, you guys are childhood friends, right ? have they always been..." he cuts himself off, pointing over at you both with his chin for midoriya to look back. ".. like that ?"

you're chatting about something that's apparently funny or exciting, with katsuki listening along attentively, his head resting in his palm like he's admiring you. his full focus entirely on you, as it usually was.

you're using your hands a lot while you're talking and deku recognizes it as the thing you do when you've gotten to the juicy part of the conversation, deku almost wishes he could listen in, then remembers it's not good to be nosy and shakes the thought away. every once in a while katsuki interjects with a subtle smirk on his face and his remarks have you either giggling or playfully pouting at him unable to hide your smile. the playfulness in his heavy lidded red eyes remains at any reaction you give him, though. kacchan's worked on his poker face over the years but it seems he can't control himself when it comes to you.

izuku realizes he's been openly staring for too long and quickly turns back to look at sero who raises an eyebrow, awaiting a response.

izuku chuckles to himself "yeah, pretty much." he hums, playing around with the ends of his tie as he speaks.

"oooouu~" kaminari sings, suddenly lifting his head up from where it was hidden into his shoulder with a sudden burst of energy, startling kirishima. "juicy details about kacchan, i'm in !"

"i don't know if it's exactly 'juicy'" izuku sweatdropped, chuckling awkwardly. "but kacchan and yn have always been really close. when we were younger, kacchan would always be seeking out yn's attention. he'd be really possesive..or protective over her, i guess ?—it was all pretty harmless though." he recounted, smiling softly at his childhood memories nostalgically pouring into his mind.

both kirishima and sero let out quiet hums when he finishes while denki simply pouts "s'not as juicy as i thought it would be" he huffs petulantly, receiving a knock on his head from jirou who hisses a "he told you that, idiot"

kirishima places his head into the palm of his hands and sighs dreamingly "man, that's so cute. bakugou's been a major softie for yn for so long.." he clenches his fist and izuku thinks he sees a little tear in his eye "so manly !" he exclaims through his sharp teeth.

"yeah, i don't know if 'manly' is the word i'd use to describe someone who's been whipped for so long and still doesn't have the balls to confess" sero ribbed, snickering to himself with denki joining in shortly after.

"hey, don't be assholes !" jirou shot "i think it's kinda cute y'know ? not really..manly..but—cute." she said.

"how much you wanna bet he's not gonna confess until graduation?" kaminari challenged.

"wouldn't put it past 'im." a voice suddenly chimes in. the five of them all turn their heads left, right then down at the voice that came from none other than mineta, who had somehow wormed his way into the conversation.

"and what the hell do you think you're doing sneaking into our conversation, freak" jirou sneers, glaring down at mineta who had already dragged his chair over, including himself into the group.

mineta decides to ignore jirou as he places his arms onto the desk seriously like he's imitating some type of mafia don. " bakugou's never gonna confess any time soon, he's too much of a pussy" he waves off nonchalantly "i bet he won't even have done it by the time we've finished school ! "

" and i bet you wouldn't say that to his face !" kaminari guffaws and the purple haired boy sputters. izuku can't hold back his grin as he watches them bicker.

" kacchan's always been pretty..sure of himself" he settles "i don't think it'd take him that long to confess" he guessed, pressing his thumb onto his chin "though maybe the fact that he's so sure of himself could hold him back.."

ah, there he goes again.. the rest of them thought as they watch midoriya babble on and on into theory land.

denki suddenly slams his fists on the desks, startling everyone. he sucks in a breath "alright ! i bet a thousand yen and the entirety of my lunch box that bakugou won't confess by the end of this year !" he exclaims, not too loud but loud enough so everyone in the group could hear him.

"oooouu~ what're we betting on ?" mina chimes in, suddenly appearing behing jirou and in turn startling her. she flashes her a little glare causing the pink haired girl to offer a weak apology and a hug.

"kaminari just bet a thousand yen and his lunch that bakugou won't confess to yn by the end of this year" sero smirked, clearly enjoying the drama

" ou, that sounds fun ! lemme join in too !" the pink skinned girl pleaded giving her best puppy eye and pout combo.

"sure ! just don't come cryin' to me when you lose" kaminari agrees, playfully jabbing at his friend.

"this is so stupid. i'm not betting money on this.."jirou scoffs rubbing at her temple. "c'moooonnn, don't be chicken, jirou ! " denki whines

"mhmm, c'moonn jirou give into peer pressure !" mina joins in, wrapping her arms around the purple haired girl and swaying her side to side.

jirou groans before finally conceding "..five hundred yen. that's all you're getting from me." she concludes sourly crossing her arms.

" i'm gonna go with kaminari's and say his balls won't drop 'till graduation" sero says simply, smirking almost mischieviously at the display of sudden chaos. he looks a little too pleased, izuku sweatdrops.

"i'm not betting on my bro, that's so unmanly." kirishima refused " i say just let them go at their own pace" he finishes, receiving a nasty look from his chaotic classmates.

needless to say kirishima gave in to peer pressure soon after, offering a modest 1,100 yen by this summer for his friend to confess.

"well i stand on what i said, i don't think he has the balls to say it at all. and i put that on all the money in my pockets ! " mineta proudly spoke.

"how much is that, like, one fruit roll-up ?" mina deadpanned, not missing a beat causing the group to erupt in laughter. mineta's objection's falling on deaf ears.

meanwhile, katsuki notices you've stopped talking all of a sudden. it takes him by surprise as you were so into it a minute ago. "what's up ?" he asks. his question snaps you out of your trance and you jump slightly, turning back to look at him "oh , nothing ! they just seem to be having fun " you gasp, a smile crawling up on your face as you look back at your friends having a good time.

katsuki on the other hand has a slight pout forming on his face, displeased at how his loud mouthed friends distracted you from your conversation. and from him he thinks, but that makes him feel like a snot nosed little kid again and his expression turns even more sour.

"tch. the fuck are those losers so loud for" he grumbles under his breath. you catch it though, and you giggle. his eyes brighten and his brows unfurrow the slightest bit when he hears it.

"don't be such a buzzkill katsu, s'not their fault you're no fun." you jest, chuckling to yourself when he scowls at you.

"fuck off ! m'not a buzzkill" he rolls his eyes, huffing indignantly "an' i'm plenty of fun" he finishes grumpily. you laugh a little more, covering your mouth with your hand when you catch a peak of him narrowing his eyes at you making fun of him. he simply rolls his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. he'll let it slide, he always does with you.

"right, right. my apologies, sir dynamight" you chuckle, bowing slightly at him, he huffs out a laugh "that's sir lord explosion murder god dynamight to you" he snorts. you throw your head back and laugh and katsuki feels the same pride he used to feel when he'd found something cool to show you back when you were brats. his stomach feels fuzzy and his head feels clouded the way it used to when you'd offer him your big, bright sparkly eyes and a "you're so cool kacchan !""

god, it never failed to remind him how much of a whipped loser he was for you.

and unfortunately still is.

you scoot your chair a little closer to his and katsuki has to use all of his might not to blush at the sudden proximity, as miniscule as the distance between you both was to begin with.

"well okay then, sir lord explosion murder god dynamight" you say rapidly, laughing to yourself. katsuki let's out a breathy chuckle, it's cute. he's cute. " i'm sure it doesn't mean much, but i at least think you’re plenty fun to be around"

katsuki feels his heart skip a beat too many.

you whisper, like it's a secret. you're in your own little corner while all your classmates are chatting away yet you say this to him like it's something between you and him. batting your eyelashes up at him. god, it's like you're out to kill him and honestly katsuki thinks for a second he wouldn't mind dying by your hand.

he's such a whipped loser.

he can't think straight. you're sitting so close to him, you're lips are glossy from that lip gloss you always have on you. you smell nice, katsuki feels like a creep for smelling you like you aren't a breath away from him.

"yeah, well.." he utters lowly. he licks his lips, feeling himself grow dizzy as he watches you watch the movement intensely and swallows. his adam's apple bobs and he can feel himself blushing like an idiot. " i don't think you're all that bad either" the end of his sentence comes out a little breathy, he barely realizes he's speaking. like his body is deciding for him, he doesn't mind much.

you give him a sweet little smile and your eyes shine like stars and you look up at him like he's everything, like he's the coolest. he wants you to look at him like this all the time.

you suddenly lean in and kiss him, right next to his lips, just at the corner. it lasts for about 0.3 seconds but katsuki feel his entire body exploding from the inside like he's let off his quirk onto himself.

"i take it back actually" you start " you're super cool to be around,kacchan " you whisper bashfully. katsuki huffs out a little laugh once his heart had stabilized itself a little bit, a small smile growing on his face—

" AW MAN? WHAT THE HELL ?!"

you both turn to the sound of your electric classmate, sporting a little pout on his face. proceeding to get dog-piled on by your other classmates surrounding him, causing him to let out whines and moans of complaint.

"i-ignore him !" mina waves off nervously "just keep doin' what you were doin !— i mean, we weren't watching or anything !" she splutters.

"nice one." jirou deadpanned sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "look, we don't mean to pry or anything, but who kissed who first ?"

at that, katsuki's cheeks flare up, turning a damn near violent shade of pink. he's about to yell obscenties at his classmates, about to tell them it's none of their business when-

" i did !" you giggle, a cat-like grin on your face

"you sneaky fuckin minx-" katsuki growls, shoving his index fingers into your sides and you let out a squeal mixed with a giggle. you're quickly drowned out by your classmates releasing a group groan, with sero and kaminari yelling and booing at katsuki, who in turn starts threathing them, his hands crackling and popping.

you don't exactly know what's happening, but you can't help but feel extremely joyful and happy.

"soo.." mineta starts "since i said bakugou wouldn't confess first doesn't that technically mean i-"

" IN YOUR DREAMS ! "

[thaleleah]

𝓗𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Academy!Reader

Warnings: Dub-Con, Seduction/Manipulation, Oral (female and male receiving), Handjob, Food Play (feeding each other/licking stuff off bodies, but its more of a seduction tactic), Finger Sucking, Ruined Orgasm, Slight Overstimulation, Slight Dacryphilia Kink, Reader is spoiled and delulu, Sub!Coriolanus

**Based off this irl porn post (takes you to Twitter/X).

Word Count: 10K

A/N: Literally just started the book today so Coriolanus is probs wayyyy out of character but . . . just go with it lol. I wanted him to be ✨subby✨

Summary: When you find out that the great Coriolanus Snow is not as financially well off as he makes himself out to be, you can't help but take advantage of his vulnerability.

Hunger is a weapon - every Capitol citizen knows this. 

It’s the most useful piece of knowledge used when carving down an enemy. The people in the districts need to be taught fear, obedience for their devastating betrayal to the Capitol. If they thought they knew oppression before the First Rebellion . . . well, they just didn’t know how good they had it. 

Things are back as they should be now. The Capitol stands at the top of the hierarchy, the districts fumbling below in their failure as they suffer their punishments and try to make amends in order to have the favor of those in charge. 

Your family was lucky, surviving the war with minimal losses and maintaining your excessive wealth in the process. It’s a life of luxury for you - one of comfort and ease. You want for nothing, desire for nothing that you can’t have in a split second with a snap of your fingers or a hopeful, doe-eyed pout at your father.  

Nothing, except one thing. 

Him. 

Coriolanus Snow.

He walks with such confidence, lean body moving gracefully and an air of arrogant smugness following him around as he vies for the Plinth Prize. He’s smart, very smart - top of the class at the Academy, and you can’t help but admit that you find his intelligence extremely attractive. 

He’s beautiful, angelic blond curls always strategically fluffed, the perfect contrast to the Academy’s rouge uniforms. And sometimes, when he’s leaning down to scribble in his notebook during class, a few rogue curls will fall across his forehead and into those eyes - those eyes that sparkle despite his constant controlled and put together facade. You want those eyes on you. Want them to see you, follow you around as you walk the halls of the Academy, never leaving your visage as you sit prettily in class, back straight and legs crossed under your desk - your posture a solid reminder of your high stature within society. 

You want them wet with tears, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you while you ride him, hard and fast as his mouth begs for mercy despite his pretty blue eyes begging for more.

You’re a prize, he’d be lucky to have you - and yet, whenever he looks your way, it’s with disdain. 

You’re a fucking goddess, beauty unmatched. He should be falling at your feet just to get a second of your time. But no, instead he ignores you, never once looking your way other than when studiously listening to your response to a question asked during class before those blue eyes make their way back to the professor. They never linger, never once. And that realization makes your blood boil.

He’s smart, but you’re smart too - spite and bitterness reenergizing your academic drive. He wants the Plinth Prize and you want him. So you do the only thing that you can think of that will ensure his focus lands on you no matter what.

You go for the Plinth Prize too.

You’re on his ass in academics - every test and every project leading you closer and closer to over taking him for the win. His eyes can’t leave you now, always following you, narrowed and hateful as you smile smugly back at him. Sometimes you think you can see fear in them, like he can physically feel your sharp, manicured nails digging into the vulnerable balloon of his dreams and can hear the shallow hiss of escaping air through the punctures. 

You hope he can feel your metaphorical breath on the back of his neck.

The mid semester review comes around and classes are canceled for the rest of the day as professors meet with their students to go over their academic standings. You walk into the building just minutes before your scheduled meeting time, bag slung over your shoulder and a dried fruit bar in your hand as you climb the stairs towards Professor Rosebloom’s office. Normally, you would be at least 15 minutes early, punctuality and proper time management drilled into you from a young age. However, Professor Rosebloom likes her schedules, the exact measurements of time, and plans out each class and meeting down to the minute. It’s useless to assume there’s any wiggle room for early arrivals or dismissals. It’s not beneficial - not when the door to her office won’t open again until the very moment it hits your scheduled appointment time. So you take your time climbing the stairs, taking a bite of your snack bar when you see him. 

He’s leaning against one of the pillars in the middle of the hall, back pressed against the rounded edge as he bites into a cookie. He looks stressed, body rigid as he chews, the back of his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth after each bite. You smirk, eyes narrowed in glee as you stalk towards him like a predator sneaking up on her prey. His mind is elsewhere, completely unaware of you coming up next to him until his gaze falls to your shadow overtaking his own along the glossy floor. 

He has only a second for his brain to register your presence before you speak, a smooth and sweet, “Coriolanus,” that nevertheless has him jumping in his spot against the pillar. 

You watch as he fumbles the cookie in his hand, the half eaten treat falling to the ground, breaking into smaller pieces under the impact. His face is rather comical as he stares down at the ruined cookie, eyes wide and mouth agape, and you swear you see his hand twitch just the slightest bit as if he was going to pick it up off the dirty floor before he takes a deep breath and those piercing blue eyes cut to you. 

“What?” He asks, voice sharp.

“Aw, sorry to make you drop your snack,” You say, feigning sympathy. “It looked yummy,”

His eyes fall shut for a moment, long eyelashes creating shadows along the top of his cheeks as he fights for composure. “It was,”

“You should have saved it for after your meeting,” You say, stepping closer to him, just far away enough to still be considered a proper amount of space, but close enough for him to have to tilt his head downwards to maintain eye contact. “As a condolence for when you hear that I’m the top student and a shoo-in for the Plinth Prize and not you.”

A low rumble bursts from his throat and he pushes off of the pillar to tower over you, glaring down at your shorter figure as he growls, “That’s not going to happen,”

His closeness makes your heart race, and you want nothing more than to drop the fruit bar from your hand and tangle your fingers into his fluffy hair. You’d do it too - would risk everything, the perfect image you’ve cultivated and the resulting embarrassment of seeming needy - if only you knew he would reciprocate. But he’s stubborn, you don’t know, and your pride gets in the way of any impulsive decision you might make, no matter how hot the desire burns through your veins. 

Instead, you bring the snack bar up to your mouth, perfect white teeth sinking into the sticky bar as you keep your eyes locked on his. Your intense focus on him is the only reason you see how his eyes falter from yours, the furious fire in them dimming into a softer need as they fall to your mouth. 

Your glossed lips pull into a smirk. Finally, finally, he’s getting the picture. You knew it was only a matter of time. He was a man after all, and men are weak when it comes to the wiles of women. It was bound to happen, no one with eyes or any sense of a brain would be able to resist you for too long - Coriolanus was just a slight exception. 

But you’ve got him now, can see in his eyes how badly he wants you. His eyes are locked on your lips, following the movement as they press together and move as you chew. The bright light in the hall is probably glittering off of them right now, making them look even more plush and enticing as it glistens off the thin layer of gloss that coats them. He’s probably thinking about how much he wants to kiss them right now. Imagining them wrapped around his cock and how soft they would feel as you plant sweet and teasing kisses along his shaft before taking him completely into your warm mouth. He’s probably kicking himself, wondering how he could have been so stupid as to push you away for as long as he has when he could have had you all to himself this whole time. 

All the time he’s wasted because of his pride and ego. 

The hand holding the fruit bar lowers slightly, teasing words of victory on the tip of your tongue as you open your mouth to gloat about your obvious success and his pathetic loss as he succumbs to his own desire for you. But you freeze when his wanting gaze doesn’t stay on your lips like you expect. Instead, they fall with the snack bar, following the food source like a puppy waiting for its master to grace them with a treat, and your words die before they can make a sound. 

The food? Seriously? He was looking at the food?!

As if on cue, his stomach growls. He snaps out of his daze at the sound, a hand shooting up to press against his belly as if trying to quiet the noise. 

You stare at him incredulously, eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Hungry much?”

He scoffs. “I missed breakfast this morning and now you’ve made me drop my snack. So, yes. I’m hungry.”

His words come out confident - practiced and dismissive in the way they would lead someone to believe his verbal jab in a heartbeat. But you’re too close to him right now for it to have the same effect that it normally would. You’re too observant, too eagle-eyed when it comes to all things Coriolanus, and now you're kicking yourself for not noticing it sooner. 

The way his eyes flash with a moment of panic before they roll in annoyance, feigned annoyance, because there’s still nervousness clear in those beautiful blue orbs. The way they can’t help but flick just for the quickest of seconds towards the bar still in your hand and your own snap down to the movement of his stomach as he sucks in his belly, an obvious attempt at trying to use the muscle movement to starve off another growl. 

The buttons on his shirt aren’t completely round, you notice. They do a good job at pretending to be, but under further inspection you realize that some are more oval than round. A couple are even slightly jagged. They remind you of the tesserae tiles you’ve seen in the maid’s bathroom - nearly a perfect match. Your critical gaze follows the rest of the length of his body, looking for anything else that suddenly seems off about the only son of the great Crassus Snow. Years ago, your father had mentioned rumors that the Snow family might not be in the most opulent financial standing. You hadn’t believed him at the time, the Snow family had always seemed very well off whenever you would see them around the Capitol or at events. Coriolanus had never once let on that they were living in anything less than a life of luxury during all your shared time at the Academy. 

And yet, when you reach his feet, it becomes an undeniable reality. There, on the feet of the boy who you’ve been lusting over for the better part of two years, is a pair of too tight and just this side of too worn shoes.

You’re just barely able to hold back your gasp at the realization. He’s always been thin, but you chalked that up to him just being tall and lanky. But this? This is so unexpected. 

Coriolanus Snow is . . . impoverished? Penniless. 

Needy. 

The idea comes to mind before you can even think about it, eyes sliding back up to meet his as you take another slow and mocking bite of your fruit bar. 

“What will you do?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in question, slowly chewing the sweet treat. “When I win the Plinth Prize,”

“You won’t,” He answers quickly, and the raw determination in his voice makes you grin.

You take another quick bite of your bar and offer a small shrug of your shoulder. “Why don’t we be smart about this, Coriolanus? Put aside our teeth gritting rivalry in exchange for some good old fashioned, friendly competition.”

“What are you suggesting?” He asks, suspiciously. 

“You can come to my home this weekend. We can study together. Make it a fair fight for our next exam,” And then, casual as ever, you add, “I’ll make sure we have lots of snacks at our disposal. Fuel for our brains, yes?”

Coriolanus pauses, clearly torn, and it’s unbelievable how someone who's always put on the face of confidence and self-assuredness can have their mask slip so carelessly so many times within a few minutes of interaction. 

The door to Professor Rosebloom’s office opens and out comes a disgruntled looking Festus Creed. He glances at you and Coriolanus standing just feet away from the door, but surprisingly has nothing to say for once as he walks past and down the hall towards the grand staircase. Professor Rosebloom stands at the door, calling your name and gesturing inside her office with a sharp nod. 

You look back at Coriolanus, a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you walk backwards towards Professor Rosebloom. “Tomorrow, okay? See you then!”

The feeling of his eyes boring into you as you turn and disappear into Rosebloom’s office makes you feel unstoppable. 

Coriolanus arrives at your house the next day around mid-morning. 

He greets your parents respectfully, sharing a firm handshake with your father and nodding kindly at your mother, thanking them for allowing him into their home for the day and politely ignoring the looks of displeasure they both send him behind their masks of well-mannered hosts. 

You guide him up the stairs to your bedroom and sit yourself on the bed, smirking when he stands awkwardly in the doorway, one hand gripping the strap of his messenger bag. 

It’s so interesting to see him out in public, without the guise of an event or school trip to dictate what he wears. Today he dons a regular pair of pants, nice fitting around the waist and legs, but just a little too short around the ankles. You’re not sure if you would have noticed it had you not been looking. His sweater is a deep burgundy, thin lines of golden embroidery stitched around the collar and wrists to give an otherwise simple garment a taste of class. You don’t even want to look down at his shoes. If his nice dress shoes were looking tight and worn, you don’t want to see what his casual shoes look like. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, everything he’s wearing is going to be on your floor in a little while anyway. 

“Sit down, Coriolanus,” You instruct, pulling a book from your own bag and laying it out on the bed in front of you. “Don’t be shy.”

He takes a quick look behind him, checking to make sure your parents aren’t trying to spy from the hallway to catch them in the act of anything inappropriate despite this being a genuine study ‘date’ - at least on his part anyway. They won’t. Your father will be leaving for a lunch meeting in the city soon, and your mother will use the time to meet with her lover in one of the barely used guest bedrooms while he’s away. 

Coriolanus clears his throat before walking over to the bed, sitting tall on the edge, one of his legs bent at the knee to twist himself to face you while the other leg hangs off the side.

“We should start with the top three points that we think are the most important of each chapter,” he says. He pulls his book and a small notebook out of his bag before placing it on the ground next to the bed and out of the way. “And then we can discuss and expand on each point together.”

“Sounds good,” You nod. “Let’s begin.”

Studying has never been difficult for you. You find yourself blessed with a remarkable brain and an even more determined sense of spite that makes remembering factual information simple. Thoughts of Coriolanus often plague your mind during your study sessions. He is, after all, the reason why you study so hard in the first place. But when the thoughts get too much, thoughts of kissing those plush lips of his, whispering dirty things in his ear and having him moan filth back to you - wanting to thread your fingers into his golden hair and push his head down so it fits between your thighs where it belongs . . . A power break, you call it. A moment of respite from studying in order to take power over your overflowing desire for the only man who’s been able to resist your temptations so far. Your hand would find its way inside your pants or underneath your dress, fingers dipping into your drenched hole and rubbing furiously at your clit imagining it was his until the pent up release sets you free and you're able to focus on your work again. 

But with him actually being here, here in front of you, it’s a bit more difficult. Your pen stopped writing a while ago, eyes locked on the way his lashes flutter against his cheeks with each blink as he focuses on his notes. He bites his lip sometimes, teeth pressing into the plump flesh before he seems to catch himself and releases it, leaving behind twin red marks in the skin that you wish were imprints of your teeth instead of his. Your eyes travel down further to his throat, wanting to taste the smooth skin there under your tongue, and you can feel how wet you are already in your panties. 

After about an hour, a maid enters the room with a tray of snacks. She’s right on time, entering through your doorway at the exact moment you had instructed her to, but you're so worked up from Coriolanus just existing a couple feet away from you on your own bed, that you glare at her like you want to bite her head off. 

She doesn’t waste time, even more so when she sees your expression. The maid deposits the tray of food on the bed between the two of you and places a bottle of wine with two glasses on your side table before hurrying out of the room. 

Coriolanus looks up from his notebook the second the food is placed in front of him, eyes immediately locking onto the tray. It’s obvious how badly he wants to go for it, but he holds himself back. 

“Looks yummy, right?” You say, slyly, nodding to the small assortment of bread, cheeses, jams, and fruit. “Great brain food,” 

He nods, throwing in an indifferent shrug as he responds, “Yes, it’s—it’s fine.”

You grab the wine bottle from beside you, uncorking the bottle with practiced efforts. “I also asked for some tastier things too,” You say, gesturing to the wine and the small bowls of chocolate sauce and whipped cream also adorning the tray. “A little reward to us for all of our hard work this semester.”

It’s funny watching him just sit there, struggling to appear calm and collected in the presence of such delicious foods. What do poor people even eat anyway? Maybe nothing. Maybe he survives on water and the lunches the school provides. What a shame, he’s too pretty to suffer. But if he is going to suffer, you're excited that you at least get to reap the benefits. 

You pour two hefty glasses of wine, handing one to Coriolanus and bringing the other one between you, signaling for a toast. “To study dates and good food.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in an aborted smile, and, to be honest, you’re not sure if he means it or not, but nevertheless he clicks his glass against yours anyway. “To study dates and good food.”

You watch his face from behind your glass as he brings his own to his lips. His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of wine against his tongue, and you wonder how often, if ever, he’s had the experience before to make him make such a euphoric face. He licks his lips, catching the stray drops of wine on his upper lip before he clears his throat.

“It’s nice,” He comments, nonchalantly. “Sweeter than the wine I’m used to.”

“Oh, yeah?” You grin, swirling your wine gently in the glass. The wine aerates under your nose as you breathe in the sweeter notes of its smell. “The Snows prefer the taste of drier wines, huh?”

“Yes, we do,”

He cuts the conversation short, looking back down at the plate of food. He still has his pen in his hand, the other hand occupied by the glass of wine, so you take the opportunity to put the next step of your plan in motion. 

“Keep writing,” You say, waving at his pen. You place your wine glass back on the side table and grab a small slice of bread from the tray. “You’re on a roll. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.”

He clears his throat again, pressing the pen to the paper, but he can’t write anything. His eyes are glued to where you're prepping his snack, spreading a thick layer of creamy cheese on the bread before topping it with a few swipes of spiced jam. You want to laugh at how his mouth practically waters for it, lips parted in want and his pupils are unusually large against the bright blue canvas of his irises. 

“There we go,” You coo, holding up the savory treat between you both. “Open up, Coryo. The jam on top is to die for.”

You watch in glee as he opens his mouth, letting you bring the bread to his lips before he bites down on it. It’s quiet, too quiet, but the room is quiet too - so no matter how concealed he tries to hide his small moan of pleasure, you hear it anyway. And the sound shoots right to your dripping cunt. 

You feed him another bite, and then another, and you’re a little shocked that he’s even letting you feed him at all without protest or a show of pride, but you don’t complain. There’s a small smudge of jam smeared at the corner of his mouth. His pretty blue orbs never leave yours as you slowly trace along the sticky corner with your thumb, gathering up the bits of jam and popping it in your mouth letting out a small moan of your own at the taste. 

“So good,” You say again. He gulps, trying to hide his nervousness behind another long sip of wine. “You know what else is really good? This chocolate sauce,”

Your middle finger dips into the chocolate bowl, chocolate coating your finger as you pull it out, the excess dripping back into the bowl. You pop your finger into your mouth, humming at the rich taste as it soaks into your tastebuds. Coriolanus’s eyes follow your movements, still dark in want but also colored with confusion. Poor baby, you think. If you were a better person, you would feel guilty about manipulating him so badly.

But you’re not, and the bitch inside you roars in delight at how well you have him exactly where you want him. 

“Hmm, so good,” You whisper, slowly dragging your now clean finger back and forth along your bottom lip. “It’s William Dean, the best chocolate connoisseur in all of Panem. His chocolates are the best luxury, I’m sure you know, but I always prefer the chocolate sauce to the chocolates themselves.”

Your finger finds its way back into the chocolate before hovering it in front of Coriolanus’s slightly parted lips. “Don’t you wanna try it?”

There’s hesitation on his face, eyes flickering with uncharacteristic uncertainty from yours to your dessert covered finger and back again as he thinks. In the end, the want wins out, and he opens his mouth more to let you slip your finger inside. The inside of his mouth is warm and wet, the strong muscle of his tongue licking along your finger as he sucks off every single bit of chocolate offered on it. His tongue vibrates under your finger as he moans, louder this time than the last, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. You wonder if it’s just from the taste of the chocolate or from the combined taste of your skin and spit too. 

“Delicious, right?” You ask, slowly pulling your finger from between his plush lips.

When his eyes open again, his pupils are blown wide - only a thin band of blue around the edges - and you can’t help but smirk at yourself in their reflection. 

He nods, as if dazed, letting out a low “mhm” in agreement.

“Here,” You grab a strawberry off the tray and coat it with the melty chocolate just like your finger. “Try it with this.”

He doesn’t even hesitate as you bring it up to his mouth, lips parting as his teeth bite into the red fruit. You almost can’t believe how blissed out he looks, just from a few bites of food. His chewing is slow, like it’s purposeful - dedicated to savoring every second as he enjoys what he never gets to have, eyes hazy with an almost far away look to them. 

Poor Coriolanus Snow, how the mighty have fallen. 

You quickly bite the other half, barely registering the sweetness of the fruit mixed with the richness of the chocolate before tossing the green leafy top back onto the tray. Instead, the visual of him licking the leftover chocolate left on his lips from the bite into the fruit sears into your brain. 

“It’s probably the best you’ve ever tasted, huh?” The dig comes out without your permission, but it doesn’t matter because while normally his clever and quick mind would have had you scrambling for a response to whatever his snappy comeback would have been, he doesn’t seem to catch on to your implication.

He’s too drunk right now. Too drunk on the few sips of wine and small bites of food he’s had. Too drunk on savoring everything, desperate in the way his gaze drops back down to the small feast in front of him. 

“Hey,” You call, bringing his attention back to your face. He looks like a puppy waiting for his next command. “Are you going to thank me for being such a gracious host?”

“Thank you,” He whispers. 

“No, Coryo,” You say, a wicked grin pulling at your lips. “Thank me,”

Your previous dig might have gone over his head, but the unspoken demand doesn’t. Hazy blue meets your own hooded ones, a breathless moment between the two of you as your words sink in, and then he’s leaning forward - soft, pouty mouth pressing against yours gently. 

Victory burns through your veins like fire. The urge to scream like a madwoman, the sound feeling stuck at the back of your throat, urging you to let it out just so you can relieve some of this overwhelming excitement that runs through you. But no, you have to be calm about this. Strategic. Don’t fuck this up, you remind yourself. Don’t scare him off. 

But your hands itch to bury themselves in his hair, wanting to grip the golden strands between your fingers and tug hard enough to make him whine against your mouth. His lips feel like heaven against yours, the soft press of his bottom lip fitting between yours before he pulls back, breathing into your space for a moment, before coming back in for another kiss without you even having to tell him. 

His lips move against yours with an intoxicating combination of shyness and want. He’s still gentle, way too gentle for your liking - you didn’t wait to have him for this long for him to be soft about it. You want the roughness, the passion, the desperation where he wants you so much that he can’t bear to not have his hands on you for even a second. But there’s also power in the shyness, in the nervousness that you have erupting from every pore of his body. 

When he pulls back again, you don’t hesitate to move your lips to his cheek, kissing across the cool, smooth skin. His hand has long since dropped the pen by now, now choosing to fist into the lush fabric of your very expensive sheets while the other somehow still holds onto his half filled wine glass. His breathing is starting to get shaky - unsteady shallow breaths puffing out next to your ear as your lips trace the line of his jaw. 

Without even having to look, you grab another strawberry, dipping it into the chocolate and bringing it to where your mouth is pressing hot, open mouth kisses to Coriolanus’s jaw. 

He jumps at the first touch of the tip of the fruit against his neck, a confused grunt escaping his lips as he mutters a quiet, “What are you doing?” But he doesn’t move away, doesn’t pull back from the way your lips nibble at the sensitive spot behind his ear. 

You drag the fruit down the long column of his neck, leaving a line of tempting chocolate in its wake as you whisper a soothing, “Just relax, Coryo. I’m eating,”

Your tongue finds the bottom of the trail, pressing flat and wet against his neck as you lick away the chocolate in one long seductive lick. You're quick to repeat the process, dragging the fruit down the column of his throat, a delicious line of sweetness you can devour while tasting the distinct flavor of him underneath it. His head tips back to allow you access to the trail of chocolate on his throat, and you reward his cooperation by holding the fruit above his upturned face so he can sink his teeth into it while you sink your teeth into him. 

His throat bobs underneath your lips when he swallows. 

The whipped cream still sits untouched in the bowl, and your neck still stays untouched with Coriolanus’s kisses. So you grab his chin, dragging his face back down to yours once again.

“You hungry, baby?” You ask, your eyes locked on his. “You wanna eat, too?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding frantically against your grip. “I’m starving.”

Whipped cream sticks thickly to the spoon as you pull it out of the small bowl. The white substance sticks to your skin as you drag it down along your neck, your body heat melting some of it directly upon contact and small streaks of white drip down to your collarbone. The spoon isn’t even moved away yet when he leans forward, pink tongue laving eagerly against your skin as he licks up the cream. 

His tongue is so soft, wet and hot against your neck, warm breath fanning across the wet skin as his tongue follows the scattered drippings down lower. You're quick to add more whipped cream to your body, smearing it lower across your chest and over the swell of your breast peeking out from the top of your dress. The feel of his mouth on your breast makes your jaw drop, breathy sighs falling from your lips as you watch him lick the cream off your chest. His pink lips look beautiful on the round swell, thick lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he latches onto the top to suck gently, still trying to get every last taste of cream onto his greedy tastebuds. 

Gripping his chin again, you pull him back up to your face, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. He groans when your tongue pushes through into his mouth, sliding against his as you suck the taste of the whipped cream off his tongue. His hands come up to hold your face, one hand cradling your cheek while the other hand, still holding the glass of wine, reaches up to touch your jaw and helps to tilt your face up to his. 

Your fingers grab the thin straps of your dress, pulling them down over your shoulders and freeing your breasts from the cups. You hate to drag your lips from his, teeth digging into his plump bottom lip and pulling as you pull back, grinning at the groan it rips from him in return. You grab the glass from his hand, arching your back slightly to puff out your chest more as you spill a little of the wine over it. Coriolanus groans at the sight of the red drink running down your chest, cascading over your breasts and dripping down further to soak into the material of your dress. 

“F-fuck,” he whimpers, and immediately takes the hint, large hands gripping your waist to hold you still.

His pink tongue draws along your chest, cleaning the spillage from your skin as he nibbles along your breast. His plush lips wrap around your nipple, tonguing the hard bud with the tip of his tongue before sucking gently. 

“Good boy,” You coo. You’re trying for a taunting tone, but the words come out more gritted than you would have liked as you feel your panties completely soak through. “Clean it all up for me,”

His pretty eyes look up at you as he sucks, dark with desire as he stares up at you through his lashes. He pops off your nipple with a wet sound, tongue dragging across the swell of your breast as he makes his way to the other one. When he’s done, your chest and tits are wet with his saliva instead of the sticky wine, and you shiver when his warm breath fans over the damp skin. 

You lean back against the bed, holding the wine glass straight up as you lie down flat. His hands stay on your waist, seemingly unable to loosen their grip on your sides as he follows you down. He leans over over you, watching with wide eyes as you hike the bottom of your dress up so that it bunches up below your bust and out of the way. Your beautiful body is now on full display for him - soft, smooth, and well fed as his gaze feasts on the bounty now in front of him. His eyes lock onto your white lace panties, now practically translucent with how wet they are, but you steal his attention back with a quick call of his name. 

With his eyes now back on yours, you tilt the glass over you, pouring the wine into the divet of your belly button and letting it pool there. Some of the liquid spills over, tickling your skin as it runs out along your belly and sides. Immediately, his head is at your belly, catching some straying droplets before they can soak into your sheets before his lips suction over your belly button, licking into it and sucking out the sweet drink from its makeshift cup. 

Your fingers thread into his soft hair, locking into his fluffy curls, and when there’s no more wine to drink on your body, you push his head down further. His breathing is quick and excited as he allows you to push him down to your core, little pants of hot air hitting the drenched fabric of your panties as he peers up at you. 

“Please,” He breathes, and you can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips from the sight of him between your thighs.

“Go ahead and eat your meal, Coryo,” You say, leaning up on your elbow to watch him better. Your other hand casually keeps the still occupied wine glass upright and out of danger. “If you’re good, I’ll let you eat plenty more.”

He’s a good boy, you always knew he would be. Despite his air of confidence and ego he tries to emit daily at the Academy, you’re good at seeing through people’s disguises. Coriolanus is soft - a lost boy trying to find a place among the vicious sharks of Capitol people. 

Ready to follow your every command in hopes you deem him worthy enough to throw scraps to.

He licks over the lacy material of your panties, and you can’t help the deep shiver that wracks through your body at the tease. His nose presses against the lace, the tip brushing over where your clit sits beneath it before he hooks a finger under the material and pulls it to the side.

His tongue feels like silk against your drenched folds, the wet muscle flattening against your slit as it slides up the length of your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, using the leverage on them to keep you still as he circles your puffy clit. You briefly consider telling him to put his hands behind his back, just to add to the image of him serving you - being your ‘good boy’ - but the vision of him between your thighs, face finally pressed against your cunt where it always belonged, has you momentarily thrown for a loop.

He looks so pretty down there, blond curls messy where you had your hand in them. You’ve waited so long for this moment. Dreamed about how good he would look between your legs, disheveled and wanting as he begged you to let him eat you out. Begs you to grace him with the privilege of fucking you. And now here it is. The moment you’ve worked so hard for. 

And the payoff is gorgeous. 

His eyes are half hooded in pleasure, mouth licking and sucking greedily at your juices, moaning into your pussy like he was retasting the wine for the first time again. His moan vibrates through your entire body from where his lips are wrapped around your clit, more wetness leaking out of your soaking hole at the pathetic sound. 

You wonder what you taste like to him. Probably like honey.

The sweetest kind he’s ever tasted. 

“Do I taste good?” You ask, breathlessly. Coriolanus ignores you, seeming to not even hear you as he shakes his face against your puffy pussy, too intoxicated on your scent and taste for your words to penetrate through the fog clouding his mind. You grin, speaking louder to catch his attention. “Snow, eyes on me,”

Immediately, those baby blue eyes are focused on you and your breath catches in your throat in excitement. That’s right, gorgeous. Keep your eyes on me. 

“I asked if I taste good,” You repeat. 

Coriolanus nods, mouth never letting up on the suction around your clit as he hums out a little “mhm”. You squirm a bit, switching arms so your weight is being kept up by the elbow of the arm cradling the wine glass while your now free hand reaches out to nudge at his head to urge him down further. 

“Put your tongue in,” You demand, fingers gripping his curls again as you shove him down. “Fuck me with your tongue.”

His eyes flutter as he follows your instructions, ever the diligent student, and your mouth falls open at the feel of the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance before it pushes inside, spearing you open around the thick, wet muscle.

“Yes,” You moan, fingers leaving his curls to rub frantic circles around your pulsing clit. “Fuck me faster, Coryo,”

His fingers dig into the plush skin of your thighs, fingertips sure to leave bruises as he desperately pulls you closer, tongue digging as deep as it can into your depths as you clench around it. The coil in your belly tightens, pleasure ripping through you as you bite back the loud cry wanting to burst from your throat as the coil snaps and you cum on Coriolanus’s face, squeezing tightly around his tongue. 

You huff for breath, fingers still greedily rubbing at the sensitive nub trying to soak up every last shock of bliss from your orgasm, even as Coriolanus pulls his tongue from your insides, panting. His face is drenched in your juices - debauched and dirty because of you, and the sight alone makes you want to lock your fingers in his golden hair again and pull him back in for round two.

You sit up, listening to the desire to dig your hand into his hair, but instead of dragging him down again, you drag him up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before licking up the side of his face, tasting yourself on his skin as you clean him up. He’s still breathing hard when you get to his lips again, and your eyes meet his as you press small teasing kisses to his frowning lips. 

He’s confused, you can see it in his eyes. Can see the gears in his brain trying to make sense of what just happened and how he’s ended up in the position that he’s in. He’s thinking too much. Coriolanus Snow - always thinking himself stupid. And you're clearly not doing your job right if he’s still able to think after a session with you. 

“Hey,” You murmur against his lips. Your hand frees his hair, trailing down his chest and stomach before gently cupping the prominent bulge in his pants. A shocked puff of breath exhales harshly against your lips. “Just go with it.”

“Are you trying to distract me?” He asks, lips brushing against yours with each word. “Keep me from studying so you can with the prize money for yourself?”

“Oh, honey,” You giggle. “We studied plenty today, didn’t we? And besides,” Nimble fingers slide up the smooth line of Coriolanus’s throat, curling around his jaw as you kneel up, angling his face up towards you as you gaze down at him. “You won’t forget a single thing you learned today after I’ve finished with you.”

Your fingers dig into his jaw as you press another head spinning kiss to his lips, completely obsessed with the way they mold against yours, soft and yielding against your demanding mouth. When you pull back, it’s with a wild heat in your eyes that you can see reflected in his own. 

“Lie back,”

You watch in muted glee as he does, lying back flat against the sheets even as he scoots back further towards the center of the bed. Your legs move with him, following him back as you crawl over his sprawled out body, taking a small sip of wine as you settle on his hips. His cock pulses in its confines against you, pressed tightly against your soaked panties as you slowly rock your hips along the thick bulge. Pretty moans threaten to escape his lips, only muffled by sheer willpower to not open his mouth to let the sounds out to their fullest potential. His golden curls are unkempt, fanned out against your silk sheets like a halo, and you can’t help but think he looks like an angel like this.

An angel you can’t wait to ruin. 

“Hold this for me, won’t you?” You say, pressing the wine glass into his hand. He grabs it as if on autopilot, holding it up prettily with the stem between his middle and ring finger, like a proper gentleman. 

Impatient hands paw at his burgundy sweater, bunching the material up as far up as you can get it to reveal his long, skinny torso. Immediately, your mouth is on his skin, lips brushing lightly over his side, soft enough to tickle as they brush over the all too prominent ribs. You look up at Coriolanus, meeting his baby blues as he watches you kiss each individual bump along his side. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips parted as if wanting to say something, and you can only imagine the nonsense that could come out. He has to know that you know something’s up - normal, well-fed young adults don’t clearly have emaciated bodies like this. You have to admit, he’s done an admirable job at keeping the Snow family misfortune under the radar, but you’re not about to let his pride and ego get in the way of you and your prize. 

“It’s learning by association, right?” You say, cutting him off before he can form his excuse. You lick a long stripe across his belly, his very flat belly - warm breath fanning across the wet path as you pull back to speak again. “We’re in the classroom, right? And you’re stumped on a question. So you’ll look over the balcony and down one row to the left, where I sit, and see me sitting there all pretty and hard at work,”

Coriolanus lets out a shuttering sigh when you scoot further down his body, pressing another gentle kiss just to the right of his belly button. “You’ll stare at my glossed up lips, all shiny and tempting in the light, imagining them pressed against yours,” Another kiss to the opposite side. “And you’ll remember the date the Treaty of Treason was signed into effect.”

“F-fuck,” Coriolanus whines as you hold his hips, using your grip to keep him steady as you trail your kisses lower and lower towards the waistband of his pants. His cheeks are so flushed, red flaming at the pale skin even as he drags his hand over his face. He’s trying to hide - how adorable. 

“You’ll remember the various ecological disasters that brought about the creation of Panem everytime you think about my tits,” You continue, nibbling along his jutting hip bone. You draw a playful heart on his skin with the tip of your tongue. “About how soft and perfect they are,”

Your eyes drop down to the bulge straining in his pants, the dark material only made darker by the wet spot on them made from your own juices. 

“The five major economic benefits to a split District-Capitol government will pop into your mind whenever you think about how I tasted on your tongue,” Coriolanus moans desperately when you lick across his clothed erection, hips jerking despite your hold. 

Excitement fills your chest as you work the front of his pants open, quick fingers easing the zipper down over the thick bulge and working his gorgeous, gorgeous, oh so gorgeous cock free from its prison. You’ve waited a long time for this moment, and your greedy eyes don’t let it go to waste. 

His cock is every bit as magnificent as you knew it would be. It stands tall and hard, thick with the head already coated with precum as it springs out and slaps against his belly. He’s going to fill you up so good, fill you up until you’re so full you think you might just burst from it. You want it. You want it so badly that you almost hate that you’re going to make yourself wait for it. 

His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, body just barely trembling enough with nerves that you're able to see it through your own distraction. Your fingers sneak their way towards him, loving the way both Coriolanus and his cock twitch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around the heated length. 

“And when you need to remember which US states combined to make up the districts,” You breath, head lowering down, your breath fanning across his weeping tip. “Just think of my mouth sucking on your pretty cock.”

The sound he makes when your lips wrap around the head of his cock makes you want to laugh. It’s pathetic, a high-pitched gasp that rips from his throat as his back arches against the bed. But the taste of his precum coating your taste buds as you suckle on the reddened tip has you distracted. He tastes so good, so much better than you think is fair. He already invades your thoughts and dreams with his too pretty face and better-than-you attitude - he doesn't need to taste as good as he does on top of everything now that you’ve finally got him. 

There’s a moment when you consider reaching over to grab a spoonful of the whipped cream still sitting on the now forgotten tray. The food isn’t for you, it’s a means to an end - but there’s a part of you that can’t help but want to see what it looks like smeared against Coriolanus’s cock. You can picture it in your mind already, the flushed tip just barely hidden under the dollop of cream, the heated skin melting the topping just enough for it to start dripping down the sides of his cock before you can lick it all up. 

You don’t do it, not willing to part with the much tastier treat you’ve won. Your mouth stays happily in its place as you work your way further down his length, humming as his cock slides across your tongue and brushes the back of your throat. The sounds trying to erupt from him make you suck harder, sucking in your cheeks as you bob your head, tongue laving across the underside of his cock with each up and down motion, greedy to get its fill. His hand clasps over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to muffle his moans of pleasure. A pang of irritation zips through you at the thought that even as he’s giving into you - giving you what you’ve always wanted - he’s still being a stubborn asshole and keeping you from fully enjoying your success.

Those sounds are yours. They belong to you. You deserve to hear each and every adorably pathetic whine and gasp that creeps its way up his throat. 

You’ve earned them.  

He’s trying, he really is, but even his palm can’t keep his tortured groan quiet when you press down just a little too deep, nose aiming for that soft patch of golden curls at the base of his cock but not quite making it there as your throat spasms around him - choking and gagging around the thick length as you use it to bully your own airway. 

Thick strands of saliva connect your mouth to his cock even as you pull off. Your hand strokes to make up for your missing mouth as you lean up, only pausing to press a couple of teasing kisses to the underside of the swollen head as you go. 

“Open your eyes,” You demand, waiting for him to comply before slowly teasing the tip of your tongue along the slit on the top, just to watch his eyelashes flutter as his pretty eyes roll back. The sight makes you grin, the smug pull of your lips present even as you sit up, hips straddling his thighs as you perch yourself up. 

Your nipples are so hard, pebbled and begging for his attention. You wish he could read your mind right now, so he would know to reach out and grab at them - squeeze your breasts in his large hands, message them and play with the tightened buds between his clever fingers. You wish he would pull on them, twist them enough to make you gasp and arch your back, and you’d reward him with tightening your grip on his cock, wrist twisting your palm around his tip in mimic of his own action. 

He doesn’t, of course, hand still clamped over his mouth like it is. Still muffling those pretty, clit-throbbing sounds that belong to you. 

Your right hand slides around his cock, using the copious amounts of saliva you left behind as a lube, spreading the wetness around his pulsing length and getting it nice and slick. His wet cock glistens in the overhead light of your bedroom, and, honestly - you never thought a cock could look so beautiful. Your other hand reaches out to grab Coriolanus’s wrist, yanking his hand away from his mouth so you can hear his sounds, undisturbed, as you jerk him off. 

“Stop that,” You hiss when he tries to pull his wrist from your grip. “Don’t hide them. Wanna hear you. Wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“Ah-hmm,” he moans, wrist ripping from your grip. But he listens, and rather than going back to cover his mouth, his fingers twist into the silk sheets instead, bunching them up in his fist as he watches you with wild eyes. 

“Yeah, there we go,” You coo, fist stroking over his hot flesh as you work him faster. There’s a pearl of precum beading up on the tip of his cock, more pushing out the tighter you squeeze each time your fist gets to the top. Wet, slick sounds fill the room in time with your strokes, his pleasured moans cutting through the wet noises like a lewd symphony. “So much better, right?”

His thighs shake underneath you, hips stuttering and trying to buck up into your hold but the prison of your body weight on his thighs keep them pinned down. His moans turn into helpless blabbering - a endless string of ‘oh fuck, y/n, please, fuck, fuck–’.

The sound of him moaning your name sends a new gush of wetness into your already soaked panties. Your neglected clit aches for you to rub it, to grind the swollen nub on his thigh for relief - you think another wet spot on the dark trousers would look perfect. 

You double down on your stroking instead, your other hand curling around his hip to keep it pressed against the mattress as your hand speeds up on his cock. Every time the wetness making him slick starts to dry up, you add more, leaning down just a bit to let another long line of saliva fall from your wet lips and onto the red flushed tip of his cock. 

He’s so loud. The visual of you spitting on his cock is just way too much for his poor, inexperienced self to handle. The sounds coming out of his mouth are pure filth - hot and stomach clenching as you grin in satisfaction. It makes sense, you think. He’s loud and confident at the Academy, boisterous in his achievements as he speaks with a fake humility. It makes sense that he would be loud in the bedroom, unable to keep his voice down as he moans and whines like a slut. 

“So loud, baby,” You tease. The hand gripping his hip finds the forgotten food tray, two fingers dipping into the almost empty chocolate sauce bowl. “You’re distracting me. Shh,” 

Your fingers press into his open mouth, his lips automatically closing around your digits with a whimper. He sucks the chocolate off of your fingers like a good boy, eyes wide and wet making him look like he’s on the verge of tears. You want it. Want that push that’s going to make those pretty eyes spill out waterfalls over his flaming cheeks.

Just a little more.

Your hand moves faster on his cock, fist focusing cruelty on the top half of his shaft, palm twisting over the sensitive head with each stroke. The fingers in his mouth push back further and he gags, body jolting from the gag even as he moans around them again. The remaining wine in the glass sloshes from his jolt, but the crystal stays clasped between his fingers. 

And there they are: twin trails running from his red rimmed eyes. You coo at him while the overwhelmed tears become victims to gravity. Instead of trailing down his cheeks like in the image in your head, one trails across his temple and soaks into his hairline while the other pools up along the side of his nose - and your empty, aching hole clenches tightly around nothing at the sight. 

His cock throbs in your hand, hot and heavy as it twitches in the tight cage of your fingers, pretty red tip coated in a mixture of precum and spit disappearing and reappearing with each quick stroke of your fist. Fuck, you want it inside you so badly, want to feel him stretching you out. You’d make him cum within two seconds of being inside you, your pussy is just that magical. So warm and tight and perfect that men just can’t control themselves when they get inside of you - or so you’ve experienced with the other Academy boys who you’ve deemed worthy enough (although just barely) to have their moment with you. Poor pretty boy Coriolanus wouldn’t stand a chance. Frankly you’re shocked he’s even lasted as long as he has. You thought he might shoot his load in his pants while eating you out, although you’re glad he didn’t or this current playtime would have been unfortunately halted. 

He’s so close, just a hair away from falling apart in front of your eyes. And you’re so hungry - so hungry for him.

The whines are muffled around your invading fingers, but they’re a constant now, no time wasted between them as he babbles around your fingers. The words come out garbled, but they sound a lot like ‘I’m gonna cum, please, please, fuck’. So you giggle, light and airy as you breathe, “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me,”

You don’t want to stop touching him. It’s addicting, making him moan and cry for you with just a few practiced strokes from your hand. You’d never stop if it was up to you. But your hand stops stroking his cock the second his eyes roll back into his head, just keeping a firm grip on the base to keep it still even as his body shakes. His cock twitches for a second, reddened head glistening before the first spurts of his release shoot out of the tip. They travel far, dirtying his stomach and splattering the smooth pale skin with white, some even making it as high up as his ribs, just barely missing the burgundy of his sweater. He cries around your fingers and you're sure the lack of stimulation is absolutely killing him. But he made you wait. He made you stress and work hard and put in effort just to get him. He needs to be punished for his crimes against your ego and libido. 

He’s so pretty though, so so fucking gorgeous it makes you sick, and your willpower has just about been all used up. You stroke up his twitching length again, working him through the tail end of his orgasm, fist tightening and twisting at the top to milk out any lingering cum from the swollen tip. He’s still whimpering when you pull your fingers from his mouth, those same wet fingers moving to steal the glass from his hand, your eyes locking onto his as you finish the rest of the sweet drink in one last long victorious gulp.

Both of his hands find their way to you as his orgasm comes to an end, clutching at your thighs as the pleasure subsides but your movements don’t. He tries to push your hand away with a tortured groan, the stimulation becoming too much too quickly, but you easily slap it away. He’s weak, poor pathetic baby is too weak to make you stop - bones like jelly and brain still malfunctioning, no doubt. So you take advantage of all he’s worth even as you remove the circle of your fingers from around his cock and switch to palming the oversensitive flesh where it sits against his stomach. 

“Ha- fuck, y/n, s-stop p-please,” 

Your hand finally leaves his cock, choosing instead to wrap gently around his throat. Stop, he says? No. There’s no stopping now that you finally have him. 

“You want me to back off the Plinth Prize, Coryo?” You rasp. “You’re gonna have to earn it,”

[supernovafics]

𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: college!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k words

summary: in which a plethora of coincidences keep pushing you and steve toward each other and you kind of hate it

warnings: slight!fuckboy steve, explicit language, angst, some fluff

author’s note: hope y’all enjoy<3333 (full folklore series masterlist here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You didn’t know his name, but you saw him almost everywhere. 

Actually, you did know his name, Steve, but you didn’t really know him. 

What you did know was that he had been a shitty group partner to have last semester for a history class, and that he had an on-again/off-again, more so off-again, relationship with your roommate who you had a polite but surface-level friendship with. He also frequented the diner you worked at a few minutes off campus with his basketball friends and dates; and you couldn’t help but notice that it was always a different girl each time. 

Even though there were a bunch of opportunities for something to happen between you two, you’d never had an actual conversation with him. Not that you necessarily wanted to. But, after having the plethora of instances where you could’ve talked to one another, it sometimes surprised you that you didn’t at least have some sort of a friendship with this guy you’d see way too often. 

You chalked it up to the fact that even though you two would share passing glances every so often with one another, you’d never been in a one-on-one situation with him. 

Until you finally were, and it was in perhaps one of the worst and weirdest ways possible. 

You were walking down a random aisle on the fourth floor of the campus library when you bumped into Steve. Well, “bumped” is a bit of an understatement because you quite literally tripped over him. 

For some reason, he was sleeping in the middle of the aisle, and you didn’t notice until it was too late since your eyes were solely trained on the shelves as you searched for one book in particular. 

“Jesus Christ,” You yelped as you tumbled to the ground, glad that your brain thought quick enough to put your hands out so that you didn’t completely faceplant. 

When you looked at what caused you to fall and saw Steve leaning against a bookshelf with his legs out, you inwardly groaned because, of course, it was him. 

“Ouch,” He said with a small yawn as he rubbed the leg that you tripped over. “Weird wake-up call.”

“Why the hell are you sleeping here?” You asked as you started to get up. 

“I was trying to study for a test and then I got tired,” He shrugged and then finally looked at you. “Hey, you look crazy familiar.”

You almost laughed at that and thought about simply walking away from him, but decided against it. The universe clearly wanted you two to have a conversation with one another, so you decided to finally give it what it wanted.  

“We were in the same group for a history project last semester,” You answered. 

“Oh yeah,” He said and his eyes cast downward. “Sorry about that. I know I was probably the worst person in that group.”

“Very, very true,” You nodded, although you were no longer upset about that whole situation. Not that you were ever truly mad, anyway. “Also, you had, or maybe still have, some sort of fling going on with my roommate. Lissa.”

“That is definitely a past tense thing,” He responded with so much certainty that you silently wondered what happened between them. You weren’t close enough with Lissa to talk to her about that sort of thing, though.  

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere else though, too,” Steve said and then thought for a moment. “Oh, you work at that diner, right?”

“Yup, mostly weekends but some weeknights too.”

Steve nodded at your words. “Huh, surprised we never talked before.”

You didn’t tell him that you had been thinking the same thing and instead decided to sit down across from him putting your legs out as well. “What class are you studying for?”

“Psychology,” He answered and then showed you the textbook next to him, which looked eerily familiar. 

“With Dr. Brooke?” 

Steve nodded and you fought the urge to look around to see if you were on some sort of elaborate prank show. Because it didn’t fully make sense to you how all of these fucking coincidences were happening. 

“I’m in that class too,” You responded after a brief stint of silence. 

In this case, it kind of made sense that you didn’t know he was also in that class because it was huge, with at least a hundred fifty people in that auditorium-type room. 

“Wow,” Steve verbalized the surprise you were inwardly feeling. “Weird.”

You couldn’t help but finally let out a small laugh. “‘Wow’ and ‘weird’ are probably the understatements of the century.” You pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around them. “I think we kind of have to be friends now. These coincidences are too fucking insane to not be.”

He smiled at you and there was something about it that made you fully understand why he so easily had a new girl to bring to the diner every week. 

“What if I take you on a date?”

A part of you immediately felt surprised by his question and how abrupt it was. However, the other part of you sort of saw it coming because it made a little bit of sense. Case in point, the fact that you would frequently see him with a new girl. Asking someone out was probably equivalent to breathing for him. 

“No,” You answered simply before standing up. 

You didn’t notice the immediate confused look on his face as he followed suit and abruptly stood as well. 

“Why not?”

There were a lot of reasons you could’ve given him as the answer to that question. Such as how he’d been with your roommate, and although you weren’t best friends with Lissa, something about it still felt at least a little wrong. Or the fact that the thought of being added to his list of conquests made you feel physically ill. 

“I’d just rather not,” You ultimately answered with a small shrug and then started walking away. You quickly pushed away your lingering thought that told you that if the circumstances were different you would’ve fully considered saying yes to him. 

Steve didn’t follow you as you walked away. Instead, the wheels in his brain started turning as he thought about how he could get you to go out with him, something told him that you would be harder to get than the majority of girls he’d been with before. 

However, he never shied away from a challenge. In fact, there was a part of him that loved them. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“time, curious time. gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. were there clues i didn't see?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Somehow through the hordes of people, Steve managed to find you the next day in your shared psychology class, and he sat right next to you. 

“Hi, friend,” You said when you noticed him and smiled. 

Before he could say anything in response, class started and the professor started speaking, almost immediately jumping into the lecture; and he was very intense about his no talking policy. As you half-listened to him discuss the final chapter that would be on the test next week and tried to take somewhat useful notes, you were interrupted by Steve bumping your elbow with his and sliding his notebook over to you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the action before you read what was written in the margin.

Do you like pizza?

You almost laughed at the randomness of the question. You met his curious gaze for a brief moment and then wrote your response.

Obviously. I’m not a psycho

You pushed the notebook back to Steve and then went back to paying attention to the lecture. Moments later, he slid it back toward you. 

Wanna get some tonight? I know a really good place a few minutes off campus 

If it’s just a friendly hangout then yes

No. Date?

You rolled your eyes at the question and moved the notebook back toward him without saying anything. You could see in your peripheral that he was adding something else before pushing the notebook to you. 

Please?

You crossed out that question and his previous words, and then under it drew a tic-tac-toe board, putting an X in the middle. 

You watched as Steve made his move, an O in the top left corner, and then wrote something else. 

If I win, will you say yes?

Your one worded response was immediate. 

No.

And then you made your move, putting an X under his O. 

He didn’t write anything else, which you were actually surprised about, and instead just continued playing tic-tac-toe. You won the first game, and then he won the next two, and you were close to starting another one with him, because you wanted to redeem yourself, but you forced yourself to listen to the end of the lecture. 

“So pizza date tonight? I’ll pick you up at 8?” Steve asked when class was over, and the both of you started packing your things. 

You laughed a bit. “I think we have very different memories of the conversation that just took place in your notebook.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you were glad when he was bombarded by a few of his basketball friends. You used that opportunity to slip away and out of the room without having to say anything else to him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“gave me the blues and then purple pink skies. and it's cool, baby, with me.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Surprisingly enough, when Friday night rolled around, Steve showed up at the diner alone; for the first time probably ever. 

You didn’t say anything to him aside from giving him a small wave, which he returned with a smile. 

You weren’t the waitress taking care of him that night, and you could tell that Casey, who you worked with most nights, was also surprised to see him by himself because just like you, she was used to seeing him with girl after girl. 

Toward the end of your shift, you slid into Steve’s booth, sitting across from him. “You’re probably bored out of your mind being here alone, aren’t you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly and then took a bite from one of the few stray fries left on his plate. “I’d rather be alone if it’s not gonna be you sitting across from me.”

You pretended as if his words had no affect on you, even though they slightly pulled at your heart. You had to remind yourself of his track record, most of which you’d seen firsthand. And because of that, you also reminded yourself that you could only be friends with him. 

“Very smooth,” You said and then slid back out of the booth. “But, also probably the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s the truth.” You heard him say as you walked away, and you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes. 

Barely ten minutes later, he went up to where you stood behind the counter putting napkins in a dispenser. His bill was paid and you had expected him to leave at any moment, and you hated that the thought of him leaving made you feel a little bit sad. 

“What time are you done here?”

You met his gaze. “In exactly five minutes, actually.”

“Can we do something after?” He asked and when you tilted your head at him, he followed up with, “I promise I only have the friendliest of intentions.”

“I finally brought you to the friendship side?”

“No, but for this instance, yes.”

That managed to make you smile a bit. “Can we go to that pizza place you were talking about? If they’re still open?”

“Yeah, it is. They close at three because the stoner crowd usually shows up around one and that’s peak business.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded.  “I don’t drive, so I’ll meet you at your car.”

A confused look crossed Steve’s face. “You don’t drive? How do you get here?”

“I walk from my dorm, it’s only about ten minutes,” You answered with a small shrug. 

“Oh, okay,” He responded, and didn't say it aloud to you, but he now knew that he would make it his mission to pick you up at the end of your shifts so that you wouldn’t have to walk alone in the dark anymore. “I’ll meet you outside.”

When you stepped out of the diner, a minute earlier than expected, you were quick to get in Steve’s car.

“Do you have a sweater or something I could wear? I left my jacket at home,” You asked, not really thinking too much of the question because you hated wearing the baby blue dress that was your uniform anywhere other than the diner. 

Steve reached into the backseat and handed you a hoodie, which you immediately slipped over your head. The hoodie swallowed you whole and made it look as if you weren’t wearing anything underneath, but it felt so comfortable that you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“What are you thinking?” Steve asked when you both finally decided to leave the pizza place around two in the morning. He had walked you to the passenger side of his car, but before you opened the door to get inside, you turned around to face him and you didn’t say anything as you met his eyes, which was what prompted his previous question. 

There was a lot that you were thinking right then, and most of the thoughts surrounded the fact that you had thoroughly enjoyed yourself on this “non-date” with Steve. He was genuinely nice and funny, and such a fucking charmer that it made you want to roll your eyes while giggling at his words. And he was being honest about keeping things friendly for the most part, although you had a feeling that not being a least a little flirty was impossible for him. 

And it was all of that put together, that made one thought sit heavily at the forefront of your mind. 

“I think I wanna kiss you,” You finally answered, and you were surprisingly not scared by your complete honesty. 

He smiled at that and his hands found your hips as he moved the tiniest bit closer to you and his next two words came out softly. “Do it.”

You had to pull your eyes away from his because you were so close to listening to him. 

“I can’t.” Your voice was quiet. 

“Why not?”

“Because I really just want us to be friends.”

“We can still just be friends even if you kiss me right now,” Steve told you, and although you were unsure if you fully believed him, you still decided to take his word for it and you pushed yourself up on your toes a bit to press your lips against his. 

You could tell he was initially surprised by the abruptness of it, but he kissed you back almost immediately. Your arms came up to wind around the nape of his neck to steady yourself as your back was pressed into the side of the car. 

It felt almost surreal how much better this was than you thought it would be. Your mouths moved against each other so seamlessly, almost as if this was already something that had happened a million times before. 

You expected to be able to kiss Steve once as a way to sort of get the attraction you felt toward him out of your system so that you could then let things become completely normal and solely friendly between you two. But, right then– with his lips against yours, and one hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek– you were hit with the sudden thought that you would need this to happen so many more times. 

You didn’t necessarily want to pull away from Steve at that moment, but you had to because you were completely out of breath. 

“That was— That was really good.” Your lips were still tingly as you licked them and you felt slightly light-headed, but in a good way, if that was possible. 

Steve pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek. “You sure you wanna still be just friends?”

That was the question that you now were unsure of the answer to. 

However, a small “yes” was what you responded with after what felt like a year’s worth of silence, and you could hear exactly how unconvincing you sounded.

Steve nodded and you could tell that he was pretending to believe you. “Okay.” 

He was about to finally pull away from you, but you stopped him. “What if…What if we are just friends, but we can kiss and maybe do other things,” Your mouth was moving much quicker than your mind could fully process the words you were saying. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about what you were proposing, but most of it seemed really good to you. “But, you shouldn’t date people, and I won’t either.”

“Okay,” Steve responded, smiling amusingly at your words. “But, this is starting to sound a lot different from a friendship.”

“Shh,” You said as you slotted your lips against his again. You knew how all of that sounded, but it made you feel a little better about the situation you were putting yourself in because you convinced yourself that you couldn’t get hurt this way. And aside from kissing Steve, not getting hurt was all that really mattered to you right then. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“one single thread of gold tied me to you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

[midnight-black2]

Ahh this is my first time requesting anything but I need prompt 5 for Farleigh 🙈

Imagine him being cocky for getting a higher score than reader and reader basically putting him in his place. 🫣🫣 (also i’m absolutely obsessed with your writing!!)

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : pretty much what the req says

disclaimers : sub!farleigh, dom!reader, public sexual intercourse (idk what this is called), handjob (m!recieving), slightly mean reader, degradation, ruined orgasm, probably more lol

note : thanks for the compliment ! hope you enjoy this '

it was by five points, five fucking points, and all farleigh did was torture you about it.

typically, you scored higher than him, mostly because you just straight up put in more effort. he couldn't care less about studying, he was just a naturally good tester. for this reason, he normally knew his place. but the one time he studied and you didn't, the one goddamn time. he wouldn't let you live it out, all he would ever do was talk about it, teasing you and making fun of you.

"wow Y/N, i think you're falling off," he stated, with a sarcastic, disapproving look. he was leaning over, hovering over your shoulder to get a proper look at your score. you were flabbergasted, you actually got a 95%. farleigh had gotten an 100%. if was quite literally embarrassing. that was when it first happened, but he didn't leave it there, oh no.

"ah-ah, don't you think i should skip ahead of you?" farleigh asked, his annoying voice startling you from your thoughts.

"what?"

"well i got a higher score, those have always been our rules." the thing you hated most was that he was right. it was also stupid because he made the damn rule, and you didn't care about being ahead in the lunch line one way or another. you figured the only reason he had done it was to make victory that much sweeter when he actually did score higher than you. so you stayed silent, letting him sit ahead of you.

and another incident...

"so if anyone here needs tutoring, don't hesitate to ask. our programs are specifically designed to connect students while effectively getting them to learn," mrs. abram spoke, as she handed out tutoring flyers.

farleigh shot you a glance, before mumbling your name, and covering it up with a fake cough. you groaned, with a sigh before frustratedly stuffing the flyer in your bag. he was being insufferable, and there was only so much you could take.

the final (notable) time he teased you, you two were partnered on a history project, the exact class he had excelled on the exam in. of course, just your fucking luck.

as he sat down, he had this complacent smirk on his face that you wanted to slap right off. he set the assignment papers down on the desk, and turned over to face you.

"well, i'm glad we got partnered, yeah? you probably need my help," he said, mockingly.

"jesus christ farleigh it was five fucking points! get over yourself!" there it was, you snapped. it was only a matter of time, though it just so happened to be in the middle of class. farleigh's smirk only grew, as if this was what he had wanted the entire time. the teacher had scolded you for cursing, and almost dismissed you from class. fortunately, you managed to stay, and the whole time you felt the urgent need to snap farleigh in half.

finally, after what felt like days, the class ended. however, instead of heading to the next class, you followed farleigh down the hall, before pushing him inside of some random storage closet. he was about to ask you what you were doing, he was about to leave...until you said something.

"what the fuck, farleigh," you uttered, coldly. he faltered, something in the way you sounded made him feel some sort of way. it was dark, and farleigh couldn't make out much, but if he had to guess, your expression would have been that of a deadpan, glaring into his soul.

"i don't get why you're so mad. i scored higher, and that's final."

"i'm mad because you don't know your fucking place." you spat back, inching closer to him.

"yeah? and what's my place, hm?" he questioned. his voice had an edge to it, but more than that he was genuinely curious.

"beneath me," you answered, no hesitation whatsoever. did you say it because that's what you actually thought? no. were you angry? yes. did you think farleigh would get off to it? also yes--and, he did. he did so much that he was developing a hard-on.

"you sure about that?" he asked, voice wavering.

"your dick is," you replied, gripping his cock in his pants. his knees buckled, and he let out the smallest whimper, that was nearly inaudible. "you're so pathetic, farleigh."

"yeah? well you're still gonna give me a handjob. so pathetic or not at least-" he cut himself off with a moan as you squeezed roughly once again.

"just shut the fuck up for once," you instructed, as you unzipped his fly. you, not-so-gently, took his cock from his boxers. his tip was an angry flushed red, and leaking pre. you chuckled at the sight, and he turned to face away, embarrassed.

you thumbed at his tip, and he whined softly. your fingers formed a circle shape, before sliding up and down at mid-pace. if you didn't want to miss too much of your next class, you'd have to make this quick.

"f-fuck, Y/N," he moaned, bucking his hips up slightly. you placed a hand on his hips to keep them pinned. you sped up your pace just a bit.

"is this what you've been wanting, farleigh? i really don't know how you got an 100% because all you seem to do is think with this stupid cock of yours," you said, as it was your turn to smirk this time. his head tipped back with a strained moan.

"shit, oh my god," he cursed, feeling himself grow close to an orgasm already.

"guess i should've done this a lot sooner, hm? really would've shut you up." your hand became brutal, but god did he like it.

"please," he said, not even sure what he was begging for. it was too much for him.

"please? are you serious? you take what i give you, farleigh." he whined at that, cursing under his breath.

"fuck Y/N, i can't-i...i think im gonna cum," he stammered, as his legs felt light, like they would give out any second. and just like that, you stopped. he whined, as you shoved his cock back in his underwear, and zipped back up his pants. you had left him with a raging boner, and he felt he could cry at that. as you exited the closet, he couldn't help but fear what he had gotten himself into.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[mercurygguk]

head over skates · jjk ; part iv.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,098

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, mentions of sex, jk being nice and getting shit for it lol

a/n; part 4 and ohmygodddd the angst is coming y'all !! i hope you enjoy reading this one – lmk what you think and tysm for reading <3

It’s a nice day today.

The sun is shining, it’s getting warmer due to spring, there’s not a single hint of a breeze in the air, and everyone seems to be in a great mood. It’s amazing what the changing seasons do to people and their mood – yourself included.

You’re working on the project for your photography class while sitting on your jacket on the grass quad on campus. You’ve almost finished the introduction and made sure to note down the plans for the project as well as set up the whole layout. The need to be organized has taken over but you always see it as a good thing; it keeps you focused and it makes school work seem less overwhelming.

It’s peaceful here on the quad, the faint sound of other students talking and laughing fills the atmosphere around you. There’s even a guy playing the guitar not too far away from you.

It’s nice, you think to yourself as a small smile spreads across your lips.

Until it isn’t anymore.

The evil spawn, also known as Jeon Jungkook, suddenly appears in front of you and blocks the sun as he grins at you, looking cheerful and happy for some reason you don’t care to know about.

Your smile has now turned into a scowl as you stare at him, ignoring the fact that he’s once again holding two americanos in his hands, “is this gonna be a thing now?”

Jungkook nods instantly, not noticing or simply just ignoring the glare you shoot at him.

“Yeah, it’s a tradition now, ____ – I bring iced Americano and you bring your moody attitude and then we work on the project together,” he says, his grin now a smirk that you suddenly feel the urge to slap off his face.

God, why is he so persistent on doing this project with you? Why can’t he just leave you to do it on your own? Why can’t he go do what he usually does – being a fuckboy and play hockey – instead of bothering you with his presence?

You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at his words, choosing to ignore the comment he so casually dropped about you being ‘moody’.

“I can get my own iced americano, thank you very much,” you pointedly say.

“Oh, really? Where is it?” He asks, looking around on the grass surrounding you, “did you chug it?”

His quick retort circuits your brain as you’re left gaping at him. You then shake your head as if to clear your head and ask another question.

You’re not quite sure why you haven’t told him to leave yet…

“So what? Are you stalking me now?”

Jungkook snorts as you quirk an eyebrow at him in question, shooting you a look of amusement as he glances around at all the people surrounding you and him.

“____, you’re literally on the campus quad. Anyone with eyes in their head could find you here.”

You blink at him for a second, causing Jungkook to flash you a knowing smirk and offer you one of the beverages he so kindly brought along once again. You decide to ignore his smart retort and take the iced americano he’s holding out, instantly taking a sip and withholding the moan of satisfaction that was threatening to escape just now.

Jungkook huffs out a chuckle to himself as he sits down next to you and slips off his backpack, pulling out his laptop. You stare at him in bewilderment as if he has three heads when he sits down, wondering how he’s taking your hostility as an invite to sit down with you.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” You can’t help but ask, confused as to why he’s sitting here next to you for the second time within just two days.

“To work on the project?”

There’s a look of confusion on his face as he looks at you, eyebrows pulled together in question.

“No, seriously – I told you, I’m doing this project by myself. What are you really doing here?”

Jungkook’s face twists in slight annoyance at your determination to work on the project by yourself, “you’re not the only one who cares about their grades, you know?”

He doesn’t care about his grades – there’s just no way that a stereotypical jock like him could care about anything but frat parties, getting laid and his sport. Old Jungkook might’ve cared but this Jungkook right here? He hasn’t given a single fuck about anything but hockey and his image since he became the popular and hot hockey player.

“Are you saying that me doing the project on my own will give us a bad grade? If anything, you working with me on the project will make it even worse!”

The tone of your voice has turned defensive as you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him. Jungkook scoffs, a hint of amusement within the sound. If he’s offended by your words, he doesn’t show it. Why would he be? He doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

“Excuse me, I have a 94 in this class right now!”

You fall silent.

A score of 94%.

You can’t help but let out a laugh, wondering how he managed to score a 94 in photography when all he ever does with his spare time is hooking up with girls around campus or spending it in the hockey arena with his teammates. 

“And how did you manage to do that? Did you flirt with Mrs. Kim or something?” You huff out a mocking chuckle.

Just for a split second, you swear you see a flicker of hurt flash across his eyes before it’s replaced by his usual smirk.

“And if I did?” He taunts.

Your eyes roll before you have a chance to stop them from doing so, causing Jungkook’s smirk to turn into an almost devilish grin.

“Wow, ____, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

His words have you scowling at him – something you seem to do a lot when he’s anywhere near you. You then grab the iced coffee and take another sip, turning your attention back to your laptop screen, leaving Jungkook to sit next to you and work on the project in silence. You don’t say another word to him as you share the document with him so he can partake in the process.

His words affected you more than you wish they did because it was once the truth but if there’s anything you’ll never be again, it’s being jealous of something Jeon Jungkook does.

[rachelsrandomwritings]

Wishing On a Star That's Just a Satellite

Ahhh ok, I haven't written anything in years, but I have recently become obsessed with BES and felt like I needed to write about Mizu so here is my probably trash attempt. Also based on the line from the song Satellite by All time Low

Modern! Mizu x Fem! Reader

y/n loved Mizu.  She loved the way her eyebrows furrowed when she was concentrating. Loved Mizu’s commitment to any task she undertook, never able to do anything halfway. y/n loved her dry wit and ability to think of a comeback to any jab. She loved her loyalty. Loved the way she protected her friends. She loved her strength and her ability to make a stand when necessary. She loved her eyes and the way they almost seemed to shine. She loved her with every part of her soul, but more and more she realized that might not be enough.

The two had met in their first year of college, while stuck in a new student orientation class. y/n noticed Mizu as soon as she walked into the lecture, silently hoping the girl would sit somewhere close by. By some stroke of luck, Mizu took the seat diagonally behind y/n. While bummed she wouldn’t be able to see her, y/n sent up thanks when the proximity allowed them to be put in a group together for the semester-long project. It was that very group that would become y/n’s closest friends in college. Though giving only a mediocre presentation for the final Akemi, Ringo, Taigen, Mizu, and y/n left the class tightly bonded. The group did everything together, study dates in the library, movie nights rotating between apartments, and crashing frat parties whenever they got the chance. Those nights were particularly fun with Mizu and Taigen always finding ways to show off against the brothers until the group was eventually kicked out. 

It was through these collected interactions that y/n got to know the girl who had caught her eye back on the very first day. The more she learned the harder she fell. She listened intently any time Mizu talked about her past, living with an adoptive father growing up in his auto repair shop. It was clear from the way she talked that her past had shaped the woman she was today, and y/n wanted nothing more than to know all of the little details, to understand the girl who made her heart beat so fast. When all of the friends were around y/n could mostly keep her nerves and feelings under control, but anytime the two of them were only she suddenly lost her ability to keep up a conversation, responding too quickly and never knowing what to say next.

It was silly for y/n to think none of their other friends would notice, and before too long Akemi cornered her with questions. Unable to deny it, y/n revealed the strong crush that had been growing for months. Thankfully Akemi promised not to tell right away but encouraged y/n to express her feelings. Too shy and afraid of the consequences not only for herself but also for the friend group y/n decided she had no choice but to get over Mizu. She pushed away thoughts of the girl throwing herself into her studies. She stopped showing up to friend group events in an attempt to clear her mind. 

That was until one night, out with another group of friends and admittedly a little too drunk, y/n ran into Mizu, literally. y/n was walking off the dance floor stumbling to refill her cup when suddenly she found herself caught in the toned arms of the girl she tried so hard to forget. y/n looked up, breath hitching and her eyes made contact with the ice-blue ones. “y/n” Mizu stated bluntly looking at the girl in her arms, “It's been a while.” y/n’s mind raced attempting to come up with an excuse for her absence, but instead decided to ignore the comment. “I’m so sorry I didn't mean to run into you, I was just headed that way.” y/n said pointing in a random direction and attempting to slip out of Mizu’s grasp and get away as quickly as possible. She started walking only to find herself being pulled back gently by the wrist, y/n turned back cautiously curious. Mizu cleared her throat, “they all really miss you.” She stated, taking a step toward y/n. Feeling braver than she ever had, y/n stepped in as well. “What about you, do you miss me?” Mizu’s eyebrows furrowed surprised at y/n’s words. “Of course I miss you, we’re friends.” y/n felt the word ‘friends’ cut through her heart like a knife. Unable to control herself y/n responded, “Yeah friends why can’t it ever be more than friends?” y/n felt the tears roll down her cheeks, and leaned her head against Mizu’s shoulder. Shocked by y/n words Mizu took a second trying to understand what had just happened. Before too long she gently grabbed y/n’s chin tilting it up to look at the girl’s face. y/n looked at her, embarrassment for the words she had just said filling her stomach, she began to apologize but was cut off by the feeling of Mizu’s lips of hers. y/n relaxed immediately into the kiss stepping in closer and wrapping her arms around Mizu’s neck. 

In the following weeks the two would meet constantly attempting to figure out what everything meant, and where they stood with each other. After years of pining y/n couldn’t believe that Mizu was finally hers. y/n made her way back into the friend group apologizing for her behavior, and the group celebrated when the two announced their relationship. Everyone was warm and supportive, caring so much about their two friends and loving the joy they brought one another. On their first official date, Mizu planned a picnic to watch the sunset at a local land preserve and the couple found themselves laying out for hours discussing any and everything. The night began to grow dark and the star shone brightly. Seeing a flash of light y/n gasped point up at the heavens. “Did you see that, I think that was a shooting star!.” Mizu grabbed her hand humming in response, smiling at the excitement on y/n’s face. “Ok so now we both have to make a wish!” y/n said closing her eyes tightly knowing exactly what she would ask for. She opened one eye peeking over at Mizu to see if she was making her own wish. Seeing her eyes shut y/n waited until they opened, and asked the question everyone knows can never be answered. “So what did you wish for?”, Mizu just shook her head a light smile on her lips. “You know I can’t tell you that. If I do it won’t come true, and I want this one to come true.” y/n pouted curious about what the wish might be, but all was resolved when Mizu rolled toward her and kissed the pout off of her lips. 

Their relationship continued to grow and in the time y/n came to find out what she hated about Mizu. Mizu was insecure with a tendency to push everyone away. Her past relationships had ruined her ability to trust or rely on anyone other than herself. She much favored dealing with things on her own. Any problem was immediately bottled up, or solved with force. When trying to address concerns between them Mizu often got defensive, fighting back against any attempt by y/n to work on things Arguments led to silence and avoidance. In one fight it took two weeks for y/n to get more than a passing comment out of Mizu, which hurt. y/n did everything in her power to be available for the other girl but found that Mizu still kept up high walls. It hurts to give your all to someone and be blocked out in return. It hurt to be in the corner of someone who tried their best to kick you out. y/n found herself countless times crying to Akemi about the pain of loving someone who refused to let you in when it really mattered. Sitting on the corner of the bed, the girl she loved curled up sleeping, y/n knew what had to be done. She knew that until Mizu had worked on herself, the two of them would never work. She cried silently as she wrote a goodbye note. She folded the note, standing to place it on the nightstand, before leaning down and placing a light kiss on Mizu’s temple. She grabbed the bag she had packed earlier and walked out, knowing that her wish from all those months ago could not be fulfilled now, but hoping one day they might be brought back together. Hoping that it really was a shooting star and not just a satellite.

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Works in Progress

Okay, this is literally every single work in progress that I currently have on my drafts!

I am the worst at summaries so I put the literal request underneath each one of them 😊 If it's not here, I didn't get the requests, loves so, let me know 😁

I know it's a lot and I really hope to get all of them up soon, it's gonna take me a while, but they are coming! if you'd like to request a preview of one, go ahead 😊 polls might come back in the future since they seem to be working somehow! I'll also be updating my Masterlists

I would like to thank you all again so much for yyour requests, love and patience!

Steve Harrington

Drabble (Untitled) [Mixing 2 requests]

1. wishingtobeforeveryoung1019 - Hey can I get a Steve and reader imagine where she works with Steve and they both like each other but they don’t realize it. They both think each other are way out of each other’s league. Can be Scoops Ahoy or Family Video, whichever you prefer. Fluffy please 2. Anonymous - Could you write a dialogue for Steve Harrington where the reader works at Scoops Ahoy and Steve and Dustin are in the back talking and Steve tells Dustin how much he likes the reader. Steve says "I really love y/n." and the reader opens the little window and says something like "you know I heard that whole conversation, right?" Steve and Dustin are both really shocked and Dustin runs out the back door, and Steve gets really flustered. And it ends with something really fluffy and cute, and they kiss. You totally don't have to write this, it was just an idea I had.

Ongoing Series - How Will I Know

You have walked the halls of Hawkins High unseen. If it wasn’t because Eddie Munson and his Hellfire Club had found you, you probably wouldn’t even have any friends. You knew someone like your all-time crush Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington wouldn’t notice you in a million years. Until you get paired up for a project and he finally learns your name.  

Eddie Munson

One-Shot - Alone Together [Mixing 2 requests]

1. mycobrakai1972 - Hello love, me again 😁 but instead of Charlie I have a Eddie request (even through they closed, so if you have to much just keep it for later or if you don’t want to, just ignore my request). So I thought about the reader is to shy to play with the Hellfire Club but she really wants too. And Eddie is thinking about a campaign that he can play only with her like a D&D date night and that has a romantic twist in it? Love your writhing, and look forward to everything that is coming soon. 💗💗💗 2. lunamadhatter99 - Oohhh let me go with Eddie and a shy one😍 Reader is a shy, quiet one, she's always seen (IF she is seen) at the library and there is where our boy notices her, reading basically a book a day. He's a little shy himself, at first, more because he's worried his reputation would scare her, but one day he tries sitting at the same table and... oh boy, when she smiles at him, he's done. He would start slowly: small talk, little glances in the hallway too, making jokes every now and then. To make her feel comfortable, first thing, always. He would start to flirt, careful not to cross any line, but he made her feel so at ease that she. Flirts. Back! But that only means that he need to try try harder to see that sweet blush he loves so much😏

Ongoing Series - There Are Worse Things I Could Do

[Harrington!Reader] Your senior year was supposed to be the best one in your life. But when Jason broke up with you and turned the entire school against you by spreading rumors about you, you can count with your hand the people that talk to you. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Nancy, and Robin. But there might be a new one you can add to the list. One you never thought possible. Eddie Munson.

Argyle

One-Shot - A Kind of Magic (might become a drabble)

Anonymous - Heyo! I’m the anon who requested the learning disability imagine! Talking specifics, I’ve got major dyscalculia & a bit of dyslexia. Social anxiety also didn’t help being called on in class, but yea 😅 thanks for asking!! 🥹🥹🥹

Dialogue (Untitled)

Anonymous - So I saw your post about shy!reader x anyone and I was wondering if you could do shy!reader x argyle where he introduces you to his friends in Hawkins (the older teens) and reader doesn't have like the best experience meeting new people so their scared and wants to like not see them because they have social anxiety and like he cuddles then I'm the end ( I always need Argyle cuddles)

One-Shot - Cielito Lindo

Not requested - [Byers!Reader] Argyle is staying with your family when his parents are out of town. You know he’s been feeling down because he has to celebrate his birthday without them. So, you try to do something to cheer him up. (Sequel to Build Me Up, Buttercup)

Ongoing Series - (500 Miles)

[Hopper!Reader] After moving to California with your sister and your new family, you think maybe you’ll finally get some peace. But, of course, you are now driving across the country in your boyfriend’s pizza van, on your way back to Hawkins.

Billy Hargrove

One-Shot - Highway To Hell [Munson!Reader] 

itslaqueefababy - Hey Idk if you’re taking request but since you have writers block, Maybe a Munson!reader x Billy Hargrove? Eddie and Billy hate each other and there’s a lot of drama and tension whenever they get around each other. It’s gets really annoying and out of control that reader eventually gets fed up and upset that they don’t care how she feels. She gives them the cold shoulder and silent treatment then eventually comes up with the idea to runaway on purpose for them to get along by searching for her and all? Something funny and angsty?

One-Shot - A Little Death [Mixing 2 requests] [This might be Hartington!Reader]

1. Anonymous - Where the reader breaks up with Billy because he has been toxic and Billy goes and tries to find love in other women. But he gets frustrated because they don't touch him (physically and mentally) the way the reader always did. He gets angry trying to teach them but none come close to the actual thing until he gets so frustrated that he crawls back to her and tries everything to fix it. 2. Anonymous - “I feel like I’m falling apart.” with Billy Hargrove?

One-Shot - RIP, Love [Munson!Reader]

Anonymous - Where the reader is known to break hearts. Not because its fun for her but she does it to protect herself and the person. She is convinced that whoever gets close to her heart either ends up hurting her or she ends up hurting them so she always ends it by leaving them - ultimately hurting them before they can hurt her. When Billy starts getting interested in her and she suddenly leaves just when he thought things were going good, he doesn't back down to find out why and once he does he makes it his mission to show her that he is there to stay and protect, despite being known for leaving and destroying. 2. Anonymous - since you are taking requests, could i request a Billy fic with the following prompts from the prompt list you talked about in your latest post ? "Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me." "Just, please don't leave me." "I don't want you to die for me. I want you to live for me." + "As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you."

Steddie (Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson)

One-Shot - Running Up That Hill (I keep renaming it 😂)

Anonymous - I know you have many request and this one can definitely wait, but maybe Steddie x cursed!reader?? I need some angst and idk if this would help :/ but I understand if you don’t want to! Maybe one where reader bones end up snapping in the attic? It’s like Instead of max being cursed it’s the reader :)

Drabble - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

plk-18 asked - OK first of all i love your work!!! So I don’t know if your requests are still open and I’m really sorry if you already did something like that and I just forgot. But I would love a steddie one-shot, maybe they are not together yet but there is some sexual tension and we have a ‘only-one-bed’ situation👀🤍🤍

One-Shot - A Sunday Kind Of Love

Not requested - For six months, you had been fine with having a secret relationship with Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. But that changes when a very special day for you approaches and you want them both by your side and for that to happen, a few rules might get broken.

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Sirius Black

One-Shot - Out of The Woods [Lupin!Reader] (the request focuses more on Remus and the reader so I put it under Remus for now)

Anonymous - ahh your requests are open!! I love that!! but anyway, I could make a request where Remus has a younger sister who is a year or two below him and she discovers the way the Marauders found to help him deal with his problems during the full moons and decides what she wants to do the same for her brother but Remus doesn't allow it and they just fight about it until one night she decides to follow them anyway but ends up getting hurt because she's not an animagus like the rest of the boys? If you can make her be in an established relationship with Sirius I would appreciate it and sorry if I said something wrong this is not my first language

Drabble (Untitled)

oursilversoul - Heyy❤️ could yo write a Sirius black x slytherin reader where they somehow end up dancing together in the Yule ball with an enemies to lovers undertone? Thank you I love you soo much :)

Ongoing Series - Just Give Me A Reason

[Snape!Reader] Coming back for another year in Hogwarts meant you and your brother were away from your worst tormentor. But when your school tormentor finds out about it, things are about to change and you are not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Warning: mentions of abuse)

Remus Lupin

Dialogue (Untitled)

Anonymous - Hiii i don’t know if u are writing now but i’d love to read your take on remus being unconscious for a prolonged amount of time after transformation and fem!reader taking care of him and talking to him. fast forward to him waking up and confessing he heard everything she said while he was sleeping. i just love the way you write and it would be fun to read it!!

Drabble (Untitled for now)

2. Anonymous - HI! Could you do the prompt “We’ve been by each other’s sides for years, you think I’m gonna leave now?” With Remus Lupin where they're still in school and someone really close to the reader (like someone in their immediate family) died and the reader is miserable and asks Remus not to leave her too? Btw your work is amazing!

Ongoing Series - Too Good At Goodbyes

Twelve years ago, Lily and James Potter were brutally murdered. Twelve years ago, Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit. Twelve years ago Remus Lupin left you to take care of a one-year-old Harry on your own. Twelve years ago Severus Snape was the only person who was there for you. And now, Remus is back to teach at Hogwarts with you, as Harry courses his third year, and Sirius Black escaped Azkaban.

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Charlie Weasley

She Is Love (One-Shot) [Mixing 2 requests]

1. Anonymous - something about a shy reader, who's friends with the twins. Charlie and the reader have a crush on each other and he loves to see her blush and get all nervous, so it's like his mission to make her blush a lot, she kinda likes it though. But when someone else does try to tease the reader, not in a comfortable way, unfortunately, Charlie comes to the rescue and later on confesses his feelings. 2. Anonymous - I am begging for Charlie kissing shy!reader for the first time please

One-Shot - I'm Yours [Mixing 2 requests]

1. Anonymous - One where he gets jealous because of how close you’ve always been to Fred and George, even though Charlie really has nothing to worry about. 2. Anonymous - I have a dialogue request for Charlie Weasley and “Pay attention to me” where maybe the reader is friends with the twins and she’s having a ‘situation’ with charlie that no one knows about?

Drabble (Untitled)

Anonymous - Hi friend! Can I interest you in a dialog prompt for Charlie Weasley and “I’m sorry but I love you and I’m not going anywhere?”

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Evan Buckley

Drabble or One-Shot (Untitled)

Anonymous - Could I request a Buck x plussize reader? One where someone says something mean about the reader and buck defends her and comforts her after? Idk I just feel like I need some buck fluff in my life 😂

Drabble or One-Shot - Late Night Talking

Anonymous - Can you write a Buck x reader fic where they both work at the 118 and are really good friends. They both have a crush on each other. One night reader comes to visit him at his apartment because she doesn't want to go home(she still lives with her parents and they have a argument or something) Buck is happy to see her but also knows that something is wrong. They spend some time together and maybe there is a love confession at the end.

Eddie Diaz

Drabble or One-Shot - Cramps

Anonymous - One being eddie and the reader are going about they're day. Reader feels unwell but thinks nothing of it until they get back from a call/at the end of one and reader has appendicitis so they rush her to the hospital? Eddie is there when she wakes up and looks after her.

Drabble or One-Shot - Proposal

Anonymous - eddie is planning to propose to reader and he's all fluffy and cute about it?? Maybe gets Chris involved and the team are congratulating them? All fluffy and cute again.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Every once in a very rare while, I'm reminded of the tragedy in my life that was growing up unable to participate in Boy Scouts.

For those who don't know, up until 2017, Boy Scouts of America (BSA) did not permit anyone who wasn't a biological male to join them. Trans men could not be part of their organization, and until I think 2015, gay men couldn't be part of it, either.

When I was growing up, I had a brother who did BSA, and he would go once a week or so to the meeting hall with all the scouts in town (it's a VERY small town), and they'd, together, participate in an hour long meeting.

All my friends at the time were boys. I knew almost every boy in the town that was my age, by name first and last. And they knew me. We hung out together at recess, played basketball, or on the playgrounds, and so on. They, too, went to BSA meetings with my little brother, and basically every single boy in my town was a BSA kid period.

My mother would help out with the leadership, since there wasn't a restriction on which gender adults could be leaders, but that meant for every single meeting, since I was too young to stay home alone, she took me with her, and I would have to sit there watching basically every single boy ever doing Boy Scout things.

Now, since all my friends were boys, and two of those friends' parents were leaders, those friends would occasionally drag me into the meetings and forcefully make their parents let me participate.

But I could NEVER be an official member.

No matter how bad I wanted to, I couldn't go to camps, I couldn't go to field trips, I couldn't earn badges, I couldn't earn trophies, I couldn't gain ranks and someday achieve Eagle Scout status.

The only girl scout troop in my town was run by a mother of an autistic child who required constant attention, which is perfectly fine genuinely, I'm autistic myself and I've had autistic adult family members who also require specific care and constant assistance, but because of this mother's position, she never in over 10 straight years could coordinate a single field trip, a single camping trip, a single excursion, and we NEVER earned more than 2 badges in an entire year. By the time I was supposed to be above a Junior Scout, I'd only JUST earned my Junior Scout status like a month before this.

What's more is, I didn't quite know I was trans by this point, but I most certainly did not get along with any girls. They were VERY catty, clique-based, and all the girls my age in town HATED me. They jumped me, pulled my hair, excluded me unless it was to make fun of me, made memes and jokes about me in school, and I was there in Girl Scouts surrounded by dozens of bullies, in a singular room of a house, and I just FELT the tension there. It was so thick you could cut it with a knife, but we weren't taught how to use knives so nobody would be able to. We weren't taught anything period. No survival skills, no life skills, no educational skills, nothing. We literally just sat there each meeting reading from our Girl Scout guidebook, and that was it.

Meanwhile, all my friends, and my little brother, went on camping trips several times yearly across the country, they gained DOZENS of badges, trophies, held town events and went to other towns' events for BSA, but I was sitting there in Girl Scouts. Miserable. Lonely. Out of place. Hoping each meeting we'd do SOMETHING (plant trees at a park, go hiking, camping, cook smores over a campfire, whatever). We never did any of this. At all.

Eventually I quit Girl Scouts to take on MMA classes instead.

And by the time I'd come out as male, there was still the ban on trans guys in BSA.

In mid 2017, BSA lifted this ban.

I was 4 months away from my 18th birthday, wherein I'd be too old to join them. And what experience would 4 months of BSA give me when I'd be starting from the bottom while all the other guys my age would have been mid Eagle Scout project??

I never did join BSA... I just do my damndest now to take solace knowing that young trans men now won't have to endure what I did, that they're free now to have the experience I always wanted. Their lives can be better than my own, and that's genuinely beautiful. The whole point of creating a future is to make the world and their lives better than what we have lived.

But I'd be lying if I said it didn't cause me pain to this day when I'm reminded BSA is a thing that I never got to do.

Just recently, BSA changed their name to "Scouting America", and they're allowing all people to join regardless of gender. That's genuinely beautiful, and I am honestly SO happy to hear this!!!! Their goal is to be more inclusive, which is fantastic and I am very proud of the leaders for doing this, especially considering the announcement was made at an official meeting in Florida of all places, where LGBT+ rights are being taken away left and right.

I just wish that, somehow, I could be a part of it all not as a leader, but as a kid... That I could've gone to camps for weeks at a time in the mountains, and gone hiking, all before my now disabled body went to hell and I can't even walk anymore...

I make up for this doing LARP events in the mountains and woods for 3 days at a time, at least. I find that even more fun because instead of just doing regular camp stuff, you're dressing up in fantasy gear and metal armor, and fighting each other with foam and latex weapons the entire weekend while playing along to a story, and making epic memories.

But again. It still hurts me to know I'll never have the experience that BSA could've provided me, if only they'd dropped their gender bans sooner...

[rottenbrainstuff]

So while I was in Switzerland, I had the really neat opportunity to visit my daughter’s college and sit in on two big project presentations.

I was… really, really disturbed by the amount of AI the students use. Like. Ok for the one class that everyone hated and no one gave a shit about, I totally understand the students turning to AI to help fill in info for a boring presentation that most of them apparently only started the night before. Sure. It’s shitty but I get it, honestly probably I would have snuck a few assignments in this way myself in a few different classes.

But then, even in the fun class project that everyone was excited about, there was still SO MUCH AI usage. And not even secret “I hope the teacher doesn’t notice this is all from chat gpt”, like, proud AI usage, like, yes, my final project is just a whole bunch of images that I got from AI, then collected together as if this represents actual work that I did. Shocking. Especially with me coming from an art college and imagining what my teachers would have said if I had ever DARED to hand in a stack of AI images and called it my project.

The teachers seem to not really know what to do about AI. Just last year they were teaching the students about the possibilities of this interesting new technology, and now just one year later, the teachers are dealing with a pile of worthless assignments written by chatgpt. The students are using it whether the teachers like it or not, and there’s not much you can do to stop them from doing it, and even if you wanted to stop them, in many cases it’s hard or even impossible to tell if it’s been used or not. But I had a really interesting conversation with one of my daughter’s teachers about it.

If AI can write papers and presentations for students, maybe instead of figuring out how to crack down on AI usage, the schools really need to radically shift what they are grading and why. If AI can spit out whatever you want, then what is it that the human brings to the equation?

So for instance: in this particular class, the students had an extremely broad assignment to make a project analyzing and transforming European mythology into a contemporary setting, somehow. Some of the students came up with some really interesting projects ranging from children’s books, a video game, a hypothetical interactive map of European dragon locations, etc. One student really did just literally output a big stack of dragon pictures generated by AI, bound them into a book, and called that their project. On the other hand, my daughter made a journal of an explorer who had got lost. Now she did use AI to generate the first draft for some of her journal entries (which made me grumble - I think even I, who does not write, would have enjoyed writing the entries from scratch?) but the idea of the journal was hers, the narrative it told was her idea, and she aged the pages and illustrated them with diagrams and bound the book in leather by hand and presented her project with an entire display of hypothetical found objects and an explanation of the narrative of the hero’s journey, and how her journal fit into that.

So like. AI might be able to write papers and make pictures, but AI can’t supply the thought process behind it, or the gathering of the physical objects and the tactile experience of the book. The specifically human work is what’s valuable, and schools have a challenge now to reevaluate the kinds of assignments given and they way they are accessed.

Or something. Made me think a lot.

[farer-dreamer]

Entry 1

Intro

(8/29/2024) - Welcome to the next roughly six+ months of my life! maybe more! oh boy!

Here is where I'm going to be documenting my overall thoughts and development on my senior thesis project, as it is required as a part of the grade that I keep a devlog. Posting it here wasn't a part of that requirement, but I thought it'd be easier to share. Whether you're a friend I sent this to or someone just happening upon my little corner of the web, welcome! I'm going to be doing a lot of yapping <3

For the time being I've named this project Farer Dreamer. In summary, it's a 3D (…maybe sometimes 2.5D) exploration game where you ride a subway car to… well wherever it decides to take you really. You'll explore the random levels the subway takes you to and maybe meet some interesting characters on your journey.

Admittedly this project is more of a last minute decision as opposed to something that's been marinating in the back of my mind for the past four years, but maybe that's for the best. With how I'm currently envisioning this project going, this thesis is only the beginning of what could be a larger thing if I so choose to continue working on it after the due date. I can add as much or as little as I want, as long as I get the basic gameplay loop working I'll be happy. Of course I'll try to shoot for more than just that but I also am not going to bite off more than I can chew.

I can already foresee my biggest challenge with this project being the 3D elements, as most of the games I have made in the past have been 2D. I do have experience with 3D modeling, texturing, animation, and some rigging but it's definitely something I'd like to get better at and I think this would be a nice way of doing just that! But outside of using this as an opportunity to really polish the new skills I've accumulated throughout my time at school (3D, animation, and GASP! coding… the horror!)

Another thing I think I am going to struggle a bit with is with working collaboratively. Not in the sense that I'm opposed to that and haven't done collaborative work in the past, one of my finals last semester was a game the my entire game concepts 2 class worked on together, and I've happily helped out on numerous friends films. But my struggle here would be that this is the first time I'd be welcoming help on a project that I am directing, as my other projects in the past have been solo endeavors. I definitely have some trouble when it comes to reaching out for help outside of my friend group, but this will be a great opportunity for me to do just that I think.

I want this project to serve as a way for me to reconnect with art and why I do it. See, for awhile now I've been grappling with myself if I've made a mistake going down this path, fearing that I'm not cut out for the work, that I've lost my passion and that I should've pursued something else instead. Realistically, I know a lot of that is that annoying negative inner voice most of us have to battle, but there is a crumb of truth to all this moping: the loss of passion. As I've gotten closer and closer to entering the professional world, I've been noticing that I am almost restricting myself in my art and what I make and put out into the world in what I only assume to be an attempt to be AS appealing and corporate/professional as possible when that's just?? not me. at all. Though again I do feel like at least part of this is coming from that little internal voice that likes to chew me out for literally anything I find enjoyment in that's even remotely "cringe". POINT IS, this has lead to what I've been calling a "disconnect" between myself and my art and why I create, leading to me feeling shame for my work and it's been impacting my enthusiasm for art overall. I'm hoping by allowing myself to experiment and "play" with my art again through this project, that I'll be able to rekindle some of that passion I've been losing.

TLDR; The main core idea of my thesis is that you can really just sit down and make a thing and now that exists in the world, and even if it's not perfect.. if it's weird, messy, or whatever, that's pretty damn neat and deserves a place in the world. I've realized that more often than not with my projects I spend too much time stressing about them being perfect instead of enjoying the process of creating them and/or using them as opportunities to learn, explore, and maybe even get silly with it y'know? I feel like the projects where I've allowed myself to get silly with it often wind up being my favorite works, and I hope this winds up being one of those.

[theghostpinesmusic]

On Reading In Circles

So, I'm on sabbatical during the upcoming academic year. Technically speaking, this sabbatical runs from this coming September until September 2024. Accordingly, I'd originally planned to take this summer as a "normal" summer break, maybe spend a little of my free time formulating ideas (mostly while sitting in tents during rainstorms or taking afternoon hiking breaks perched on this or that high rock) and then dive into "properly" working on my sabbatical project starting in September. If you're a frequent reader of my word-dumps, though, you know that at least for the last few weeks, the wildfires, the smoke from the wildfires, the general weather, and now my own health have not really cooperated with this plan (the month before this one was AWESOME, though, it bears repeating). I have this fragile hope that September will be better for hiking, and that maybe I can take advantage of not having to teach in the fall to do some September/October/November backpacking trips, but that remains to be seen. In the meantime, I made a promise to myself that if I work now, during the time of year when I'm supposed to be taking a break, I can play later. We'll see how that pans out in the end.

What it means for now is that over the last two weeks I've dove (maybe we should change this to "diven"?) into a huge initial reading list of texts and essays relevant to the project as a way of getting my feet back under me as a researcher (the last time I really did serious research in the field was 2013) with the idea being that these texts will be the foundation that guides how I write over the next year and beyond.

Mostly by chance (though partially because I already own them and it's expensive to buy theory books), I've started by reading through a lot of the same books I read during my dissertation research, back in 2010-2012. In most cases, these are even the same literal books: I've found a ton of my old notes in the margins, brackets around relevant passages, complaints about the quality of coffee shop sandwiches, etc.

At first, honestly, this felt a bit silly to me. These books are not, generally speaking, short reads. They're extremely complex and time-consuming, and, in theory at least, I've already read them and internalized the core concepts (albeit a decade-plus ago): shouldn't I by reading new stuff?

The process, though, has actually been fascinating: many of my old notes are on concepts that I have significantly developed (and hopefully improved) my thinking on since the 2010s, if not exactly through new research, through conversations with my friends, colleagues, and students, and through just living my life (which tends to be filled with a significant amount of self-reflection, for better and worse). Lots of quotes I emphasized before now show symptoms of that sink-or-swim way you learn to read in grad school: plowing through 500-1000 pages of reading assignments a week necessarily forces you to speed-read, digging for quotable quotes instead of trying to (or being allowed to take the time to) understand the whole argument. It feels like I'm actually reading and understanding many of these books for the first time, in spite of my essentially being granted a Ph.D. for having read them "well" the first time.

And this brings me to the point of this latest of word-dumps, which only still requires an (incredibly brief) description of my current project as a setup.

So, in addition to some pedagogical/class development work, the main purpose of my proposed sabbatical is for me to have time to research and write a book proposal. What's the book about? Well, I'm not glad you asked! In (very very) short, the idea is to use the heuristic (nerd alert!) of summits and circumnavigations to explore how the humanities can contribute to the discourse around global warming. There are about a million topics that get caught up in this currently in my head, but essentially the idea is that summiting a mountain requires a series of epistemological assumptions about one's place in the world (experiences are linear, the point of life is progression and/or accomplishment, the natural world exists to be conquered and understood by man), as does circumnavigating a mountain (experiences are circular, the point of life is to learn through that circularity, things don't really massively change, but sustainability is possible, and natural world is a cycle or series of cycles that inescapably includes humans, etc.).

If you've read this far, you might see where I'm going with this.

If not, here goes: it popped into my head today, at the peak (get it?) of my existential crisis about whether or not I should be spending weeks rereading old books, that the circumnavigation metaphor applies here, too. That is, returning to texts after ten years can't be a waste of time and is, in fact, almost mandatory because of how much I've changed since then (since the last "circle," if you want to beat the horse to death). Of course there's more to learn. And skipping past these texts because I've been there once before would actually be against the basic spirit of the thing I'm reading them to be able to write (an argument for circularity and sustainability).

Whew. So, I'm sure that wasn't as fun for you as it was for me, but thanks for reading this far if you did. Expect more of these in the future as my brain slowly grows/dies from reading THE TOMES.

In the meantime, here's some music from today's reading session. If, by some weird chance, you're a fan of Outer Wilds, there might be some thematic overlaps here with what I was just writing about. Otherwise, it's just a nice song you can enjoy.

[emawinslow]

hiii 10 12 19 21 26 31 43 44 47 oh dear i hope im remembering the right ones have fun <3

hiiii thank you🫶

10 - would you slaughter the rich?

without hesitation

12 - what kind of day is it?

you know when days don’t feel real? not in a particularly good or bad way. yeah I’m having one of those.

19 - imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

yes of course. will they look good? absolutely not but I can paint them yassss green from the sally hansen pride collection

21 - something you’ve kept since childhood?

I’ve kept a fuck ton of things from childhood because I have a um. really hard time getting rid of things. I’ve gotta work through that but I love had the same wooden frog displayed in my room for as long as I can remember. my hello kitty alarm clock too. my mom has every art project I’ve ever done still. I have teddy the teddy bear of course. and my baby blankets I still sleep with. lots more things I can’t remember but trust me there are Lots

26 - a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

I’m not really sure what this question is asking so I’m just gonna talk about a recent regret. I literally can’t stop thinking about the estate sale I went to recently and I saw one of those singing fish wall hanging things. okay it didn’t sing but it was a hanging fish on a plaque. and I’ve been wanting a singing one for years and it was only $2 but I didn’t pick it up and I was like “I’ll get it on the way out” but on the way out it was GONE very sad

31 - what type of music keeps you grounded?

there’s really no specific type of music but generally I think it’s just. songs that remind me so much of a specific moment in my life. like hey mickey by baby tate reminds me so much of reading the secret history in the science building and moneytalks reminds me of sophomore year ap european history class and house of memories by panic reminds me of sitting on my bedroom floor and talking with one of my oldest and best friends and fire in the twilight reminds me of driving back from my choir trip. yeah idk

43 - what’s your take on spicy foods?

I mean. I’m white. like very white (is a quarter mexican). and I really don’t like spicy food. I can’t stand much spice to begin with but even little takes away from the food for  me

44 - you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

my roommate I know you’re not supposed to say this but when I blew out my birthday candles I wished she would die

47 - what was the last message you sent?

“$25” to my mom :)

cactus - something you’re currently learning (about)?

I wouldn’t say I’m learning About anything right now I think I’m mostly just learning how to be a person

chia - what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

my mom sister and I have had a running joke for like. man it’s gotta be ten years at this point. one time we were in a gift shop in some tourist town and there was a sign on a fountain thing that said “do not tough” instead of “do not touch” and now whenever we say tough instead of touch. funny? well, no but it’s been going on for so long we can’t stop it

edelweiss - how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?

jo!!!! when I first watched skam cris was my fav character and she really resonated with me then I watched skam austin and i thought jo was hysterical like she’s one of my fav characters ever. weird teenage girls just act like that

camellia - what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

well when I was a really little kid I was stubborn as hell like I quit swim lessons because I didn’t like being told what to do. in mid to late middle school I was a cuuuuunt and not in a fun way. I was just a dick and I loved picking fights with authority figures because I didn’t respect them. and honestly it was deserved they sucked. I had an era in the middle where I was like Very innocent and sweet. and sensitive I have  a lot of memories of crying in public and at school. but all throughout all of that I was such a loser. not in a bad way. I have a whole journal entry about this that I wrote in december but I would say I’ve changed a lot but also not at all. like I look back and I don’t recognize myself but that the same time it’s still Me and I only know how different I am because I know what I’m thinking and the intentions behind what I’m saying and doing and can’t only judge the actions and words itself. it’s complicated. and this isn’t me just making fun of my younger self I love her she is me I am her etc

aloe vera - what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

[penmansparadise]

Eddie Munson ~ Sonnet 18

*I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO THE GIF OWNER*

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Tall Male!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Mild language

a/n: If I told you about the kind of week I've been having you would probably not believe me.  But before I get into that, here it is, the Eddie Munson x Male!Reader requested from my Wattpad.  As you all know, I was traveling.  Well, the good news is I arrived safely.  The bad news is literally days after arriving, I get COVID.  I mean, it has been a whole whirlwind.  So, now I'm going through the worst part of this and have been feeling like I got hit by a train.  So, in short, I'm fighting for my life.  Anyway, I hope that everyone enjoys this one and can forgive me for taking so damn long to post it.  My next post will be a Steve Harrington oneshot!  As always, thank you all for the support!!!

§

Ms. O’Donnell droned on about Shakespeare and his impact on literature as you twirled your pencil between your fingers. Usually, you paid attention. In every class, you were an A+ student and were even projected to graduate in the top ten percent of your class. But when you got to Ms. O’Donnell’s class, things were different. Although you enjoyed Shakespeare’s works, your attention was captured by something much more interesting – a head full of perfectly sculpted ringlets and a denim vest that looked like it had been to war and back. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and propped your head in your hand. Sitting just a few seats in front of you was Eddie Munson, the kind of man that would make anyone want to write poetry.

Since elementary school, you had shared at least one class with Eddie. Which meant that your crush on the boy started at a very young age. But he never gave you a second glance. You had always assumed that, just like everyone else, he believed you to be the quiet weird kid simply because you had good grades and paid attention in school. But he didn’t know the real you. The guy who drove a little too fast while blasting hard rock through the speakers of your beat-up Honda CRV. Eddie didn’t know the guy who spent an hour every day after school lifting weights to sculpt his body into that of the Greek Gods. Eddie didn’t know a thing. And instead of embarrassing yourself and making the first move, you resorted to side-long glances while passing the boy in the halls. That would just have to do. Because despite your confidence, you just couldn’t bring yourself to ask Eddie on a date, let alone tell him how you felt about him.

You continued twirling your pencil as you stared at Eddie. It didn’t matter how many times you saw the boy; you always found something new. It was like a game. And you were so invested in discovering something new about Eddie that you almost missed Ms. O’Donnell’s statement.

“You will have the week to complete the project before presenting it next Monday.”

Everyone let out a collective sigh that earned a chuckle from Ms. O’Donnell.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, waving the class off. “But, lucky for all of you, this is a partner’s project.”

At that statement, you groaned while the rest of the class perked up in their seats. You were used to doing group projects by yourself, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed it. Ms. O’Donnell smirked.

“But you don’t get to choose your buddy. I do.”

The hushed chatter silenced as everyone stared at Ms. O’Donnell. She walked to her desk and picked up a piece of paper. Then, slowly but surely, she began to work her way around the classroom, pairing people together. Here and there, a student would grumble in disdain at their partner while you waited in anticipation. Then, finally, Ms. O’Donnell looked up from her paper and looked right at you.

“Mr. Y/N, you’ll be paired with Mr. Munson.”

It was as if time had stopped. Your heart began to beat like a race horse, and your body felt numb. In all the years you two had been in school together, you had never been paired to work together. Eddie had never even asked you for help on an assignment. You turned to face him, only to be met with his big brown eyes. He gave you a small smile, and you were a goner. You knew that there was no way you could work with Eddie. You could hardly pay attention in the classroom, and there was absolutely no way you’d be able to focus when it was just the two of you.

“Now,” Ms. O’Donnell began regaining your attention, “you’ll be discussing a piece of Shakespeare’s work. It can be a play or a poem. I don’t care. All I ask is that you make it interesting and have fun.”

With that, students began to rise from their seats to move by their assigned partners. But you didn’t move. Instead, you were trying to figure out a way to get around working one on one with Eddie. But while you were trying to formulate a plan, Eddie had already made his way to your desk. Your eyes were trained on the tile floor in front of you until a pair of beat-up white Reebok sneakers came into view.

“Y/N, right?” He asked.

You raised your head to look at him and had to reel in your emotions. For years you admired the boy from afar, and now he was standing directly in front of you. He was even more amazing up close. You could see little beauty marks on his fair skin that you never saw before. You were able to see the messy stitching on his denim vest and knew for a fact now that he did it himself. His lips were turned upward as he waited for you to answer him, but all you did was nod, unable to create a sentence. Eddie chuckled nervously as he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to your desk.

“I don’t think we’ve ever really been introduced before. I’m Eddie,” he said, straddling the chair.

You stared at him for a split second before finally gathering your wits and squaring your shoulders, your normal confidence returning.

“We’ve had at least one class together since elementary school,” you said, leaning in a little with a playful smirk. “I know who you are.”

Your sudden change of demeanor surprised Eddie, and you could see his cheeks turn a bright crimson.

“Right,” he said, nodding a little too furiously, “right.”

Neither of you said anything for a minute. Instead, you shared nervous glances and awkward giggles.

“So, do you-”

“I was thinking-”

Both you and Eddie spoke at the same time before falling into a fit of laughter. The sound was something you could never get used to, but you wanted to hear it over and over again. Eddie ran a hand through his curls and gestured toward you.

“You go first.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a light chuckle, “go ahead.”

You leaned back in your chair and folded your hands behind your head, stretching a little. Eddie’s eyes fell onto your toned arms, and you smirked.

“I was just gonna say I think we should do a poem.” You shrugged and sat up straight again. “It’ll be a little easier.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, his stare finally moving to meet yours. “Do you have one in mind?”

You chuckled.

“No, I don’t.”

Eddie looked down at his tapping foot before finally looking up at you and saying, “What about Sonnet 18?”

You froze for a second.

“You read poetry?”

Eddie didn’t cross you as the poetry reading type. He liked loud music and played the guitar in a metal band, and smoked marijuana. He wasn’t soft. He was hard and a little rough around the edges. Yet, he was suggesting a Shakespeare poem for your project. Eddie scratched his head and nodded.

“Yeah,” he began, “my uncle he, um, he has a few…poetry books?”

You raised your eyebrows in question.

“Poetry books?”

Eddie shook his head.

“Just, never mind. What do you think? Sonnet 18? You know, ‘shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’?”

You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled just slightly as you examined the boy in front of you. His head was dipped down a little, his messy curls covering most of the blush that graced his cheeks. He looked at you with eyes as innocent as a child, and all you could do was smile.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We can meet up today at my house if you want.”

You could almost visibly see Eddie relax at your suggestion. A wide grin spread across his face as he sat up a little straighter.

“Sounds perfect.”

It was cute how nervous he was around you. You wanted to make him blush almost as much as you wanted to hear him laugh again. Anything to see his bright brown eyes light up. So, you wrote down your address on a piece of paper, ripped it from your notebook, and handed it to Eddie. Your fingers just barely brushed over his as you gave him the paper. You could feel your heart jolt a little in your chest, and when you looked at Eddie, that beautiful blush was back on his cheeks, and you chuckled. The bell rang, and you gathered your things before turning to Eddie.

“I’ll see you later,” you said with a wink, then showed yourself out of the classroom.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. All you could think about was how later that day, you’d be alone with Eddie. There wouldn’t be a teacher or a class full of bored teenagers to act as a buffer. It would just be the two of you and the nagging urge to kiss is very plump lips. When the final bell of the day rang, you were nearly running to your car. Nervous energy was running through you like blood pumping through your veins. When you reached your car, you got in, turned it on, and turned up the radio. AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” began blasting through the speakers just as you started to back out. People turned toward the sound of the music, and you managed to ignore most of their gawking until you turned and locked eyes with Eddie from across the parking lot. He was standing next to his van, and even from where you were, you could see his jaw a little slack as he stared at you while AC/DC thundered through your speakers. A smile tugged at your lips, and you just turned away before driving off toward your house.

By the time you reached your house, your anxiety was almost eating you alive. Despite your best efforts at relaxing on your drive home, nothing worked. So, you did the only other thing you could do. You changed into a pair of gym shorts, opened up your garage, flicked on your radio, and began lifting your weights. It was the only mind-numbing activity you could think to do to stop yourself from going crazy while you waited. After the first set of reps, you ended up pulling your top over your head, leaving you in just your shorts. Sweat glistened on your bare chest as you continued your workout. “The Number of the Beast” by Iron Maiden began to blare through the tiny speakers on your boombox, pushing you even harder than before. You went rep after rep until suddenly you heard the sound of a car door shutting. When you turned toward the sound, you were greeted by Eddie’s wide eyes. You grabbed a towel and wiped off your torso as you approached him.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie whispered a little too loudly, earning a light chuckle from you.

A smirk pulled at your lips. What you would do to hear him whisper that very same phrase into your ear over and over again. You wrapped the towel around your neck and held an end with each hand.

“What was that?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet yours. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally said, “Nothing.”

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I, uh, I didn’t say anything.”

You stood in front of Eddie for another moment, letting the late afternoon sun and sweat on your chest create a shimmer effect on your skin. Eddie’s eyes traveled down the length of your body again, taking their time as they carefully examined every inch of exposed skin. You smiled as he deliberately checked you out.

“You want to head inside?” You asked, gaining Eddie’s full attention again.

He nodded before you turned and led him to your room. When you reached your small space, you walked straight to your dresser, leaving Eddie to gawk in the doorway.

“You can sit wherever,” you said, but Eddie didn’t make a move to sit. Instead, he did tiny circles as he took in his surroundings.

You didn’t lead on at school that you were anything but a good student. You didn’t advertise your music taste or show off your body, so by just looking at you, no one would know that you were a metalhead who took pride in his appearance. But once they walked into your bedroom, it would become evident. Hanging on your walls were posters ranging from Motley Crüe to Judas Priest, and sitting on your desk was a paper detailing a pretty strict workout regimen. After you grabbed a shirt from your dresser and your textbook from your desk, you turned and found Eddie sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I didn’t know you were into this kind of music,” he said, turning to watch you pull the shirt over your head. “Or that you were like,” he gestured toward you, “in great shape.”

You laughed, took a seat next to him, and leaned in a little.

“You also never asked.”

Eddie dipped his head, and that cute blush crept back onto his cheeks, making you smile. You so badly wanted to just grab him and kiss every inch of his red face, but you didn’t. Instead, you opened your textbook to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.

“Okay,” you began reaching down into your backpack for your notebook and pencil, “so I went ahead and began the analysis of the poem. I figured I’d just do the analysis, and maybe you could worry about the poster board? Or whatever way we’re going to present the poem.”

You put your pencil between your teeth and began flipping through your notes when Eddie chuckled.

“What?” You said, the word barely coming out audible with your pencil still in your mouth.

Eddie reached forward and placed a cautious hand on yours, and your breath caught in your throat, the pencil falling between you two. It was as if time stopped altogether as a series of shocks ran through your body. His hand was warm, and his fingers were rough, but he was soft and gentle. Every nerve ending in your body was on high alert as you stared into his eyes, brown like the sunlit bark of an oak tree. You could have stayed that way forever. Just sitting there in a comfortable silence with Eddie’s thumb drawing lazy circles on your hand. It didn’t matter that you had a project to do. All you wanted was to be with Eddie in every way imaginable. Eddie’s thumb stilled, and he gave your hand a light squeeze.

“I know you’re used to doing all the work by yourself, but I actually did some of the analysis too.”

You couldn’t remove your eyes from his face. He was so close. All you wanted to do was trace his every feature from the arch of his brow to the curve of his lips. Eddie never let go of your hand as he reached into his bag and pulled out a ratty notebook. He flipped a few pages before finally releasing his light hold on you and picked up the notebook with both hands. Eddie cleared his throat, and you could feel a shift in the air. His throat bobbled as he swallowed several times, and his hands looked as if they were shaking just slightly. He looked at you briefly before returning his eyes to his notebook.

“Sonnet 18 compares a young man to a summer day,” he said before swallowing again and looking up at you.

Your eyebrows raised, and a playful smirk pulled at your lips.

“You don’t say.”

Eddie gave you a knowing look.

“I wasn’t done.”

You chuckled and put your hands up in defense.

“Sorry,” you said, crossing your arms, “by all means, please continue.”

Eddie gripped his notebook a little tighter and squared his shoulders.

“Shakespeare wrote this poem to describe this, uh, this guy he likes. It was kind of like a,” he tilted his head back and forth, “confession of sorts. He doesn’t just say this guy he likes is handsome because that would be too boring. So, he says he’s beautiful like a summer day.”

Eddie shook his head, his curls bouncing around his face.

“No,” he said firmly before placing his notebook down and looking directly at you. “This guy is more beautiful than that. He glows brighter than the sun and lights up any room. He hides from everyone even though he’s actually really cool and hardcore. This guy, he doesn’t let things or people strip him of his beauty despite what they may say.”

Your lips parted as your heart began to beat so rapidly that you were almost certain it was going to beat right out of your chest. But you couldn’t say anything because Eddie huffed a sigh and continued.

“This guy is someone you can watch from afar for years because you’re too scared to make your move. You’re too scared to even say two words to him, but you secretly hope every day that he’ll look your way. He’s someone you can fall in love with before you even know a single thread of information about him.”

Your stomach was doing somersaults as you stared at Eddie. He was fidgeting with a frayed edge of his denim vest. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached forward and placed your hand over his to still his busy fingers.

“May I interject?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie nodded.

“He’s also incredibly adorable, especially when he’s nervous. You know, this guy that Shakespeare is talking about.”

You gave a playful smile that Eddie reciprocated.

“Right, of course.”

You leaned in a little.

“He’s also creative and funny and smarter than he gives himself credit for.”

A hint of red blanketed Eddie’s face, and he looked down. You placed a finger under his chin and forced him to look up at you. The two of you just held the other’s gaze. You moved your hand to brush his hair behind his ear and let your hand linger for a split second longer than necessary. Your eyes darted down to look at his perfectly rounded lips. His tongue slid over the bottom one, and a tiny rush of electricity zinged through you.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Eddie asked, causing you to look back into his eyes.

“W-what?”

“Because,” Eddie began, scooting a smidgen closer, making the gap between you two almost nonexistent, “if you’re second guessing yourself, just know I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your body felt numb at his words. For years you had dreamt of being in this exact position. Your hand on his and his face mere inches from yours. It was surreal, and you didn’t want to wait any longer. So, you leaned down and pressed your lips onto Eddie’s. He froze, body going rigid with surprise before melting into the kiss. Your lips moved against Eddie’s slow, but the kiss progressively grew urgent. Your hands traveled down the length of Eddie’s back until you were pulling him onto your lap. His legs straddled you, and his hands gripped your toned shoulders. Eddie’s arms snaked their way around your neck, deepening the kiss.

Every part of you was buzzing, and every place Eddie’s fingers grazed was lit aflame. You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s torso and, without breaking the kiss, fell back onto your bed. Eddie let out a small yelp and released your lips. You moved your hands to cup the back of his thighs, and he hovered over you on his elbows.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you said, a little out of breath.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, “that makes two of us.”

A burst of confidence zipped through you, and you squeezed his legs.

“Oh, really?”

Eddie dropped his head into the crook of your neck, chuckling lightly before lifting it again to look at you.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I always thought you were cute, but today when,” he motioned to your walls, “I realized we have a lot more in common than I thought, the feelings only grew.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you.

“I’m glad you only like me because of my music taste.”

A smile spread across Eddie’s face.

“Hey,” he said, poking your chest playfully, “music has a lot more pull than you think.”

The two of you started to laugh again. The sight of Eddie straddling you and the low rumble of his laugh against your chest was that of a dream. You could stay in that position for a thousand lifetimes if possible. But you knew you had a project to do. So, you nodded toward your discarded notebooks.

“Should we get back to work?”

“Actually,” Eddie said, drawing the word out, “I was hoping we could go get dinner.” He tilted his head to the side. “Like on a date.”

“Oh!” You exclaimed.

Within a matter of a day, you were kissing the boy you had a crush on and getting asked out on a date by him. Eddie bit his bottom lip and shrugged nonchalantly.

“If you want, you know?”

You knew that he was trying to play off his anxiety, and you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your lips. You brushed his hair behind his ear again and cupped his cheek.

“I’d love to, Eddie.”

You planted a sweet kiss on his nose before he peeled himself off you. Neither of you bothered to clean up your notebooks, leaving them strewn on the floor. Instead, you followed Eddie out to his van and jumped into the passenger seat. Eddie got behind the wheel and started digging through his pockets for his keys. You looked over at him and furrowed your eyebrows.

“So, do you actually read poetry, or was this whole thing planned?”

Eddie pulled his keys out and shoved them into the ignition with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah, no. I don’t know shit about Shakespeare. I was just trying to be romantic.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, nonetheless. Eddie leaned toward you with a smirk.

“Did it work?”

You tilted your head back and forth with an “Ehhh.”

Eddie threw his arms up but joined you when you started to laugh. You cupped his cheek and forced him to look at you again.

“I was joking. It was definitely very romantic.”

Eddie smiled so wide his eyes crinkled, and your heart jumped in your chest. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his for a long kiss before pulling back and allowing Eddie to drive off. Neither of you knew where you were going, but you didn’t care. As long as you were with Eddie, that’s all that mattered.  

Tag List: @violetrainbow412-blog @tellmehows @pastel-abyss-x @lilliandanelle @ilovereadingfanfics​ @thatnerdana​

[tumblerosestudios]

Ya know what, you're completely right, but also ignoring my point, my point wasn't "Biden Good, Trump Bad" my point is that the extra bit of time that would disappear under a trump presidency ("losing my rights slightly faster") is an amount of time that can be used to try and actually properly advocate for reform and complete restructuring of the system, and that little bit of hope for change is desperately needed right now. Saying "it's hopeless either way so I'll do nothing" is the most nihilistic sack of bullshit I've ever heard.

Project 2025 is not just the international relations part, it's also intended to Ban No Fault Divorce, Stop All Abortions, make Being Trans a literal fucking crime, and fling all human rights back to the 1940s ffs. Of course any Arab, Muslim, and Palestinian American shouldn't be told they're a piece of shit for being upset about the genocide and they're not who I'm talking to when I say this, I'm talking to white, cis, middle class fence sitters like you who is using the genocide as an excuse not to get your lazy ass in a ballot office.

"lose all my dignity and morals voting for a man with the blood of thousands on his hands." 1. Israel is committing the genocide, not Biden, yes his enabling and support is cruel and he should be guillotined eventually but acting like he actively started the genocide is dishonest as fuck, 2. Wow you literally proved my point, you're not voting because voting for the lesser of two evils makes you feel bad, this isn't the Trolley Problem it's real fuckin life, and real life isn't fun, it's hard, and you have to sometimes compromise your morals to ensure your survival, ethics are a commodity of the wealthy now and the fact that factors in when a single vote could be the difference between thousands more lives lost and Millions in both Palestine and here lost proves you're only refusing to vote out of a fake sense of moral superiority.

You yourself in that same paragraph I just quoted from admitted that the domestic policies are wildly different between the parties, and I unfortunately am not actually privileged enough to be more affected by foreign policy than domestic, it may be selfish, it may be cruel, it may be wrong, we'll see, but if there's a cliff with one person I care about dangling from the ledge and a stranger also dangling and the only buttons I have are "help my friend and let the stranger fall" or "kick both in the face and watch them plummet" I would consider myself a monster for walking away entirely because then I don't have to see the fall, it still has the same outcome as pressing the second button myself but I can then claim ignorance instead of malice. You're intentions don't fucking matter, you still hit the second button by not pressing either, you just get to keep the warm fuzzies.

To put it more simply for the people in the back, not doing something and letting the terrible thing happen if you could have stopped it is the same as doing the terrible thing yourself, and if you disagree, vote on it.

Vote fuckin Blue.

This is so funnnnnnny to me sorry.

1. All these attacks on trans (and gay) rights are happening right now! Under a Biden presidency! Sure it will be worse under Trump, I understand being scared, but Biden is fucking ineffective.

2. We lost Roe v Wade under a Democrat president and Democrat majority congress. They had months to prepare but did practically nothing and used Joe Manchin as an excuse (trump bullied all his competition into following the party line). Ruth Bader Ginsburg refused to retire under Obama, and Obama let the Republicans walk all over him and suppress his nomination because “they go low we go high.” Democrats had control of the government numerous times in the DECADES Roe v Wade was in place but continually refused to codify or protect it more meaningfully because it constantly being at risk was a great way to keep people voting. But sure, they’re going to “save” it now.

8-9: Practically every year is the highest year for Black people murdered by police. Biden has increased police funding. The democrats have become significantly more conservative and racist regarding the boarder. BOTH Democratic senators in my state brag about how much they want to “defend the boarder.” Dems only pay lip service to inequality when it benefits them.

11. Biden heavily campaigned on criminal justice reform in 2020 but has since all but dropped it except for a pardon here or there.

13. Then where is the fucking ceasefire. Biden can pressure Netanyahu to accept the proposal tomorrow, but guess what! It’s been over a month and the negotiations have seemingly collapsed once again, despite Hamas approving pretty-much the exact proposal Biden has allegedly endorsed.

“Incredible amount of privilege” ahhh yes the Arabs and Palestinians living in the USA upset about their dead relatives are soooooooooo rude and privileged and obviously would be totally fine under a Trump presidency. Those damn Palestinians don’t give a shit about Palestinians! Tens (possibly hundreds) of thousands of butchered Palestinians isn’t even that big of a deal!

If you wanna vote for Biden so desperately then you do you, I also felt this way four years ago, but SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT. Stop trying to lecture me. ESPECIALLY, stop fucking lecturing the people directly impacted!!

“You don’t care about American democracy” well guess what American democracy is already a fucking sham!