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littlcdarlin · 13 days ago

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Event Horizon

summary: When you start university to do your master’s in physics, you are more than surprised to meet your professor: Joel Miller, an old friend of your parents' who moved away years ago. word–count: 15k warnings: professor kink, power imbalance due to Joel being reader's professor, illegal relationship (overage & consenting), dbf!Joel, big fat age gap (unspecified but written with early 20s & mid 50s in mind), unprotected piv, just overall daddy issues (no use of the word daddy)

note: Okay, time to tell you I am a big nerd and studied physics in uni. Truth is, I quit to pursue a career in the arts, so my knowledge of masters level physics is...a little rusty. Please be lenient with me if I messed anything up. Also, I know most people hate physics, but I promise Joel makes it hot. Warning: explanation of the Dirac equation as foreplay. Also, I'm European and have no fucking clue how the American education system works but I don't care enough to do research. Enjoy <3333

event horizon noun ASTRONOMY a notional boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape. a point of no return.

Uni felt different at eighteen, when everything was about moving out, drinking beer at frat parties, and kissing boys who didn’t grow up in the same town you did. It was an exciting time, the degree itself fading into the background of all sorts of new experiences, but now that you’re doing your masters, you plan on focusing on your your grades more than on partying.

You enrolled in a new university, farther away from home, with a better physics program, and although you’ve grown up considerably, you still feel that tingle of anxiety you did when you first walked to your dorm, fresh out of high school. This time you won’t have to share with another student, spending your saved money on a bit of privacy that is a single dorm room, but still, you wonder if you’ll make friends here, or if you’ll spend your night hauled up alone, watching trash TV and crying because you’re lonely.

The room is small, blank, but functional with a bathroom you share with another student and a small kitchenette, and immediately you dream of all the ways you could decorate it. You didn’t bring much, just a big suitcase and a few boxes your Dad dropped off earlier. You feel slightly guilty for leaving your parents behind, but the relief outweighs the guilt – you won’t have to come home every Sunday for dinner, visits will be scarce. You love you parents, but the distance is much needed.

You get to unpacking your clothes, reveling in the fact that you can listen to music without headphones in your very own space. You could do it in your underwear, or naked, you could sing and dance along, and nobody would be bothered by it. It’s going to be a tough two years, the program you chose more than challenging, but a childish sort of giddiness fills you – no roommate to be considerate of, no parents to visit and take care of every week. This time in your life is about you, and only you – your career, but also your well-being. You promise yourself to do what makes you happy, instead of looking out for everyone else all of the time, and you’ll start by ordering Thai food and watching the trashiest movie with the hottest actors you can find on the little flatscreen you brought with you.

***

Your first lecture is Computational Physics – the one you’re looking forward to the least. The reason you decided to study physics at all was the predictable logic behind each problem, but the more you studied, the more complex the problems got, until they were impossible to solve analytically. Now you get to solve fluid dynamic equations and simulate quantum systems on a Monday morning instead of having a peaceful cup of coffee and taking a walk around campus.

The lecture hall is big, and you pick a seat that is neither too far away to be able to read the professor’s notes, nor close enough to immediately be pinned as an over-eager teacher’s pet. In the end, you plop down next to a girl who’s sitting alone, something about her shaved head and countless earrings making you think she wouldn’t make fun of you even if you didn’t understand a single thing all lecture.

"Okay if I sit here?", you ask somewhat timidly, trying hard not to sound too much like an eleven year old Ron Weasley boarding the train to Hogwarts.

"Please," the girl answers, "I don’t know anybody here."

"Did you move here, too?"

"Yeah, I’m from New York."

"You look it," you say with a smile, eyes drifting over her clothes and jewelry.

"Thanks…I guess?", she answers, her grin revealing a charming gap between her front teeth. "I’m Alva."

You introduce yourself, thankful to have found someone you can stick to already. Throughout the lecture you find out that apart from being much cooler than everyone else in the room, Alva has a biting sense of humor, and a near endless knowledge of computational physics. You make a mental note to ask her to study together, her explanations much easier to understand than the professor’s.

The two of you spend your lunch break together, and you tell her a little bit about yourself, but way too soon it’s time to go already – you have Advanced Quantum Mechanics in a different lecture hall. This you find way more interesting, basic quantum mechanics was one of your favorite lectures during your bachelor’s degree. As Alva and you sit down, you find yourself hoping you’ll be able to help her out this time, or you’d feel like a leech for making her help you with Computational. She doesn’t seem bothered, though, and keeps babbling happily about a band she recently discovered.

"– Britpop, but they only put out two albums. I think they were like a student band or something? They’re wildly underrated, I’ll send you a song, their debut is called The Sun Is Often Out."

Your thoughts start to wander off a little, eyes drifting over the old-fashioned chalkboards, when the door at the front of the lecture hall opens, and a tall man walks in – a man you recognize.

"Holy shit," you whisper, interrupting Alva’s rant about the Longpigs, and she turns her head to look at what you’re staring at.

"Damn," she says with a grin, "if I wasn’t gay, I’d want a piece of that."

"No," you snort, "I know him. He’s my Dad’s friend."

Alva opens her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Joel Miller steps forward, checking to see if the microphone is working, and introduces himself to the hundreds of students in front of him. His voice is deep, and as warm as you remember it, but that’s where the accuracy of your memories ends – your childish brain failed to register the tanned forearms and rolled up sleeves, the carelessly styled curls, the perfect side-profile. He’s got grey streaks in his hair now, which should send you into a crisis about time passing and your own little life being finite, but instead it makes your stomach swirl with something dangerous. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, who organized backyard barbecues with your father and bought your favorite vegan sausages when your Dad rolled his eyes at you, who made strawberry lemonade instead of lemon, because he knew you preferred it, who helped you with your physics homework when you were graduating high school and didn’t rat you out when he caught you smoking at seventeen – he’s handsome.

There’s still a familiarity about him, the way he moves and talks, although it’s unsettling to see him in such a different environment. You’re used to band-tee-Joel, beer bottle and tongs in his hands, a breezy smile on his face. He looks different here, in a white button-down, with a stern expression on his face, as he’s reading the names on his list to check attendance. When he calls Alva’s name and she raises her hand, his eyes flicker upwards, but he doesn’t look at you. Still, your stomach lurches. If you listen carefully, you can detect that southern twang in his voice you’re sure most people would miss, and it fills you with satisfaction to know you’re the one who knows him best in this room – you’re sure half the lecture hall must see how attractive he is.

When he reads out your name, there’s a surprised lilt to his tone, and your heart threatens to skip a beat.

"Here."

Your eyes meet, and although his expression doesn’t change, he holds your eyecontact for a second too long. Alva nudges your side and grins.

Your plans about outshining Alva and returning the favor of helping with a lecture are quickly buried by Joel Miller’s beautiful hands – thick fingers holding a piece of chalk almost tenderly, twirling it around when he isn’t writing on the chalkboard. You vaguely register him introducing the Dirac equation, but as interesting as you would normally find it, your thoughts are stuck between memories of barbecues and the realization that you will have to call the man who taught you to drive Professor Miller.

If Alva notices your wandering mind, she doesn’t comment on it, which you’re thankful for. You do notice her throwing you a couple of knowing glances, as you copy down what Joel is writing down, mixing up gamma, delta, and the Dirac spinor.

"Alright, so you all know how Schrödinger’s equation works great for quantum mechanics, but it doesn’t play nicely with Einstein’s relativity, right? That’s a problem because electrons move fast, sometimes close to the speed of light, so we need an equation that respects both quantum mechanics and special relativity. That’s where Dirac steps in."

He’s still got that warm way of explaining things your Dad never managed when you needed help in high school, like he enjoys clearing things up for people. He’s a born teacher, patient when you panicked in the car because you confused the clutch and the break, persistent when you wanted to throw your physics book against a wall. Look, kid, think of it this way: Push harder, it moves faster. Make it heavier, it’s harder to move. If you apply a force F to an object with mass m, it will accelerate a. That’s why your Dad’s car takes longer to stop than your bike. Even now, he manages to make a far more complex equation than Newton’s second law tangible.

"Dirac's equation is like the grown-up version of Schrödinger’s equation. It explains how particles with spin-half, like electrons, behave when they move at relativistic speeds. The gamma mu matrices make sure the equation works in four-dimensional spacetime, meaning three space dimensions plus time. The psi is a spinor, which is just a fancy way of saying that an electron isn’t just a simple wave function, it actually has spin built into its nature. Now, can anyone think of a situation where we would need to use this equation instead of the regular Schrödinger equation?"

Nobody raises their hand, most people still busy with writing down Joel’s complicated notes, and as if on cue, his eyes are on yours when you look up from your notebook. He raises an eyebrow, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. Then, he calls your last name, a formal Miss dripping off his tongue as if he hasn’t called you kiddo for most of your life. It’s almost like he’s making a joke only the two of you are able to understand, and the thought thrills you to your bone. Two can play this game – you smile back.

"Sure, Professor Miller. You’d use it for studying high-energy particles, like electrons in particle accelerators, because it accounts for relativistic speeds. It’s also needed for situations where particles are created or destroyed, which Schrödinger’s equation doesn’t cover."

Again, his eyes linger on yours, and his slightly amused smile turns into a more genuine one at your answer. You let out a relieved sigh.

"Exactly," Joel answers, his attention on the rest of the class again, "Someone payed attention during Basic Quantum Mechanics. Now, here’s where it gets wild. When Dirac wrote this down, he realized it naturally predicts antiparticles, meaning for every electron, there should be a mirror-image particle with opposite charge, which we now call the positron. That was a huge deal because it wasn’t something people were expecting, it just fell out of the math."

For the rest of the class, Joel doesn’t continue that little game between the two of you, but whenever he asks a question, his gaze flickers over you, and your stomach gives an embarrassing little jump. Alva grins whenever this happens, but for most of the class she’s busy following Joel’s explanations.

"I want you to read up on today’s lecture," Joel says at the end of the lecture, and writes down a few page numbers on the chalkboard, "and solve the problems I mentioned earlier. Attendance isn’t mandatory, we’re all adults here, but I urge you to come if you’re interested in graduating in the next three years. Trust me, it’s easier to just do the work here than in your dorms. Now, enjoy the weather, see you Monday."

You and Alva pack up your things, and before she can ask you which class you have next, you pick up your backpack.

"I’m gonna say hi to him," you tell her, nodding in Joel’s direction, "my Dad and him go way back."

"Sure," Alva says, a cheeky smile on her face, "it’d be rude not to."

"Meet you outside?"

"I’ll be at the vending machine. Go get him," she jokes, and you snort.

Joel is packing up his course materials when you make your way down the steps and to his desk, but he looks up when he hears you coming towards him, and immediately his face splits into a smile. If you were anywhere else and ten years younger, he’d probably ruffle your hair.

"Good lecture," you say, "Dad didn’t tell me you’re teaching again."

Joel puts his piece of chalk into a tin box and nods.

"I don’t think he knows. You know how it is, we never get around to callin’ and I haven’t been home in a while."

So this is a new development, perhaps even Joel’s first semester back at university, too.

"What about the contracting? Don’t you miss the…pipes?"

He chuckles at your lack in basic contracting knowledge, his eyes not moving from yours.

"Ah, that was always Tommy, he just needed a little help. Company’s doin’ well now, though, so he’ll manage without me."

You think you remember Tommy – a man good-naturedly chasing you and the rest of the giggling neighborhood kids with a harden hose – but the memory is too vague to be sure it’s really him.

"You’ve grown up," Joel says, almost accusingly, and you shrug and smile. "Doin’ your master’s already. How come you’re familiar with Dirac?"

His accent is much thicker now that it’s only the two of you, and you notice a hint of pride when he asks about your correct answer to his question during the lecture. The satisfied feeling it gives you is still the same as when he high-fived you after your drivers test, or when he patted your back after you solved a problem for school without his help.

"Summer reading," you admit, trying hard not to sound like a nerd, "Basic Quantum Mechanics was my favorite lecture as an undergrad."

Joel smiles at you, and puts his notes into his leather bag. He slings it across his shoulder, and nods towards the door.

"How would you like to grab a coffee and tell me all about what’s been goin’ on with you and your old man?"

Your eyes flicker briefly over his hand, gripping the strap of his bag, and you raise an eyebrow.

"What’s the policy for staff having coffee with their students, Professor?"

Joel holds your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I’m actually not sure, Miss, I’ve never had to check before."

He’s playing along, and it feels dangerously blurry – yes, he’s your Dad’s old friend, your childhood neighbor, but it feels like more than just joking around.

"Does that mean I’m your first, then?", you ask, voice sweet and close to flirting now. The smile freezes on Joel’s face, and his gaze becomes almost calculating.

"Am I yours?" he asks you softly, and the double-meaning behind his question isn’t lost on you. You feel a thrilling pang in your stomach – Joel Miller is flirting with you.

***

You do end up getting coffee after you tell Alva you’ll meet her later, Joel reassuring you it won’t get him into trouble, and you’re fascinated to see he still drinks it black. What fascinates you even more is that you remember how he takes his coffee, and you wonder why your brain filed this fact away as important, not to be forgotten.

"So, when did you graduate? Sorry I missed it."

There’s honest regret in his voice, which surprises you. Joel was always a warm person, but you figured he cared for you as much as he would have for any kid living across the street.

"Last June," you tell him, dropping a sugar cube into your cappuccino. "I spent the summer working, and now I’m here."

"How d’you like it so far?"

You give a nervous chuckle, torn between the honest truth and pleasant small talk. You opt for the former – this is Joel, after all, not some stranger.

"To be honest with you, I oscillate between enjoying my freedom away from Mom and Dad, and being scared shitless by starting over somewhere new," you admit, looking at your coffee. You haven’t told people about your fear, and it feels good to finally admit it – the grip your parents have had on you makes your newfound freedom almost uncomfortable.

"What d’you mean, startin’ over?", Joel asks, his voice strikingly gentle. You sigh, and shrug.

"I know the distance is good for me, but it was comfortable, just doing what my parents expected of me. I had good grades, nice friends, and just the right amount of drunken nights for them not to worry about my social life too much," you explain, "and now it’s like…there’s so much room to be someone else, cause they won’t see it anyway."

You look up, embarrassed to have spilt your guts like this, but Joel looks thoughtful, his thumb moving along the handle of his coffee cup.

"Sorry," you mutter, "I know they’re your friends, but they can be…"

"Overbearing?"

You smile at him gratefully and he smiles back.

"Look, I know your parents pretty well. They love you to bits, but as an adult I imagine it must be stiflin’.“

"Yeah," you sigh, grateful for his understanding, "I feel like I don’t know who I am when I’m not…their kid."

Joel nods, and sips his coffee, apparently pondering what you said.

"I promised myself I would only do what makes me happy while I’m here," you tell him sheepishly, as if it’s a secret, and Joel laughs.

"Well, I’m not expectin’ you to hand in any homework, then."

You grin, too, and shake your head. It’s surreal, Joel being your professor, and you wearing your heart on your sleeve for him.

"Don’t worry, Professor Miller, I’m not dropping your class."

"You’d better not, it’d really hurt my feelings," Joel says, eyes trained on yours. Again, that blurriness set in motion by the change of his role in your life: neighbor to professor to – what?

"What about you, though? This your first semester here?"

"Second," he tells you, "but I still don’t feel at home. Once a Texan, always a Texan, I guess."

You cock your head and watch him drain the last of his coffee, the cup tiny in his hands.

"What?" he asks you, curiosity evident in his voice.

"You look so different," you say, and Joel scoffs.

"Well, that’s real nice. Know I’m not thirty anymore, but geez–"

"No," you say with a grin, "it’s not that. I don’t know, I’ve just never seen you teach before. Or dressed this nice – I remember you mowing the lawn in a Fleetwood Mac shirt, not checking attendance in a button down."

Joel’s cheeks go slightly pink, and he scoffs again.

"Well, I can’t show up here in a band tee, can I? Gotta dress the part," he mutters.

"I get it. You suit it," you tell him, if only to see that blush appear on his face again. He looks up at you, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds, then he shakes his head.

"What were the odds of us meetin’ like this, huh? I gotta call your father and tell him."

Something about that bothers you, you’d prefer for your parents not to know. You like sitting here with Joel, reminiscing the old times, without anybody getting a peek in.

"Or not," he says gently, seeing the expression on your face.

"Sorry," you say, "course you can tell him."

"You apologize a lot," he tells you, and you fight the urge to say sorry once again. "It’s okay, I’m not tellin’ anyone, kid. ’S just you n me."

That pang in your stomach again, and you nod.

"Alright," you answer, "just us."

You get a refill for the two of you, and a blueberry muffin to split, which feels strangely intimate, but Joel pats his stomach and jokes about keeping an eye on his figure, so you grin, and ask the barista to cut it in half. Joel asks you about your friends, and you tell him about Alva.

"Oh yes," he says and swallows a bite of the muffin, "that punky lookin’ kid who sits next to you?"

"Yeah, she’s nice. Haven’t really met anyone else."

"Geez, I’m not keepin’ you from findin’ frat boys to hook up with, am I?"

You laugh, the idea of sitting here with a twenty-something year old kid named Cole or Josh instead of him so absurd, you can’t help it.

"No," you tell him, "I’m honestly enjoying the fact that I don’t have to have someone else in my dorm anymore."

"Well, that’s a relief to hear," Joel says, "they’re all dipshits."

You remember him telling you something similar about the boys in high school, and it makes you smile. He’s still got that protective streak, then.

"To tell you the truth, I’m glad you’re here," you say quietly, "if I’m not making any friends, I can come crying to you."

Joel watches you for a couple of seconds, not laughing as you intended, but taking your words seriously.

"Course you’ll make friends. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll have forgotten all about physics cause you’ll be skippin’ classes left and right to hang out with people."

You don’t tell him, but you think it’s very unlikely you’ll skip any of his classes. Still, you appreciate his words and how confident he seems to be in your ability to open up to people.

"Well, will you give me the answers to your exams if I skip your class?"

"No way," he says with a cheeky smile, the crinkles around his eyes prominent. "I don’t do preferential treatment. You wanna split another blueberry muffin?"

You grin.

"Thought you were watching your waistline."

"I am, that’s why I’m only eating halves."

***

Your afternoon with Joel leaves you on a high for the rest of the day, feeling much less lonely now that you’ve had a conversation beyond the usual so how many siblings do you have? and where did you do your undergrad?

You start spending your lunch breaks with Alva and some friends she made in another lecture, all of whom are very nice. In the evenings you all go to see a movie or have dinner together in any of your dorm rooms, and although you walk around campus holding out one eye for Joel, you don’t see him for the rest of the week. There is always a nudge of disappointment in your stomach, when you glance in the direction of his office, and the door is closed, but you’re so busy, you don’t dwell on it too much. The days pass in a blur of new lectures, swapping music with Alva, and evenings spent as a group of six, and suddenly it’s Sunday again. You aren’t too sad the weekend is already over, and you know exactly why you’re looking forward to Monday, but you don’t allow yourself to think about Joel any more than you can help.

In the afternoon, while you’re doing Joel’s assignment for the next class, your mother calls, and you answer the phone with a mixture of feelings.

Hi, my darling, how are you doing?

"Hi, Mom. I’m good, just doing my work for tomorrow. How are you?"

Good, good. How was your first week? Did you meet anyone nice?

Hah, if she only knew. It feels deceptive, not telling her about Joel, but you like that for now, he’s just yours.

"Yes, this girl called Alva. We and some guys hang out a lot, there’s a cinema near by, but the lectures are pretty hard, so we only have the evenings off."

Well, I’m glad you found some nice people! Dad says hi, he’s making dinner. Anyway, baby, we miss you terribly. Do you know when you’ll be coming home?

"I just got here, Mom."

You sigh so quietly your mother can’t hear it, guilt already nagging at your heart. Sunday is the day you would usually be coming home for dinner, and you know it’s no coincidence your parents called you now.

Of course, you’re right. It’s just not easy for your Dad and me, you know? You’ve never been this far from home, and you’re our baby.

Yeah, you think, your adult baby. You sigh again.

"I don’t know if I’ll come this month, I’m still sort of settling in. But I’ll let you know if there’s a free weekend next month, alright?"

Sure, that sounds great. Will you send us some pictures of your friends, and your room?

"Sure," you say, but it bugs you that you’re giving in. Already, you’re breaking the promise you made yourself, and letting your parents further into your life here than you’re comfortable with.

"Mom, I gotta go, I’ve still got some problems to solve and I’m meeting Alva for dinner soon."

Okay, darling, enjoy your night! And make yourself heard. I love you!

"Love you, too! Talk soon."

Your kind, clingy mother, whose greatest pain is not knowing if you’re safe. In a way you miss her, and you feel guilty for being annoyed. Still, you know you have to gently nudge her away from you, or she’ll suffocate you one day. It makes you angry with yourself, because you know your Mom would have liked nothing more than to hear all about your week, but as soon as she asked you a question, you felt like your seventeen year old self again, getting yelled at because you stayed up past your curfew, and your parents didn’t know where you were.

Tears of frustration spring to your eyes – the mix of feelings too much for you to handle. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, breathe in shakily, and try to focus on your assignment again, but now you’re riled up, and the tears won’t stop.

It’s hard for you to deal with disappointing your parents, forcing them away when they would like nothing more than to know everything that’s going on in your life. So, instead of preparing for Joel’s lecture, you cry on your bed, feeling lonely and angry with yourself for hurting them. You know your reaction is disproportionate, but everything you kept buried while you lived close to your parents comes bubbling out of you.

You call Alva, tell her you have cramps because of your period and just want to stay in bed. She’s understanding, asks you if there’s anything she can do, even offers to bring you takeout or a hot water bottle, which makes you feel all the worse for lying to her. You decline her offer, tell her you’ll meet her Monday morning. In the evening, you regret not letting her bring over a real meal, eating cold pasta in your underwear, tears still running down your face and making your head pound.

***

On Monday, you feel slightly better, your headache is gone and your face isn’t as puffy as you expected it to be. Still, you’re in a solitary mood, and are glad to find Alva is able to keep up an entire conversation virtually by herself – you just grunt from time to time, or give noncommittal movements of your head in vague agreement. You hope if she notices your bad mood, she just thinks it has to do with your period.

Computational Physics is hell – you dislike it on the best of days, but guilt ridden and tired, you’re barely able to pay attention at all, and the professor’s handwriting is so bad, you end up copying down Alva’s notes instead. She’s kind about it, slides over her notebook at an angle that makes it easy to read, and you make a mental note to thank her for being so kind to you while you’re offering nothing but a scowling expression all day. Maybe you’ll cook for her, or make a mixtape of your favorite songs, just to show her you’re interested in being actual good friends.

Lunch passes easily, as always you sit with Alva and the guys, and there’s enough people for you to stare at your mashed potatoes and repeatedly stab them with your fork instead of eating them. They taste like flour mixed up with water, and you dream up your father’s Sunday dinner instead, but it does little to help with the taste.

"So, you lookin’ forward to flirting with Miller in front of the whole lecture hall again?" Alva asks you, as you’re making your way to said room. You glare at her, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Wasn’t flirting with him," you answer, kicking a pebble, "I grew up across the street from him, I’ve known him practically my whole life."

"Whatever you say, grumpy," Alva teases, nudging your shoulder with hers. You’re overcome with a rush of gratitude for the way she treats you, persistently kind and humorous. You chuckle, your mood lifting slightly.

"He’s probably been waiting for you to turn legal," she continues, and you groan.

"Gross, Alva, he’s not a creep."

"I’m just saying, if your little connection gets you the answers to his tests, you could sell them and become rich."

"I already asked him, he said no," you say darkly, thinking of the nights you’ll have to spend studying to pass his exam. This makes Alva laugh her brilliant laugh, and you can’t help but smile, too.

"Damn," she grins, "I’d try if he wasn’t a guy."

You snort.

"You try with Professor Carter, I need the answers to Computational," you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

"You’re joking, but I bet once you get her out of her frumpy cardigans, she’s a real–"

"Okay, stop," you grown, the image of Professor Carter taking off her cardigans worse than her keeping them on – if possible. Alva giggles.

"I’ll help you with Computational," she says, "if you help me with Quantum Mechanics."

"You’re good at both," you argue, and Alva shrugs.

"Not like you, though. I spent like four hours doing Miller’s assignment last night."

You want to tell her you didn’t do it at all, but before you can open your mouth, she spots a friend in the crowd, grabs your arm and drags you over to him.

The three of you sit down together, closer to the front than the week before, which gives you a direct line of sight to Joel’s desk. When he walks in, your stomach jumps – he’s wearing a tie today, a dark burgundy or blue, you aren��t sure from this distance, flecked with specks of white. Again, his hair is styled in that carelessly disheveled look you like so much, and the image of him putting gel in it makes you smile. He gets out his materials for the lecture, and looks up, his eyes finding yours – you smile and he gives a small nod. Again you’re struck by how different he acts in front of the class, how serious he seems. You think of his laid back manner when you had coffee, and struggle to make the images align. Joel clears his throat, and the chatter around you stops.

"Quiet, please, everyone. Thank you. So, last week, we found out that Dirac’s equation predicts the existence of antiparticles. But instead of just accepting that, let’s think deeper—mathematically, what feature of the equation forces this conclusion?"

Joel jumps right into the lecture, and just like last week, nobody raises their hands – you curse the people around you for their lethargy, because sure enough, Joel’s eyes land on you. Before you can shake your head to signal to him not to ask you, he calls your name.

"If I remember correctly, you were already familiar with Dirac’s equation last week. What would you say, what does the existence of negative-energy solutions tell us, and why couldn’t we just ignore them?"

You wish you could answer him, know he asked you because he was sure you’d know the answer, perhaps hoped your enthusiasm for the subject would get the rest of the students to participate more, but you didn’t do the assignment, and you’ve already half forgotten his question. You swallow.

"Um…I…I’m not sure, Sir," you say, watching the way his brows furrow, and looking down at your notes. Alva shoots you a curious look, and when she sees your expression, she raises her hand. You’re thankful to have Joel’s attention diverted, feeling like a fool in front of hundreds of students you’re trying to make friends with.

"Dirac’s equation gives positive and negative energy solutions, and at first, the negative ones didn’t make sense. Dirac suggested they represent antiparticles, like the positron, which he predicted. The idea was that electrons could, like, jump into these negative-energy states, creating a hole that looks like a positron, which was later confirmed experimentally," Alva explains instead of you.

"You're close, but electrons don’t actually 'jump into' negative-energy states. Instead, Dirac proposed that these states are already filled, forming what he called the Dirac Sea. A positron isn’t an electron jumping down, it’s actually a 'hole' left when a negative-energy electron gets excited to a positive-energy state. That distinction is important because it explains why positrons have the opposite charge. Good answer, though, thank you Ms. Bennet."

Joel’s eyes flicker over to you again, but you show no reaction, and he continues with his lecture without asking you another question. Alva glances at you inquiringly, and you sigh.

"I wanted to do the assignment yesterday, but my cramps were really bad," you explain quietly, and she nods sympathetically.

"Call me next time, I’ll send you my answers," she whispers, and you smile gratefully. It seems you really hit the jackpot in friendship when you sat down next to Alva.

***

After Joel’s lecture, you and Alva make your way over to the vending machine, because it has the sour patches she likes, and in her own words she’ll combust if she doesn’t eat some right fucking now.

"Shit," she curses, "they’re stuck."

"Let me," a voice comes from a behind you, and when you turn around, Joel is smiling at the two of you. "Took me a while to figure this thing out, too."

Alva steps aside, and Joel bangs his palm against the side of machine. You jump, but the sour patches make their tumbling way down to the dispenser.

"Great! Thanks, Professor Miller," Alva says, ripping the bag open and offering it to the two of you. To your surprise, Joel takes her up on it, and Alva grins at you.

"You were quiet during today’s lecture," Joel says tentatively, when he’s swallowed his sour patch "everything alright?"

You glance at your shoes.

"Um, yeah. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I left your assignment for last, so…I didn’t do it."

Joel’s expression grows worried, and Alva glances between the two of you.

"Hey, I’m meeting Max for coffee," she tells you, "see you later?"

"Yeah," you answer, grateful she’s granting you this time alone with Joel, "see you, Alva."

When she’s gone, Joel is still looking at you with that worried look on his face, and you sigh.

"Sorry about the assignment," you say, "won’t happen again."

"I’m not worried about the assignment," Joel says earnestly, but then he turns his head, and you know he doesn’t want someone listening in. Sure, you can be seen chatting in the university cafe, but this conversation is rapidly blurring the lines between scholarly and – something else.

"I…have some materials in my office that might make it easier for you to catch up with the lectures again," Joel tells you, and you understand the underlying meaning. Let’s talk in my office.

"Thank you," you say, relieved, and Joel nods, eyes still glued to yours, brows still furrowed. You walk to his office making smalltalk about the lecture, which to anyone listening in would seem like a normal conversation between a professor and an interested student.

Joel opens the door to his office for you, and lets you step in first. It’s small, cramped bookshelves on the walls and a sturdy desk in the middle that is littered with notes, pencils, books, and a couple of old coffee mugs. You notice he put part of his books sideways onto the shelves, which you find weirdly endearing. This is the Joel you know – clutter and warmth.

He closes the door behind you, and you turn around to watch him drop his bag and walk over to the kettle in the corner of the room.

"Coffee?"

"Please," you sigh, "if you don’t have anything stronger."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t answer, just turns on the already filled kettle, and gets two clean cups for the two of you.

"I only have drip coffee," he tells you, "I don’t drink that crap the machines brew up."

"That’s fine, I enjoy the medieval feel of it."

"Watch it," he answers, a smile tugging on his lips, "don’t insult my coffee filter in front of me."

You grin, and walk over to his bookshelf to have a look.

"So, what’s going on?" he asks you while pouring the boiling hot water over the coffee grounds. Again, the Joel you remember – empathetic, but unusually direct. You sigh, turn around and shrug.

"Mom and Dad called yesterday, and I could tell they missed me, but I just…I cut them off after two minutes."

Joel places the cups on his desk, and leans against it. His sleeves are rolled up again, and when he crosses his arms, you feel that familiar pang in your stomach.

"And now I…I don’t know, I feel so guilty, Joel. They’re not even being dicks about it, but I just know they’d prefer for me to check in with them more…and the worst thing is, I know it’s not a big deal. They’ll get over it, they’ve got a good life without me constantly in it, so I don’t know why my stupid brain can’t just let this go, you know? One I miss you, darling, and I’m reduced to this pathetic mess, instead of just, I don’t know, getting my shit together."

You shake your head and clench your teeth, once again embarrassed to come crying to Joel about your parental issues, but he’s the only one you can tell. Sure, Alva would probably listen, but you don’t feel like explaining your family to a near stranger. Joel just gets it. Joel knows you.

He’s looking at you, arms still crossed, and for a second you worry he might not want to hear about your little breakdown, but then he sighs.

"You have your shit together all of the fuckin’ time, kid, I think that might be the problem," he tells you quietly. "You’ve always been so hard on yourself."

He’s right, once again he sees what you struggle to show the world, and his words make tears spring to your eyes. You will your eyeballs to suck them back in, but of course, Joel sees.

"Hey now," he says, taking a tentative step towards you. One tear drops from the end of your lashes and down your cheek, and the dam is broken again – they come spilling in floods. Joel crosses the room in a second, and there is a slight moment of hesitation between the two of you, before you bury your face in his chest, and let your restraint fall. You cry quietly, feel him wrap his arms around you, as he rocks you back and forth.

"You’re alright," he tells you, "Shhh, it’s okay, you’re alright."

"S-s-sorry about the assignment," you manage, and Joel’s hand starts stroking your back.

"Jesus, kid, stop worryin’ about the fucking assignment," he tells you, voice low and worried. "You don’t gotta be so strict with yourself. You’re doin’ just fine."

He smells so much like home, you think you might never stop crying.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," you hiccup, "One week here and I’m a mess already."

You feel Joel rest his chin on your head, and his arms tighten around you.

"There’s nothin’ wrong with you, you hear me? You hold yourself to high standards. Creates pressure, kid."

As always, he’s right of course – you want to excel academically, you don’t want to hurt your parents, you want to stay true to yourself and do what makes you happy, you want to make friends without compromising your grades. It’s impossible.

You breathe in shakily, your eyes closed, face buried in Joel’s chest, and for a second he is all that exists – just Joel, all around you, pulling you to the earth. Slowly, your breathing calms, Joel still rocking you soothingly, holding you close.

"There we go," he mutters, when your chest stops shaking, "that’s good."

When you pull away from him, he puts his hands on your shoulders to really look at you, and although you’re embarrassed by your outburst, you’re glad he doesn’t shy away from you.

"I want you to start being a little more lenient with yourself, alright? You don’t need to worry about an assignment on top of everything."

His hands are rubbing your shoulders, his eyes are kind and warm.

"Maybe not about yours, but I have like five other lectures –"

"Okay, so try to stop worrying about my assignments, just mine. Won’t bite your head off if you don’t do them, and I’ll only ask you questions when you raise your hand, alright? In fact, for the rest of the term, I want you to hand them in late."

Despite yourself, your lips pull up in a small smile.

"That’s silly, Joel," you say softly, but he shakes his head.

"It’s not silly, it’s practice to get you out of your comfort zone."

You consider his words for a moment. You do keep a pretty tight reign on yourself, and just the thought of doing every assignment late makes your skin crawl with anxiety. But when will you get another chance to step out of your comfort zone as safely as now, with Joel? He’s offering you a way to try it without actually risking your grades. And who knows, perhaps it actually will take a little bit of pressure off of you.

"Okay," you answer, staring up at Joel with puffy cheeks and teary eyes. "Alright."

He smiles at you, but he still looks worried and you wish he’d pull you close to him again. It’s such a relief to have this sort of human contact with someone who really knows you.

"Feel better?"

You sigh, and nod.

"It’s just a lot, you know, uni and my parents, and every social interaction feels like such a chore, cause I don’t know people yet. I feel like I’m not even relaxed when I’m asleep."

Joel hesitates for a moment, before he speaks, but when he does, he sounds determined.

"Come over tonight, I’ll make us somethin’ to eat, and you don’t have to worry about talkin’ to anyone. We’ll watch whatever you’d like. You still enjoy those crappy horror movies?"

You smile at the shared memory – Joel letting you use his living room to watch slashers your parents didn’t want you to see. One summer, when the heat was so stifling you barely went outside, you practically lived at his place, and when you’d seen all the DVDs he owned, he got you more from the video store.

"I do," you say quietly, the fact that Joel remembers more important to you than his proposal to spend the evening together. You feel significantly less alone, all of a sudden.

"Alright, then. Be over at seven,“ Joel tells you, and you nod, wiping your wet face with the back of your hand.

"Thank you, Joel," you say, and hug him again, because you don’t know how to tell him in words what you’re feeling, and his big, warm body against yours feels more than soothing.

"Course, kid. Just don’t tell Alva, or they’ll fire me."

You smile, your arms still wrapped around his neck, as he holds you.

"But I don’t wanna get you in trouble, what if–"

"No," Joel interrupts you, "no what ifs. No worryin’. I forbid it."

And you accept it, leave it to Joel, because he tells you to – because you don’t have any room in your head for more worries, and because you trust Joel not to do anything reckless. You trust him, period.

***

You text Alva you’re having dinner alone, that your cramps are still acting up, and you do feel slightly bad for lying, but you would never risk Joel’s job. The idea of having dinner with him at his place should make you nervous after your change in feelings about him, but you’re just looking forward to having a meal with someone who knows you, and lets you be yourself.

Joel asked you to be there at seven, so you spend the rest of the afternoon in your dorm room, wondering if you should change your outfit or if it would seem desperate – in the end, you keep the jeans but change into a blouse instead of a sweater. The part of you that stares at Joel’s forearms during class now wants to look pretty for him, so that he’ll ask you over again. You know you’re being ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop you from putting on your nicest perfume.

You’re ten minutes early, so you sit in your little second hand car and try not to panic. You know Joel is merely trying to be a good…friend? Ex-neighbor, Dad’s best friend turned professor? There’s no real etiquette to cling to in this situation, for either of you, and although you’re positive Joel doesn’t have any ulterior motives with you despite his flirting, you know he could lose his job if someone finds out you went to his house. Even if you just watch slashers together the way you did ten years ago. It makes you anxious to know he’d risk something clearly important to him for just that – he moved to a different state, quit his old job, started over completely, and is now willing to endanger that new life just because you’re stressed. At the same time it seems ridiculous anyone could forbid the two of you to spend time together after having known each other your entire life. The thought is absurd, and still, you need to be careful.

You get out of the car before you start to hyperventilate, and ring Joel’s doorbell – it feels strange for him to live in a new house. He opens the door with a smile, and absurd relief floods your veins when you realize he’s wearing an old Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of worn jeans. This is your Joel.

"I come bearing gifts," you announce, stepping into the house.

“Christ, where did you get this?”, Joel asks, taking the six pack of beer from you, so you can take off your jacket. “I didn’t know they sold Shiner Bock outside of Texas, I’ve been survivin’ on Bud”.

“Brought it with me,” you explain, “figured it’d help if I got homesick, you know, in multiple ways.”

You grin, and Joel shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Old enough to drink, well I’ll be damned. I remember when you begged your Dad to let you have a coke and he asked me if I thought the caffeine would stunt your growth.”

“Did it?”

“It might’ve,” Joel says with a chuckle, “but he didn’t let you have it.”

“Well, he isn’t here now, so let’s put those in the fridge.”

“No," Joel mutters, “no, he ain’t.”

While Joel puts the beer away, you take a look around his living room – despite your reservations about the new house, it reminds you of his old place. It’s got the same masculine and warm feel to it, dark wood, books all over the place, no bells and whistles. Joel is a practical man, and it’s charmingly etched into every part of his life – except for his new work-look. The room isn’t as cluttered as you remember Joel’s old house back in Texas, but you assume he hasn’t had time to accumulate clutter yet. No old newspapers are lying around, no birthday cards stacking up. You wonder if he’s lonely here, teaching all by himself, hundreds of miles away from the place he last grew roots in.

“Do you miss home?” you ask him, when he comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer in his hands. He looks at ease, much more himself than back at university. His jeans are faded, his shirt a little too big on his already broad frame, and his hair is clean and curly the way you like it – no gel twisting it into all sorts of un-Joel-like styles. Warmth floods your chest at the sight of him taking a swig of his beer. His crowfeet are a little more pronounced, and his hair has more grey strands than it did back home, but he’s still got that distinctly warm, no-nonsense feel to him.

“Sometimes,” he answers, offering you the second bottle. Your hand brushes his when you take it from him. “But I’m pretty busy here, you know, got a whole lotta lectures to plan, papers to grade and that sort of stuff.”

You nod, and sip at your beer.

“Have you…you know, met people? Made friends here?”

Joel plops down on the couch, and smiles up at you.

“You worried about my social life?”

You shrug, and smile almost timidly.

“You know me, kid, I like bein’ by myself.”

That’s true, for as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been alone. You know he has nieces and nephews who adore him, and your Dad mentioned a woman once, but it must have been at least twenty years since they were together. You wonder why Joel doesn’t seem to want that sort of a domestic life, surely many women would be happy to let him put a ring on them.

You walk over to the window, and watch a blackbird tug at a writhing worm.

“Have you met someone at uni you wanna be by yourself with?” you ask with a small grin, turning back to find Joel already watching you. “I heard Professor Carter’s still single.”

“She’s very intelligent,” Joel says earnestly. You give him credit for not laughing about his colleague, and suddenly you feel bad for calling her frumpy with Alva. “But I think I’ll leave her to her simulations. Why am I bein’ interrogated?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, and glance out of the window again, “just making conversation.”

“Your turn, then,” Joel answers, and takes another swig of beer. “Any frat boys catch your eye? Or frat girls?”

You glance at him, a smile on your lips, and raise your eyebrows.

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I thought, maybe Alva…”

“No,” you answer, feeling fond of him for considering the possibility. “Alva’s a friend. The guys are…well, they’re frat boys.”

Your voice carries enough disgust for Joel to laugh.

“Right,” he says, and his eyes are warm when they meet yours again. “Just us two loners, then."

“Cheers,” you say with a smile.

“Cheers.”

***

Joel’s cooking is a mystery to you – he loves to eat, and when he does cook, it’s always delicious, but he only ever makes one of five dishes. Again, that practicality shining through. Why try something new if you’ve perfected your routine? He made pasta for you, wasn’t sure if you’re still vegetarian and makin’ your Dad’s hair fall out, and you smile into the neck of your beer bottle, when you watch him drizzle dressing onto a carefully arranged side-salad. Throughout dinner, you tell him how much you love it at least five times, because you can tell he put effort into the meal. You know it’s not technically a date, but having a dinner he made just for you, in his home – it feels like one.

You steer the conversation away from heavy topics like your parents. Although Joel offered you this evening to make you feel better, you want to spend it with him rather than in your head, so you ask him about books and music, about his lectures, about Tommy and the kids. You like watching how his face lights up whenever he talks about something he particularly loves. Joel is a quiet man, but you found out years ago it isn’t shyness, but a disinterest in most mundane topics – he doesn’t like gossip or superficial small talk. When he tells you Tommy made him godfather of all of his children, the pride is evident in his voice, and you don’t have to fake your enthusiasm, although it amuses you, too – Tommy loving his big brother enough not to consider anyone else.

"She calls me uncle Joe," he tells you with a chuckle, "Can’t pronounce her Ls yet, but I’ve considered legally changing my name."

When you’re done eating, you help him clear the table, but when you reach for the sponge to do the dishes, Joel shakes his head.

"Let me do that later, kid. You wanna watch a movie?"

So the two of you plop down on the couch with a bag of M&Ms and another round of beer, and Joel hands you the remote.

"Go wild," he says, chuckling when you excitedly turn on he TV to open Netflix.

"Wow, a streaming service? I thought you’d just hoard DVDs for the rest of your life."

Joel huffs, and instead of answering, he leans forward, and reaches for something under his couch table. When he turns his head, he’s got glasses on his face, thick-rimmed and black, and so startlingly sexy, you almost drop the remote.

"You…you’ve got glasses?"

"Yeah," he answers, his eyes meeting yours, and you swallow. "When your eyesight deteriorates, that’s when you know you’re gettin’ old."

You hum but don’t answer, just hold his gaze for a second and look back to the screen. You try to ignore the familiar pang in your stomach at the sight of Joel in his new glasses, and skip through movie after movie, mumbling seen it, seen it, that one sucks, seen it, until Joel reaches over and snatches the remote from you.

"Hey–"

"I can’t read anything if you skip through them that quickly."

"You’re not supposed to read, you’re supposed to go with the vibe of the cover."

He glances at you with furrowed brows.

"Okay, sorry, didn’t know you’re a filmbro," you grumble, but it’s almost entirely fake – you couldn’t be annoyed with him, not when he pushes his glasses up his nose, and carefully considers which button to press on the remote.

"I don’t know what that means," he answers, and starts reading the description of a romantic comedy about Christmas.

"I’m not watching that."

"You don’t even know what it’s about."

"It’s September, Joel."

He huffs again, but finally reaches the horror movies. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take the two of you long to pick one, and the thought of two hours of brainless, scary entertainment on a couch with Joel makes you practically melt into his couch.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you during the opening credits, so you glance over and he smiles.

"Comfy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from relaxation.

"Yeah," you answer, and smile when hands you a blanket. He’s not exactly close to you, but it still feels a little intimate when you spread the blanket out and offer him the other end. He moves over a little, so that the blanket covers his legs, and when you concentrate you can feel his body heat next to you, so you try hard not to – and instead get lost in the movie.

It’s not particularly good, but the story does get under your skin a little, and when there’s an unexpected shriek, you violently jump and instinctively move closer to Joel. He chuckles, but doesn’t give any reaction to your arm suddenly pressing against his. He doesn’t move away, either, so you don’t, fear suddenly not being the only thing bubbling up in your stomach.

"Jesus," you mumble, the creeping music making you anticipate another jumpscare. You’re right, it does come, but prepared though you are, you still wince, and turn away from the screen slightly. Out of sight, out of mind. Joel turns around, too, and when he sees your widened eyes, he grins.

"How’s that Christmas movie lookin’ now?"

"I’m not scared," you say, and there is some truth to it, "I’m just not good with jumpscares."

When the next one comes, you can’t help it, you clutch his arm next to you, your nails digging into his firm muscle, and Joel glances at you again.

"Sorry," you say quickly, letting go of his forearm now marked with five tiny crescent shapes. "Jesus, Joel, sorry."

"It’s fine," he says, and the amusement is evident in his voice, "you sure you’re into this? There might be some cartoons–"

He stops talking when you glare at him, but his mouth is twitching under his beard. You’re determined to watch the entire movie, and you try not to let any reaction show, wanting to prove Joel wrong.

There is one particularly scary scene – it’s not necessarily violent, but the music and shaky camera movements make your pulse race, and you turn your head slightly, so as to look at something else. Joel glances at you again, but he doesn’t laugh this time, just puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. It’s grounding, the warmth of it, how his thumb digs into your muscle and his fingers spread out over your back and neck.

"You don’t gotta force yourself to watch this, kid," Joel says gently, all teasing humor gone.

"No," you say stubbornly, but move even closer to him. His touch is a welcome distraction from the movie, and although you know it’s stupid and reckless, you lean into him, and Joel puts his arm around you. It’s closer than you’ve been to him except for hugging, and your heartbeat starts to quicken for all the wrong, non-horror reasons. When you flinch, Joel tugs you against his side, and it feels natural to hide your face in his shoulder.

He was never touchy with you, or anyone for that matter, so something must have changed. You wonder if he’s trying to comfort you, or if you might not be the only one who can feel that strange pull between the two of you.

When the movie ends, Joel regrettably removes his arm from around your shoulders to switch off the TV, and although you’re slightly disappointed, you scold yourself for expecting something else.

"Not bad," Joel says with a small smile, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Very brave."

You scoff, but feel the corners of your mouth twitching, too.

"I used to be less of a wimp, but I guess you soften with age."

"You’re twenty-three," Joel argues, "that’s young."

Yeah, too young. Too young to lean over and kiss him, or climb into his lap, or expect anything other than paternal care when he’s got his arm around you. You look at your lap, all of a sudden feeling stupid and silly for having dreamed up an absurd fantasy about the man in front of you.

"Hey," Joel says gently, "what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, "nothing, I had a really great evening. Thanks, Joel."

You can tell you’ve confused him, but he nods, doesn’t question your sudden change of mood, and stands when you get up from the couch.

"Anytime, kid. You call me if you’re havin’ a bad time, alright? My door’s always open."

He’s so kind, so recklessly, stupidly, lovingly kind, and all of it is directed at you. You curse yourself for it, but again you feel that familiar burn in your eyes. Joel reaches out and easily pulls you towards his big body, hugging you the way he did in his office just this afternoon. He doesn’t ask you what brought on your tears, just lets you cry into his Led Zeppelin shirt that smells so much like home, like a childhood you won’t get back to. You remember whiffs of that smell when you were watching movies on his couch while he was at work, too pissed off at your parents to spend the summer at home. This scent was there when you attended a neighborhood barbecue after fighting with your father and Joel grilled some vegan sausages for you without comment or question. He’s always looked out for you like this, quietly, without demanding an explanation, just a solid, comforting presence in your life.

Your tears stop after a couple of minutes, and you take a step away from Joel, wiping your face. He looks so worried again, brows all furrowed and arms hanging limply at his side. Didn’t he flirt with you, though? Didn’t he prepare dinner for you the way a date would, ask you about your dating life, ask you to coffee? You don’t think you would be able to handle another evening like this one not knowing what Joel really thinks, so in a moment of hazy recklessness, you lean up.

His eyes meet yours, all warm and strangely unguarded, but before your lips brush his, a hand on your shoulder stops you. Without saying something, you move away from him, and nod to yourself, his reaction all the information you needed.

"Sorry," you say very quietly, not managing much else now that you’ve humiliated yourself in front of the only person you really know in a six hundred mile radius. Joel runs a hand through his soft hair, and inhales deeply.

"No," he says, his voice a little strained, "no, don’t be. I just…Jesus, kid."

He rubs his palm over his beard in such a familiar way, your chest aches a little. It’s ridiculous how much you want to touch his face, to feel him again, skin on skin. So you don’t turn and run the way your embarrassed heart is telling you to, just watch him collect his thoughts, standing in front of him like a wet and beaten dog.

"Look," he begins, "I won’t say I’m not flattered, but that’s…it’s a bad fuckin’ idea. It’s…it’s chaos, and on top of that most people would argue it’s wrong."

You swallow. You know all of this, have turned it over in your head ever since you stared at Joel’s rolled up sleeves for two hours on that first Monday, but hearing him say it makes your stomach churn.

"Yeah," you mutter, and trace Joel’s shadow with the very tip of your foot, "yeah, of course. Sorry I put you in that position, wasn’t right."

Your face still feels puffy, and you know you’re probably all red and pathetic looking, begging Joel for scraps of his attention, but all of a sudden, he lifts his hand up to your face, and cups it in his broad palm. His thumb strokes your cheek, and when you meet his eye, the expression on his face is tender.

"It’s alright," he tells you softly, "I can see you worryin’ at the speed of light in that pretty head of yours."

Something in your chest flutters at his words, at the rough and warm cadence of his voice. He reads you so easily, one turn of your head and he knows you’re lost to your thoughts.

"I shouldn’t have let myself toy with this idea," he continues, and your stomach flips. "I should’ve realized you’d pick up on it. It’s on me, alright? It’s on me not to start anythin’."

You can hear the implication – I’m the adult here. It’s not what you want to hear, but just the mention of Joel toying with this idea, as he put it, is enough to lift your spirits. So you weren’t crazy.

"I’m an adult," you say weakly, never having felt more like a child. Joel nods.

"You are, but I’m still in a position of power here. Be wrong, to abuse that."

His thumb is still moving over your cheek slowly, making it hard to think straight.

"So dinner and a movie doesn’t abuse it?"

You don’t want to argue, you don’t know why you keep disagreeing with him, and the way his face falls, you wish you hadn’t said it.

"No, it…it does, you’re right. Jesus, of course it does. I don’t blame ya for bein’ ang-"

"I’m not angry," you say softly, and tentatively turn your head in Joel’s hand. You press a kiss to his palm, his warm skin pressed right against your mouth. "I’m not your student, Joel. I mean, of course I am, but I know you. It’s different."

Joel’s eyes are glued to your face, and he looks so conflicted you wish he’d just throw you out of his house, if only to solve his dilemma.

"It’s still wrong," Joel mutters, his eyes glued to your lips since they brushed his skin "even if you take away the fact that I’m your fuckin’ professor. Your Dad…"

"My Dad is half a continent away and finds a way to be unhappy with whatever choices I make, so I might as well make the ones I want to."

The very first day, before you even met Joel, you decided to do what makes you happy while in university, and although this certainly wasn’t what you had in mind, you know it’s what you want. The only thing you want, in fact.

Joel sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Joel, I’m not trying to…look, if I’m wrong about this, just tell me, but I feel…I just wanna be close to you all of the fucking time," you say quietly, "and it’s okay if you don’t, really. I just…I want you to know it’s not nothing to me."

Saying I don’t just want to hook up with you would feel too straight forward or crass, but you think Joel gets the gist of what you’re trying to say, and he closes his eyes briefly. You study his face behind his glasses, the wrinkles and freckles from years in the sun. You do feel anxious about his answer, but whatever it is, you’re glad you told him. It’s out in the world now, the way you feel when he holds you, and he can do with it what he pleases – you’ve handed him the reigns.

"I…I know what you mean. Me too," he says very quietly after a beat, his eyes open and looking directly into yours again.

A triumphant pang of affection pulses through you, and you put your hand over Joel’s, which is still resting on your cheek. He looks conflicted, but his other hand holds your waist now, and tugs your smaller body closer to his again. He’s solid as a brick wall in front of you, and you figure you’re allowed to touch, so you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Joel mutters, and strokes your lower lip with his thumb. If you had more guts, you’d let it slip into your mouth, but you’re still afraid he’ll pull back if you make a wrong move, so you just let him caress your mouth tenderly.

"Whatever you’d like," you answer just as quietly, and you know it sounds sexual, but you mean it in every way – if Joel wants to be nothing but your professor, you’d take it, and if he wants to keep you here in his house indefinitely, you’d let him. Joel keeps looking at you, taking you in as if he’s considering whether the risks outweigh whatever magnetic or gravitational pull the two of you have between you.

"Stay," he say after a while, and although his face looks slightly regretful, his voice is determined, "just…sleep here tonight. I like havin’ you here."

You want him to kiss you, to pull you onto his lap on the couch, to take you upstairs right now, but Joel seems to be restraining himself, so you just nod.

"Me too," you whisper, echoing his words back to him, and for just a second, his thumb digs into your lip a little harder, but then he pulls away.

"Testin’ my goddamn restraint," he mutters, and takes a step away from you. "I’ll get you something to sleep in."

***

Joel gets you one of his band tees you love so dearly, and just the idea of being enveloped by something that smells like him all night makes it a little easier when Joel tells you he’ll take the couch instead of inviting you to sleep with him in his bed.

"No," you say softly, "it’s fine, you just sleep in your bed, Joel. I’ll take the couch."

He looks critical, so you offer him a soft smile.

"I don’t know if your back could take it," you tease, and he seems torn up between laughing and frowning. In the end, he just shakes his head, mutters something that sounds a lot like bad fuckin’ idea, and gets you a blanket and pillow.

He brings you a clean toothbrush and towel, let’s you use his bathroom (you look at the shower the entire time you’re brushing your teeth, trying hard not to think about what Joel looks like using it in the mornings), and when you’re done changing, you unlock the door again.

He’s there, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing over your form in his much too big shirt. It’s long as a dress on you, coming down to your naked thighs. Joel visibly swallows and gets up from the bed.

"You got everythin’ you need?"

"Yes. Thank you, Joel."

There’s a beat of silence and you almost think Joel’s about to cross the room, but he just runs his palm over his beard the way he always does, and nods.

"Alright. Just shout if there’s…well, you know. I’ll be here."

"I will."

"Alright. Okay…goodnight, kid."

"Night," you almost whisper, voice soft, and right before you reach the door, Joel clears his throat.

"I…you were right about dinner and the movie. I wasn’t just tryin’ to be friendly," he says quietly, and your stomach swirls. Before you can walk over to Joel and do something about it, he sighs.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

***

You wake to the sound of something dripping, and when your eyes flutter open, you can see Joel’s back from the kitchen. He’s wearing his work outfit again, a white button down and dark pants, sleeves rolled up. It smells like coffee, and with a smile you realize he must be brewing his beloved coffee – no machine, just a filter. He looks broad, even from your spot on the couch, and you enjoy peeking in on him. You study his movements, the way he reaches for a cup, how his fingers absentmindedly drum on the kitchen counter while he waits.

When he turns around, his eyes find yours, and he smiles.

"Mornin’. Did I wake ya?"

"’S fine," you yawn, pulling the blanket up to your chin, not yet ready to get up. "I have classes at ten anyway."

"’S eight," Joel tells you, "Coffee?"

"Yes please," you answer, and stretch your limbs under the blanket.

Joel brings you a cup, complete with a little bit of milk and sugar, and you move your feet so he can sit down on the couch.

"Sleep well?"

You sip your coffee, let it burn your tongue and close your eyes at the taste. When you open them, Joel’s gaze lingers on your face.

"Yeah," you answer, "thank you for…you know."

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at his lap. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s very quiet, and you feel anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

"Joel, do you want me to leave? It’s fine if you do," you ask him softly, not wanting to make things awkward for him. It would be rational of him to ask you to leave, the smart and ethical thing to do.

"No," he answers quietly, still not looking at you, "I want you to stay."

Stay? On a Tuesday morning, after you almost kissed him and he told you he couldn’t do that, after you spent the night on his couch? When you have classes in two hours, haven’t showered yet, are half naked and wearing his clothes, on his couch under his blanket? When you’ve got friends wondering where you are and probably ten unanswered messages from Alva?

"Alright," you say, agreeing as easy as breathing.

Finally, he looks up, and his expression is so conflicted you reach out for him. Your hand finds his and you squeeze it. He keeps looking at you, his hand limp in your grasp, as if any movement of his muscles would incriminate him.

"You shouldn’t," he tells you earnestly. "Stay, I mean. You shouldn’t stay."

"I know."

You don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move his away.

"It’s a really, really bad idea," he adds, and you’re not sure who he is trying to talk out of whatever this is. "It’s risky. Could blow up both our lives."

"Yeah," you say, and watch him sip his coffee, "okay."

Then, a tentative flex of his fingers against yours, and finally, he’s squeezing your hand just as tightly, and before you can process what that means, Joel is leaning over you, dangerously close. Your breathing quickens, you register how soft his hair looks, how strong his hand is. He leans in further and you sit up a little, still cocooned in his blanket. His face is close to yours, his eyes fiery with something you can’t pinpoint, and you sigh, when he closes the gap between you.

He tastes of coffee and toothpaste, and you wish you’d gotten the chance to shower, but the thought disappears almost immediately when you hear Joel groan. His kisses you languidly, deeply, and your fingers come up to his beautiful arm, barely wrapping around half of his biceps. He cradles the side of your face, pulls you closer, makes your stomach clench with need. It feels inevitable, the way he touches you, like you only exist in a physical form to be touched by him.

His free hand peels the blanket off your body, lets it slide to the floor without ever stopping his the kiss, and you moan softly, when his hand touches your waist. The sound makes him break away, stare down at you, pupils blown wide.

"Fuck, you look good in my clothes," he mutters, nudging your jaw with his nose, and pressing a kiss there. "You should really, really go home."

Your head falls back slightly to give him better access to your neck, and he brushes his lips over your pulse point. Your heart skips a beat.

"I – I know," you breathe, fingers digging into his arm. His beard scratches your skin deliciously, and it takes everything in you not to whimper or beg. Joel’s hand slips under your shirt – his shirt – and instead of finding your waist again, he digs his thumb into your hip, stroking the fabric of your cotton panties. The fire in your stomach burns brighter, and you almost buck up into him. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller who until recently had a key to your childhood home, who lent it to you whenever you forgot yours inside – he’s sucking bruises into your skin, and toying with your panties. It’s dizzying, his familiar voice when he hums in satisfaction, even rougher than usually.

His fingers trace the waistband of your panties towards the front, until they find a small, silky bow, and Joel groans. He doesn’t take your underwear off, doesn’t even touch you where you need him the most, just keeps playing with the little bow, until your hips twitch without your permission. A little lower, and he would be able to feel how wet you are, how wet you have been all night. You didn’t do anything about it, not while you were a guest in his house. It would have felt wrong. You can’t imagine anything feeling more right than Joel’s mouth and hands on you, though.

"Jesus," Joel curses, "I should stop bef–"

"No," you whine, all dignity turned to hot air by Joel’s fingers, "please, Joel, please don’t stop."

He curses again, and moves his big body so that he’s not just hovering above you, but actually on top of you, your thighs falling open for him easily. At the movement, his shirt hikes up your thighs, and you know you’re basically on display for him, your soaked underwear leaving little to the imagination. He’s still fully clothed, his perfect button down all wrinkled now.

"Look at you," Joel breathes, lightheaded with desire, "this all for me?"

So he saw, when you moved to accommodate his broad form, saw how soaked you are, knows you ruined your panties just because he kissed you.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please–"

Before you can beg further, his finger presses down on your clit, and he watches your face contort in pleasure, as it shoots up your spine. You whimper, staring into his eyes, and he stares right back, as you start to grind your hips against his palm.

Your head feels blissfully empty, all worries about this relationship, uni, your parents, gone from you with a simple, practiced movement of his hand. The whimpers keep falling from your lips, and Joel curses.

"So beautiful," he mutters, "tell me what you need, angel."

It’s not a question, it’s an order.

"I – fuck, I need you i–inside," you groan, and Joel’s lips find yours again.

"Yeah? Need me to fuck you good, even though they’ll throw us both out?"

It shouldn’t turn you on. You’re jeopardizing both your own and Joel’s career, and he’s turning it into dirty talk. Still, your pussy doesn’t lie, and the way it throbs for him, aching to get him inside, makes all doubts disappear from your mind.

"Yes," you answer, unable to say much more as Joel keeps drawing tight circles into your clit.

Your hands drift from his arms towards his front, and Joel curses, when you paw at his belt buckle. It takes you a second, but then it’s open, the sound of the metal exciting you – it sounds like a promise.

Joel finally tugs your panties down, and for a second you’re self–conscious about not being clean shaven, but the second he sees you bare and glistening for him, his fingers dip into your folds, gathering your wetness with no hesitation.

"Fuck me," he groans, bringing his hand up to his face and tasting you, holding eye–contact the entire time, "prettiest pussy I’ve seen in my life."

You twitch under him, dragging your gaze away from his eyes and to his fingers. A moan escapes you, your hands have gone slack on his waistband, and Joel smiles down at you. Then, he does the same motion again, drags the tips of his thick fingers through your sticky arousal, but instead of sucking them clean himself, he holds them up to your mouth. His eyes burn, when you wrap your lips around them without a moments hesitation, and he feeds you your own slick.

"Taste so sweet, huh?"

You don’t answer, just swirl your tongue around his fingers, and suck on them. Joel watches your mouth intently, lets you take your time.

"Good girl," he praises you, and you clench around nothing, "so fuckin’ needy for me."

He drags his fingers from your mouth, and finally pushes into you, the stretch much tighter than with two of your own. Your head falls backwards, and Joel curls his fingers.

"No, baby, look down here," he orders, and immediately you lift your head again, and watch him pump two thick digits in and out of you. It’s dizzying to think it’s the same hand that waved to you from over his fence for years and years. You feel a coil building in your stomach, and you moan.

"Fuck, Joel," you moan, his name leaving a delicious aftertaste in your mouth. His beautiful forearm flexes with every movement, your slick is dripping down his fingers, and those damn sleeves are still perfectly rolled up.

With a few more curls of his fingers, you gush around him, barely having time to warn him, and he praises you, calls you his good girl, drags his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you until you see stars.

When he slips his fingers out of you and holds them up to your face again, you clean them up with your mouth as Joel watches with bright eyes. To think that he’s the same man who taught you Dirac not twenty-four hours ago – already, you want him inside again. When you’re done, he fumbles with his own clothes, and you watch him this time instead of helping.

"You look so good like this," you mumble, eyes raking over his broad form, "Professor."

His eyes snap up to yours, and you grin.

"Fuckin’ Christ, kid," he mutters, popping open the buttons on his shirt, "you can’t say shit like that."

"You don’t like it? You know, I watched you during your lectures and dreamed about…well, about this."

His expression is unreadable, but if you’re not mistaken, his hands move even faster now, and then he shrugs out of his shirt. You almost moan at the sight of his naked torso, so broad and solid.

"You need to pay attention in class," Joel answers, as he opens his pants. Your breathing grows a little shallow when he reveals his boxers underneath, his bulge huge.

"Can’t," you mumble, "not with you looking like this."

He chuckles at that, at the honesty and need in your answer.

"Don’t worry," he says softly, "I’ll fuck it outta you. Won’t be needing’ me in class, not if I’m still leakin’ out of you."

Your lips part, your pussy clenches – a smile tugs on the corners of Joel’s mouth at your reaction. He drags down his boxer shorts, and your eyes snap towards his cock, so thick and dripping in precum. You whimper, you can’t help it, and Joel’s smile widens.

"We’ll make it fit, baby," he says, reading your mind, and then bends down and kisses you again. You try to tug your shirt upwards, but Joel’s hands find your wrists and he holds them tight.

"No, want to fuck you in it," he breathes against your lips, and you press your hips upwards until he groans. He pumps his fist over his cock a couple of times, and aligns it with your entrance.

"Deep breath, baby," he mutters, and you obey, staring up at him as he starts pressing into you. It’s tight, much tighter than his two fingers, and your eyes glass over with pain, but Joel goes slow. His hand strokes your tummy, helps you relax, while he pushes on consistently. You feel like he’s punching the air from your lungs, eyes wide with the stretch of him, as he nips at your jaw and neck to distract you.

"Know it’s a lot, but you can take it, angel."

"Y-yes," you moan, and screw your eyes shut, "please don’t stop, Joel."

Joel’s breathing is ragged with restraint, and suddenly his hips snap forwards – and he’s fully buried inside of your tight body, nestled right against your cervix.

"Back to Joel, are we?" he teases, and gives you a couple of seconds to get used to him. You whimper and claw at his arm.

"I – ah – I’ll call you Professor Miller ’f you want," you slur, as he starts dragging his cock out of you again. You tremble under him, the feeling almost more intense than when he pushed inside of you.

"Yeah? That get you off? Or – fuck– is it the fact that I’m friends with your parents?"

It really, really should be a turn off, to be talking about your parents right now, but the way Joel says it, the way he points out just how debauched it is what you’re doing – you can’t help but moan. You blush, too, can feel the heat in your face, but you’re tired of being ashamed of wanting him the way you do.

"Both," you answer, and this time Joel groans, his hips snapping into you at a rougher pace. The head of his cock hits your spot every time, and you let out little sounds of pleasure with every drag of his cock, unable to form a coherent sentence. Joel’s hand finds your clit again, rubbing circles as his other one pressing down on your stomach.

"Feel that?" he asks you, and you do, you feel him all up in your guts, "you take it so well baby, take all ’f me."

"Yes," you answer, eyes glassy with pleasure, "want all of you, Joel."

He bites your shoulder, keeps rutting into you, and soon you feel another orgasm building.

"Close – ah – so close," you whimper, and Joel speeds up his thrusts just slightly. You clench around him, right on the edge.

"Come for me, angel, give it to me."

You do, your hips bucking, back arching.

"Ah – fuck, Joel, Prof–"

"Say it," Joel orders, fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

"Professor."

He comes, too, twitching deep inside of you and spilling rope after rope of come. It feels right, like you’re his. His groan is rough, his thrusts sloppy, and you feel your pussy spasm around him in a third, weaker orgasm, or maybe it’s just aftershocks from your second. You’re limp underneath him, letting him use your body how he needs to.

"Fuck," he curses, "did so good for me."

He slips out of you, and you can feel his spend drip out of you. You’re weak, soft like jelly, sweaty and entirely satisfied.

"Jesus," you breathe, when he falls down next to you, his couch mercifully being big enough.

"Yeah," he answers, "Jesus."

***

Turns out, Joel Miller is a dirty talking bastard during sex, and a big softie afterwards. He makes you tea, strokes your hair while you sip it, then carries you up to his shower and gently washes your body his his sponge. Throughout, he’s quiet, and you wonder if it was too much, the mention of him being your professor, of your parents, but you’re too afraid to ask. He brushes your forehead with his lips when he dries you off, and pulls another of his shirts over you head. Your panties are entirely ruined, it’s all you’re wearing.

When you’re clean again, and relaxed, Joel pulls you onto his bed, wrapping you up in his arms.

"Did you…was that too much?" he asks you softly fingertips tracing over your thigh lazily.

"It was just right," you answer quietly, and he hums.

"You didn’t feel like you…I mean when you called me Professor, you wanted to do that, right?"

You look up at him, and press a soft kiss against his jaw.

"Of course, Joel. Wanted everything we did, I promise."

He nods, but you can tell there’s still something bothering him.

"You know that’s not what you are to me, though, right?" Your voice is soft. "You’re just Joel."

He brushes the top of your head with his lips.

"I mean it," you press on when he doesn’t answer, "it’s like a costume, Joel. I know it’s your job, but it’s…I don’t think of you as like, an authority figure or something. I just thought you looked hot in that slutty shirt."

"Slutty–?" he sputters and you laugh.

"Sure, you know, with your sleeves rolled up, and that first button popped open."

"’S not slutty."

"You showed your forearms. Half the lecture hall felt like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time."

Joel makes an exasperated sound, half amused and half offended.

"I mean it," you say again after beat, humor gone from your tone, "and it’s not just sex to me. You know that."

"Yeah," Joel answers slowly. "’S more to me, too."

It’s a hell of an admission.

"What are we gonna do?", you ask quietly, and Joel sighs.

"You’re gonna go to class," he says, voice dark, "and I’ll try very, very hard not to call your father and tell him I’m fallin’ for his daughter."

You bury your face in his chest. With anyone else, it would be too much, too fast, too intense. But this is Joel. It’s not fast if you’ve known him your whole life, is it? You kiss his chest, and he seems to understand.

"We’ll figure it out," Joel says quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

For a second you do want your parents to know, want them to see that someone does treat you like an adult, want to look them in the eye and say I’m with Joel now and there’s nothing you can do about it. I have my own life now and it includes this kind man. It’s childish, you know it is. You lean up, catch Joel’s mouth in a kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, “We’ll figure it out, Professor.”

#event horizon #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #professor!Joel miller #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel x you #Joel Miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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holybibly · 11 months ago

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𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱 | Mingi x reader

Pairing: Professor Mingi x cam girl | student reader Summary: You hated Professor Song Mingi wholeheartedly. He was young, successful, too handsome to benefit himself, and сonfident as the devil himself. The living embodiment of all your red flags - 10 out of 10 on the "rich, narcissist, idiot" list. At the same time, Song Mingi was the sexiest, most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. But what will you do when Professor Song discovers your dirty little secret? And that he might be too interested in giving you a private lesson in good manners? Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, University!AU, Sex Work!AU, Non-idol!AU, sugar daddy, student х teacher, forbidden relationships, cam girl. Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 10.3 k Warnings: Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play, spanking, orgasm delay, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), sex work and more. net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: This ff has been in my drafts for a very long time and was supposed to be a really sweet "gift" for my bunnies. But for various reasons, it didn't turn out the way I had planned, and I'm personally not entirely happy with what I've written. But I tried too hard, so I'm posting it. I hope that the bunnies will be pleased with the amount of debauchery and lust that I am about to offer you.

Bunnies, Professor Song is waiting for you in the lecture hall.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩��𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity

The real life of a student is not always as fun and glamorous as it might seem at first glance. If you think university life is an endless whirlwind of parties and passionate romances, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Student life is nothing more than tonnes of homework, endless stress, and litres of coffee, which you probably drink on an empty stomach because you've been up all night studying for the next 'ultra-important' lesson, and of course impossibly annoying and boring professors who seem to be just waiting for the moment to ruin your life. So when there was an announcement at the beginning of the new term that your group would have a new French literature professor, you were completely oblivious. Your previous professor had been a boring, retired man with an unhealthy obsession with young female students and cigarettes who always left his classroom reeking of tobacco, so you didn't expect much from another 'amazing' professor. But, God, you were wrong. Professor Song Mingi was maybe, just maybe, the most handsome and attractive man you had ever seen in your life. With his elegant and chiselled features, he could definitely pass for a haute couture model. His body was an art form in itself and the hottest topic of discussion in the entire university, not only among the crowd of blushing girls in love but also among the female faculty members.

The way his perfectly pressed classic shirts fit his broad-shouldered, muscular body and the tight, expensive fabric of his pants tightened over his thick, juicy thighs, outlining every muscle, could leave no one indifferent, and even you gave in to the temptation of checking his Instagram profile, especially on lonely evenings. In your defence, you weren't the only one who started fondling herself when thinking of Professor Song Mingi. After all, how could you resist when the man was literally a walking list of the categories on Pornhub? But while Professor Song was a wet dream come to life, he was also the biggest jerk you've ever met. And there were more than a few of them. He was 10 out of 10 on your red flag list: arrogant, narcissistic, annoying, and impossibly self-centred. The world seemed to revolve around him as he looked down on everyone from his lofty perch.

Seriously, every time you thought he couldn't be more handsome and sexy, Mingi would rush out to prove otherwise, driving everyone around him crazy, but in the process, you found even more horrible traits that both excited you and made you hate him with all your heart.

And it seemed that you weren't the only one to feel hatred and resentment, as Professor Song, for reasons unknown to you, decided to make your life a living hell, infuriating you with his every word and action. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't live up to Mingi's high standards, and you always ended up at the very bottom of his class. In all seriousness, the man treated you as if he had the proverbial stick in his arse 24 hours a day. But God, that arse, if you had the chance, you would have loved to sink your teeth into it. It was juicy and firm, and it just created an irresistible urge to hold it in your palms and pull his body closer as Professor Song fucked you hard into the mattress. All in all, if Mingi had been able to hold his lectures standing with his back to the students all the time, as a good student, you would have wanted a seat in the front row, but hell, that was a pipe dream because Professor Song Mingi found a new way to drive you to hysteria every time.

It was really fucked up; you were rewriting your report for the third time, and it looked like you were going to keep on doing it for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't matter to Professor Song that everyone who read your report praised what you said and thought or that you spent a lot of time writing it, sacrificing sleep and nerve cells. But it seemed that nothing could live up to Mingi's standards, which no mortal could ever hope to reach—except for himself, of course.

"Your report lacks depth and understanding of the subject; I'm afraid you weren't paying enough attention while I lectured, Y/N. Did you have more important things to do than listen? Your report is not very good for a student in the third year. I am going to have to ask you to make significant changes; otherwise, you will not be able to pass in my class. Don't let me down this time, or I'll have to take even more serious measures against you."

As if all you ever thought about was being a good girl for him, slobbering all over him, and giving him obedient nods. He can go fuck himself. You hated Song Mingi so much.

French literature was always the first class of the day on a Friday, and it was absolutely terrible. After listening to Professor Song lecture for two hours in his deep, pornographic voice, you usually spend the rest of the day looking grumpy and depressed. And to top it all off, Mingi decided to wear one of his most stunning black designer classic shirts today, in which he unbuttoned a few buttons so that everyone around him could admire his stunningly smooth skin, which you wanted to lick. You swear that this man is a true spawn of hell, sent to earth to be your tormentor and sexual frustration. Needless to say, as well as he ruining your mood, your panties were hopelessly ruined by the sticky juices that tickled your labia whenever you moved.

"Good, at least this day is finally over." You mutter tiredly to yourself as you enter the dormitory that you share with your best friend, who you can't seem to see anywhere at the moment, which is understandable since it's Friday.

Shit, it's Friday; how could you forget it? Damned Professor Song Mingi. You forgot you were supposed to be streaming tonight because you were so caught up in the whole situation.

You hadn't planned to do this all along. It was just a one-time thing to pay off some debts, but money is a real drug that you get addicted to too quickly. But it wasn't just the money; it was the attention. The huge amount of attention you got from your followers was so sweet and exciting that it was impossible to refuse. So, like most other poor girls, it was no surprise that you got sucked into sex work and webcamming too quickly. It was good money that paid your way through university and your way of life without much thought for the future. You received thousands of comments from people who were desperate to fuck that pretty pink cunt of yours, as they had always told you, or to do many other lewd and horrible things to you. You weren't ashamed to admit that you had always been an attention whore, and their words and praise made you want more. It gave you confidence in your body and gave you immense power over those on the other side of the screen, just because of your well-groomed little cunt.

With an excited smile on your face, you walk to your room and remember the package that was delivered to you this morning. A very special gift that you are hoping will be the highlight of this evening's stream. You give a slight squeak as you see a beautiful black box made of heavy, expensive cardboard sitting in the middle of your bed, with a small envelope on top of it. You pick it up, sit down on the bed, and bite your plump lower lip in anticipation. The envelope looks like it came from one of those books of gothic literature that you love so much. It's as black as the box it came in, with a blood-red wax seal in the middle.

As you carefully remove the seal, revealing the small note inside, your whole body subconsciously warms.

"I hope this will make you think of me, doll." Le Maître

The white ink on the black matte paper looks too formal, and you're a little disappointed that the note isn't handwritten. But just to be on the safe side, there's no hint as to who the mysterious sender of the parcel might be. After all, for your own safety, you had to accept the parcel under a made-up pseudonym.

Le Maître. You practically squealed like a schoolgirl when this user first appeared in your paid private chatroom after one of your streams. There were a few other people there, but Le Maître was different; he was regal and bossy to you despite the fact that he paid to jerk off on your body. He was your number one viewer, attending every stream, sending you huge amounts of money, and complimenting and praising you. By now, you can definitely see that you've developed an unhealthy obsession with praise ever since the first time he referred to you as his "good girl."

Just a few days ago, he sent you a text message saying that he wanted to do something special for you—a little gift in celebration of the fact that your account now has over 25,000 subscribers. The gorgeous gift box on your lap is a special gift, and you have an inkling of what's inside the decadent scarlet corrugated paper. You impatiently rifle through the layers of wrapping paper and gasp when you see what you have received—a little sex machine. As you inspect the shiny, erotic pleasure device, you notice a small piece of paper attached to the sturdy, mechanical body of the machine. "A special gift for my angel, who already has more than 25,000 subscriptions. You are such a sweet girl. Please use it in your next stream so your Maître can see it. P.S. I have a controller, Dolly."

You swallow loudly, feeling a nervous shiver run through your body and heat build in the pit of your stomach; you're sure your pussy is already wet with a strangely arousing anticipation, juices dripping down the quivering folds onto your lace panties. Fuck, he's really going to fuck you, thanks to this sex machine. Your attention will be drawn to the large dildo that is attached to the mechanism. It's thick and long, with lots of veins running down the shaft, mimicking the swollen veins on a real cock. It's cold and textured to the touch, and you can imagine how shiny and smooth it will be when your cum runs down it. You squeeze your thighs together in excitement, looking forward to using it tonight and putting on a show for your audience that they won't forget for a very long time. You put your 'gift' to one side and get out of bed to get ready for your weekly stream.

"Hello, bunnies! Are you ready for this evening?" You chirp, your voice sweet and luscious with a slightly childish, innocent tone, as you shyly rub the strap of your sheer lace lingerie. "Tonight I'm going to show you something different from my usual show; as you all know, by now I've reached 25,000 followers." You fidget slightly on the bed, twirling a strand of your long hair around your finger. You purse your lips, knowing that the shimmering lip gloss makes your mouth look just fuckable.

The mini-sex machine is standing on a pouffe out of the camera's view, and you take a deep breath to calm your excitement before you lean closer to the camera so that everyone can see your face and how plump and juicy your tits look in that bra. Luckily, this site doesn't allow screenshots and will quickly ban any user who dares to do so; otherwise, you could be in big trouble.

"You're all so nice to me; you deserve to enjoy my face. Today, I'd like to be a little closer to you. Don't I look especially pretty today?"

One by one, the comments come in, and you giggle at everyone's excitement.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." "I want to cum on that pretty face of yours, baby." "Your face is making me so horny, sweetie." "These lips are made to suck cock." "You're so pretty; are you going to be an obedient kitty for Daddy?"

We all have our own dirty little secret that we carefully hide, and it happened that the secret of the seemingly arrogant and fastidious Professor Song Mingi was that his regular nightly routine involved watching livestreams of pretty webcam girls with small, tight pussies. A man has needs; sue him for that, and being so busy with work and surrounded by a crowd of hormonal, giggling university students every day, he doesn't have the time or energy to find a connection. And Mingi doubted that anyone could satisfy his sexual appetite. He had always been overly demanding in everything he did, and sex was no exception. Mingi wanted to find a perfect little doll who he could fuck and spoil as much as he wanted; he needed a sweet mouth and free access to a tiny pussy, and in return, he would be happy to give the cute doll his black credit card.

One evening, he found one who immediately caught his attention, and not just because of her pretty, juicy tits and doll-like, shiny mouth, while he was browsing through the numerous profiles of various girls. You were so adorable and innocent-looking, but completely slutty. It was an instant match made in heaven for Mingi. Imagine his surprise when he saw you the first day he started working at the university. You were his student, his sweet little student, the girl he had shameless fantasies about all the time. He thought that he should feel disgusted with himself, or at least ashamed, but to be honest, Mingi didn't care; your cunt was pink and tight, and that was enough to make him forget all sense of decency.

Mingi doesn't know how he feels about it, but the way his cock gets hard just at the sight of you means he'll be getting his money's worth and enjoying the show. His classic black shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his embossed abs and golden, luscious skin dripping with sweat. He unzips his trousers and pulls out his big, throbbing cock, which jerks at the sight of you in the slutty lingerie you have bought with his money. He hisses softly, biting his plump lower lip, his eyes fixed on the cleft between your tits. Mingi desperately wants to fuck your breasts.

"Someone very special has sent me a beautiful gift, my darlings, and I am definitely going to make use of it today." Your cheeks are burning from all the lewd comments, but it is only turning you on more and more, making your pussy even wetter and more needy.

You sit down on the bed, bend down until you can't see the chatter, and pull the ottoman between your legs to the edge of the bed. The sound of the incoming tips becomes loud and constant as soon as the erotic device appears in the frame.

Mingi slowly strokes his thick, veiny member with his hand, clutching the small sex machine controller in his other large hand. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to destroy your pretty pussy with his cock. His dark eyes bore into yours as he bit down hard on his lower lip and used the pad of his thumb to circle the already-leaking red head of his cock. If only he were able to fuck you right now.

You take a bottle of vanilla lube and smear it on the dildo, moaning loudly as you run your hand from the base to the head several times, tracing the ridges with your fingers to simulate veins, imagining that this is the dick of a certain professor. God, you hate and adore Professor Song at the same time; he is the star of all your most depraved and vulgar fantasies, which is why you always cum so hard and profusely. Fortunately, when you collapse during your orgasm, you have enough control over your mouth to keep from moaning his name.

With your other hand, you pull your pretty panties aside and run your fingers through your wet folds, spreading them slightly and showing off your wetness.

"Fuck, your pussy is so nice." "You've played with yourself before; you're already so wet." "Give me a lick of your pussy, angel."

The comments go on and on, as do the messages about the tips while you are gently massaging your pussy. You close your eyes, bite your lip and let out a soft moan as the pad of your middle finger makes contact with your sensitive clit.

"Damn it, I wish I could have your fingers playing with my pussy right now," you whine. Your free hand pulls down your bra straps, exposing your breasts to the camera, your nipples hardening with growing pleasure. You take the nipple between your fingers and gently twist and pull at it. Your pussy is leaking, the transparent, viscous mucus enveloping your fingers, making them shiny and smooth, and running down your milky thighs, leaving a wet, cold trail.

You imagine Professor Song's long fingers penetrating you, stretching your tight hole, and preparing you for the insertion of his dick into your pussy. Mingi has breathtakingly beautiful hands—wide palms, thick, long fingers, always adorned with rings and bracelets. Fuck, just to feel those rings inside you, pressing against the silky hot walls of your pussy, you would do anything. You circle your fingers around the wet, quivering edge of your hole before you slip two fingers inside, your soft walls tightening around them in an instant. Your other hand stops playing with your nipples and reaches out for the toy that is about to fuck you to death.

Your breathing becomes uneven, your chest rising and falling with your moans and gasps. Your fingers run over the silky walls of your pussy a couple of times before you start to fuck yourself to death at a fast and furious pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stick out your tongue and let it drip onto your naked tits.

You know the effect you have on your audience; they love seeing someone so sweet and angelic looking like a slutty whore, and to get more praise and tips, you pull your fingers out of your cunt and slap your pussy with them. The loud signal of the incoming tip is echoed by the wet, disgusting sound of your hand touching your skin.

"Oh daddy, I want your cock so bad; my pussy is throbbing for you," you say. You hold your fingers up to the camera to show how wet they are with your slick. "I'm such a sweet Daddy; I want you to eat me up. I promise I'll come on your tongue like a good girl." You put your fingers in your mouth; you lick them, suck them, and slurp around them. The moans you make sound more like whimpering than something soft and melodic.

On the other side of the screen, Mingi is moaning in a guttural way as he leans back in the big leather chair in his home office, squeezing and massaging his balls as he enjoys the wet slurping sounds that you are making. His cock is pressed against his hard belly, the viscous pre-cum dripping from the head of it and flowing between the reliefs of his abs. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines fucking your cunt with his nimble fingers, stretching your tight little hole in preparation for his hard fucking. You will be moaning loudly and writhing as your juices flood his hand and run down his sinewy forearm.

You get on your knees on the bed and adjust the toy so that it's right in front of your dripping hole, holding your knickers so that they don't block the view of your pussy. You are already looking so messed up. A long string of mucus is coming out of your hole, straight onto the toy, and the strokes are coming in at a crazy rate. You look straight into the camera with your big innocent eyes; your lips are pouting sweetly. Mingi hisses at this, grabs his dick, and squeezes it several times. The fingers of his other hand are flicking the switch on the controller of the sex machine.

"Please, sir, I've been such a good girl for you. Are you going to fuck me now?" You are licking your lips with the tip of your tongue, and you are lowering your pussy down onto the artificial dick. The silicone is cold and smooth, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot pussy makes you moan loudly and for a long time.

Mingi growls, the desire coursing through him as he hears the respectful title that falls from your plump lips, in the same way that you address him as "Sir" in class when you turn up for his lecture, and it drives him mad. He turns the dial, and the car comes to life and begins to move. Your eyes lose their focus, and your mouth falls open as the toy begins to move inside of you. Your fingers spread your labia, and you show the audience how the dildo is slowly stretching your tight little hole. The size of the toy is huge, despite the artificial penis being cold and lifeless, but that doesn't change the fact that it is tearing you apart. Your legs tremble as you try to maintain a stable position on the bed. Your toes curl as you begin to play with your swollen, sensitive clit, stimulating yourself further and causing more of the sticky, slippery fluid to gush out of you.

Mingi watched intently through the screen as you writhed and moaned; the toy was finally buried completely inside you, and he could see its impressive size causing your belly to bulge. Damn it! He can bet his bottom dollar that the silicone head of the dick is in direct contact with your cervix. When he sees how greedily your cunt swallows the toy, his predatory dark eyes flash, and he swallows noisily. You can take his cock like a good girl, and he'll see to it that it happens soon. Even though this toy is much bigger than any you've fucked your cunt with in previous streams, Mingi doesn't give you time to get used to its size. But he knows that in reality, you are an absolute slut who lives for the cock and that you can easily take anything that is given to you.

The sex machine picks up speed, and you scream loudly as you feel the fake veins on the dildo drag along the walls of your body with every mechanical movement—your hands cupping and massaging your breasts, your fingers pinching your swollen nipples. The pleasure coursing through your veins, your moans growing louder by the minute, and your head falling back. Your thoughts turn to Professor Song, of course.

God, that man—the way your body has reacted to him has been completely abnormal. Professor Song Mingi is an absolute asshole, and all he does is bully you and ruin your grades. But fuck, you wanted it so much—to destroy your pussy with his dick. You hate every part of his gorgeous appearance—that stupid long hair, a weird shade of orange that looks damn good on him, those sharp fox eyes that always look at you with judgement. There's such disgust and contempt in his eyes; it's like he's saying, "You're a worthless whore," and God, you really want him to address you like that, especially in that porn voice that makes your pussy leak.

Under your fingers, what will his hair feel like? Will it be as soft to the touch as it is to the eye? What will his eyes be like? Will they be filled with unbridled hunger as his long, slick tongue flicks across your clit? Will his deep voice vibrate against your skin as he moans softly and tastes you in his mouth? Will his big, rough hands be gripping your hips, digging their fingers into the soft flesh until you're bruised and scratched, holding you still as he buries his face in your cunt as if he couldn't live without it for a single day? All these vivid erotic images flash through your brain, the constant beeping of the donors just background noise as you imagine your professor's deep, velvety voice commanding you to cum.

"Wish you could fuck me now. Oh fuck! Please, sir, fuck your pretty little doll properly." You moan loudly as the speed of the sex machine increases, all the words blending together. The whirring sound of the machine synchronises with the rapid beating of your heart as the silicone cock thrusts into you, lewd squelching fills the room, and your moans and cries become longer and more pitiful, like a cat in heat, as your orgasm begins to build rapidly.

"Oh sir, I'm thinking about the way your dick is sliding between my legs. Is it as thick and as big as this toy? Are you going to feed your doll with your cum?"

There are few things in this world that can make Professor Song Mingi lose his balance, but the sight of his cute little student fucking her dripping, plump cunt with the toy he has given her is definitely the one thing that makes his jaw drop. You are fucking beautiful, a real doll that Mingi would like to sit on a velvet cushion in his house and admire like a work of art. He knows you're about to come—your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a perfect orgasmic "oh," your trembling little hand reaches for your clit to rub the throbbing bundle of nerves and bring you to the desired climax, and your eyes are so closed you can hardly see.

Mingi's hand glides a little faster over his dick; it's slippery and shiny with the sperm that leaks out of it. At the same pace as you rub your aching clit, Mingi makes sharp, quick circles with his palm around his cock.

"Fuck!" Mingi growls as he grips the arm of the chair and pushes his hips into his hand, the massive bracelets around his wrist clanking as his hand comes down hard on his cock. As the sex machine fucks you hard and fast at top speed, the controller is forgotten on the table next to his laptop. Your piercing moans are music to his ears, and the way your thighs subtly tremble shows the immense pleasure he is indirectly giving you. Your head is thrown back, exposing your neck, and your hips roll on the toy, the juices from your vagina running down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you, your juicy, plump tits bouncing with the movement of the sex machine.

"Sir, Daddy, please! Can I cum for you? Please let me come for you! I've been such a good girl for you!" You are shaking all over, your orgasm is growing stronger with each passing second, and you know that it is going to be amazing. The palm of your hand is slapping your pussy again, and the sounds of tipping over are coming with renewed force. What fucking perverts!

When he realises the effect he is having on you without even touching you, a tingle runs down Mingi's spine. He has complete control over your orgasm, and you will do whatever he wants without him interfering in your real life.

"Come for me, my doll." His voice is dark and deep, despite the force with which he fucks his hand, the leather chair creaking from the powerful thrusts of his thick, meaty thighs. As if you can hear him, you pinch your clit sharply and squeal deafeningly, your body shaking in small convulsions as you cum on a toy you imagine is Professor Song's dick. The walls of your pussy contract as you try to hold the fake cock inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Mingi cum right after you, moaning gutturally, his eyes rolling back in his head as streams of cum spray onto his thighs and abs, his mind clouded by the orgasm, and he completely forgets that he hasn't turned off the toy that continues to mercilessly stuff your cunt. His attention is drawn back to you when he hears you squealing pitifully, the tears rolling down your face and smearing your make-up, and Mingi finds himself thinking that he would like to see the same look on your face when his dick is deep down in your throat.

"Oh my God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, bloody hell! Sir, I beg you..." You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face as the sex machine continues to fill your pussy with cock like there is no tomorrow, your hands gripping the sheets as the sensory overload washes over your body like a tidal wave.

Mingi looks at you with hunger and animal lust as he watches the toy abuse your used, dripping cunt. Of course, he could turn it off if he wanted to, but he doesn't because he knows that you could just lie back on the bed and put an end to your supposed agony, but you don't want to.

He gives you a devilish grin and licks his lips as he watches the fat tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you beg him to make it stop. Your whole body glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat, and as Mingi has watched your body countless times, he knows every reaction of yours—you will cum for him; he is sure of it.

"Oh god, damn, damn! I'm going to cum again, Daddy." You let out another loud squeal, your back arching as you come for the second time that night, and this time a clear stream of liquid shoots out of your pussy, soaking the sheets even more. The tipping sounds are louder than they were before, and if there was an audience in your room, they would definitely enjoy watching you squirt over and over again. Damn, you really put on a show for them that they won't forget in a hurry.

Mingi smiles with satisfaction and strokes his cock once more, this time prolonging his pleasure with lazy strokes as he watches you whimpering and twitching with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. He is kind enough to put an end to your torment by picking up the controller unit from the table and turning off the sex machine. The loud mechanical whirring ceases as the toy stops fucking you. You slowly rise from your seat, the thick dildo sliding out of your pussy—glossy and wet with your essence. You whimper quietly, still too sensitive, your chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. The next thing you do is make Mingi sink teeth into his lower lip until it starts to bleed.

"Let me clean you, Daddy; you have been so good to me today. My cunt feels so warm and full." Your pretty, plump lips wrap around the fake cock's head, smacking sweetly before shoving the larger half of the toy into your mouth, sucking and licking with your tongue like a real cock. After tasting the juices running down the length of the silicone, you close your eyes and moan.

Your brain forms images of how you would do this to Mingi, choking on his cock, swallowing it to the base, tickling his balls with the tip of your tongue; sucking him like a good girl, licking every swollen vein along its huge velvety length, and you know Professor Song has a big, thick dick. You think about how he will grab your hips, slap your butt cheeks hard, and penetrate your needy, horny cunt with one hard thrust until his balls are slapping against your ass. Fuck, you really want Professor Song to destroy you, and this desire almost overshadows the hatred you feel for this man.

Snap back to reality, and you're practically crawling over to your laptop with innocent, tear-stained eyes before pulling the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and smiling brightly at the camera as if you hadn't just been ruined by a silicone dick. Your mouth is shiny and wet from a mixture of saliva, sticky pink lip gloss, and your juices.

"Fuck, that was so hot."

"I'd like you to splash on my cock as well, honey."

"Wow, baby, I didn't know you could do that. Will you squirt on my face if I pay you?"

"I want to cum in your cunt so bad, sweet cheeks, daddy must keep you full and pretty with his cum."

"You're so fucking beautiful, angel, I'll jerk off on your face every night."

"That was your best stream ever, princess."

All these comments are making you giggle. Men are really just horny animals; show them a nice pussy and they will be at your feet.

You spend some time interacting with the public, reading comments, and showing off your new toys and lingerie that you bought with the money you made from streaming. The cursor hovers over the bright red button, and before you press it to end the broadcast, you look straight into the camera, first slowly licking your lips, then slightly tilting your head to the side with the sweetest expression on your cute little face. It may seem that you are talking to all the viewers, but in fact you are talking to just one man, Le Maître.

"I hope you have enjoyed today's show, sir, and that you have had a lot of fun. But I really want you to use your real dick to make me cum and squirt so hard. I really, really want you to fuck me in real life, Daddy." You kissed and winked at everyone, and you finally finished your show.

Mingi couldn't sleep at all that night; after the show, he jerked off two or three more times, even using an artificial pussy, imagining he was fucking you instead of a cold silicone toy. He came so much that his cum was everywhere, even landing on his luxurious diamond-encrusted Rolex.

In contrast to your restless, overheated professor, you fell asleep almost immediately—tired and satisfied—from an amazing orgasm and from a huge amount of money that fell into your bank account after the stream had ended. Of course, your Le Maître was the biggest donor of all.

Next Friday

"I expect all of you to take this course more seriously and to have your homework done by Monday. From next week, there will be three more lectures on French literature in your course, so don't be a disappointment to me. The class is dismissed."

You sigh heavily, already anticipating the torment the extra pairings with Professor Song will bring you. Fuck, you hate him so much, but the sight of his thighs in those tight trousers should be illegal. That's a real crime against humanity. You gather your things and hope to get out of the stuffy lecture hall, which now always has the smell of pure sex—Professor Song's perfume. If you didn't know any better, you'd be thinking that the man was literally bathing in an aphrodisiac, because it's just not real to smell like that. You never thought you'd be turned on by someone else's perfume, but here we are, drooling on the floor at the incredibly sexy scent that Professor Song Mingi wears like a second skin. Sometimes you wonder: Does the bitch know how attractive he is? But he does, and he uses it to his advantage, judging by that smug, arrogant grin that always sits on those plump, sensual lips.

You are just about to leave when you hear his deep, husky voice calling out your name. Oh no, not now.

"I'd like to talk to you about your performance, Y/N." Mingi begins to speak slowly, stretching out the letters and putting emphasis on the last word. There is definitely a certain ambiguity in all this, which you can't quite make out. "What can you tell me about it?" He walks around his desk, leans his gorgeous butt against it, and crosses his arms over his chest. His poor shirt buttons try harder than the devil on a good day.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and walk down the stairs, authematic, to be closer to him. Why is he asking you that now? Damn, he always finds the perfect time to throw you off balance. Your heart races, and you try to ground yourself, thinking about what an idiot he is and what strange things could be going on in that beautiful head of his. You struggled to read him; his stunning model face always had this arrogant royal expression that completely failed to convey his true feelings, so every time you talked to him, it was like playing with a big cat.

"I think I'm all right, Sir. Why are you asking?" You stammer slightly, but when you hear Mingi's deep moaning, all your mental scolding about your nervousness quickly fades away. You stare at him with your eyes wide open in an attempt to comprehend what the hell is going on. Your eyes focus on Professor Song. The way your narcissistic jerk of a professor shamelessly adjusts his trousers, which now show a very noticeable bulge in his crotch.

Before you know it, you're standing right in front of him, and your nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He's even more handsome up close—classic glasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose, his long fingers reaching up to remove them and place them on the table. He stares at you with his dark fox eyes, towering over your petite frame, as he carefully pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, revealing the massive bracelets around his wrists and the bulging veins on his forearms. God, does he have any idea of the effect this has on you? Too afraid to look him in the eye, you cast a glance at the small cross around his neck.

"Yes, you're doing very well. Too well, actually, aren't you, Y/N?" As his thumb runs down your soft cheek, tracing the outline of your mouth lower until he slides it between your parted lips, you almost gasp and feel like you're going to faint. You don't hear anything but your heart pounding in your ears. It feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. You stare at him helplessly as he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue, stroking it lightly. A devilish grin appears on his plump lips, replacing his usual bitchy expression with something more sinister and dangerous. "Such a beautiful little dolly, aren't you? So skilled with your fingers, so good with that pretty little doll mouth of yours, and you definitely know how to serve that little cunt of yours perfectly." Mingi whispers as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching under your skirt and squeezing your bare bottom. Fuck, you definitely shouldn't have worn a thong today. "I'm sure you're playing with your sweet bottom, too, bunny." He continues to rub his thumb over your tongue for a few more moments, while his other hand gives your arse a hard massage that makes you squeal with pleasure. You're quite sure that the skin on your bottom is already red from his aggressive touch. As soon as Mingi stops touching you and pulls his hands away from you, crossing them over his broad chest, the situation comes back to you.

You are watching his every move, breathing heavily, letting your eyes glide over every pulsing vein on his forearms, and praying to God that you will have enough strength not to lean over and run the tip of your tongue over them.

"P-Professor, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, darling, don't play innocent; you have a very clear idea of what I'm talking about. I'm really glad you found a good use for the gift I gave you last night, my angel." Professor Song's voice is a velvety whisper, and considering how quiet it is in the lecture theatre, he might as well have shouted, the meaning of his words ringing loudly in your ears. He's like a predator, slowly circling around you, the soles of his designer shoes clicking on the parquet floor. Your feet feel as if they are glued to the floor, and you don't know what to do. When you try to speak again, your voice sounds broken, and you are on the verge of tears.

"Will there be a report against me, Professor Song? Or what? You haven't got any hard evidence that it's me." You say it with conviction, and hope springs, but unfortunately, it dies as soon as Mingi opens his mouth.

"That may be true, my dear. But you wouldn't want such terrible accusations to be made against you, would you? Mingi taunts you; his deep voice suddenly comes very close to your ear. You feel so unprotected in his presence, so tiny in comparison to his huge, tall body. Why does this man have to be so bloody big?

"They'll never know it was me who found your profile on the porn site; I could easily pass it off as an anonymous tip." You catch your breath as you feel his rough, hot hand slide under your skirt and up your thigh. Mingi smiles at your reaction and leans in closer to you, biting the lobe of your ear. "Besides, this is going to get rumoured around the university. People will be tempted to do a check on your account—people you know, people you might be close to." He goes on, the heat of his breath making you shiver.

His broad palm grips your mound in a possessive way, the heat from your pretty pussy causing his cock to twitch in his trousers. You try to stifle a shameful moan, but the sound escapes you, and you unconsciously lean forward, pressing your breasts against him. Mingi wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he does so. Oh shit, your head is spinning from the smell of his perfume so close, and on top of everything else, you're ashamed to admit it, but your pussy is terribly wet, and you're pretty sure Professor Song can feel your wetness in the palm of his hand.

"It may be illegal to screenshot, and your streamers will disappear, but what about the pictures and videos you've posted? Of course, everyone will be able to see your sexy little body all over the place. And don't you dare argue about it. You always look like a thirsty slut, wearing those tiny skirts and shoving your tits in everyone's face. You are a worthless little bitch." Professor Song hisses and presses the palm of his hand harder against your pussy, and you want to rub it against it so badly that it's almost pathetic.

Your tongue doesn't turn into an object; it's as if it were glued to the roof of your mouth. Mingi was right; you've always dressed rather provocatively, and it's never bothered you, but it seemed to bother him.

"Either way, your name will still be in tatters, and my reputation will be perfect and clean, as it should be. I'm a respected professor with a model student. I'm not someone who watches a cam-girl stream every Friday night and watches how she stuffs a fake cock into her luscious little cunt." Wiping away a tear that has accidentally escaped your eye, Mingi's thumb runs down your cheek. Your vision is blurred by the tears, and the dark, lustful eyes of Professor Song are the only thing you can see clearly.

"Please tell me... What can I do to stop you from saying anything about me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, and your words are a useless string of letters. Mingi's eyes flash angrily at your whimpering plea.

"Ah angel, you sound even better in real life when you're begging." Mingi moans as his middle finger slowly rubs the folds of your folds through your panties, which are more like a tiny piece of lace and do very little to cover the plumpness of your cunt. You whimper softly as you lean back against his shoulder. You've always been easy to arouse, and the wet sound you make when Mingi's fingers tease your pussy makes it clear that you're absolutely flowing for him right now. You can be sure that as soon as he pulls your panties off to the side, your viscous slime will be dripping freely out of your hole and onto the polished parquet floor. "I think you know very well what it is I want from you. I pay you good money all the time; don't you think I deserve the real thing, my doll?" You let out a loud whimper as his big hand pressed down hard on your shoulder. "On your knees, little one; don't keep your sir waiting."

As you kneel before your professor, facing the growing bulge in his trousers, your lower lip trembles. Professor Song is leaning against the desk, his hands on either side of his body, gazing up at you from under the lashes of his eyes. Your trembling hands are fumbling with his belt, and the sound of the metal echoes through the empty room.

"Oh, now you're embarrassin' yourself, darlin'? Where's that slutty bitch who was squirting all over yesterday because she let her pussy get stretched by a big dildo?" Mingi says it arrogantly, tilting his head to the side and tapping his fingers on his desk in disappointment. You flinch at his words like a slap in the face, but don't bother to reply as you pull down his trousers and underwear, the sight of his thick, wiry cock making your mouth dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Like everything else about Professor Song, his cock is amazing—a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the flushed head, a thick vein swollen and throbbing just waiting for you to run your soft tongue over it, and its size—he's got a huge cock with a massive girth that you can barely wrap your palm around. Mingi wraps his hand around the cock, his thumb smearing the wetness over the head before he brings it to your lips and runs his whole length over it, leaving a wet sheen, and slaps your mouth a couple of times.

"Open your mouth, dolly."

Mingi's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling hard on the long strands as you obediently open your mouth for him. His thick cock enters your mouth slowly, your jaw tensing as you try to get used to the size of it. You choke as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and the balls rest against the side of your chin. Mingi's thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek, and he cooed sweetly as he watched you gurgle around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin. His cock is hot and heavy in your mouth, the veins stretching across the sensitive, velvety skin. Professor Song doesn't give you enough time to get used to the size of his cock and pulls your head back until the only thing left in your mouth is his head.

"Don't you think you should lick me before I fuck you in the mouth, doll? You were very eloquent about wanting me to do it yesterday." You obediently run your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling more pre-cum pouring from his slit onto your tongue. It has a sweetly bitter taste, and you think that it is very suitable for Mingi. "Well done." Professor Song hisses at you before he pushes his cock all the way back into your mouth. You gasp as your hands fly to his strong, muscular thighs in an attempt to push him away as his hips thrust sharply forward, mindlessly using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve. The thick length of it presses down on your throat, and the bulge of his cock is perfectly visible against the back of your neck with each powerful thrust.

"I have been waiting for such a long time to fuck that slutty mouth. Darling, I can see that you have nothing more to say to me, do you? That's how it's supposed to be; whores don't get to talk." Mingi lets out a deep moan and throws her head back as she pushes you down on his cock. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum and sticky lip gloss, coating the length of thickly dick, making it shiny and smooth so it slides easily over your tongue and deeper into your throat. As you reflexively try to swallow, your jaw aches, your lips stretch around the thick circumference, and the walls of your throat contract. Never in your life have you sucked such a big, long cock, yet here you are, fulfilling the role of a pretty sex toy for your professor to enjoy. At least, unlike some lifeless silicone, no matter how expensive, your cunt and mouth are warm and moist.

As he mercilessly fucks you in the mouth, Professor Song is not shy about his volume, emitting hoarse, prolonged moans and growls. Anyone could walk into the lecture hall at any moment and see your compromising position, but for some reason it turns you on. Maybe you really are a slut, although as long as you get paid enough, you don't mind being one, especially when Mingi is the one scolding you daily until you pass out.

"Fuck, I'll cum." Mingi gasps as he wraps both of his large arms around your head, trying to hold it in place. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Professor Song growl ducky as he presses harder into your slluty mouth and your grip on his hips tightens, your nails digging into the juicy flesh, leaving vicious marks, but Mingy doesn't give a shit; you could rip his skin off if he keeps fucking you like a personal doll. His dark, foxy eyes find yours, his beautiful, plump lips are slightly parted, and his balls are clenched, slapping you on the chin. Now you don't even know what to call him. If you thought Song Mingi looked like a wet dream before, then now he's sex itself.

"Damn, damn, damn, doll!" He moans loudly, jerking his hips as his sperm pours into your mouth. As you forcefully swallow the viscous liquid that seems to have no end, your prolonged whimper is distorted. There's so much of his cum that some of it seeps through the corners of your mouth. He continues to slowly fuck your mouth. "Don't waste it, slut." He says it in a threatening voice, and you whimper at the venom in his tone. Mingi uses his long fingers to push his cum between your lips and roughly wipes the wet mess around your mouth. All of his rings are covered in a thin layer of cum and saliva, but you think it's hot.

You blink twice, catch your breath, and the next thing you know, your knees are no longer touching the cold floor, and your face, wet with tears and sperm, is pressed against Professor Song's spotless, cold desk; he has thrown you on the desk like a fucking doll. Fucking hell, that wasn't supposed to turn you on, but God, this man is just driving you crazy. You're too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that Mingi has lifted your skirt, exposing your wet thong to his gaze. The cold air in the audience causes your hole to clench in reflex and the liquid to squirt out.

You have to clench your fist to keep from squealing as the tight, expensive leather of his belt lands on your bottom with a loud crack. Oh my God, he has just hit you with his belt. Oh shit. Mingi doesn't let you recover; he holds your head against the table with one hand while he slaps your bottom again with the other. The sting of the contact between your soft flesh and the belt makes you squirm and writhe.

"You just sucking my cock, and you're already so wet? You really are a slut. Aren't you?" He smirks as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flushed skin of your arse before giving you another good spanking. You whimper as Mingi pulls your thong down your trembling legs, long strands of your own slime tugging at the insignificant piece of fabric as he does so. He pushes your buttocks apart so that your plump, flowing pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

Mingi picks up your leg, which is bent at the knee, and puts it down on the table. You whimper and grab hold of the edge of the table, embarrassed at how open you are to him at this moment. To be honest, it's the most disgusting feeling—you're embarrassed, but at the same time, you want him to do even more disgusting and humiliating things with you. Professor Song crouches down in front of you and spits into your cunt before licking a long, sloppy strip between your folds. Mingi uses his fingers to push your folds apart and then slides the tip of his tongue into your tight hole, tracing the edge of it.

"Oh, God, sir..." As Mingi eagerly licks your cunt, avoiding your throbbing clit, you let out a long moan and arch your hips towards his tongue. He pulls back abruptly, his heavy hand coming down on your bruised arse to spank you hard before you can get the stimulation you need.

"Did I tell you you could move, huh? You impatient bitch." You whimper at his reproachful tone. You scratch the wood with your fingernails as he spanks you again. "A good student answers the question, Dolly." Mingi hisses, mixing the scalding pain with the pleasure of the spanking, as his hand touches your bottom again. "N-no, sir! You didn't tell me to move! I'm so sorry."

"That's right, doll, but I have a feeling the games are over for today." Professor Song says as he finally gets up to his full height and puts his arm around your neck.

Breathing heavily and hoarsely, Mingi feels the heat emanating from you as he guides his thick cock into your little hole. You let out a loud breath and wonder if his cock will feel like the toy he has given you. Probably not; however much you like it, nothing compares to the warmth and throbbing of a real cock, especially Song Mingi's cock. You squirm as you feel the head of his cock pass slowly between your muscles, a soft howl escaping from your lips. The dildo you used yesterday is nothing compared to Mingi's dick; it feels bigger and thicker, the swollen veins of his cock stretching deliciously along your silky, trembling walls. The urge to hold him inside you is almost irresistible, and you can't help but clench around him. Fuck, and here you thought Mingi couldn't be more slutty and godlike, and you were wondering if his cock had been given special attention during his creation? You let out a loud moan, your tongue flicking out of your mouth, and right now you definitely fit the definition of 'well fucked'. Drops of sweat roll down Mingi's neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his hot golden skin and sculpted breasts. Heavy breathing replaces what he's saying, and you feel partly grateful for that. When he finally enters you at the base, the head of his cock touching your cervix and his forehead pressing against your shoulder, you both moan loudly.

"S-Sir, y-you're too big."

Ignoring your whimpering, Mingi grabs you by the hips and immediately sets a brutal but rhythmic pace with you. The objects on his desk shake and fall, shattering on the parquet floor as he fucks you, pressing your body against the desk with the full weight of his body. The fabric rubbing against your hardened nipples sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and makes you shiver from the added stimulation. Your moans grow louder and louder, your cheeks burning, and you can hear his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he thrusts your tight pussy back and forth along the length of his throbbing cock. The humiliation of pouring cream around Professor Song's cock brings tears to your eyes, but at the same time, you come to an almost orgasmic pleasure as he slaps your arse again. The sting stings like a bitch, but it feels fucking unbelievably good.

"That's it, goddamn it. I've been thinking about fucking that tight little cunt for ages. You really are the perfect doll to fuck."

It all makes you dizzy, and you moan "sir" and "daddy" as your pussy sucks him up greedily. You're getting so excited; you don't want to admit it, but you can't help yourself. You can't get enough of Mingi's cock. It feels so good inside you.

"That's my good little girl. You're definitely worth what I've paid for you." Mingi growls in your ear as he pushes harder and harder into your used cunt. He presses down hard on your neck, pinning you to the table, not letting you move, and fucking you relentlessly, his hips moving hard and fast as he takes complete control of your body. Your orgasm starts to form, an intoxicating sensation of rapture coursing through your veins like lava.

"Sir, please! Harder!" You need to cum so badly that you beg him to go harder.

Mingi's eyes were narrow—dark and cruel—and his muscles were quivering and tense from your pathetic begging. He's a professor, and professors always want the best for their students, especially the ones they like best.

"Look at you, begging for my cock like a good little bitch," he says. He accentuates the last word with a strong thrust and plunges so deep into your cunt that you can almost feel the head of his cock entering your cervix. A mixture of incoherent words and intermittent moans escape your lips. Your head falls forward as Professor Song releases your neck to grab your thighs again, leaving more bruises on them.

"Will you cum for me, bitch?" He leans down to your ear and nibbles on your lobe, the slapping of your skin and squishing of your pussy echoing through the empty hall.

"Hell yeah! I'm going to cum for you! I'm going to cum for you, Daddy; I'm going to cum on your cock!" You scream, the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and Professor Song fucks your flowing cunt faster and harder.

"Then cum, bunny." He growls, his hips losing their rhythm and jerking, his cock throbbing as thick, hot jets of cum coat the walls of your cunt. He moans your name quietly while your voice is barely audible—a weak, panting whisper, 'Mingi'. Both of your bodies are slowly at rest, revelling in the haze of your orgasms. Soft cries and whimpers escape from your lips, and you shudder as you feel your mixed juices pour out of you, staining the floor that was once so clean. You collapse helplessly on the table, your body going limp, a puddle of saliva pooling under your cheek, and your breathing heavy as you try to clear your mind.

Mingi moans. He bites his plump lip as he comes out of you. You whimper, squirming awkwardly as more cum pours from your pussy. You turn back to look at Professor Song, and your eyes almost pop out of your head as you see him pressing your panties to his nose and moaning loudly and satisfied. He smirks at you vulgarly, licks his lips, and wipes his cock with your underwear before tucking his dick into his trousers, the zip jangling loudly. He dismissively tosses your thong aside and presses against you again, pinning you between the desk and his big muscular body, his hot breath touching your earlobe, before whispering in his deep porn voice.

"Don't think that this is just a one-time thing, doll. I have paid for you, and now you belong to me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, Professor Song. I understand you perfectly."

"That's good. You're a real teacher's pet. On Monday evening, I will be expecting you for an extra lesson. Don't you dare disappoint me, doll." He slaps your butt once more before he pulls himself away completely and walks out of the classroom.

Oh, this is really fucked up.

3K notes · View notes

ijustmissyouraccenths · 10 months ago

Text

The Alchemy

AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.

Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut

Word Count: 6,871

Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.

It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.

Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.

Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.

Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows.

Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."

I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye.

"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script."

Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."

As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.

"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."

I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."

She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.

"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.

As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.

Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me.

I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength.

I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore.

Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.

Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head.

For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer.

That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.

As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.

"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."

I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.

But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."

Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.

The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.

"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response.

"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt.

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement.

"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"

His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased.

I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt.

Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.

"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality.

"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class.

My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.

I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.

I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H

I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.

I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.

I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.

After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.

I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.

His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.

The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.

I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.

Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.

As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.

By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.

Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.

I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous.

"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy.

Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked.

I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me.

"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously.

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.

I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly.

Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.

Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me.

I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field.

As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.

At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return.

In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.

As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.

"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.

"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.

"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.

Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game.

I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights.

"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly.

I tilted my head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."

Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions.

"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly.

Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...

But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise.

Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out."

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.

As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.

A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.

As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."

He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.

"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."

I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."

Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."

We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.

I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.

Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.

The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.

Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore.

"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.

Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.

"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.

My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.

Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.

Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”

As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.

Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.

"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."

He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.

I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.

"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.

Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .

"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me.

My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts.

I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.

My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.

My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."

I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.

My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.

And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.

He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.

But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened.

As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."

I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate.

"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."

He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.

"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.

As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.

We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.

"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.

I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.

"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.

I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.

"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.

I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.

My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.

"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.

A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.

Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.

Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago.

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.

As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.

The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.

Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.

His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.

The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.

I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.

Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.

One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.

I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.

Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.

Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.

"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.

"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."

Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.

“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.

“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”

The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.

I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.

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taegularities · 1 year ago

Text

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep.

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching.

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh…

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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professorsnape394 · 5 months ago

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DAY 1 - The Warmth of a Good Woman

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 🥰

Prompt: Warmth

Summary: Severus can't stop thinking about the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

A/N: Joining the party a little late but thought I’d give this another go after a longgggg hiatus from this blog.

Warnings: Semi-naked woman?

Word Count: 2133

Credits to Gif Creator.

Not much had changed for Severus in the years since the Second Wizarding War. Yes, the Dark Lord had been defeated and everyone had lost a few friends along the way but ultimately Severus remained in the cold dark of the dungeons grading the papers of Hogwarts students until all hours of the night.

The flicking light of the many candles had dimmed, and the brisk night air was finally starting to get to him. His sallow skin had turned icy and his nose was numb to the elements from being exposed for so long. With a heavy sigh he promised himself he would make his way through one final stack of papers before turning in for the night, distracting himself with his thoughts hoping to speed up the process.

Although his work took its toll on him both physically and mentally, Severus hadn’t chosen to give it up in the aftermath of the war. While he took a short sabbatical to recover from one very nasty snake bite, he soon found himself bored and without purpose now that his reign as double agent was made redundant.

Minerva welcomed him back to Hogwarts with open arms, once again allowing him to do the one thing that truly brought him joy in life, enriching the minds of young witches and wizards through the art of potion making. The professor had never been more thankful of this decision than the day Headmistress McGonagall announced the newest defence against the dark arts professor. She was young and extremely attractively. But she was more than that. There was an aura about her, a positive energy that illuminated every room she entered. With a new outlook on life, Severus allowed finally himself to appreciate the young woman for what she was, a blinding light in his all-consuming darkness. For the first time in his life Severus considered the possibilities a woman like this presented.

Puffing out a breath, watching it turn to smoke as it hit the air, Severus’ mind wandered to the first few weeks of the new teacher’s arrival. While he had allowed himself to admire her from afar, it came as a shock to Severus to find the young witch knocking on his door the following morning, keen to introduce herself.

Sleep deprived and still feeling groggy from his abrupt awakening Snape couldn’t help his old personality from slipping through, despite his conscious efforts to improve himself.

“What do you want.” He grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“I’m sorry if I disrupted you, Sir – “

“You did.” He interrupted.

“My apologies. My name’s Professor Y/L/N I’m the new defence against the dark arts teacher.”

“I am aware. What I do not know if why you are at my chamber door at 6:30 in the morning.”

“I realise it’s early and this might not have been my best idea, but I wanted to introduce myself to all the faculty before breakfast and as you are the one which I am most eager to meet I thought I’d make this my first stop.”

“How privileged I am.” He couldn’t help himself from moaning. “I’m Professor Snape.”

“Yes, I know” She beamed. Snape was damned if her gleaming smile didn’t melt the ice in heart just a little. “Your contribution to the fight against you-know-who is legendary. Everyone knows who you are. But only a few have the privilege of meeting you. I’m just so glad I get to be one of those select few.”

“I do not respond well to flattery, Miss Y/L/N.” Snape could feel himself growing more uncomfortable by the moment. He didn’t enjoy talking to people he did not know, though even worse than that he loathed people bringing up the part he played in the wizarding wars. They always made him out to be some sort of hero type, that everything he did was brave and completely selfless. This he did not agree with, and therefore chose not to engage with the topic if he could avoid it.

“I’m sorry professor. The main reason I wanted to speak with you this morning was to ask if you had any advice for me.”

“Advice?” His eyebrow quirked up instinctively.

“I’m new to teaching.” She begun to explain. “And more than that I haven’t half the experience in the field of the dark arts that you do. I was hoping we could work together, maybe like a tutoring type of relationship, allowing me to gain some insight on the reality of the subject. All my knowledge is theoretical. I believe it would help the children if they had some real-life skills that they could apply to help them in the future.”

“Theoretical knowledge is all the students shall need. There is no great force of evil out there, the Dark Lord is dead and the Death Eaters have been disbanded. I do not wish to engage with the subject. It is not my job to tutor you. And I do not want to be bothered in my private quarters before the work day. Now goodbye, Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N could tell she had struck a nerve with Snape, as his face turning a burning shade of red at her request and his chamber door slammed hard in her face, all the while she stood there confused. He wasn’t nearly the heroic selfless man the rumours described. In fact, he was one of the rudest men she had ever encountered. But there definitely was something intriguing about him.

The newest professor did not take no for an answer that first day, and continued to pester Snape with her antics every day after. From baking him cookies, to showing up at his office with a handful of textbooks, the witch was relentless in her pursuit. Though gradually it began to morph from a want of knowledge in the dark arts, to a peaked interest in the man himself. From Snape’s perspective he couldn’t tell whether she was trying to study the man or become his friend, either way Severus was not interested in the slightest.

The professor couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, causing another bought of fog to emerge from his mouth. From day one she had always been a pest, annoying him to no end to get whatever she wanted. He remembered the day he finally caved to her demands.

She had once again turned up at his office, this time after classes had commenced. She hadn’t brought any weapons of manipulation and had yet to mention her plan to collaborate with him. She simply sat in a chair opposite him rambling on about a student in one of her classes who hadn’t quite perfected a spell needed to pass the first assignment of the year.

“Anyway, I’ve tried literally everything with him and he just doesn’t seem to get it. He’s the only one in the class too or I’d be doubting myself, you know, but honestly, he just seems to have the worst luck because I know he’s trying but at this rate I’m scared he’s going to set my classroom on fire when all I’m asking for is a simple flame! I think I’m going to have to switch up my tactics again because I refuse to give up on him.” She huffed.

It dawned on him that this would have been perfect ammunition to guilt him into helping her and her students out, but it seemed this thought had yet to occur to Y/N. Snape wondered if she had truly given up on her quest to get him to help her. If he remembered correctly, it had been a few weeks since she had even brought the subject up. Yet she stilled turned up at his office every day to talk about the most mundane stuff. Y/N didn’t seem to mind that Snape so rarely contributed to their conversations, only offering a nod or a small comment where necessary. He expected she would have gotten bored of his presence by now considering he wasn’t exactly the most exciting man to spend time with but he was glad she stuck around. Severus had grown accustomed to her ramblings and often found himself missing her when she was not around. The thought took him by surprise, he had never dared to acknowledge he might actually enjoy this woman’s company but upon reflection his words rang true. She had embedded her way into his previously regimented routine and it hadn’t upturned his life as he had initially worried.

“I’ll do it.” He blurted, catching her by surprise.

“You’ll do what?” Y/N seemed completely caught off guard by his declaration.

So, she truly wasn’t trying to guilt me. He thought.

“I’ll help you, tutor you in some practical knowledge for you to pass on to your students.”

“You will?” She beamed.

“Yes. Though let’s pray they never need to use it.”

“Oh Severus! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She squealed, jumping up from her chair and rounding the desk.

The potion’s master’s body stiffed upon impact as the young professor threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. It took a second but he eventually relaxed into her embrace, no longer denying himself the simple pleasures of affection.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled against her cheek. Amused at the thought that this simple gesture brought this woman so much joy.

“You realise this was all just an excuse to get close to you.” She giggled into his ear.

“I know.” He whispered, closing his eyes and inhaling the fruity scent of her hair.

The memory of that day cheered Severus up slightly, giving him enough motivation to finish up the remainder of his marking and finally escape the ever-dropping temperature of his office. Keeping his head down, he powered through despite his eyes drooping from the lateness of the hour.

“Don’t tell me you’re still in here marking assignments Severus.” The familiar voice drew his attention to the adjoining door. “You should come to bed, it’s late.”

His heart warmed at the prospect of her worrying about him. He never used to have anyone who cared whether he slept or not. It had taken him some time to adjust his routine to suit another person, but sometimes old habits die hard.

“I won’t be long, darling, I’m almost finished. Get out of here before you catch a cold.” He nodded in the direction of the DADA professor, encouraging her to return to their shared chambers. Never one for obeying orders, she made her way across the cold stone floor, dragging Severus’ attention to her bare feet. Despite being worried for her health, Snape allowed his gaze to trail up her seemingly never-ending legs, settling on her exposed thighs. She wore only her underwear; a labyrinth of black fabric and cross-crossing lace, not quite see through enough to give you full access to her body, but enough to entice you in. And Severus was definitely enticed. From the day she made the first move on him, Snape had struggled to deny his attraction to her. After living for so many years denying every possible pleasure, Y/N reignited his appreciation for the fairer sex in a way that no woman ever had.

As she approached the desk, Severus could clearly see the expanse of goosebumps covering her tanned skin, already feeling the affects of the damp dungeon office.

“Here.” He said, taking off his robes and draping it over her shoulders.

“Do I repulse you so much you feel the need to cover me up?” She joked.

“You’re a distraction.” Snape said seriously, meeting her eyes. “And it’s cold. Go back to bed.”

“Not without you.”

“I don’t have much more to do, let me finish.” He pleaded, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

“You can finish tomorrow.” Severus wanted to argue with her, but ultimately, she was right. And there was almost no chance of him finishing now that she had chosen to position herself upon his desk, legs brushing against the inside of his thighs.

Severus stared up at her, wetting his lips and humming appreciatively.

Y/N dropped the robe, allowing it to pile by her hips.

Severus succumbed to her seduction, all thoughts of marking and assignments evaporating into the night air.

“You’re freezing.” She panted, cupping Snape’s cheeks in her hands, her soft lips brushing teasingly against his own. “Let me warm you up.”

Like he said before; nothing much had changed since the Wizarding War. Except now the Dark Lord was dead. Expect now McGonagall was headmistress at Hogwarts. Now there was a new permanent DADA professor. Now he allowed himself to love. Now he had the warmth of a good woman by his side, and he didn’t plan on letting her go any time soon.

#severus snape #severus snape imagine #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape one shot #severus snape smut #snapetober #snape x reader #snape x oc #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #snapetober 2024 #snapetober day one

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entername322 · 1 year ago

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Like a moth to a flame

Eunbi (ex Izone) X Male Reader ft Yujin (ex Izone, IVE)

Length: 12358 words

Next part

Life fucking sucks doesn't it? Dead father, alcoholic and abusive mom, failing grades, crippling depression, backstabbing friends, violent debt collector. Shit, is there anything going your way? Well at least you don't have drug addiction, kinda suck it took away your brother from you though. “Hey, you're okay?” You felt a tap on your shoulder waking you up from your existential crisis. “I'm fine, just….. thinking”, You look at your friend, Chan, “Yeah, life”, fucking sucks, but he doesn't need to finish that sentence. “Me and the boys are going out for a drink today. You want to come? We can cheer for your brother”, You shake your head, “Come on, drink on me”, You felt a frown forming in your face.

“Don't fucking offer me that shit”, Chan sighed, “Listen, I know you hate it, but it's an appropriate time for it. It's not a pity gesture, okay? I'm just looking out for you”, Thankfully your phone vibrated and took you away from the conversations. “Ohhh? You got another match?” Chan immediately leaned to see your phone screen notification. “It's the same match from last month, she's a piece of art I tell you that much”, A smile forms on your face as you see the mystery girl has texted you. “Come on man, I want to see”, You immediately pull away your phone, “Nuh uh, you gotta respect our privacy here”, Chan frowned at you. “Bro, the chat is already anonymous, come on, let me see”, You sighed, “One picture, that's it”, He smiled again.

You show him a picture the girl has sent you, a picture of her tits. “Bro, how the fuck do you keep getting those milfs. Be honest with me, do you know the admins?” You just shrugged, “Life, uhhh, equalise things”, No family, no money, no academic achievement, but hey at least you keep getting some nice hook ups here and there. “Yeah, such a nice gesture from the universe. Come on, are you going for a drink or not?” You think for a second, your boys or a sexy mysterious milf? “I'll pass for tonight”, Chan grinned at your shamelessness. “I'll remember this, you picked Joe's before bros”, He yelled at you as you walked away.

PurpleBunny: I did it.

You raised your eyebrow, intrigued.

PorkCrackling: Show me, you know I need proof for this type of stuff.

You waited for a few minutes before she sent you a picture. It was a picture of her spread ass cheeks with a butplug in her asshole.

PorkCrackling: That's boring, where's the picture of you wearing it at work

PurpleBunny: How am I supposed to take that picture?

PorkCrackling: Well, you said you work in a private office. So pull down your pants, or pull up your skirt, and show me this picture while you're wearing your office uniform.

PurpleBunny: No way, that's easily tracked back to me.

PorkCrackling: I know you're right, and I hate it. So I'll just take your word for it.

PurpleBunny: Thank you master.

PorkCrackling: How does it feel working with that in your ass?

PurpleBunny: It felt weird, and exciting.

PorkCrackling: Does anyone notice any different behaviour from you?

PurpleBunny: None, I hide it very well.

PorkCrackling: Good girl, should we move to the next step?

PurpleBunny: Yes please, I'm so excited.

PorkCrackling: Which one should we start first? Your anal training? Or your voyeurism?

PurpleBunny: Do I have to do voyeurism? Can I just do anal?

PorkCrackling: Hey, you said it yourself sweetie, you like it when people look at you.

PurpleBunny: I mean yeah, but I don't want to do it at my work. It's too risky.

PorkCrackling: Why is that?

You waited for her answer while looking at the picture she just sent you. Goddamn she has a nice ass, her body is a full package, it makes you wonder how she looks.

PurpleBunny: I work at a university.

PorkCrackling: Oh? A professor?

PurpleBunny: Yeah, you could say that.

PorkCrackling: So, on a daily basis you are being watched by a bunch of thirsty college boys? Must be a fun job huh?

PurpleBunny: Sometimes, it's too much, but yeah I like it when they check me out, although it felt so wrong.

PorkCrackling: Such a slut, fine then, let's do your anal training first. Let's do some simple things first. Buy a lube, use the dildo you bought last week. Send me a video of you using that in your ass.

PurpleBunny: Okay master, I'll get to it as soon as possible 💜💜💜

PorkCrackling: Good girl

PurpleBunny: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

You laughed seeing her texts, how come someone at her age, probably 20-30s judging from her flawless skin, could be so immature. Why is she even asking this type of thing from you? The website you used is some anonymous hookup website used by a bunch of sex addicts. Yes, Chan is right, you do know one of the admins, he gave you an account to use there. You've had some encounters with a bunch of girls already, a single mother desperate for some relief, a soon to be married woman asking for some advice, a college chick who gave you a surprise threesome with her roommate. It's all fun and games, yet this one really doesn't want to reveal her identity, not even a name. She started texting you as if she's in a confessional booth for satan where she keeps talking about her sexual fantasies.

It was boring honestly, you use the website for a hookup, not kinky chat. Then she sends a picture of her tits, so you can't really pass up such an enticing meal can't you? Maybe, if you keep corrupting her you can eventually convince her to meet up. Your phone vibrates again, checking the notifications, you see that the mystery lady has sent you a video of her masturbating while moaning “master” a few times. “Fucking hell, just give up and hook up with me already”, It's a good video, a decent material for, relaxation.

The next day, you reluctantly went to school, checking on your mom before you leave is a bad idea, “You should've fucking die with your brother. Fucking useless meatbag”, Always pleasant to hear from her. Highschool sucks, the worst part is you know it wasn’t that bad, you just want to make it harder for yourself. “You're 2 hours late to school”, Your homeroom teacher yells at you. “It's history and geography, I'm not sitting in class to hear all that boring stuff”, You can clearly see his frustration. “Listen, I know your bother-” Your hand immediately slammed the table out of instinct, “Don't try to use that on me. If you say he's disappointed in me then you better zip it up”, He sighed and just shook his head.

“You have a future, you know that? It might seem bleak but there's still hope in it, and I hate that you're throwing it all away. I can't say that I know what you're feeling, but I know anger, I know all that pent up rage is eating you from the inside. I know it's hard for me to ask you to change, but can I ask you to try?” Father figures, that's what a rebellious kid like you needed, “How?” Thankfully you're smart enough to know it. “Talk to our counsellors, let's start with that”, That could work, maybe talking to some professional help is better than talking to some random strangers on the internet. “Fine, but I'm not going to detention”, It was a good offer, “Stop whining, go to the detention room”, It was not convincing enough.

You reluctantly left to the detention class, it's always nice when the school rewards you for skipping class by making you skip more classes. Once you get there you see your school pals, Yujin, “What are you doing here?” She smiled the moment she saw you, “I forgot to set the alarm and woke up late, you?” You sat down next to her, “Ahhh you know, making fun of Miss Chaeyeon’s divorce”, Yujin is your friend alright, but that's because she actually spent a lot of time with you at the detention room. She's less self aware about her situation in life. “Sit down and shut up, you two know the rule already”, Your detention teacher, Miss Taeyeon walks in and glared at the two of you.

The detention was fine, boring most of the time, it was unlucky since Miss Taeyeon was the one who got the shift so you can't really do much with Yujin. The lunch came around, just like usual you went to a secluded place near the football field to have some peaceful lunch. This school, it's quite prestigious which means the grade and academic achievement are pretty important here. You, being an idiot rebel, are an outcast. Your only friend, Yujin, is actually pretty popular. She's not an idiot like you, she's actually doing fine with her grades, she's just a sociopath who hates every teacher in the school.

Thankfully you didn't really have to spend your lunch alone, well you do physically, but mentally you're being accompanied by none other than PurpleBunny. It seems she is having a boring day at work and decided to chat with you. It's a nice conversation, although she doesn't want to reveal a single information about her identity she seems to like talking about her feelings and desires. Just as you expected, she is a very uptight woman at work, her life is seemingly perfect, her childhood sounds joyful and peaceful. It's very enviable really, it really made you want to corrupt her even further. Hey, if she's rich you can try to extort her for money, sure your admin friend is gonna hire a hitman on your ass but it's worth it right?

In the end, you just ask her for some pictures to entertain you, it's always nice to see boobs. “Pervert”, It's not nice when someone notices you staring at them, “What are you doing here?” Yujin doesn't answer your question and just looks back at the picture on your phone. “What kind of pervert watches porn in the middle of school?” She sat down next to you. “I'm not watching porn, I'm just, learning biology”, She rolled her eyes at your witty attempt, “Heard about your brother by the way, hope you're doing alright”, Yujin leaned at the wall as she looked to the sky. “Yeah, that's just life you know”, The two of you stay silent for a while, just enjoying the sun.

“So who's tits are those? They're massive”, Right, despite being your pals, you and Yujin aren't exactly close pals. “Some random girl I match up with, no it's not Tinder, it's a website similar to that but it's dedicated solely for hooking up”, Yujin raised her eyebrow. “Ohhh? Here I thought you are too scared with that kind of stuff”, Yujin scoffed at you. “Why on earth would you think that way?” Well, you actually have a clue on why, “Because you never made a move on me dude. I thought you were gay or something”, You slapped her for that.

“I didn't make a move, because you're not my type”, You said blatantly staring at her chest, “Heeh, it's bigger than their look you know”, Yujin proudly groped her own breast. “Are they this big?” You opened your phone again, “Hell no, do I look like a cow to you?” You wish she was. “What? What's with that look? I have other assets to flaunt”, Yujin suddenly stood up in front of you before turning around. “Well, it looks very nice”, You laughed seeing her bent down and show you her ass, it’s an invitation, or a dare. Of course, you took it, both of your hands immediately grabbed her ass and squeezed it, “Very firm too”, You even slapped it before letting go. “See? Ass over boobs. Women are born with their boobs size, but they can train their ass. Judging a girl by their boobs size is like a girl judging a guy by their height”, Yujin turned back around and flicked your nose. “Just because I'm short doesn't mean you can use it for your argument”, Yujin shrugged before pulling you up.

“Come with me after school, my house is empty today”, You should be a little scared or at least cautious of how eager she is, “I have a meeting with the school counsellor after class, so send me your address and I'll ‘visit’ you later”, You're actually scared? Fucking pussy. “Lame, fine, but the longer you keep me waiting the higher my expectations will be”, Yujin check your body out for a second. “Fuck it”, She said under her breath before pushing you to the wall and make out with you. Her hand seemingly enjoys your abs and her tongue is aggressively intruding your mouth. The heated make out ends quite quickly however, Yujin just pulls back as abruptly as how she initiated the kiss.

“You're good”, She licked her lips like a hungry predator, “You're down bad, next class is starting and I'm not going to get another lecture for skipping it so let's move”, Yujin frowned but she walked with you anyway. The two of you separate ways to your respective classes, and thus a boring time falls upon you. As the school ends your homeroom teacher immediately picks you up from your own class to make sure you didn't try to run. “Do you know who our counsellor is?” That's a good question, “No”, Like why would you know that? You barely remember the school's name.

“It's Miss Kwon, our principal, so you better behave because even I can't protect you from her”, Here's a better question actually, why is he so adamant on helping you? “Ahhh you're here, please follow me”, The question can wait, there's a smoking hot lady talking to you. “Who are you?” You felt a sharp pain from your hand due to your homeroom teacher's slap, what is his name anyway? “It’s okay Minho, you can call me Miss Eunbi if you like, your teacher said you'll be having a talk with me”, Hmmmm, she's very hot, how come you never notice her existence in the school. “Nice to meet you ma'am”, Your homeroom teacher slapped his head, “I'm sorry ma'am, he's…… different”, Eunbi just smiled at him before turning her attention back to you. “Well, let's not waste time, please follow me young man”

Eunbi led you to her office, “Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable”, She pointed at the couch, you took her advice and just lay on it. “Okay, so……this is a therapy session?” Eunbi smiled hearing your question before sitting on the couch near yours. “Well, I do have the licence for it, would you like to have one right now? If you do then I'll have to do some paperwork for legal reasons”, A therapy session with this hot chick will be fun. “Is it free?” She laughed at your question, making you frown. “Oh sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you. Yes it's free, I do some therapy sessions with some of the students here as well”, Is that legal? Or ethical? Isn't there some conflict of interest since she's also your principal? Ahhhhh, don't think about it too much.

“Sure, why not”, Eunbi smiled and took out some paper, then she started saying some stuff about the privacy of the session and you know, all those formalities she had to say in order to start the therapy session. “So, where should we start?” Where should you start actually? “My brother died but too long ago”, Eunbi nods her head, “I've heard, I'm sorry for your loss”, It's either she cares or she's good at acting like she cares because her tone sounds genuine. “I've seen this coming from long ago, it sucks but it's not like I wasn't prepared for it”, How cold, don't you love your brother? “Really? What makes you say that?” Eunbi starts writing her notes. “Because he's a fucking crack addict. He's gonna die either because he took too much or because he tried to steal some crack from his supplier”, Eunbi seems surprised with this information.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry, I didn't know”, There's a hint of guilt and concern in her tone, “Yeah well, like I said, I'm not too bummed out about it”, Eunbi continued scribbling on her notes. “Well, how is your relationship with your brother?” It was a nice session, you don't really have friends who you feel comfortable sharing stuff with, so having someone to talk to like this makes you feel, delighted. Throughout the session you made some not so subtle attempt at checking her out. She's kinda hot, nice body proportions, beautiful face, flawless skin. In fact, being a pervert who likes to undress women with your eyes, you can quickly tell, her body is very similar to PurpleBunny. The baggy and thick sweater she wore made her cup size questionable.

“I guess there's where we will end our session”, She either doesn't realise it or she doesn't care, and if the latter then the chances of her being PurpleBunny would rise significantly. “It's a weird feeling”, She raised her eyebrow hearing you, “Why is that?” If she leans a little closer you might be able to glance down her cleavage. “Nothing, it's the first time I tried this and I didn't know what I expected”, Eunbi smiled at you reassuringly. “Well, I will say it's been a very successful first meeting for us. Would you like to have another soon?” Being close with her can help you itch your curiosity, so you set up another meeting on Friday.

After she lets you go, you immediately check your phone and see Yujin has sent you her address. “What a slut”, She also sent nude pictures asking you to come faster. Although you're very excited to release some stress, your mind was distracted with a text from your anonymous milf.

PurpleBunny: I have the lube, I will send you the video tonight 😘

PorkCrackling: Send me some pics

PurpleBunny: I can't, I'm still at work, I'll send some later master 😉

You walk to Yujin's place, and just as you expected, she's a fucking rich girl. You knock on the door and a housemaid greets you, she leads you through the mansion and leaves you in front of the bedroom door. Walking in you see Yujin is sitting on her bed, her eyes immediately give you some stingy looks, “Fucking hell, what took you so long?” She said before she started undressing. “I was having a deep emotional talk with Miss Eunbi. She's kinda fucking hot you know? I didn't know we had a sexy milf for a principal”, Yujin rolled her eyes. “She's a fucking whore, you know she likes to flaunt her tits to the school? Bet she got turned on being checked on by boys half her age”, That sounds familiar, although you can't really trust Yujin’s judgement regarding older people, teachers specially.

“Stop looking at me like that and just come here on the bed already, or….. are you scared?” Yujin, already fully naked, is laying on the bed, while you're just judging her silently. “Come on now, turn around, I want to see your ass more than your face”, She clicked her tongue before going on all four facing away from you. “You’re stalling too much dumbass, hurry up before- ahhhhh,”, Yujin didn't get to finish her words as your hand started to rub her pussy. “So fucking wet already? Were you thinking about me this whole time?” You leaned in and whispered in her ears. “You think I'm into dirty talk?” It's always fun playing with a brat doesn't it?

“Fuck, what was that for?” Yujin moaned as she felt a sharp pain on her ass cheek, “You have a nice ass you know? Very tempting to spank”, You raised your hand and spanked her again, “Fuck stop that”, Yujin growled. “Why? You don't like being the sub here?” You spanked her again making her body shivers, “Fuck you”, Yujin moaned as she felt your finger starts to penetrate her. “Goddamn, you have such a nice ass”, You spank her again, but this time you grabbed it and squeezed it hard, “Is that all you can do? Foreplay and dirty talk? What a……. Fuckkkkk”, She can't finish her sentences as you start using your mouth to tease her asshole.

“God, fucking, shit, since when are you, ahhhhhhh…… fuck, since when are you so good”, Yujin, despite her demeanour, is not exactly experienced in this type of stuff. Her previous experiences was mostly with guys whose too scared and intimidated by her so they fuck up a lot. Not you though, you love seeing her like this, hearing the bitchy girl struggle to say anything else other than moans bring a sense of accomplishments inside you. “Goddamnit just fuck me already”, Yujin moaned, “Say please”, You laughed, Yujin clicked her tongue, clearly not enjoying the teasing you had with her. “Fine, can you please for the love of god just give me your cock”, You can barely contain your laughter hearing how goofy it sounds.

Standing up, you immediately lose your outfit, “You got some pills right?” Yujin nodded while she pressed her ass to your erect cock. “Holy fuck”, She moaned before turning around, her eyes locked with your dick. “How is that thing real?” Good is fair after all, he gave you a broken family and an abusive mom, but at least you got a big cock, and plenty of opportunities to use it. “Hehehe, is this your first time?” Yujin frowned upon hearing your question, “You think I'm a virgin? Haaa, unlike you I have guys lining- Haaaaaa”, You suddenly plunge your cock deep and shut her up, “Fuck, you felt like a virgin”, Her walls are so tight you can barely fit half of your cock in.

“Hhhnnnggg, thanksss”, Yujin moaned as her leg started to quiver, “Are you cumming already?” You spanked her ass making her tighten her pussy even more. “Stop…… talking, and….. start moving”, Yujin struggle to stop herself from moaning, “You sure?” This time she start silent for a second. She calms her breathing down for a second before nodding. There's a problem through, she didn't expect you still have more to shove in her so when you start pushing deeper Yujin let out a pained moan, “Fuck, there's more?” She grunted, your hand reached out and caressed her head. “Calm down princess, just relax for a second”, You can feel her pussy tightening again the moment you call her princess. “Ahhhhh, take it slow please”, She said meekly.

You smile feeling victorious, then you start moving slowly, a cacophony of moans keeps pouring out of Yujin's mouth. Once your hips finally meet with hers, Yujin can't contain her orgasm and just starts cumming all over her bed, soaking your thighs. “God, you're even worse than a virgin. I know you've always had a stick up your ass, guess it's just pent up stress isn't it?” You bite her ears as her body starts shaking. “Just fucking shut up already”, She groaned, you raised your hand and just spank her again, this made Yujin let out a protest moan but she doesn't say anything else.

Slowly you start moving, gently pulling back and thrusting forward. Yuji puts her head down as she struggles to make any coherent sound. For a while there were no words exchanged between the two of you, only moans and grunts. Thankfully Yujin doesn't take too long in order to get used to your size. Quite quickly you pick up your pace and start pounding her. No words have been said yet, only moans after moans followed by the sounds of flesh slapping against each other. “Fuck, I'm cumming”, Yujin finally broke the silence as another wave of ecstasy washes over her.

“Are you asking for permission?” You tease her, Yujin glanced back at you with anger. Her looks don't last long as she immediately starts quivering. As the second orgasm passes you can feel her body relaxed even further, making it easy for you to pound her even faster. Watching her ass jiggle every time your hips slam into it has caused your hand to move by itself and spanking her occasionally. Every time your palm delivers a powerful slap her mouth let out a moan and you can feel her pussy tightening around you.

Yujin is slowly losing her mind, she can't even hold herself up as your hand wrapping around her hips is the only thing stopping her from laying flat on the bed. The pounding you gave her only got more aggressive seeing how limp she has become. “Tired princess?” Yujin hates to admit it, but when you call her princess there's this little funny feeling growing in her stomach. She hates it, and she hates how you notice those little feelings. With great determination she pushes her body up, with every last ounce of her strength she moves her hips to match yours, trying to show you she isn't some spoiled princess who can't do anything.

Her struggle is kinda cute for you, out of decency you slow down your pace just enough so she can follow your rhythm. Yujin feels her body is on fire, beads of sweat start dripping down her forehead, pooling down on her pillow that's already stained due to her drooling. “Are you close?” She tried to sound tough, yet those words ended up sounding like a desperate whimper which painted her true feelings. “Maybe? I'll cum sooner if you beg for it”, You grinned seeing Yujin helpless body struggling to continue. “Pleaseeeee, cum inside me, I'm getting close too, if you keep going I might pass out”, She managed to say those words although not having to face you directly greatly helps.

“Come on, one more time”, You leaned forward and kissed her ear, “Fuck, please cum inside me already, fill me up with your thick, warm cum. I need it, please”, Now she actually sounds like a spoiled princess. It works, you can feel your balls tightening ready to shoot your sperm and paints her inside, “Fuck, I'm cumming Yujin”, Yujin was struggling to not pass out, yet the second she felt a sudden warmth feeling up her inside her body went to overdrive as she had her third orgasm. You emptied your load deep inside her as Yujin dropped her head to her pillow and let out a muffled groan.

As you finished filling her up your body slumped down next to her, you were too excited to notice how tiring that sex was. Yujin was glancing at you, there's disdain in her eyes yet she looks so cute that you can't stop yourself from caressing her head. “I always knew you were a princess”, Yujin headbutted you, “Don't you ever call me that again”, It was meant to hurt you, thankfully she didn't break your nose or something like that. “You like it when I call you that, just admit it”, You decided to test your fate by spanking her ass. “I will kill you”, You tested your fate again by laughing at her threat. “This is fun Yujin, we should do this more”, Your hand can't help but caress and massage her butt, “I hate you”, God she's so cute.

“Well, I like you”, You leaned in and kissed her, Yujin felt her body freeze the moment you kissed her. A torrent of emotions flooded her, cracking the wall of her ego. Her hands tried to push you away but she's too weak to do anything, so you grabbed her and pulled her on top of you. Your hand happily playing with her ass while your tongue is fighting for dominance against hers. Being in your arms, having you play with her body because you knew she can't do anything, it really pisses Yujin off. Yet the feeling of being dominated like this is really good. You haven't broken her wall down, but there's enough crack there for you to slither in the future.

As the kiss ended Yujin gasped for air, her body trembling out of ‘rage’ or so she labels, truthfully she felt so excited from your actions. “We should roll together”, Yujin frowned but she can't bring herself to reject that invitation. “I'll do it, only if you treat me like an equal. You're not the Dom in this relationship but you're too proud to admit it. So let's just be an equal”, She's projecting a lot, “Whatever you want princess”, She frowned at you. “And don't call me that”, Perhaps she will soon realise her frowning face is a cute invitation for you to kiss her. “Fuck you can't just kiss me every time you want to shut me-”, You kissed her again. She pulls away and tries to protest but you grab her and kiss her again. This goes on for a while until she finally relent and let you make out with her.

In the end Yujin just lay on her bed, facing away from you but eagerly pushed her body on to yours as you cuddled her from behind. “Is your parents gonna kill me if I stay any longer?” Hopefully her parents are as ignorant about her sex life as your mom is to you. “They're not home, they never do”, For a moment you heard a fragile little girl crying for help, an opportunity to grab her by the neck and make her your toy. “Do you want me to stay the night?” You can try to tease her by kissing her shoulder but maybe that would make her kick you out. Yujin doesn't say anything, she just silently closes her eyes and tries to get some rest.

The two of you fell asleep until late at night, at that point you felt kinda hungry, “No, go out and find your own food”, Yujin wants this to be casual. Having dinner together at her house is not casual, that's romantic, and she's too scared to start that, even if her heart really wants to. “Well then, see you later princess”, Yujin frowned again, it's less out of anger and more of annoyance, she then pushed you away from her bed before getting dressed.

“Yo, where you at”, It's midnight, so there's not many places you can dine in, of course your dumbass group of misfits always wakes up late and explores the city. “We’re eating ramen, come”, Chan said with his mouth full of food, “Bet”, It's a cold and lonely night, the type you love the most. During your walk you check your phone and see PurpleBunny is looking for you. You send her some message saying you're busy with some stuff right now. After chatting with her for a while you know she never wakes up this late, she's a ‘professor’ after all. The night passes by uneventfully, your friends are a bunch of college kids and unemployed bastards so they tend to wake up till morning.

“Fuck so you're gonna introduce her to us or what?” Chan said, you've told your friend about Yujin before, they seem to think you have some romantic attraction towards her. Although it's understandable where that thought came from, it still rubs you the wrong way. “I think she's gonna bring too much chaos to this”, That's a terrible excuse, your group is the most chaotic shit you've ever been a part of. “Alright kiddo, if you're too shy you just say it next time”, You didn't bother entertaining them further and just had your dinner.

Coming back home, you find your mom passed out on the couch. It's an everyday sight for you at this point, and it pisses you a lot. You remember how grand Yujin's house is, and now coming back to this dumpster of a ‘home’ made you curse the world for making you born into this ‘family’. “Haaa, fuck it”, There's no point mourning over things you can't change, you left your mom in the couch, bathed in alcohol and her own vomit to get some rest for the night.

The next day, school goes by like usual, nothing changed, except for Yujin's demeanour around you. “Jesus, can you not breathe so loud? You're fucking annoying you know that?” It causes some of her friends to distance themselves from the two of you. “You're so cute when you're being shy like this”, Yujin blushes for a second before she starts slapping you, “Don't. You. Fucking. Call. Me. That. Again”, Every word laced with pure anger. “Come on princess, I'm not you, I don't have a hidden masochist kink inside me”, Your laugh only made her enraged even more. The ‘assault’ was so bad a teacher had to step in and pull her off.

You find this whole thing to be amusing, Yujin being too enraged to say something to ease the situation makes the teacher think you two are having a genuine fight. “Alright that's it, you two come with me to the teacher's office”, Of course the lovely Miss Taeyeon decides to take this whole comical situation seriously. As you and Yujin walk together you see her glaring at you, “Since when are you so sensitive with words? I thought you always said don't throw any punches if you can't take them”, Pointing out her little hypocrisy almost made her lose her mind. “I'll fucking ruin you”, And just like that you got an invitation to her house again, she's so easy to play with.

Taeyeon brought the two of you to her office, she sat you down in front of her before opening her laptop. “I've had it with you two, why can't you spend one day, just one day without causing any trouble”, Taeyeon shakes her head, for a while the room went silent with nothing but the sounds of her typing on her keyboard. “Explain yourself, Yujin you started this, what happened?” Taeyeon glares at Yujin who just scoffed, “It's not important”, Taeyeon knows there's pretty much all she can get from Yujin so she turns to you. “It was a friendly scuffle, I don't know why everyone suddenly got so worked up”, She looked at you coldly, “Whatever it was, fights are not acceptable in this school. So either you two do a better job at convincing me that it's not a fight or I'll suspend both of you”, You can't say no to some free vacation…… and it seems neither does Yujin.

“I….. really can't with the two of you right now”, Taeyeon rubbed her forehead out of frustration seeing that you and Yujin stayed quiet. “It's personal okay? But I promise you it was not a fight, we were just…..”, You glanced at Yujin who’s ready to maul you, “Joking”, Your return her glare with a smile. “Don't tell me it's a couple's quarrel”, Yujin frowned hearing Taeyeon's words, “Well, not a ‘couple’ just yet so-”, You can't really finish your words because Yujin suddenly slapped your head. “Jesus fucking Christ, the two trouble kids are dating now”, You can hear the frustration grow even more within Taeyeon's voice. “We are not dating”, Yujin stomps her leg to the girls before rudely leaving the room.

Left alone with Taeyeon, you gave her a shrug, “She's kinda shy about it”, Taeyeon shakes her head. “I'll let you off this once, I saw everything and you don't seem to fight back. But for the love of god do not bring your lover’s problem to school”, You nod completely uninterested in her words. “Are you gonna send me home now?” Taeyeon glared at you, “No, go back to class, and after school you will report back to me for another detention”, Well fuck, there goes your plan for the day….. Do you have plans for the day? Anyway, the school went by uneventfully after that, Yujin was nowhere to be seen and you heard she just decided to go home.

Let's move the other person who is having an eventful day, Eunbi. She recognises that this is probably a bad idea, but after yesterday she decided to check on your family situation. She was prepared for the worst, yet when she arrived at your house she realised it was worse than what she expected. You live in the ‘slums’, the place was so bad she felt someone might just kidnap her right there and then. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Thankfully she went with your over caring homeroom teacher, Mister Minho. “I think, I need to at least see for myself how bad it was”, He nodded and knocked on your front door.

There was no answer for a while so he knocked again, and no answer again, so he knocked again and this time the two of them heard a shout from the inside. “Fuck off”, The two exchanged a glance, “Good morning ma'am, we're from your son’s school, can we talk for a moment”, There wasn't any answer but they could hear a bunch of noise from the inside. The door finally opened, the first thing they noticed was the sickening smell of vomit and alcohol, then they saw your mom who looked like she just got out of a trash can. “Who the fuck are you two fancy pants”, Eunbi put on a friendly smile, “Good morning ma'am, sorry to bother you, this is Minho, your son's homeroom teacher and I am Eunbi, the school's principal. Can we talk for a moment?” Your mom looks at her two uninvited guests, “You can talk from here”, Honestly, from the little glimpse they get from the outside, they prefer to not walk inside as well.

“Well it's about your son, yesterday he had skipped some morning classes…..” Minho starts talking about what you did yesterday, then Eunbi follows up about the therapy session she had with you. Eunbi hides everything about the talk but still talks about how you seem to be pretty shaken by your brother's death, although you never admit it. Throughout the talk they notice how uninterested your mom is, she even walks inside at one point and starts drinking some liquor from a half empty bottle. “So? What does this have to do with me?” Your mom said as they finished their stories, “Well, as his councillor I would like to ask, how has he acted around the house? Especially after your oldest son's death”, Eunbi felt like this is a stupid question, “I don't fucking know”, And she stands corrected. “Listen you fucking retards, I don't give a shit about him, so don't fucking come here and waste my time. Fucking comeback if he got expelled or if he died”, She spit on their feet before slamming the door in front of them.

The two stand there silently for a while, “This is disturbing”, Eunbi nods at Minho's words, this is problematic. “This is, worse than what I expected, far worse”, How can she help you with therapy when you're living in this shithole with that ignorant mother of yours. “Should we call the authorities or something?” Eunbi shakes her head, reluctantly, “Unfortunately he's already 18 so the authorities can't do much as he's no longer considered a child. Besides, I think I need to talk to him again to make sure he doesn't find what we're doing here to be, intruding and overbearing”, Minho sighed, why does he care so much about you anyway? “Yeah, let's go back to school”

Eunbi gets back to her office and stresses out over you, she felt, helpless. There's just this thing about you that evokes pity inside her, something that she has understood would make you angry. Unfortunately she can't help you that much, so for now she just prepares a few questions and notes for your next session. Eunbi took a look at her phone to find her chatting with PorkCrackling, it was a little disappointing that he didn't answer her last night, after all she was so excited to show him her experiment last night. Eunbi's mind floated off to last night when she finally tried anal. The weird yet enjoyable feelings of her asshole being intruded by the massive dildo she had bought weeks prior was intoxicating.

She reads back your chats with her, at first it was a little awkward as she started using the website not to find hookups, but a release for her sexual fantasies. Thankfully PorkCrackling seems to find it fun and just goes along the ride. The first thing they did was some sexting, which was super hot for her. Then it starts to grow apparent how dominant the guy really is which made her even more turned on. The two of them quickly find their dynamics, he becomes the master and she becomes the kinky slave. When he first asked for a picture she was reluctant, but her excitement overcame her and so she sent a picture of her boobs. From there it only went downhill, deeper into the abyss of depravity and lust.

It felt arousing, sending pictures like that to him, his compliments and comments about how her pics are a perfect jerk off material made her happy. Even though Eunbi is used to being checked out, just the feeling of sending her private pictures to a total stranger really excites her. Every time she sends him a picture he always replies back with some very dirty messages about all the things he wants to do to her. Slowly her guard is crumbling down, the idea of meeting this mysterious man becomes more and more appealing by the day. As she scrolls down her text she notices that he never really sends any pictures of himself. She never really minds it, after all how could a good slave ask anything from her master. However since the idea of meeting him in person has become a plausible next step of their relationship, Eunbi can't help but feel curious on what to expect. Would he be able to live up the expectations she has set in her mind? Or would he falter and ruin the dream image she has made up? Shaking her head, Eunbi felt determined to ask him for one, even if he wasn't really that impressive, just the conversation alone is fun for her.

As you are busy trying to sneakily play with your phone in the middle of class you find a text from your obedient slave. It was a cute and anxious chat asking for a picture from you as a change. Fuck it just whip out your dick and send it to her? Although, if she is really Eunbi, wouldn't she notice the uniform you're wearing? It would be fun wouldn't it, would she freak out? Would she get consumed by her depravity and get turned on by the idea of having this relationship with her own student?

You're too curious to pass up on such an opportunity, so you quickly went to the bathroom and sent her a text, asking for a picture to get you hard. Eunbi panicked for a second seeing your text, after all she's still not sure of taking a picture in the middle of her office during work time. Thankfully she took quite a lot of them last night when she was experimenting, so she sends all of them to you. Those pictures are enough to make you feel somewhat regretful that you spend the night cuddling with Yujin instead of just sexting. “Goddamnit, now I'm actually hard”, Jerking off in the school bathroom sounds like a bad idea, but fuck it why not.

First you set up the stage, take off your uniform to make sure you didn't ruin them, get in a comfortable position, then you start masturbating. You took a few pictures of your cock, and even sent a video of your ejaculation. Carefully making sure that it doesn't show more than just a glimpse or a little part of your uniform. After you clean up you carefully check the video and pictures before sending it to her and go back to your class as if nothing happened. The moment Eunbi checked them she became mesmerised. No wonder you asked her to get a big dildo, you've been preparing her to take your full length. You weren't being subtle about wanting to meet up with her eventually, it was pretty obvious by your text. Yet the idea of her being corrupted to be your actual sex slave was so hot. All this time you weren't just helping her with her fantasies, you were also preparing her to be a prefect fuck you for you.

Her mind is fogged by arousal, it distracts her from most of her work to the point that she has to leave early and spend the day just masturbating to your cock. That's it, she can't prolong the meeting any longer, she wants you deep inside her, she wants that ‘thing’ to split her apart and ruin her inside. You never really say anything about your identity, Eunbi only knows you're busy during the day with stuff and she doesn't pry into it. Thankfully she spent so long just masturbating that once she's done it's already dark outside, which means you're free.

PurpleBunny: You convince me, let's meet up master.

PorkCrackling: Ohhhh? So eager? I should've send you some pictures from the start if I know it was that easy

PurpleBunny: Maybe you should've master, your cock, is gorgeous

PorkCrackling: Huh, first time I ever heard someone describe it as that.

PurpleBunny: 😚

PorkCrackling: Come on, first show me the videos, those pictures are hot but I want to see you pleasuring yourself with that dildo.

Eunbi then sends the video, it was super scuffed, after all she's trying really hard not to show her face. However, it's also one of the hottest videos you've ever watched.

PorkCrackling: Good girl, but the cinematography is wack, maybe next time you can show yourself? After all, we're meeting up soon.

PurpleBunny: Maybe next time 😉

PorkCrackling: When do you want to meet?

PurpleBunny: Well, tomorrow I have some meetings after work so Saturday is fine.

PorkCrackling: So the meeting, are we talking about getting to know each other meet up or just, straight up sex?

PurpleBunny: I want to have a little talk first before we go back to my place.

PorkCrackling: Oh? A date? Sounds like a pretty big switch up after your ‘full anonymous’ policy.

PurpleBunny: I'm just a little on edge, I need some relief.

PorkCrackling: So desperate, I'll do it if you go to work without underwear tomorrow.

PurpleBunny: Do I have to?

PorkCrackling: Go without underwear, send a few pictures for me tomorrow throughout the day.

PurpleBunny: Okay fine, I'll see you Saturday master 💜💜💜

Seeing her accepting the command made you happy, now you just need to wait for tomorrow when you can match her outfits. However your happiness is short-lived as you come home and find your dead beat of a mother puking in your living room. It's not just the stench but the fact that she never cleaned it made you feel icky. This whole house is now just a ground zero for the next plague that would wipe half of the world population. “You, fucking useless bastard”, It's a rare occasion that she acknowledged your existence, something must've happened while you were gone. “Your fucking retarded teachers fucking come here and ruin my fucking day”, A day she spent productively surely. Although, who came to your house earlier today? And why? Is it your new therapist? Is it your new father figure? “Not my fucking fault”, You left her in the living room as she continue cursing you. The next day, need to come sooner.

“Fuck I feel like such a slut”, The idea of going to work without underwear really does feel hot, so even though Eunbi doesn't like it, her lust side just won her over. She tried to wear some baggy sweater to hide her jugs yet it turns out to be a bad idea since her sweater just rubs against her nipple making her body feel hot. The sweater is very thick so her erect nipple doesn't show through it, but it also means she can't concentrate at all due to the never ending stimulation. Just as promised, she sent a few video and pictures showing you that she is following your command.

Unfortunately you can't check them due to a very pissed off girl. “I hate you so much”, Yujin has dragged you out to the rooftop at lunch to dump all her anger towards you. “Really? So you didn't miss me at all after ghosting me yesterday?” You smiled at her, Yujin grabbed your collar before pushing you to the wall, she's taller than you, well you're pretty short so almost everyone is taller than you. “Fuck you”, It seems one day has made her forgot how dangerous you are, the moment she lock you to the wall you just leaned in and kissed her. The kiss really hit her at the right spot, so despite her hatred Yujin can't help but lower her hand. You did a quick spin and pressed her to the wall this time, your hand slipped inside her shirt and your finger rubbed her nipples through her sports bra. “Fuck, you're such a dick”, She moaned feeling your hand playing with her tits. “Come on Yujin, stop being so edgy all the time, you like me, just admit it”, She looked at you frowning, less angry to you but towards her slow acceptance towards her feelings.

“You said I ghost you? You didn't even bother contacting me after school”, And yes, she's also angry that you ghost her, and she's angry that she felt angry for being ghosted. She has a lot of issues. “I was busy, okay? Sorry, are you free tonight?” You cupped her face in your hand. “Tonight? Meet me after school”, Yujin is trying not to blush but the warmth she feels on her cheeks is making it hard. “I need to do something first, besides I have a therapy session with Miss Eunbi today”, Yujin frowned before slowly nodding, “Now are you gonna fuck me here or what?” You laughed and shook your head, “No, the teacher gonna kill us, besides I'm hungry”, You let go of her, “I'm not eating with you”, Yujin stomps her feet before storming away.

Thankfully she left you alone for the whole day, letting you check the pictures PurpleBunny has sent you. Excitement flows throughout your body, and you quickly make your way to Eunbi's office. Your heart is beating erratically, take a deep breath, calm down for a second. “Yes?” Eunbi said as she heard someone knock on her door, she opened the door to find you, with your usual distant and bored look. “Oh, good afternoon sweetie, what brings you here?” You flinched hearing her call you, “Am I having a therapy session after class?” Your eyes travel around her body, same sweater, in fact with one of the videos providing a little view of the background you easily match it with the bookshelves she had in her office.

“Of course, I'll see you after class okay?” Eunbi smiles, then she notices a sudden change in your gaze, some weird sensation washes over her body as if something is telling her to run. “Okay, I'll see you after class ma'am”, A smile forms on your face before you walk away, trying your best to hide your excitement. PurpleBunny is Eunbi, your own fucking principal, holy fuck isn't it exciting? All this time you thought she had hidden her face because she was ugly or something, but no, it was really just for her identity. Fuck she also lied about being a professor, of course she did, it sounds so much worse if a principal said that she got turned on by her highschool students checking her out. God, the world is so small isn't it? Perhaps the universe does have a sense of humour. Actually, you just realised, Eunbi was wearing a skirt, if she's not wearing panties, then wouldn't you be able to sneak some peek later? You should ask her if she's wearing anything underneath there.

PurpleBunny: I think it's a mistake wearing this sweater.

PorkCrackling: It's too baggy, you should've worn something tight.

PurpleBunny: I'm not ready for that 😔

PorkCrackling: You've only sent the pictures of your upper part, let me see you drenching your pants with how aroused you are.

PurpleBunny: I'm not wearing a pants ☺️

PorkCrackling: Oh? You're wearing a skirt with nothing underneath it?

PurpleBunny: Hehehe

She then sent a video of her dripping wet pussy under her table. You weren't focused on her though, you were checking her skirt and sweater, the exact same as the one Eunbi wore. The glimpse of her office is also another proof that PurpleBunny is Eunbi.

PorkCrackling: You're such a slut

PurpleBunny: 😚 Can't wait to see you soon master. I'm so horny right now I feel like we should do something fun tonight 😉

PorkCrackling: I have some plans for tonight, should I bring you some flowers for tomorrow?

PurpleBunny: Hehehe, no, what if you bring me some pork crackling instead?

PorkCrackling: I'll do it, if you bring me a live purple bunny.

PurpleBunny: That can be arranged, see you later master 😘

Finally, school ends, you immediately run to Eunbi's office, she opens the door, seemingly already waiting for you. “Come in, please take a seat”, You glanced around the hallway, there's some teachers walking around, maybe you should stall until they got home. “So, let's start our second session”, Eunbi sat in front of you, carefully crossing her legs to make sure she didn't reveal anything to you. “First off all I should start first, I'm sorry if I may be too intrusive, but me and your teacher Minho have decided to visit your house yesterday”, So it is her, and that weird guy, who probably wants to groom you or something. “I know, did you puke when you walked in?” Eunbi was surprised seeing how nonchalant you are about it. “No, we didn't come in”, She shook her head remembering how awful it seemed inside.

“Oh, must be mom then”, Hearing you talk like this made her feel sad, and you can see it. “Your mom-”, You can't afford to ruin the mood for now, “Is useless yes I know”, You need to stall without really making her feel down. “Right”, Eunbi sighed thinking you're not ready to talk about your mom yet. “Let's start with something else first then, yesterday I had some talk with my brother's friends”, The goal was to stall for time, the hurdle is the fact that you didn't realise how much you actually got impacted by your brother's death. What was supposed to be a long dragged out story about your experiences with him was slowly turning into a trauma dump session. You didn't cry, but at the end of the stories you were so emotionally exhausted that you might as well cry.

“I see, I'm glad you're brave enough to share this story with me”, Eunbi was listening so attentively that she forgot she wasn't wearing any underwear. Your eyes were fixed on her exposed pussy, she was confused about what you were looking at before it clicked inside her head. “So, that was an invitation?” You smiled, Eunbi who already closed her legs was blushing so hard she couldn't even say anything, “My god, the principal is a pervert”, Eunbi cleared her throat before gaining her composure. “So, that marks the end of our session, is there anything you want to ask me?” Her tone is stern, making sure you know she wants you to forget what you just see. “I have one actually, how do you plan on getting a live purple bunny?”

Eunbi was confused at first, then her eyes widened in disbelief. She stared at you with fear and dumbfounded expression, all this time, was it you? “I… I don't know what you mean”, It was the best she could do. “Come on if you want me to bring some pork crackling you have to bring a purple bunny, a live one”, You smile seeing how much she is in denial right now. Eunbi feels her body is drained of energy and life, all the scary and paranoid thoughts start to invade her mind. All this time, she's been having a sexual relationship with her own students. Wait, no she hasn't had sex yet, so it's not sexual, everything should be fine right? But no, even so just the fact that she's a slut behind closed doors could ruin her reputation. Not just her job but her life can be ruined forever.

“Hey, slut”, Eunbi jumped hearing how close you were, she didn't realise you moved next to her already. “N-n-n-no”, You smile seeing how red she has become, your hand grabs her bare thighs, “You have such nice thighs you know that?” Eunbi wants to push your hand away, wait, does she? Because the sensation of your hand really sends some jolt of ecstasy through her body. Seeing her having an inner struggle made you smile, you leaned closer and bite her ears before whispering into it, “Come on slut, let's do it once, you don't know how much I've been waiting for this moment”, Your breath tickles her ear making her let out a moan. “We shouldn't”, She said with a few moans, “No one would know, come on, you know you want this”, Your hand travelled up her thighs, into her skirt and carefully rubbed her wet pussy.

“No, we-, Ahhhhhhh, we can't”, Eunbi moaned again feeling your hands starts to rub her clit, “I don't think you realise, you don't really have an option here”, Eunbi felt her heart drop, she know it's true, if she pisses you off her life can be ruined. Seeing the defeated look on Eunbi's face made you feel even more horny. You started kissing her neck, your hand continue rubbing her clit, “Hhhnnnngggg, fuck, slow down”, Eunbi moaned feeling her body is giving in to her desires. “You’re so wet already, tell me slut, did anyone see your dripping wet pussy today?” You said before you continue biting her neck. “Ahhhh, no”, She moaned, “You sound disappointed”, You pulled down her sweater, exposing her beast. “Hhhmmm, no I'm not”, You laughed before you move in front of her, “You have such a nice tits slut”, Eunbi blushed again, hearing you say those words face to face really hit differently.

You leaned down, grabbing her boobs and pulling it to your mouth, your teeth sinking into her nipple forcing Eunbi to close her mouth in order to muffle her scream. Your hand slips inside her pussy and starts fingering her aggressively. Your mouth moves to the other tits, wrapping your lips around her nipples and sucking as hard as you can like a hungry baby. Moans and whine keep escaping Eunbi's mouth as she desperately uses both of her hands to muffle them as best as she can. Not long you can hear her muffled scream as her pussy tightens around your finger. Her juices sprays to your hand and drip down the couch leaving stains, you slow down a moment waiting for her orgasm to pass.

“That was nice wasn't it?” You can't help but tease her seeing she's out of breath already, Eunbi bites her lips trying her best not to say yes. Standing up, you slowly unbuckled your belt and pulled down your pants, Eunbi's eyes can't seem to leave your bulge. As you drop your pants Eunbi starts moving closer to you, seeing how eager she is you pull her head and press her face to your bulge, letting her feel your cock through the fabric of your underwear. “Come on, you know you want to”, Eunbi can feel your cock throbbing against her cheek, reluctantly she pulls down your boxer and immediately her face was hit by your erect cock. “Suck it”, Her eyes are mesmerised with your dick, her nose is inhaling the musky smell it gives and unconsciously she starts to drool.

Eunbi's hand gently wrapped around your cock, she sticks out her tongue and slowly licks the tip of your cock. All her moves were so sensual and careful as she was too scared to do something wrong. “Don't be too shy now, you've practised for this”, You caressed her cheek making her feel embarrassed and also a little giddy, she nods her head before taking your cock in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it as her gaze is fixed into your eyes as if she was pleasing for some kind of appreciation. Slowly she lowered her head, taking your cock deeper into her mouth inch by inch. Your precum starts to leak down her tongue, the taste was heavenly for her and she starts to suck on your cock expecting more. Through some great effort she managed to swallow your whole cock down her throat, her tongue continuing licking your shaft, tracing along your veins.

“Good girl”, A look of happiness can be seen in her eyes before she quickly hides it, her head starts to bob up and down slowly. With every passing moment her move got faster and sloppier, her spit drools down her lips and coated your cock making her release some wet sounds every time she slammed her head down your shaft. Her eyes start to water, messing up her mascara as your hips start to follow her rhythm. From time to time she will stop at your tip and hungrily suck on your leaking precum while her hands start to massage your balls trying to milk them out. This is it, this is the slut you've made for the last month and she is perfect. Her eyes never leave yours even for a moment, Eunbi can't tell why, but she just feels like she needs to keep eye contact.

“Ooohhhh fuck, you're so good at this aren't you?” Hearing your compliments made her legs start to squirm as her pussy starts to drip more juices to the couch. Her moral dilemma has become an afterthought as a new idea came to her mind. As long as she can continue pleasuring you then she can make sure you won't tell anyone about this. It was nothing but a pathetic rationalisation of her lust. Yet she doesn't care, now she only needs to focus on pleasuring you, every flinch, every moan, every grunt that you made is sending jolts of excitement throughout her body. “Ahhhh fuck Eunbi, I'm cumming”, The moment she heard that Eunbi immediately pull up her head leaving only the tip of your cock in her mouth. One of her hands starts to jerk your cock furiously while the other one is massaging your balls, feeling your hot sperm swimming around inside it. “Fuck, take it slut”, You grunted as you feel your sperm starts to shoot inside her mouth. The thick and warm cum floods inside her mouth coating every inch of her inner mouth. The taste was addicting to her, she felt desperate for more so her hands jerked you off even faster trying to milk every last drop of your cum.

As your ejaculation passed, Eunbi's mouth was filled to the brim with your sperm, some starts to drip down her lips. You pull your cock away watching her savour the taste of your cum in her mouth. Seeing that she's being watched Eunbi opened her mouth showing you that her tongue is playing around the pool of cum you've made in her mouth. “Drink them slut”, Eunbi closed her eyes as she swallow them, she can feel the thick concoctions travel down her throat leaving a warm sensation through her body. “Hhhnnnngggg”, A moan escaped her lips as her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. You glanced down to see that she's having another orgasm and starts to squirt all over the floor. “Fucking hell, did you got even more pent up ever since you meet me?” Eunbi heard your question but she was too preoccupied with her own orgasm to acknowledge it. As soon as her orgasm passes, her hands start to clean up the sperm down her chin and lick them up hungrily.

When she finishes that she looks at you hoping for more, like a good little slut that she is. “Spread your leg”, You start stroking your cock preparing it for the next round. Eunbi immediately spreads her leg, her hand can't stop from fingering herself seeing your cock is regaining it's might. “Tell me how much you want it”, Eunbi felt her body quiver hearing how demanding you're being. “Please, fuck me already”, She moaned, her hand continue fingering herself while the other is playing with her breast. “Come on, you can do better than that”, You move forward and runs your cock in between her fold, “Master, please give me your big girthy cock, I need you inside me”, Her eyes is looking st you desperately as her body react to your cock rubbing against her pussy.

Without any warning you suddenly plunge your cock deep inside her all the way to the base. The sudden intrusion made her body jerked back in response followed by a pained groan. Her walls tightening around you and enveloping your cock with her warmth. Her body shakes violently as loud cries escape her lips. You immediately took your boxer and shove it to her face to silence her down as she went through yet another orgasm. Eunbi bite down into it as she continue groaning, you didn't bother to let her have her orgasm peacefully and just start fucking her roughly. In Eunbi's mind her lies crumble down, she can't say she's doing all this for her own reputation when her body is screaming in ecstasy like this.

Eunbi throws away her moral dilemma, it doesn't matter anymore, the only thing that's important right now is you. She wants you, so what if you're her student and patient. “Fuck, you're still so tight after all those training I gave you?” You grunted as you continued pounding her, Eunbi felt happiness grow inside her seeing how much you're enjoying her body. “You're so big master, those toys can't compare to you. Fuck me harder, ruin me please”, She moaned before biting down on your boxers again. Her nose keeps inhaling your scent as she falls deeper and deeper into depravity. Your hand grabs her hips and starts to move her body as if she's just a sex doll. Eunbi feels so helpless in your arms and it excites her, she needs to stop herself from screaming from time to time.

Every time your hips crashed on to her you see the impact send a jiggle through her body. Her tits bounce up and down as you continue pounding her even harder. Eunbi who's lost in ecstasy suddenly woke up by the sudden pain on her tits as you slapped it hard. “Ahhhh, master”, She whined, but honestly, she loves it, “I know you like that slut”, And you know it too. Your hand slapped her other tits and she let out another moan. The two of you start to get even louder as every time you slap her Eunbi starts to lose her self control more and more. At one point she let out a loud groan so you grabbed her neck and choked her. “You need to quiet down slut”. At first it was frightening, the pain that suddenly attacked her neck, then she looked at your stern eyes and she couldn't help but to get turned on even more.

“I'm sorry”, She squeal out, but you didn't let go of her neck, in fact you strangle her even harder as you fuck her faster, your other hand move to slap her ass while. This whole thing was too much for, her tongue sticks out of her mouth as her eyes are just rolling to the back of her skull yet again. Her saliva starts to drip down your hand as you see her face start to turn pale. Seeing Eunbi so lost in her own ecstasy from the pain made you feel victorious, made you feel the need to place your flag on this hill. “I'm cumming slut”, Eunbi nodded as tears started to fall down her eyes from happiness. You thrust deep into her, her walls tightened around you, pulsating in a way to milk every last drop of your cum. The ejaculation closes your mind as your hand starts to strangle her for real this time, cutting off her windpipe. Eunbi grabbed into your hands as you let out a groan and unload your sperm inside her. The warmth in her stomach, the stinging pain in her ass and tits alongside the fear of death due to your strangulation send Eunbi to another orgasm. So what if you accidentally choke her out for too long, with all this stimulation she doesn't mind dying in ecstasy.

Thankfully you notice your hand gripping her neck too tight before she passes out. As soon as you let go of your hand Eunbi starts to breathe frantically, her face flushed red as oxygen finally starts to stream back to her brain. “Fuck, I'm sorry”, You said panting hard from the intense orgasm you just had. Eunbi just smiled at you as she coughed, “It's… fine…” It seems like you ruined her throat a little bit. Then you pull out your cock letting your sperm drip down her pussy, you look around her office before throwing some tissues to her. Eunbi who is already drained of energy tries her best to wipe the sperm that's flowing out of her pussy. Meanwhile you're busy cleaning yourself and dressing back up. As you finish sitting in front of her again, Eunbi sees that you're already dressed so she fixes her outfit again and sits up straight at her sofa.

“I'm sorry about that”, You started off, Eunbi doesn't really mind now, but she appreciates the gesture. “I know this relationship is a bad idea, especially since your reputation is on the line”, Eunbi also appreciates that you acknowledge the risk she's having, but she doesn't like where this conversation is going. “So I'll delete all those pictures and videos, we can pretend this, all those chats, let's just forget them and pretend it never happened”, Eunbi felt like a cold water just splashed over her. “Oh, right”, Pretend like this never happened, that's what she wants right? “I thank you for being a counsellor and therapist for me, but if you don't mind can you refer me to a different therapist. After all, this whole thing might affect our therapy session”, Now it felt like a block of ice just pressed on to her body. “I….-” You shake your head, “I say we pretend like this never happened, but there's no way we can loom each other as a normal therapist and patient after this. So please, refer me to another one”, Hearing how adamant you are with this made Eunbi feel deflated. “Of course”, She stutter out, “Then, can I ask for one last thing?” Eunbi nodded as she tried her best to hide her disappointment and sadness.

You leaned closer and kissed her, Eunbi felt her breath stop the moment her lips touch yours. Her body slumps down making you hold her by the shoulder so she wouldn't fall. Eunbi felt your tongue slither into her mouth, her tongue meekly following your lead as she was savouring the taste of your saliva. How does she know what your saliva tastes like? Don't think about it. “Haaaa, Haaaa, Haaaa”, Eunbi panted as you break off the kiss, she looked at you pleading for more. “Just a little souvenir for what we had”, You smile at her before leaving her alone in her office. Eunbi watches you leave, her body is screaming for her to jump and grab your back, to stop you from leaving, but she didn't, she just sat there silently. When you get to the door you look at her one last time, you see a glimmer of hope rise inside her, then you smile and get out of her office, leaving with the memory of her face filled with disappointment and longing. Hook. Line. Sinker.

Left alone in her office, Eunbi felt distraught, seeing you left just like that is just wrong. The moment you two had was short but she can't believe you will just forget it like that. The worst part is she thinks she knows you enough to understand that you're being genuine. The two sessions she had with you make her think you really just disconnected with people that you can just cut her off like that. The unending lust and depravity she has for PorkCrackling is slowly combining with the motherly care and genuine affection she had for you. No, she can't let you cut this off just like that. It doesn't matter if her reputation is on the line, she needs you. She needs your body, your dominance and your sex drive as your slave. She needs to guide you to open up to people, to let you share your burden and get past your traumatic broken household as your therapist. She needs to help you, as much as she needs you to help her.

PurpleBunny: Can we meet up tomorrow?

#kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop smut #izone eunbi #kwon eunbi #izone smut #eunbi smut #male reader

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mysumeow · 6 months ago

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──YANDERE ACE DRABBLE

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Reader is referred to with gendered terms like girl. Yandere Ace. ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Headmage Crowley assures reader he found a way back home. Ace attempts to impede it. ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 984 ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: Ace as a yandere is a thought that greatly amuses me. He's a silly mix between a tsun and a yandere which is kinda ironic within inself but I find the idea fun. I had this halfway written and today i decided to revisit it to finish it haha. I'm trying to finish the many drabbles I've abandoned D:

⸝⸝⸝

Ace holds on to his claim of him liking you only as a friend (... sort of) as if his life depended on it. Even if he sabotages any means of your escape from Twisted Wonderland.

First, he tries to make you doubt Crowley’s veracity.

“The headmage told you that? The headmage?” He repeated it slowly. “You’re trusting that guy after everything he has put you through?”

Headmage Crowley was, with little room for argument, not the most trustworthy person on this land. Yes, he has his instances of being helpful, but you can count the number of said instances on your fingers.

That’s why Ace’s concern didn’t seem too far-fetched to you.

“I could at least try it.” However, you were dreaming of returning home from the first time you sat foot in this place. You couldn’t just give up like that.

“What if it fails and it kills you?”

The weight with which he blurted those words took you off guard—he’d said them with absolute conviction.

“Are you... perhaps worried about me?”

“You’re a naïve, magicless girl who knows nothing of this world. I’m simply looking out for you,” he was quick to retort, as if offended by your conclusion. “Don’t read too much into it.”

“Aw, you’re worried about me,” you teased him. “You’re such a good friend, Ace.” you reached out to pinch his cheek.

“I’m not,” he swatted your hand away, both tips of his ears and cheeks growing red. “Geez, you can be annoying sometimes.”

Used to his attitude, you just chuckled at his response. You couldn’t help but wonder why everyone in this stupid college was at this level of emotional constipation. And if not everyone, a good portion of the student body wasn’t an exception.

Ace racked his brain trying to convince you to stay. He couldn’t waltz into the Magic Mirror’s chambers like he owned the place and destroy it, nor could he threaten the headmage. All he had left was to convince you not to go back to your world. Or implant fear into the fatal what-ifs of the mirror malfunctioning. Deceive you.

His words were half truths. Yes, there were a couple of cases of the mirror sending living beings into another dimension, but they were presumably dead since the subjects never reported back, nor did they send any signal of making it out alive.

But it was a long, long time ago. Maybe millennia. Since then, the arts of magic have strengthened and perfected, minimizing the margin of error. It was plausible for the headmage to have found an irrefutable way back to your universe.

A fact Ace didn’t like one bit. To the point he sneaked into Professor Trein’s office and seized one of those old dust-covered books that archived many accidents that happened because of the mirror.

Sleepovers at Ramshackle happen often enough for Riddle to not even bat an eye when Ace must report to him that he’s going to spend the night over there.

“Oh, do come back with this homework done, Trappola,” Riddle dropped the pile of textbooks on Ace’s awaiting palms. Of course, much to Ace’s dismay. “I’ll personally revise it and do corrections if needed. Am I not such a great housewarden?”

Ace had a couple of thoughts that would differ from that claim, but he nodded along, not fond of the idea of getting collared.

The next step of his plan consisted of roping Deuce into lying to you as well. It wouldn’t be easy, given that he tended to be more sincere (in comparison to himself)... However, no matter how much Deuce attempted to be a goody two shoes, the fact that the news of you going back home would devastate him increased the chances of it being easier to convince him.

Ace surmised such, at least.

“Leaving? The headmage actually found a way to…?” Deuce trailed off, an evident ache within his chest. After some contemplation, Deuce accepted the inevitable. Deep down, he knew the day would arrive. Eventually. Although he’d hoped for it to be later. “I-I’m glad about it! I really am. You know how important of a deal that is.” To go back to where you belong and see your loved ones…

“That’s not the point, Deuce.”

“Then which is it?”

“The problem is that you both are blindly trusting that headmage’s word. Everybody knows how unreliable he can be. Don’t you think so?”

Deuce opened his mouth to refute; yet the longer he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with any good argument.

“Well, Crowley can be reliable. Sometimes.”

Ace’s lack of conviction was evident in his deadpan expression.

“Are we talking about the same guy? The one who abandons us to our own devices during hardships? The one who made the prefect deal with these past overblots? A magicless student, at that.”

“Okay, fine. I get it. You’ve got a good point there. What should we do, then?”

“We’ve got to convince the prefect to not head into the mirror. I borrowed a book. It contains logs of past attempts to send people back through it. None of them successful.”

Deuce eyed the book. “Those happened a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but the prefect doesn’t need to know that detail, duh!” Ace rolled his eyes.

“Ace—” Deuce caught the meaning behind Ace’s words, and, as much as he wished for your friendship to not come to an end, there was a voice nagging him at the back of his mind. “We can’t do that.”

“Don’t be a wimp about it.”

Deuce clenched his fist. “Hey!”

“And we’re not doing this for ourselves—we’re doing this for the safety of our prefect.”

Despite a certain sense of doubt pestering him, that was enough convincing for Deuce. This wasn’t for himself or for Ace. It was for you.

Yes, that’s the sole reason. He assured himself.

#twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland

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starredblood · 28 days ago

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NOWHERE GIRL

PART FIFTEEN

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: for the last day of the semester, you have to become a bearer of bad news.

wc. 4.2k

warnings: none | authors note: this is a real slow burn omg TT i gotta put you guys through a lot of yearning it’ll be all the more sweeter okay

(nowhere girl masterlist)

Dopamine levels reached a new high for you and your classmates after successfully completing the spring semester. And Yoon invited you, Mi-Cha, and her ten other friends to her family owned cafe—but you desired to go home more. You didn’t feel the thrill of walking out the doors of your campus, simply because of how mentally taxing these past few months have been.

You can finally close this chapter of your life for good but for an unusual reason, you didn’t want to. At least not yet. There’s this feeling in your chest that tells you there is something left for you to do in order to end this part of your life. You just have to figure it out first.

The cafe is packed with college students, a symphony of sighs and reliving laughter is heard at every corner. Everyone began to slow down and enjoy the rest of the evening without the rush of going home to get ready for school in the morning.

“No one is taking the drink away from you.” Mi-Cha laughs, watching amusingly how quickly you’re chugging your iced latte.

“You know I only came here because of you right?” you frown. “I just want to go home and sleep twenty four hours straight.”

“Relax you’ll go home soon. Besides, we aren’t going to see each other as often—what if this is our last time?”

You press your lips into a thin line and observe the cafe again. Yoon was by the bar, roaring with laughter amongst her friends while her parents and employees were scrambling to make drinks.

“It’s not.” you reassure, shooting your friend a smile. “We will still work together all summer, right?”

“What about that scholarship? You’re definitely going to win.” she says and you roll your eyes. “You are! Didn’t you see our co-workers faces when you showed them your final product? I bet they were envious they aren’t as skilled as you—I know I am.”

“Come on, you’re the best graphic designer in your department.” you say with a sly smirk. She lightly nudges your shin playfully. “But I think my professor is emailing us sometime today with the winning result though. He’s quick with grading.”

“Your artistic skills combined with my graphic design skills—we could seriously do some creative damage.” Mi-Cha says, grinning and sipping her drink happily. “And if you do go to Italy you have to go to Florence they have the best art supplies there. Everything there is so high quality.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Geez, now you’re getting my hopes up, Mi-Cha.”

Your eyes shift back to Yoon and your stomach churns. From someone whose life seems so perfect on the outside, it only makes sense for the universe to align Yoon to win the scholarship. It only seems right.

“Are you still planning on dorming by the way? It seems like you have your living situation all figured out.” she pipes up.

Your eyes cloud with uncertainty. “I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to get more comfortable living in my apartment but it might be more convenient for me to dorm.”

“Screw convenience—choose the one that’ll be the cheapest. Dorming will triple your tuition trust me.” she advises, snarling at the thought of her crippling student debt.

“Yeah…I don’t think I’ll want to have to work the rest of my life just to pay off all my debt. Especially now that my parents aren’t financially helping me—or helping in general.”

Mi-Cha’s eyes turn round while you take another long sip of your coffee, unaware of the pain in your friend’s eyes. It was bizarre to her how casual you mention your parent’s abandonment.

“Have they really cut you off?” she whispers and you meet each others forlorn gaze.

“They did.” you say flatly. And you feel nothing anymore at the mention of your parents. “But don’t feel bad for me. I’m doing better than I was when I was living with them.”

“Th—That’s good then…” she trails off. Trying to be selective with her words. “One day they’ll see your art work displayed permanently in Hangaram and regret ever abandoning you.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “that’ll be a nice fairytale ending.”

Grief is a great human mystery. Two weeks ago, you grieved over losing your parents as if they passed away when in reality they were only a twenty minute drive away. You were grateful school kept you busy because you were starting to think less and less of them as time went on. Selfishly, you hope that you fill their minds every waking moment of their lives.

“Guys, guys, guys!” Yoon gasps, staring at her phone screen bug-eyed. Her screeching killed the noise bouncing off the cafe walls, everyone watches her in anticipation for an announcement. You gulp, aware of what’s happening. “Oh my god—the winner is…Fuck why isn’t this email loading?”

“Watch your mouth child!” her mother hisses from behind the cafe bar.

You felt Mi-Cha reach for your sweaty palm and squeeze it as everyone held their breath waiting for her to announce the winner.

“Mom, dad we need a new internet provider!” she whines and gasps some more. Now, everyone is really getting riled up. “Oh my god it’s loaded—yes! Okay, so the winner is…let’s see…”

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Maybe Sae-byeok’s life has gotten too dull. She used to live such a fast life full of danger—but now she has forgotten what it was like to have an adrenaline rush. But you’re a close second to having that feeling back again.

She hates how you burst into her life for a split second when peril is lurking and then disappear when things start to calm down. However, this time she understands why you haven’t reached out these past two weeks. School. Sae-byeok wonders what it would be like to be a stressed out college student.

Throughout this time, Sae-byeok had a lot of time to think. Her head was foggy trying to figure out why she felt so lonely without you around. She used to be so content with being isolated from the world, but after that night she didn’t feel the same anymore.

So, she can’t make up her mind. She doesn’t want you around because all you do is disappear but she wants you to be at arms reach.

Tonight is one of those nights where Sae-byeok couldn’t stop her mind from pondering. She wonders if you finished school already, and if so, if you’ll ever stop by to see her.

The Kang siblings are sitting in their bedroom floor, with Sae-byeok hugging her knees while Cheol is across from her doing his homework. Although most of the material Cheol is learning is foreign to her, she is a little bit more advanced when in comes to writing and grammar.

Cheol huffs in frustration not being able to solve one of the questions in his homework sheet. He scratches his head and thinks hard about the question. “Noona, I don’t know what this means.” he pouts.

When she doesn’t answer, he peers up at her and frowns when he notices how spaced out she seems to be. Just staring at the ground as if Cheol isn’t here struggling.

“Hey!” he snaps his fingers in his face, though they don’t make a snapping noise but it got her attention. Sae-byeok flinches back slightly and blinks down at him. “You’re doing it again.” he whines.

“Sorry, sorry.” she says, rolling her eyes slightly. “What is it?”

“Help me with this.” he points at the last question, however she is more concerned with the amount of dried of paint covering his hand. “What are you doing?”

She takes his small hands and groans. “Your hand is covered in paint, Cheol. I told you to be careful—it’s going to be a pain in the ass to remove it now.”

“Noona’s hands are always like this but you never scold her.” Cheol retorts, his lips jutting out even more.

His words made her think back to the time you tried holding her hand. She regrets letting it go but she just wanted to remember how it felt to be under your delicate embrace again.

“Because she studies to create art—you don’t.” she says, narrowing her eyes at the sulky boy. “I bet you didn’t properly put away the supplies either.”

Cheol’s eyes grew and tries masking his nervousness with a chuckle. “I—I did put it away nicely, Noona.”

“Oh, yeah? Let me check then.” she smirks and rises from the floor to open their small closet door. Of course, she was right. “Seriously!”

“I’ll clean it up I swear just help me finish my homework.” he groans.

“I’ll be there in a second I’ll clean it myself this time. But don’t do it again.” she warns with a sigh. Cheol mutters something underneath his breath and goes back to trying to solve the work on his own.

She bends down to collect the disarray of paint brushes littered around and stores them in the small plastic containers she bought specifically to put his art supplies in. After neatly storing most of the supplies back she reaches to collect the mounds of paper stacked besides the containers—one of them piquing her interest.

This couldn’t have been Cheol’s artwork, it was too intricate and detailed—so it had to be yours. She confirms this by looking at the bottom corner of the paper and sees your name signed. Her heart lurches. She bites back the urge to ask her brother how this was in his possession and instead examines it carefully.

It was a half finished sketch of a jellyfish painted with pink watercoloring and gold ink to trace its tentacles. She wonders what your thought process must’ve been to draw a random sea creature. She likes the fact that you’re spontaneous. Instinctively, a small smile forms on her lips when she remembers the fact that you painted her for an art project.

“Noona.” Cheol’s voice snaps her back to reality.

“I’m coming.” she quickly says and shoves your drawing in with Cheol’s own work.

“It’s not that. I finished the question myself.” he snips. “But someone is knocking on the door.”

Sae-byeok winces, guilt crept up to her for being too busy ogling your art while he was behind her struggling.

She walks out the door, past the living room where Ji-yeong is currently situated in, and peers over the peephole.

“Wait did someone knock?” she hears her roommate chirp behind her. “I swear I didn’t hear anything.”

Sae-byeok was half surprised and half concerned to see you pacing around the front entrance. When she opens the door, her stomach churns—she just knows that whatever you’re here for, it’s not to see her. Something must’ve happened for you to be knocking at their door.

Your pale face, wide eyes, and slight cut on your cheek tells her enough to know that she was right. Something did happen.

“What happened to your face?” she asks breathily.

Your face morphs into confusion. Reaching to touch all over your face you end up wiping some blood streaking down your chin.

“I fell but I guess I didn’t realize I—never mind that.” you shake your thoughts off and peer over her shoulders and see Ji-yeong eating a bag of chips while watching a television show. “I need to talk to you in private.”

Sae-byeok nibbles her bottom lip nervously and nods. “Alright, we’ll go outside.”

“No, no.” you say hurriedly, your eyes frantically peering inside the apartment. “Uh…Is Cheol in your room?”

This wasn’t normal. You seemed more anxious this time. Usually, you maintained a calm and levelheaded composure when confronted with a situation. But you can’t even stand still this time. Sae-byeok grows more worried at the fact that you didn’t even realize the cut on your chin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, shakily.

Before you could answer, Ji-yeong pops up behind Sae-byeok with a lazy smile. You both stiffen up by her sudden presence beckoning your conversation.

“Hey, Ji-yeong!” you say, facading your contorted face with a tight lipped grin. You place your hand on your bleeding chin to prevent her from noticing. “How are you doing?”

“Better than ever.” she says with a sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “But my boss has been on my ass for missing those two days of work when I went to jail. So, I’m currently looking to work somewhere else.”

Your eyebrows knit together and you shoot Sae-byeok a look. “Sorry to…hear that?”

“It’s whatever.” she shrugs. “Anyway, how’s school?”

“Oh, good I’m officially on summer break now.”

“Seriously? Wait—are you still working at that gallery? I really want to go one of these—“

“Ji-yeong, we have to talk in private.” Sae-byeok finally says through gritted teeth. She raises both her eyebrows to emphasize the importance of her words and Ji-yeong just keeps flickering her eyes back and forth to both of you.

“What? The two of you?” she says, a sly cheshire cat grin forms on her lips like she knows more than what she leads on. But she slowly starts backing away, but doesn’t peer away from the door. “Sure, I’ll leave you two alone…”

Sae-byeok waits until Ji-yeong enters her room to pull you inside the apartment. She leads you to the kitchen where she goes and hands you a wet paper towel for the blood. After that she nods, signaling for you to begin talking.

You stare straight into her dilated eyes and let out a huge shaky breath of air.

“I saw Jang Deok-su barge into my apartment with his gang members. One of them was Yen-ho.” you say, barely above whisper.

Unbeknownst to her, her mouth parts slightly. Yet she could feel the dramatic pause of her heart beat. “W—What? Did they see you?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure they think you live there. They kept yelling your name.”

“Fucking hell…”

Sae-byeok leans her back on the kitchen counter and runs her hands through her hair in exasperation. Things were going too smoothly in her life, of course it was only temporary.

“You know what this means right?” you say, your eyes flickering with concern. There was a moment your hands began to twitch when you thought about reaching over to touch her shoulders assuringly. Of course, you hold back the urge. “You can’t show your face at the bakery anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay—“

“No, it’s not. What if they trashed your place?” she croaks out.

Sae-byeok is now fully facing you with her heavy gaze. You were getting worried she might breakdown when you saw her bottom lip quiver ever so slightly. The past coming back to haunt her was her biggest fear, you knew that. It was at this moment that you took a deep breath to collect yourself. You couldn’t be afraid now, not when Sae-byeok is silently crying for help.

“I’m not going back there so it’s not like I’ll ever know.” you mutter. “It’s too dangerous for me to show up at my place.”

“Didn’t I tell you this would happen?” she says aggravatingly. “That you could potentially be in danger—“

“You said that about a potential lover—not me, Sae-byeok.” you correct her with a deep frown. Sae-byeok’s freckled cheeks mystically transform pink. You chew the inside of your cheek and quietly observe her more. “Let me stay here again. I will pay your end of the rent until we figure something out.”

“No!”

“Shut up!” you hiss.

Just then the sound of a door creaking open follows after Sae-byeok bellows. You move towards the corner of the kitchen, away from the sight of whoever possibly stepped outside their room.

“Noona?” Cheol whispers, voice oozing with worry.

Sae-byeok goes over to the doorframe where he is standing and bends down to meet his level. “What is it?”

“I thought you left.”

“No, of course not. I’m right here just making myself something to eat.” she reassures and lightly nudges him back inside the room. “Go back to sleep, okay? You have school in the morning.”

“Okay…” he says, raising a suspicious brow but does as he’s told nonetheless.

You fiddle with your hands waiting for Sae-byeok to reappear. Your offer was preposterous, you are aware but how could you not do this for her? The past few months, Sae-byeok quickly proved you wrong. She wasn’t just a hard-headed person with a heart of stone, you’re certain now that her love for her loved ones runs deep and quiet. You can’t just stand back and observe everything she worked hard for just crumble.

When she comes back, her expression hardens and her mouth twitches like she was ready to denounce your offer again.

“Hey, just say yes. For Cheol.” you rapidly say before she beat you to it.

Sae-byeok becomes immobile. Her eyes dance around the floor when she comes to the realization that her brother is on the line. If she can’t keep them both afloat she will have no choice but to take him back to the orphanage. And Sae-byeok doesn’t know what she will do with herself if she lets that happen. Not when she promised her little brother he’ll never go back there again.

Slowly, her eyes align back to yours with a lot less intensity in them. You both share a looking of knowing.

“Fine. For Cheol.” she finally says to you. And you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief—the anticipation of her response was eating you alive.

The two of you eat away the silence. Sae-byeok’s mind couldn’t stop spinning while you were silently checking up on her. You open and close your mouth repeatedly, not being able to find the proper words to say to her. If you couldn’t find a way to console her, you felt useless.

“I guess I should go tell Ji-yeong you’re staying here. How ironic…”

Your eyes widen when she spoke up. She avoids your gaze and brushes past you again, leaving you standing in the kitchen dumbfounded.

With her presence being gone, the adrenaline in your body starts dissipating. Your foot starts aching from all the running you did and you can feel the sharp pain in your chin from the cut. You drag yourself to the couch and sit with the pain until Sae-byeok comes back.

When she does, she comes back with her hair tied and familiar a blanket and pillow she brought from her room. You mumble a quiet thank you when she sits beside you and passes you the things you need to rest. To your surprise, she pulls out a bandaid from her pocket and takes it upon herself to plaster it on your chin.

“S—So, what did she say?” you stammer.

“Yes, obviously.” she says with a dry chuckle. “She also said it was ironic that I asked her this time around.” she expected you to laugh or make some sort of reaction after but all you did was blankly stare down at your lap which was now covered by the blanket she gave you. “What’s with that face?”

You rub the nape of your neck and sending her a fleeting gaze. “It sucks that I can’t get my things after I just got them back. But I shouldn’t be upset over materialistic things.” you admit, bashfully.

She pauses to think about your words and holds her breath when an idea forms. “Why don’t we try and sneak to your apartment to get them?”

“That’s too dangerous. What if they’re lurking around?” you object.

“We can sneak in the middle of the day. And that’ll leave me with enough time to explain Miss Ahn why I have to quit and why you can’t live there anymore.”

She patiently waits for you to take her words into consideration. When you made your decision, you tilt your head to face her with a small smile.

“I guess that works.”

Sae-byeok nods. Her heart starts racing again, not because she’s worried out of her mind because Deok-su is on the move—she now realizes she’s alone with you again. Things have calmed down and even if it’s just for a little while and there’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, it’s only you two alone right now.

“Are you going to sleep yet?” she asks quietly.

“No, it’s still pretty early.” you hum and stare at the television screen in a bored fashion. “Can I change the channel?”

She nods silently and you shuffle through the different channels. You were certain this would be Sae-byeok’s cue to get up and walk back to her room but she stays on the couch in crisscross position. As casual as you can, you adjust yourself closer to her to throw over the blanket past her legs.

Sae-byeok remains stiff, pretending to care about whatever nonsense is playing on the television screen. She couldn’t think straight when all she wonders about is the warmth of your hands. Theoretically, it’s unlikely that you’ll pull away if she were to grab your hand seeing as last time you were the one itching to hold hers.

She slyly peers down at you, wondering if you’re actually paying attention to the television or if your mind is also only thinking of her. Your folded hands were perfectly positioned on top of your lap. You must’ve sensed her piercing dark eyes boring into you because you catch her staring. Sae-byeok goes to look at the television again, unable to breathe properly. She feels insane thinking this much over a simple gesture.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees you unfold your hands and—

“Are you comfortable? Do you want me to move back a little?”

“No.” she croaks out. This was easier to do just in her head. She used to be part of a gang and escaped North Korea for goodness sake how did she let herself get so soft?

“Okay?” you say skeptically before focusing back on the television. “Tell me if you want me to move at any point then.”

What the hell. If Deok-su is going get her one day and you will again disappear like you usually do, she has to do this before she ultimately cannot.

“…Can I just do this?” she reaches over to boldly take your hand and intertwine them with hers.

You stare at this hand held position for a minute, unable to process her odd behavior. Was she in need of comfort?

You two remain like this while pretending to be engrossed with the show that is playing. Neither of you dare to move a muscle.

For once, time favors Sae-byeok. She relishes this fleeting moment where it’s just you two alone. You allowed her to become a bit more vulnerable, thus leaving her mind at ease. Now, all she has to focus on is your delicately warm hands. She knows this is an abnormal thing for her to be doing but in this moment in time, she doesn’t care. Not when you could potentially be gone all of a sudden.

“Did you win?” she speaks up out of nowhere.

“What?”

“The art project.”

She sees you nod stiffly. It was odd.

“You’re thinking of not going.” she utters.

“It’s just—“

“You’re going. There’s no way in hell you’ll decline that great opportunity over this situation. Over—me.” Sae-byeok says to you sternly. “Promise me you’ll go.” she mutters, squeezing your hand.

“Fine. I promise.” you answer after a minute of hesitation.

“Good.” she sighs. “You should be excited.”

“I know…I’m just overthinking.” you admit.

“Overthinking what?”

You gulp and hope she didn’t hear it. ��I don’t want you to forget about me. Any of you. I’ll be gone all summer so…”

Sae-byeok snorts. “That’ll be literally impossible.”

“Really? How so?”

“Uh,” she starts off. “well, Cheol always talks about you—especially when he’s drawing. Like earlier he mentioned how your hands are always stained with paint and it excuses him for having his hands also covered with paint.”

You bite back laughter but smiling was imminent. “That’s cute.”

“It’s annoying.” she rolls her eyes.

“Okay, but what if Cheol suddenly becomes disinterested in art? Will you forget me then?”

“No, I won’t forget.” she says, softly. “How could I forget someone as reckless as you?”

You raise a brow. “Reckless? How am I reckless?”

“I literally had to fight Yen-ho for you a week after knowing you.” she says, but couldn’t help but grin at how embarrassed you appear to be. “But you keep me entertained.”

You send her a dirty look and snatch your hand off her grasp. “Wow. Nice to know I’m just an entertainment to you.”

She found it amusing how hard you tried to appear offended. You go back to watching the television, but in reality, you were digesting her words.

“I know I’m not good with words but...” Sae-byeok trails off, her chest puffing up after inhaling deeply. You slowly look at her. “I’m—glad you’re a part of my life.”

You try concealing the disappointment in your face. Stupidly, you were expecting her to say something else. Instead you just smile weakly at her before glancing away. It was nice to know that she appreciates you, it must be hard for her to vocalize her feelings but you wished you were more than just a helpful friend. That is when heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the realization of something big…

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts

#kang sae byeok #kang sae byeok x reader #squid game #squid game fanfic #fanfic #kang sae byeok squid game #kang sae byeok x fem!reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #kang saebyeok #kang saebyeok x reader #sae byeok #saebyeok

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albondiguilla007 · 2 months ago

Text

Hinny recs (From 5k to 40k words)

✨ Sisyphus / 5k / Harry gets another chance - and another and another. At some point, they stop feeling like chances at all.

✨ Uncle Harry / 5k / Grace Dursley is almost eleven years old when she meets Cousin Uncle Harry for the first time.

✨ Light Beam / 6k / 'Dad, hypothetically….. what would you have done if Mum was Sirius' sister?'OrLily notices it first, Harry pines and James cheers.A Jily Lives AU canon compliant with HBP.

✨ The Cry / 7k / In the blurred aftermath of the battle, Teddy just won't stop crying.

✨ Aunt Marge’s Even Bigger Mistake / 8k / Ginny persuades Harry to attend Dudley’s wedding. Unfortunately, both of them forgot that Aunt Marge would also be attending.

✨ lips long parching / 10k / Going solo to her ex’s wedding is not exactly Ginny’s idea of a good time, but thanks to a smuggled flask and a rather sullen Harry Potter, it’s about to get a lot more interesting.

✨ Dudley’s Memories / 11k / Minerva needs help delivering another letter to #4 Privet Drive. At forty, Dudley is not at all what Harry expects. A long overdue conversation ensues. DH cannon compliant, but probably not the way you think. Prologue to "Snape's Memories".

✨ Hogwarts, to welcome you home / 11k /

"You understand, Professor," Harry began, after a moment, "that I don't have my N.E.W.T.s. I never even finished seventh year. Between everything, I never had a chance the first time around, and then afterwards there didn't seem to be much point.

Hermione argued for it, of course, but I was so tired of Britain. So technically, I am completely unqualified for the position."

"Quite a way to begin an interview, Mr.

Potter," McGonagall said, dryly.

Or, three years after the war, Harry Potter becomes Hogwarts' newest

Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

✨ Dudley Dursley's Most Unexpectedly Fortunate Flower / 14k / Dudley Dursley is leading a perfectly normal life, his contact with his odd cousin limited to Christmas cards and peculiar memories.

Until his daughter sneezes and sets the curtains on fire.

✨ Waste of Space / 15k / Out of the blue one day, Dudley Dursley receives an invitation to his cousin's wedding.

✨ gone was any trace of you / 24k / An accident at work left Harry with a mysterious case of amnesia and a wife he couldn't remember.

✨ Five Times Ginny Tells Harry She's Pregnant (And One Time She Can't) / 29k / Six standalone chapters. Six alternate universes. Five times when Ginny delivers some particularly pertinent information..and one time when she can't.

✨ half awake and almost there / 33k / Wherein Harry never could help himself from trying to save the day, and Ginny was just trying to survive her shift without killing any of her customers.

✨ New Leaf to Turn / 36k / Dudley Dursley lived a very normal life. But when an all too familiar letter makes an appearance on his son's 11th birthday, Dudley must seek the guidance of a cousin he hasn't seen in 19 years. Who else but Harry Potter?

#harry potter #ao3 #fanfic #hinny #hinny fanfic #harry x ginny #ginny weasley

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seriiousgiirl · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet Juice

Severus Snape x Alumni!reader.

NFSW! Basically (fluffy) smut with a massive plot. //! Incorrect use of Potions.

Severus is 30 years old in this fic, you are 23, minor age gap.

Summary: Ever since your youth, you were passionate about the art of Potions. Luckily, during your time at Hogwarts, you found a mentor in the strict and cold Professor Snape. Having made a habit of spending hours after class talking to him, all of this came to an abrupt end during your final year. Leaving you in a total mystery, with no answers. It was only years later that you took your revenge, in the hope of moving on. Not suspecting that it would bring you face to face with your deepest desires.

A/N: I admit I could have turned this into a multi-chapter fanfic, but I figured that would break the rhythm, so enjoy this long read! This fic is inspired by ‘Sweet Juice’ by Purple Kiss, go stream it for a better life! Trust me (;

Word count: 14k. (hehe)

"Ah- Miss Y/f/n, please accept this price. It is an honour to be able to reward young talents like yourself." The little cup was hurriedly placed in your hands.

"It is an honour to be awarded with this prestigious prize," You politely thanked the crowd.

Your eyes lingered on the name of the prize, ‘Research & Development, winner of the best potion of the year'. And without even realising it, your lips drew a somewhat smug smile. Standing upright, ready to have your photo done, to appear in the next edition of the Daily Prophet, with pride, you held the cup in your hands. In that busy room, you were the youngest. And yet, you are the one who has been praised for your achievements. Earning jealous glares from the potion makers, who coveted it as much as you did.

"Miss, can you tell us more about your potion, how did you get the idea?" You were asked, for what you guessed was now an actual interview.

"I wanted to be able to help the Wizards and Witches to unwind more easily, it is sometimes difficult to let go of work pressure and its boredom. That is why I decided to study Amortentia, and its derivations, in order to create a potion capable of releasing in us the hormones necessary to enjoy ourselves... Without the negative effects of the ancient Potions." You explained, in the simplest way possible to the journalists.

"So it's a potion that gets you aroused?" One adds.

You frowned, a little offended by this shortcut, "Yes, in theory, but it goes deeper than that. Otherwise, I wouldn't be rewarded today. But if you want to know, you have to taste it... All the reviews have been very positive." You commented, with a wink.

To summarise months, almost a whole year of research, is almost an insult to your work. Amortentia is one of the most dangerous potions. Studying it to the point of understanding its mechanism and removing the obsession it causes, was the greatest achievement of the process. The rest was just a series of experiments, an understanding of the human body and its hormones, and it was done.

The result was prodigious, it brought a sense of relaxation, without the risk of an eternal sleep like the Draught of Peace. Comfort and love, without the risk of being manipulated by an evil liquid. And then, depending on the quantity used, the effects could be more or less intense, but never dangerous. Quite remarkable, considering all the side effects that most Potions could provide.

You deserve your reward tonight for many reasons, no one else has been able to do it in the past.

“Have you always held an interest in the subject?" The interview proceeded, to have some content for the beloved magazine.

"Yes, since my school days at Hogwarts. I quickly found a vocation in the subject, expressing my talents at an early age.” You paused, before continuing, "But it would never have been possible without the support of my teacher and mentor, Severus Snape, who taught me everything. His talent is second to none, and next to it, I am nobody, even after tonight." You humbly added, with another smile.

At the end of this sentence, your eyes searched for a certain dark silhouette.

Unlike earlier, that smile was particularly forced on your lips. To say that he had supported you was a fine lie. While at first he was indeed ‘supporting’ you (more like a tolerating you), graciously accepting you to attend his prestigious private Potion club, the entirety of your last year was a failure.

In your first years, you never had to face his wrath and nasty comments, simply because he couldn't blame you for anything. Your work was perfect, from theory to application. But to him, you were nothing.

With time, and your growing skills, things changed. There was a time when you even assumed that an understanding had developed between the two of you, you were not friends, it was impossible with such a man, but it wasn’t nothing either. Eventually, the discussions after class or the club, sharing theories and experiences, became quite regular. Sometimes up to dinner hour, and even after curfew, the time went by so quickly in these periods, as neither of you paid attention, caught up in the interaction. After all, the discussions were very entertaining, between two Potions enthusiasts, and you gained a lot of knowledge from them.

Perhaps because you had succeeded to raise his esteem for you, Professor Snape, during class, would give you one of his infrequent compliments on your methods, or provide you with advice while experiencing in the club. Over time, you came to really treasure this exclusive ‘bond’, with such a cold and distant person. It would be a lie to say that in every class, your shared private discussions weren't the moment you were most looking forward to. You felt special.

You couldn't remember exactly when or how this routine started, it had developed naturally during the end of your fifth year and lasted all the way through to the sixth. However, you could remember bitterly how it had ended.

By the start of your final year at Hogwarts, a cold shoulder from Professor Snape had begun to creep between the two of you. He no longer commented on your work, or even dared to give you one of his rare compliments. It was simply as if you didn't even exist. This drastic change was particularly noticeable when you tried to revive another discussion after class, only to be rejected. 'I don't have time Miss Y/f/n', 'I've got too much work', 'Go, and revise', these were, obviously, bland excuses.

You had spent time thinking about it, trying to understand this radical change, but nothing could be found. The discussions had never overflowed on personal information, at least on his side, you - You had been more talkative. And again, nothing major, just simple information like your preferences in terms of flowers, cake flavours, and favourite literature. It never looked like it bothered him to listen to you, and yet strangely enough it seemed to interest him. But, in the end, most of the talk was about Potions, nothing odd that should have ended it all brutally.

In the course of your discussions, you had always expressed an interest in a career in the field, and Professor Snape had consequently supported you (in his own way) in this idea. In all honesty, having his approval really encouraged you. Until, once again, your senior year. While you had been able to get decent, if not perfect, results up to this point, the downfall continued when you saw your grades drop for unfair reasons. You had never witnessed his unfair grading, but when you became one of his victims, he was unforgiving towards your harmless mistakes. It was as if he was trying to ruin your future career as a potion maker.

All this unjustified hatred, discouraged you, but not to the point of giving up your aspiration, otherwise you wouldn't be standing there with the precious prize in your hands.

Was it some kind of revenge? Definitely.

Mentioning Severus in your ‘thank you speech’ was perfectly legitimate, he had given you more than anyone else in your life. But, even though you kept telling yourself that it was already 3 years ago and it belonged to the past, your heart was still broken, disappointed. And by his presence tonight, you were hoping to finally put an end to it all. Snape had witnessed your happiness, you had won, the revenge was completed. Time to move on.

However, it was easier to convince yourself than to apply it. It would be wrong to claim that you hadn't worked hard to impress him. Ever since that cold war between you two, no matter how strange it may seem, you couldn't get over it.

Sometimes, in your most private moments, you would close your eyes in the hope of being able to remember. The damp smell of the dungeons invading your nostrils, your teacher's deep voice echoing within the cold walls to your ears, praising you how well you had worked. His dark eyes focused on you, and only you. In fact, the intensity of his dark gaze could suffocate you, and yet you would not care. You desperately wanted to reclaim that relationship, as someone to whom he would give his precious time, where he would share his passions anew, a time when in his mind you existed and were important. And no matter how embarrassing it was, the idea of finding pleasure in these memories was enough to make your knickers wet.

At the time, you had convinced yourself that you were not holding any affection regarding your Professor… Another fine lie from you, obviously. It had taken a few years to come to this conclusion, to get out of the denial of this forbidden love. But now it was clear and explained a lot concerning your addiction and pain. The feeling of anticipation at the end of each lesson, the way you would pour your soul into the subject in the hope of receiving a ‘compliment’... Or simply the way you kept seeking for his attention, even after years. Nothing about this behaviour was appropriate, regardless how hard you tried to maintain the classic student-teacher relationship, on your own.

Perhaps Snape had even realised this, explaining the sudden cessation of your individual time together.

And even though, with hindsight, you should have felt guilty, you couldn't throw away that attachment. It was as if he had put a spell on you, that the lack of contact with him since you graduated from Hogwarts had reinforced that love.

But today was different, it was your revenge, your mourning over this period of your life.

The sound of the camera flashes snapped you out of your thoughts. The lights blinded your eyes for a moment, and you blinked frantically to regain your sight. Hoping that the pictures would look nice on the magazine...

"Well, congratulations Miss Y/f/n, we hope to see your Potion soon on the market amongst our merchants. I can’t wait to taste it, as you have suggested." The interview ended on this note, and the journalists dismissed themselves to make room for those who wished to thank you or congratulate you in person.

Thus, you were greeted with a new wave of questions, of praises, mostly it was older wizards and witches who were attending the event, and thus more 'experienced' than you in Potions. Their words tasted like hypocrisy, but you accepted everything with a polite smile. You actually enjoyed the attention, although deep down it was a particular Potions Master you were looking for, so it all went over your head. After a few moments you managed to escape from the conversation that had been built around the right to use the Felix Felixis at the Ministry's work, to get yourself a glass of alcohol from the buffet.

The taste of alcohol eased your nerves, rejoicing in the moment of calm you just gave yourself after all the attention you received. But the moment was short.

“Miss Y/f/n. How fortuitous to find you here." A voice commented sarcastically on your presence at the bar.

There was no need to look up at the person speaking to you because you already knew who he was. His deep voice was like a melody, a music composed by the finest musicians of this world. How, Merlin, you truly missed it…

“Professor Snape- Hum, or should I say Severus now that we are colleagues?” You answered him a little too smoothly for your taste, One drink and my anger is already forgotten? I need to get my act together!

“Snape will do, we are not direct colleagues. Let's keep some formality.” He replied somewhat distantly. Ouch- Years did not seem to have quieted the hatred he had against you.

You had not yet looked up to him, postponing the moment when you would be blessed with his physical presence. But you could see from the corner of your eye that he was pouring himself a shot glass of what seemed to be a fire whiskey.

"I must say that I am surprised that the award was given to you tonight... However, it would be wrong not to congratulate you." Severus began slowly, as if preventing himself from saying too much. “But…”

“But?” Your voice cut him off, a mixture of excitement and sheer joy at the thought of receiving praise from your dear Professor. This special praise you had been longing for.

"But-” He sighed as if you had annoyed him, “I object to the fact that my teachings have led you to produce such a grotesque Potion."

If your eyes had been glued to your glass since the beginning of the conversation fearing to feel butterflies in your stomach at the sight of Severus, you suddenly raised them, eyes wide with surprise. And in your stomach, anger. How dare he humiliate my work like that?

However, you were at a loss for words. He hadn't changed at all, he hadn't even made the effort to wear another suit for the event. He remained the same man as when you left him. Your eyes fell on his face, he had a neutral expression, as if his hurtful words were the most well-deserved ones. His eyes were on you, but because of the dim light and his dark pupils it was impossible for you to discern any judgement within. Otherwise, his hair was still the same length, falling gently over his shoulders, soft… His hooked nose made him look sterner than ever, and the crease between his over-frowned eyebrows did not seem to have increased.

He was still the same man, the one you were so fond of, and that made it more difficult.

But it was as if you two had evolved in two different time spaces. It had only been two years since you left Hogwarts, and it was certain that the occasional times you ran into a former classmate, they all had trouble recognising you. Obviously, you have grown in maturity through your work. You were no longer a young girl, you were a woman, a lady, with stature and respect. You were even certain that if your name wasn't mentioned at your prize-giving, Severus wouldn't have known who you are.

"A grotesque potion?” You took back his words, insulted, “You know perfectly well all the work that lies behind it. I explained it in a briefing for the association. You must have read it, right?" You tried to hide the irritation in your voice.

"I read it, of course. And although I must admit that it was all a tremendous amount of hard work... All these efforts, for such a clownish result, is disappointing."

You couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. You were supposed to be the one to get your revenge tonight. And here you are, in the shoes of the student you used to be in your last year, being jeered for your hard work. His words were harsh, and perhaps because they came from your professor, they hurt you badly.

"The mere fact that I am the one who taught you everything is even more terrible." He added nonchalantly, bringing his glass to his lips.

You remained quiet, thinking of all the things you could say to him. After all, he was no longer your instructor, Severus no longer had superiority over you. What can he do now, if I snapped at him? Expel me from Hogwarts? Perhaps, it was the moment for you to confess everything that was weighing on your heart. How his coldness and distance had made you miserable.

"I thought it was only fair to thank you in my speech." You retorted, "But as far as I can see, you don't even want to be associated with me anymore, even as a mere tutor. Your hatred of me, I don't know where it comes from, but it's all unfair. This was supposed to be my special night. But now you've ruined it.” You hesitated before speaking again, “Like you’ve ruined my seventh year at Hogwarts."

Severus’ face remained as neutral as ever, but in his posture you felt a kind of irritation, he was caught off guard by your curt reply. Well, he must understand that I won't take his nastiness easily anymore.

However, you took no pleasure in giving him this answer. You had imagined many scenarios about your reunion... You had hoped that he would apologise, show that he felt sorry for having been cold to you, and in the more realistic scenario simply shake your hand, congratulate you and that was it. In no way, had you expected that he would remain so hostile.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. His lack of response bothered you further, so you grabbed your glass and finished it straight down. "I'm going to get some air, if anyone is looking for me." Your voice was less angry, as your throat tightened dangerously, poised to burst into tears and it was slightly audible. It was a disaster.

You took your trophy with great care, the only thing that gave you comfort, and left without even bowing to Severus. You were never going to see him again in your life anyway.

The evening of the association for Potions makers of Great Britain (or simply those with an interest for the discipline), was held in the large manor house of the current Chairman. After escaping from the hall where the main event was taking place, you looked for a way out to the garden. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, echoing in the various empty corridors. The laughter and voices of the party began to fade with each step you took.

You were getting away from these jealous and condescending people and above all, from Severus. Good, you didn't feel like crying miserably in front of everyone. Your hopes were already destroyed, your ego wasn't going to be the next crime. After a moment, you spotted a windowed door leading to the backyard and quickly rushed to open it, taking a deep breath of air in desperation.

Stepping out completely, you were pleasantly surprised to discover the lovely atmosphere. The garden was well tended with bushes of various flowers and the grass was green and healthy, while lanterns lightened the path leading to the depths of the garden. You were caught up in the sense of peace and quiet that it gave you, feeling much more comfortable on your own.

It was summer, late August, school was beginning soon, work was about to restart and the merchants would soon be back in business. But it was already late, the moon was already high in the sky, almost full, and the stars shone brightly in the country sky away from London's city lights. The air was a bit fresh, but cold enough to get your mind back in order without freezing in your evening gown, which was quite revealing… But still elegant and pretty.

Venturing into the garden you finally found a bench to settle down on and think about what just happened, alone. Your eyes lifted to the magnificent starry sky before you, and its darkness made you think of Severus... The way his pupils were fixed on you, the image replayed in your mind... Over and over. You wanted to despise him for his behaviour, he had broken your heart! Not to feed your already distracted mind with lusty thoughts. Did he, at least, appreciate the sight of me in this dress? Your mind began to wander in a dangerous area, and you needed to stop right now.

Severus had been nothing but spiteful, he hadn't changed for sure, whether it was physically or mentally. And yet... You couldn't hate him in the slightest. It all seemed wrong on his part, as if he was forcing himself. Pushing you away.

You sighed, it was truly a disaster, you were frustrated with Severus, with yourself. Tonight was about revenge, moving on was the main mission and now you were fantasising all over again, like the flame of your love had been rekindled.

A tear rolled down your cheek from sheer frustration, disappointment in yourself. Then one tear broke into a silent cry. Were you doomed to love a man you will never see again, who is out of reach and seems to be loathing you? Put like this, it was as if you enjoyed suffering.

Now, you had no desire to return to the house with the other members, the possibility of running into Snape again and worsening your mental state, made you dread the prospect. Great, he had won and definitely broken your heart.

It was decided, you were going to stay there, with your trophy in your arms and with a bit of luck you will be able to leave unnoticed by floo powder. The plan seemed reasonable.

But fate seemed to have decided otherwise.

You jumped when you heard someone cough to get your attention. You were so deep in thought, your eyes fixed on the sky, that you didn't hear anyone approaching you. Your little moment of peace had been ruined, and you frowned as your eyes fell on the culprit. Severus’ brooding silhouette in the darkness of the garden lived up to his Hogwarts reputation as a bat.

You sniffed, "What are you doing here? Go away. You've already hurt me enough, there's no need to make it worse, I heard your nasty comments once already." In your pathetic state you asked Severus rather rudely to leave.

There was a small silence before it was broken by his voice, "Are you crying?"

You couldn't make out his face, so you concluded that he couldn't see yours either. You hesitated between telling the truth or lying before answering, “Why do you care…?” Your voice was weak, in no way hiding the truth.

“I asked you a question, Y/n” He persisted.

Hearing his voice pronounce your first name, as he used to do when you were in private conversation, made you weak in the knees, much more than you would have liked to acknowledge.

"I, hum... Yes." You replied, sobbing quietly. Resistance will only make things worse.

"It's a wonder you've managed to make a respectable place for yourself in the business, with such a weak mind." But unlike earlier his voice was gentler, firm, but gentle. "I've talked a bit with some of your fellow peers, people who have been around you for the past few years. Supporting you in carrying out your work… Believing in this project of yours.” He paused for another moment.

You didn't know what he was getting at, confusion all over your face. The people you had surrounded yourself with for work were not in attendance tonight. They were mostly former students just like yourself, who had attended the advanced Potions class. If they were absent tonight it is because in their research of Potions, unlike you, they had not managed to produce a viable solution.

In the darkness, you discerned him taking his place beside you on the bench. The warmth of his body spreading over your arm, allows you to evaluate how close you were to each other. And the answer was easy, very close. You could smell the light scent of his fragrance, a bit musky, the bare skin of your arm was grazing against the thick fabric of his frock coat, and it was a miracle that he was still able to breathe under all those layers in this warm weather. You noticed that it was the first time he was so close to you, usually he would keep his distance. His desk or the potions station had always been a well-respected barrier between the two of you. And thus, it made you a bit timid.

"Well, talking…” He spoke sarcastically to rectify himself, “I’ve exchanged letters with them. Checking on my former students, those you are working with now. Ensuring that everything was going well for you." He emphasised the last part of his sentence.

And Severus doesn't need to amplify his words, for you to understand what he was implying secretly.

Severus had checked on you, taking news through his letters over the past two years.

Each of his words hit you straight in the heart, making it pound faster each time. You thanked Merlin for the obscurity, because between your tears that must have drenched your makeup and the crimson spreading over your cheeks, the sight must be pretty dramatic.

"Why didn't you send an owl directly to me?" Your voice was still weak, but your tears had ceased. You ran your delicate hand over your cheeks to remove the remaining tears.

You heard Severus sigh quietly at your question. It took him a while to answer, as if he was tortured to answer honestly or lying, hesitating in the same way you did a few moments ago with his question. “It’s complicated.” Severus opted to be vague, "In any case, I've got nothing but praise for your work or even your person... They like you just the same as they did back at Hogwarts."

You didn't know if your mind was playing tricks on you by wanting to romanticise everything, but in his voice there was a faint hint of nostalgia. Severus' note brought a smile to your lips, "I'm glad to hear that, I appreciate them as well. At least they're not hypocrites like everyone else tonight..." Your honesty seemed to catch what sounded like a quiet chuckle from your former Professor.

"I must grant you, Y/n... That my words were harsh against you." Severus' voice regained its usual firm tone, "But I must confess, that such a potion, with such utility, surprises me coming from you."

That was what you guessed, his form of apology, and you accepted the way it was. "It is true that in my youth I never showed any interest in Healing Potions. What interested me the most were Poisons... But Amortentia is a poison like any other, in its own way, and research can lead us to expand our minds, can't they?” The fact that Severus knew perfectly your preferences in the area, made it easier to explain. "And then, with hindsight, I'm proud that my invention helps people, rather than killing them."

Severus nodded quietly, indicating that he fully understood the meaning of your words, as you had hoped he would. He seemed to remember all the information you had told him about yourself three years ago. That made you more than happy.

“‘Sweet juice’, that's how you named it?” He spoke with sarcasm, gently mocking.

It was your turn to sweetly chuckle, “No! I had originally named it 'Aquae dulcis', from the Latin ‘peaceful liquid’... But for the promotion, I was advised to change the name to a more sales-oriented one, which would fit better with my image as a lady.”

"I was wondering why the name doesn't match you… I've got my answer." He sounded somewhat relieved, "Many people have mentioned the taste." Severus sounded less reticent over your Potion, it was even if he was aware of the feedbacks that were provided in order to boost the pre-sales.

"Ah- yes, the taste... That's what gives the potion its reputation for being arousing." You sighed a little embarrassed to talk about this with him, “Unlike many Potions, with a disgusting taste… Mine is sweet. The liquid drips slowly down the throat, the taste hooked up everyone wishing to take it. The feeling is strange to describe, and actually I can’t… Like a flame, it all burns, it all gets on, the throat-burning sensation is taboo.” You added the last part of your sentence in a whisper due to the embarrassing nature of your language. It sounded sexual, you must admit.

Again there was silence and you wished you hadn't said what you revealed about this special taste, fearing that you had gone too far and brought your former teacher into equal discomfort.

But he answered with an unexpected thought, “I’m curious about the experience.” You caught your breath surprised, not even realising that you had stopped for a moment out of fear, "No potions so far have managed to ease my nerves. The Draught of Peace made me feel like I was too tired to continue working properly, so I stopped years ago. And if there's one time when I'm extremely irritable, it's at work, or when I'm grading papers… Especially when I grade the papers.” It was as if Severus was 'justifying' himself for wishing to try it. But deep down, some peace would only do him good.

"Only a few drops then, otherwise you'll regret the tiredness you got from the Draught of Peace when you'll feel aroused during your teaching." Even yourself was surprised by the bold words you used.

Thankfully Severus took less time to answer than last time, "Of course. I'll be careful. I'll give you a personal feedback on my impressions over the next few days following the start of term."

"Send the owl directly to me this time, it would be unfortunate if anyone found out you had an 'uncomfortable issue' because of my Potion." You laughed softly, clearly more comfortable around him. You were both adults now, fellow colleagues in the Potions discipline, you have the right to tease him about the unwanted side effects.

Well, unwanted for Severus’ case. You knew that many were looking forward to taking bigger doses... Precisely to get horny.

“I will Y/n,” He answered in a tone that seemed to be almost as amused.

“So… You want it, you want some Sweet Juice?” You ask him, hardly believing that you were asking Severus Snape, your cold former professor, if he wanted a stash of your own (arousing) Potion.

"If you don't mind, as it will only be sold on the mid-September market, if I understand correctly. I will, of course, pay for anything you may want to send me." He firmly says,

You shook your head sharply, "Absolutely not, I'll send you these for free as a thank-you. And before school starts, so everything will be ready for you to face those annoying and incompetent first years."

Severus sighs, a mixture of exasperation and relief. Exasperation because you were strict about him not paying you for anything, relief at the idea of finally having a solution to calm his tense nerves. “Stubborn as ever, I see. You may have changed physically, mentally you’re still the same.”

His little statement had the power to make your cheeks even more flushed. So he noticed that I had changed… That I’m now a lady. “Thank you, I guess?” You had no idea how to reply to that.

"That's a compliment.” He clarified for you, “You are, indeed, now… Excuse my choice of words- a pretty woman. But besides your appearance, you are blossoming in what you always dreamed of, with a remarkable career start. It's a good thing you've kept parts of yourself intact, fame must not go to your head. But you are a reasonable lady, I know everything will be fine." It was Severus' turn to be a bit awkward with his words.

His compliment went straight to your heart and seemed to soothe all the pain you had felt over the last few years. However, in his tone, Severus sounded as if he wanted to keep his words strictly formal, as he had always done even in your deepest discussions in the past.

"Thank you Severu- Hm, Snape.” You hated how easy it was for you to say his first name, when he had just corrected you a few moments before. However, he didn't correct you this time, letting that minor error slide.

You indulged in the peaceful silence that settled between the two of you. The way the conversation had progressed was comparable to the ones you had in the past, if not more comfortable. Two enthusiasts discussing about their favourite subject, trying to understand each other's opinion with respect and interest. Obviously, a formal one, Severus always maintains his distance from you, as if he was always your Professor and couldn't afford to be more. Your hopes were not high on a potential romance with Severus, he was older, your former teacher, mysterious… In the end you know nothing about the man and his job was keeping him busy all year long. However, a friend would be a good start… A rather affordable hope.

In the end, when Severus opted not to act cold, it was as if there hadn't been a rupture in your relationship. The chemistry had returned back in a flash. It made you bitterly regret those three lost years... Besides, you still had no idea of the exact nature of his past harsh attitude. Maybe even tonight was just an exception and the question will never be answered.

However, if Severus ever decided, as he had suggested with his impressions, to exchange letters, perhaps with time you would find the courage to ask him. Now, it would be a bad idea and would ruin the calm atmosphere.

"Maybe it's time to get back to the party..." Severus offered, his voice not exactly enthusiastic about joining the festivities again as well, "The others will wonder when they notice our absence."

“Right, It would be unfortunate if they started to wonder about our connection..." You laughed lightly, mocking his constant worry about being paired with you. Severus huffed, outraged.

He stood up, and in the half-light you saw him offering his arm to you, like a gentleman. You took it without hesitation, linking yours to his.

"It's been pleasing tonight…” You spoke quietly, as Severus escorted you back into the manor.

He inhaled shakily before answering, "Yes, I agree. And hearing from you, - personally - is always preferable. I hope this will last in your future letters."

You smiled at his words, "Obviously, Severus." There was a deep fondness evident in your voice. This time you couldn't help it, saying his first name felt right, and he didn't correct you either.

The October leaves had just fallen, the soft light with its morning rays of sunshine was reaching into your office. The scenery was quiet, peaceful even. And even though you had no reason to be in your office this early, you were waiting for a special occurrence.

Sweet Juice' had been on the market for almost a month, at various shops in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and sales were more than encouraging. In fact, it was a real success. Some minor stock-outs caused even a panic among the sellers when they couldn't satisfy their demanding customers. Everyone was talking about the benefits of your Potion, and how it changed their life.

The money you received was considerable, allowing you to take a break. After two years of hard work, you deserved it. And a new solution cannot be invented that easily anyway. So your days were pretty uneventful, sometimes you were occupied with checking in with the producer, the one you had trusted enough to share the secrets of your mixture, and the sales. Otherwise, most of your days were spent taking care of yourself, enjoying life and, above all, waiting for Severus' letters.

Currently in your hands, the last letter you received, already dated from the previous week. The other letters, which numbered five, were neatly folded and kept in the first drawer of your desk. Severus' handwriting was as elegant and delicate as ever, and you took great comfort in receiving them. The content was kept formal, but somewhat ‘casual’ or ‘friendly’. Which was a good development.

The letters were quite brief and mostly structured the same way. Severus would write about his thoughts on Potions, then about his days at Hogwarts, and finally he would reply directly to the contents of the letter he had just received, making his comments on your daily life.

In each of his answers, you could tell that he was making the effort to maintain the relationship despite the distance. When the first correspondence started, you were quite surprised to see his owl on your windowsill within less than a week. You were pleasantly surprised, expecting to receive a response within a relatively long delay. To be honest, you weren't expecting this much from him, because you know how occupied he is.

Your eyes lingered on the contents of the one you held in your hands.

Dear Y/n,

Thank you for the new batch of Potions you have sent me.

I would like to use it sparingly, addiction would be regrettable. So I take precautions, even though the peaceful effect it brings me is always efficient. Being able to sleep properly is, I must confess, a luxury I had not enjoyed until recently. And it's all thanks to you.

I would say my days at Hogwarts are bearable. Work is draining, as always.

I hadn’t found a moment to read the book you recommended. I will try to make up for it before my next answer.

However, I am glad to hear that you are taking the time to have a break. Don't worry if the days can be boring, and you miss work, you need it. Do not become like me, please.

Yours faithfully,

Severus Snape,

You had lost count, you must have read the contents of the letter ten times already. In fact, every letter you received from Severus was read more than once. It was a forbidden pleasure, but seeing his words specifically directed at you, gives you butterflies in your insides.

But, you put your mind at rest with the fact that they were just letters and nothing more. It was less severe than when you were seeing him daily, in your student days. It was impossible for Severus to even guess the depth of your feelings towards him, when the only contact the two of you had was a piece of paper and a few words. You weren't likely to offend him or make him feel uneasy with your feelings towards him. So you were living your affection for this man to the fullest in the privacy of your own home.

Leaning back in your desk chair, while your mind wandered over Hogwarts’ dungeon bat, you heard a tiny clatter against your window. Looking up, a sweet smile came to your lips. Your hands folded the current letter you were reading, folding it carefully and storing it away before standing up to retrieve the new one you had been expecting.

Severus' owl was just like him, black plumage, piercing eyes. The only thing they did not have in common was their sweetness. When you opened your window, you were immediately greeted by a warm hooting.

“Hey, I hope the journey wasn't too long.” Your voice was almost too mellow for just an owl, and your hand gently stroked the top of its head as you greeted back. With a smile, you carefully untied the letter from its grasp. Once done, you put the envelope on your desk and collected grains to feed the owl. The owl pecked into the palm of your hand, now used to this small ritual. A hoot of gratitude indicated that the mission was accomplished.

"Return safely to Hogwarts." With a last small pat, you gazed at the black owl as it flew off into the distance, back to its owner.

Returning to your desk, you opened the envelope carefully and unfolded it. You were surprised to see that the content was longer than usual, twice as long. You didn't remember that your previous answer was that interesting to deserve such a detailed reply... Thus, you hurried to read it.

Dear Y/n,

I fear I haven't kept my promise.

I think I underestimated the side effects of your Potion, and this past week I've ‘suffered’ the consequences. A few drops was the dose I set myself to respect every night before going to bed, following your advice and the instructions for its use. Alas, after a particularly difficult day, I wanted to experiment with a higher dosage. I don't need to tell you in detail what it did to me, I think you've already guessed…

But I must, at least, keep our initial agreement, so if you don't object I will give you a report on this new experience. For the sake of the profession.

The usual few drops prevented me from being able to experience in its fullest, the unique taste of the potion's effects. And I must say congratulations, never in my life have I tasted anything so sweet. The description you gave me a few months ago has stayed in my mind since, and I must say that you were right, nothing can describe how it feels. Heaven? Maybe. On that night, I reached heaven.

I was starving, I was out of control (or so I thought). I was almost unable to bear it, and then, it was time to awaken the sleeping madness in me...

The hardest part is, I can't blame the Potion. It's almost cruel, but as you said, unlike with Amortentia, I had full power over my body, I wasn't intoxicated or bewitched. I succumbed to my impulses on my own. And… It feels good.

This followed, of my own accord, a kind of addiction. The nights prior to this uneventful ‘accident’ I made a habit of taking these larger doses, for my own pleasure… Thus, I would conclude the entire experience to be more than enjoyable.

In the future, I will try to find a balance to avoid abusing what is more than good. For the time being, I'm still enjoying myself.

However, even if your potion is a miracle, it does not take away all the work I need to complete.

And I must say, a thought came to my mind. In fact, Dumbledore was the one who suggested it to me years ago. And even if I was reluctant to the idea at first... The prospect feels less unpleasant if you are the one taking on this duty.

Not wishing to interfere with your precious break, would you like to be my occasional assistant?

You have the right to refuse, I wouldn't blame you.

If the answer is positive, the first period I would wish to ask for your help would be mid-November, before the first exams. And that's for a few weeks, maybe for two, more or less.

Naturally, you'll be welcomed at Hogwarts with all the necessities, a private chamber and a paycheck. But I'll give you the details in due time.

In any case, I will respect your decision and will look forward to receiving your answer, as I always do.

Yours faithfully,

Severus Snape,

PS: I trust you to keep this information confidential.

Your eyes frantically scan the contents of the letter, there is a lot to take in. Your cheeks were flushed, your heart was pounding, the first major piece of information was that Severus was using your potion for his own sexual needs. And while you detected some reserve in his wording, he had admitted it without shame in that letter. You would never have thought Severus capable of speaking in such a way (at least, towards you), even if his words were formal, they were nonetheless heavy with meaning and bold.

You couldn't help it, your mind perfectly pictured Severus. At night, alone, under the pleasurable effect of the Potion. In your fantasy, his face was focused, his eyebrows a bit furrowed, some sweat rolling down his forehead because of the heat. A few strands of his hair would fall into his eyes, but his attention was so focused on the intense pleasure he was experiencing that he couldn't care less. Was he the type to moan? Or to remain silent? Or… Maybe the cravings were so powerful that he would bite his lip to keep quiet.

At first, his hands would temptingly wander down his body, slowly, carefully, intoxicated by the rising pleasure. Touching himself was a pleasant torture, and as he said himself in the letter, he was unable to stop. Knowing how the potion would affect his senses, his skin must feel sensitive, leaving burning trails with every brush of his fingers over every inch of his skin, over all erogenous parts of his body, making him lose his mind.

The way Severus’ hands would desperately clutched his already erected manhood, dripping precum with impatience, hoping to reach an orgasm, maybe even one or several. Seeking frantically for friction to satiate his craving, his hips bucked, his hand tightening to increase the contact pressure. The sight must be sumptuous.

You wondered, for a moment, about the thoughts Severus might have to stimulate his mind. Was the Potion working enough to turn him on? Or was he seeking greater satisfaction with some dirty images? This left you with a real question. And you realised that even after all this time, you knew many things about him, but not at all in such an intimate setting. Which made sense, since most of the time you were his student... The first glimpse you had of this point was the letter.

And, you're the only one who knows his nightly routine. He trusted you, beyond the fact that you were the creator of the Potion who helped him satisfy his lusts. The mere idea to be in the confidence of this secret, made your knickers wet.

And even though it was already a lot to process, this was not the only exciting news. Severus asked you, himself, to be his assistant. He even suggested it, because the idea of working with you sounded appealing. You. Of all people, he thought about you.

You didn't question it, it was decided the moment the information reached your brain. You were going to accept. And how could you turn down the offer when the mysterious and reserved Severus Snape admitted on his own, that he was eagerly expecting your letters…

After years of longing to feel that special feeling again, in one letter Severus had given you a lot.

Returning to Hogwarts was a hope you never thought imaginable. However, a week ago you arrived with a suitcase packed, ready to work. The stone corridors, the moving stairs and even the staff had remained the same. The only change was that instead of sitting at your house table for dinner, you were now placed between Flitwick and Snape. And of course, that most of your time was spent in the dark, damp dungeons of the School brewing Potions, or grading papers.

Unlike what many might think, working alongside Severus was much more manageable than they might have thought. In any case, with you, he trusted your work enough not to question it. In fact, when you arrived, you were quite worried when you saw the dark circles under his eyes, which were more prominent than you used to remember. And when you became his assistant, you understood why. Severus was a perfectionist, and his teaching methods were all tailored to ensure the success of his students. So your tasks were simple, like preparing the exams, the basics for the Potions that were going to be taught, correcting papers, arranging the ingredients... And while you were just assisting him, within a few days he had managed to find more rest. Something that made you feel better.

Apart from that, the working conditions were quiet and calm. Severus was conversing with you during the simplest of tasks, he didn't seem as tight as usual (in private, at least), what you guessed were the effects of your Potion. At times, it was simply work performed in a comfortable silence. But between you, there was no longer any sign of discomfort or coldness. It was as if it had never happened, actually.

Well, until today.

"I wonder..." Severus began his sentence thoughtfully, his eyes focused on the cauldron in front of him, his hands busy chopping up ingredients, "How I used to find time to work and talk to you, back then."

You had a similar task, but unlike him you looked up in surprise. Severus rarely mentioned the past between you, or even the letters you had exchanged the past month. "I don't know either... That's why you stopped in my seventh grade, right?"

You didn't particularly want to mention the subject that had become nearly forbidden with time, namely your cold war. But you felt that under the current circumstances, you were old and mature enough to take it on yourself. Even though you might never get any solid answers about his past behaviour.

“Y/n, we both know that’s not the truth.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him, and you didn't know if Severus was too focused on his Potion to realise the implication of his words, or if he really wanted to discuss the issue once and for all. But you weren't going to miss your chance, trying to summon all your courage. "Oh- Really? Those are the excuses you gave me, would you like to tell me the truth then?" You answered casually, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. Years of seeking the answer, it was as if what haunted you most was finally going to be removed.

However, the answer did not come as easily as the conversation had started, Severus stopped in his tracks and raised his head to you. His expression was hesitant, or perplexed, you didn't really know. "It was best for us to stop there, that's the real reason." He replies vaguely, his eyes fixed on your face where you stand across the Potion station.

You frowned, you were an adult now, you could handle and accept the truth. Severus, on the other hand, was being vague, as if putting a finger on what had happened was forbidden. "Are you implying that in our professional discussions, we were going down the wrong path?" You didn't want to tempt him, but getting the truth out of Severus' mouth was more complicated than you expected.

"Our discussions were nothing professional." He sounded a bit irritated with himself, indeed, the subject was sensitive on both sides. He put a lid on his Potion and dried his hands with a cloth, "We're done for the day, you can leave me." He waved you off, putting an end to the conversation.

But you stayed in your place, it was as if your feet were frozen to the ground, you couldn't leave. "You are the one who started the conversation. Don't be angry with me." Your voice was quite composed, you weren't afraid to face him. And just like at the event, he seemed stunned by your tone of voice.

You put the tools down and placed a lid on the Potion in the same way he had just done. "You cannot cut off the discussion and asked me to leave, Severus. You don't know how I've suffered my entire last year because of this, because of you. You can at least look me in the eye and give me a proper answer.” You sighed, as he tried to keep his eyes from looking at you. Perhaps because of guilt.

"Severus, we can sort this out, and go back to the way things were. But I need an answer, to move on. To be free of this guilt. Did I do something wrong? Was I bothering you so much? Tell me…" You hated how your voice was almost begging. But with every word you said, you could feel it, it was like he was re-building that distance between you. You didn't want to lose him, not that quickly.

"Severus... Please." You finally decided to move, taking a step towards him, the atmosphere in the classroom had totally changed. But even if the tension was heavy, you weren't going to abandon him, not this time. He did not move as you approached him, however, his face was tense. You hadn't seen him this cold in a while.

"I can't answer you. Things wouldn't be the same after that.” His voice was harsh, but not offensive. He sounded frustrated with himself, “But… If you want an answer, I must admit I'm not sufficiently secure to reveal my past intentions."

His words were odd, leaving you confused. The enigma that was Severus Snape was impossible to understand no matter how much time you were spending by his side. Can he give me an answer or not?

Several times your mouth opened in an attempt to answer, but nothing came to your mind. The problem seemed to be stuck. It left you upset. "I... I want an answer." Your words were both hesitant and confident, the statement was, frankly, a bit silly.

This seemed to amuse Severus, who laughed silently in mockery, warming the atmosphere. “Why are you so…” He paused for a moment as if hesitating, then at last he gave in, "Endearing?”

His words slammed into your heart, leaving you baffled. But you didn't have time to answer, Severus resumed speaking just as soon, "But, if I can manage to calm myself, maybe I'll be able to talk to you. Does that please you, Y/n?"

You hesitated, understanding what Severus was implying behind those words, 'relaxing' meant taking a few drops of Sweet Juice. And as much as you wanted to keep a respectful image of Severus, the last words written in his letter about its use stayed in the back of your mind. But, how can I refuse?

"Fine.” You agreed, nodding slowly.

Severus seemed somewhat reassured by your agreement, the walls he was starting to build around himself to push you away, were falling down again. It was his turn to approach you, offering his arm. A habit he'd adopted with every walk you shared at Hogwarts. You took his arm, the gesture had become natural, Severus added, "Follow me."

With that, you walked after him. Severus led you, in the utmost silence. Your heart was pounding, you didn't know exactly what to expect. The path he was taking, staying in the dungeons of the school, made you realise that he was inviting you into his personal quarters, which did not help your state of mind. Every step you made, was a step towards the possible truth.

Your recent exchange had been unclear, Severus was just as confused by his attitude as you were, you could tell with the look on his face. Torture between two separate decisions: to hate you back or accept what was happening between you two.

Still in silence, Severus finally arrived, unlocked the door to his quarters and let you in first. It was the first time you had entered, and the surroundings seemed oddly familiar. Everything reflected Severus, with its dark tones and simple, yet elegant furnishings. Your eyes rest on the many books, all meticulously arranged, and then, a little farther away, on the bed. It was impossible to miss the three vials filled with the purple liquid that you had conceived yourself, one of them was nearly empty. The sight of Sweet Juice beside his bed only made your heart flutter, as if it was confirmation that everything he had described to you was, indeed, true.

"Well, sit on the sofa. I'm coming up with what's needed." Severus breaks the silence as he removes his cloak, stopping your dirty thoughts dead in their tracks.

"Yes, of course." You nodded, quite flustered, and you did what you were asked as you sat down on the couch, next to the fireplace and the bookcases. Your eyes followed Severus' actions as he made his way to his bed, lighting the fireplace with his wand as he passed.

He came back with a new bottle of Sweet Juice in his hands, and sat without discomfort at your side. "Do you use it daily as well?" He asked you, an undeniable curiosity in his voice.

"Um... No, I just tested it on myself a while ago before I submitted the notice. I have no use for it." You looked at him blankly, you didn't know what Severus was trying to find out with his question, "So, it was only for professional purposes." You added rather quickly, in case he wondered if you too were finding sexual satisfaction through its use.

"Well, this will be the occasion to taste it again then." His hands opened the bottle carefully, and with some skill showing how familiar he was with its use.

You looked at him, confused by his words, "I don't intend to take it, you said you were the one who needed it to speak honestly."

"I think it's wiser for you to take it, to learn the truth. I don't want you to get mad at me." He replied with his calm voice, "Don't you trust me?" He raised an eyebrow with his usual expertise in the motion.

Of course you trusted him, the question didn't have to be asked. And right now, with all the tension in your body from the pressure of the whole situation, you had to agree. He was right, it was wiser if the both of you were in the same state to discuss. "Fine, but only a few drops..."

Severus nodded, "A few drops will be more than enough."

You reached for the vial, but Severus placed his hand on your chin before you could get your hands on it, and directed your face in his direction. “Open your mouth, please Y/n.”

His eyes were fixed on you, you felt like melting under his gaze, so intense was it. You couldn't ignore the intimate intensity of the situation, your cheeks were starting to burn. The scenario was far more pleasant than anything you could have imagined in your dirtiest dreams.

Without even adding anything, you parted your lips for him. Severus seemed satisfied with your willingness, and put the eyedropper to let a few drops fall from it. A promise he kept. And even though it was only a few drops, the taste burned in your throat, taking effect as soon as it was swallowed. It was addictive, sweet… Divine. A tickling sensation settled in your body, you felt perfectly fine, as if your body had never felt any tension.

Severus watched your every reaction, his hand still on your chin, you felt like your skin was burning under his fingers, "Well. You seem to be reacting well."

He withdrew his hand and this gesture left you with a feeling of need. Your eyes never left him for a second as you watched him perform the same operation with himself. His previously tense face, softened in an instant. To have Severus so effortlessly relaxed was quite an exclusive sight. He trusted you enough to be so vulnerable without shame, in front of you. It made you smile.

"Y/n, I've been intending to talk to you about this for a while, it weighs on me just as much. I'm sorry for the way I acted," Severus began quietly.

Hearing him apologise was strange, he was such a proud man. It made you happy, because while he was under the effect of the potion, he was still aware of what he was doing or saying. He was not controlled by the Potion, in front of you there was a sincere and apologetic Severus. One of the many facets you were starting to find out about this very mysterious man.

"I apologise as well, I wasn't always straightforward." You matched his gentle tone,

Severus shook his head, "You were not the problem, I handled the situation very poorly. It's all my fault, I hurt you." He put his hand over his face, ashamed, "When, in fact, that's all I wanted to avoid... It haunted me, until I saw you again a few months ago. I wanted redemption, to make sure you were fine without me... But, I’m selfish as I am taking a role in your life again,” He sighed hopelessly, “There's still this guilt in me.”

Hearing Severus speak with such regret, made your heart grow fonder for the man, you couldn't fault him. He had suffered the same pain from his choices, he acted in order not to lose his teaching position, in order to not deprive you of a possible 'happy' life. And even if the Potion worked miracles, guilt and pain couldn't be erased. You wanted to reassure him, to remove this pain from him, to leave it in the past. "Severus, I only wish to understand what I did wrong..." You whispered, your eyes focused on the buttons that fastened his cutaway coat.

The more minutes passed, the more the Potion worked through your body. The sensation was odd, like a kind of ache, but it was unmistakably delightful. This only served to reinforce your self-consciousness about the situation, your body tickled everywhere, straining, trembling, longing to be close to him.

"You have done nothing wrong... As the days went by, my regard for you changed. Your radiant smile, the way your eyes brighten at my every word, the way your perfume intoxicates me when it stays in the classroom, your delicate hands working with agility... All of this, I should never have noticed, and yet, I couldn't help but feel captivated. Charmed because of what you were, and still are, in fact."

He slowly pulled his hand away from his face. But, you didn't want to leave him in his demise, so you laid your hand on his as he lowered it, encouraging him to continue. "I wasn't blind, I knew the feeling you held for me. I believed it was for the benefit of the both of us. But after rejecting you, I was terribly missing you. Inside me, it built up a terrible guilt…” He paused for a moment before concluding, “And without realising it, I was feeling the same way about you."

Severus gently takes your hand in his, as if you were a delicate flower, or would disappear at any moment. His gaze is now focussed on both your joined hands, "Since, I haven't stopped thinking about you, night and day. Seeing you again... Was a breath of hope, I thought impossible. And even though you sounded different, like you were angry with me, I couldn't help but appreciate you. I soon realised that despite all my efforts, pushing you away a second time was beyond me... Beyond my strength."

He intertwined his fingers with yours, "You can hate me, yell at me. I hurt you and yet, selfishly you're here with me, instead of enjoying what life has to give you. I’m older, grim, and stern. I don't deserve you."

As he confessed, what you were focused on, was the heavy pounding of your heart ringing in your ears. The intensity of his emotions was heartbreaking, as you listened to him.

Your body's reaction to his was overwhelming, everything seemed like a raging fire that neither of you wanted to quench. The sensation of his own skin against yours only made it burn harder, leaving you with an insatiable urge of need and want. Your body knew what it wanted, the heat started to build up in the lower part of your stomach.

"I- Severus… I'm sorry that I was angry with you, when you were trying to do the right thing. I had no idea how you might be feeling on your own. But today, everything has changed, I’m not your student anymore.” You spoke with all the determination you could muster to prove him wrong, “And I don't care what life has to offer, if you are older. I know what I want. And it’s you.”

“It's only been a few weeks since I've been back with you, and I've never felt so happy. I feel alive.” Your cheeks flushed hot at your blunt words, “And to be honest, the club, the award, Sweet Juice, I did it all, to get your attention. I wanted to be special to you again."

"Come," Severus uttered in a deep, rumbling voice. His hand, the one that was already holding you, pulled you towards him, and his other hand guided your hips as he gently settled you on his lap, straddling him. The way your body easily accepted his request, was a reflection of how much you wanted to be with him, to be close to him.

"I wanted to move on, to forget you, but it was impossible. But nowadays, as I am closer to you..." Your eyes fell on his face, Severus seemed to be listening to you with such intensity, that coupled with this sudden intimacy caused you to speak in a shaky breath, "I burn and my body is feeling new things, and the intensity is only growing, nearly out of control. I can't think anymore, you're always on my mind…- I just want to be close to you, like I've always hoped." Your voice died down near the end, admitting your deepest thoughts. You were nervous, the aching sensation started to get on your nerves, overflowing with desire for the man in front of you.

His hands gripped your clothes, as if to remind you that he was indeed there, by your side. You were taken aback by the violent wave of emotions that flashed through his eyes. Severus had said nothing after your own confession, but there was no need for him to speak in order for you to understand. His eyes were speaking for him. Need, lust, desperation, want, longing- And most strikingly, love. His hands clasped your face, leaving you no choice but to lock your eyes with his. You couldn't escape the impact of his emotions, of the intense waves crashing over you nearly suffocating you. And the truth is, you had no desire to avoid him.

It was as if time had stopped, his beautiful face, his lovely hands, the wildness in his eyes, and the way he made you feel was beyond description.

"I love you," He exhaled as his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest,

Your fingers found his shoulders, pressing into the soft fabric of his coat, “I love you as well,” You answered, the same weight disappearing from your heart.

The affirmation of your feelings towards him seemed to ignite something new in Severus. His thumb went down to your lips, running it over them, "You know, I thought about you as my assistant not only because you're the smartest, most diligent and serious person I know to handle the task perfectly," He spoke in a low grumble that made your whole body quiver, "But also because every night as I took a stronger dose of that delicious elixir you conceived, I always find myself thinking about you. I found satisfaction only when I thought of you.”

He sighs, "I must admit that if you're here, it's also because I couldn't bear to keep all this to myself, I had to confess. I wanted to see you again, terribly."

“I’m here Severus, I’m here for you and only you.” You replied hurriedly in order to reassure him.

He took a deep breath, your words seemed to have reached his heart, "Maybe it's a bit premature, but I should ask you."

It sent a ripple of delight through your entire body, increasing the desperation you had to be against him, “What do you want to ask me, Severus?”

Your question, perhaps somewhat naive given the situation, brought a smile to his lips, “Would you like to make love with me?” The question was phrased extremely graciously, contrasting dramatically with the ferocity of his eyes.

Your body shivered under his powerful stare. Your reply was obvious, and yet in the warmth of his body, in the puddle of intensity that Severus was bathing you in, you were at a loss for words. He looked at you like a hunter ready to chase down his prey, your consent was all he needed for him to pounce on you. It should have worried you, but behind his raging stare were years of self-restraint and pain. You felt more than special, being loved by such a cold and distant man made you feel like you were the only one in this wide world, the one and only for him.

You couldn't make him wait any longer, it was torture for him as much as it was for you. So you nodded, silently at first, then you found the courage to finally voice your need, "Yes, Severus, I do."

He smiled again, it was a delightful sight to see Severus smiling, and you took a moment to observe him as if to commit the image to memory. It was so infrequent, that you were pleased to know that you were the only one to be blessed by it. He was perfect, you could do nothing but kiss him. Passionately, freely, desperately. There was nothing anymore to stop you from doing it. You tasted him, setting all your senses on fire. You licked the inside of his mouth, as his tongue linked with yours in an intoxicating dance that only the both of you seemed to know. The scent and taste of him captured all your senses, and you couldn't stop humming with delight as it resonated through your chest from the pleasure of kissing him.

In that first kiss, you feel it all.

Both of his hands clasped your face tightly to keep you close to him as your hands trailed through his long hair, down to his neck. The warmth that radiated from him made your flesh flush, your heart pounding so hard in your chest that even Severus should be able to feel it. He tasted like heaven.

He skillfully guides you, allowing you to get lost in his adoration. One hand gently grasped your throat, while his other hand travelled from your cheek over your neck, down to your waist where his arm snaked around to press your body against his in a secure embrace.

Severus didn't break the kiss, as he stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your eyes were closed, allowing you to get completely absorbed in the feverish kiss, but you knew he was heading for his bed. The next moment, your body found its place against the soft fabric of his sheets, enveloping you once again in his wonderful manly scent. Wrecking you, in the most pleasing ways possible.

You moaned into his mouth as your fingers tugged his hair a bit tighter, Severus growled at your action, searing your whole being from you body to your soul. You were desperate for more, to see him, to touch him, to feel him. Your clothes were simply a suffocating barrier that separated you from Severus. Your irritation didn't seem to escape Severus as he broke off the feverish kiss you two were sharing.

You finally opened your eyes, to be greeted by a dishevelled and flushed Severus. You were both out of breath, panting. However, he was quick to lay another kiss on the exposed skin of your throat. Sweetly, lovingly, small kisses from the tip of his lips teasing you, all dripping with desire.

"Love, you're perfect," He hummed against your neck as he gently nuzzled his nose against it to inhale your fragrance. You were like in heaven, your blood was running through your veins, your stomach transformed into butterflies out of worship for him.

His hands ran along your body, before undoing the button on your skirt. Your thighs were released quickly from the constraint that your clothes provided you as he dropped the first piece of fabric on the floor. Your hands hesitantly passed over his upper body, your fingers delicately unfasten the buttons of his coat. Once done, your hands grabbed the lapels of his coat to let it fall over his shoulders, quickly meeting your skirt on the floor.

Severus certainly was consumed by an insatiable urge, never getting enough of you. His lips never leave you, trailing against your jaw, nibbling your earlobe. His warm breath left your sensitive skin tingling with delight. Your hands were slightly trembling as you began to reach for his shirt, while his hands reached for the rest of your clothes with utmost care.

The clothes that had been a painful barrier, began to strip from your bodies, slowly, teasingly. Falling one by one on the floor. Severus leaned on his arm as he took a few steps back, your breath caught with worry and missing his warmth. His eyes roamed over your body, in an intimidating powerful manner. You had never felt so vulnerable and exposed, only covered by your underwear, his intense gaze left a heavy feeling on everything you could offer him.

However, you didn't have time to think for long when his lips captured yours. “Perfect,” He whispered as his eyes met yours. With burning cheeks, you averted your eyes. You could not hold his gaze, so much the intensity of his emotions caught your heart. His pupils were dilated, too wild, too fiery.

Your reaction left Severus laughing in a deep breath, "You really are more lovely than anything I could have imagined. My mind didn’t do you justice, love.” The gentle title he gave you made your heart beat faster, and as your hands were pressed against his chest you sensed the intense pounding of his as well. Both your hearts were beating in perfect tune.

Your hands began to undo the upper part of his shirt, releasing his neck from his stiff attire. You were still shaking, but proceeded nonetheless. There was only a layer left before you could see him as vulnerable. Severus waited, letting you take all the time you needed to finish. And the next thing you knew, you were pulling his shirt off his shoulders in the same way you'd done before.

You marvelled at the sight in front of you, your breath caught in your throat at the sheer beauty of Severus, his broad shoulders, his pale pearly skin, his strong arms were now at your total disposal. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate the one you've craved for, over the years.

"Perfect," You whispered with the same adoration he had for you, your fingers spread over his bare skin, temptingly. You were amazed at the softness of his body despite his strength, he, who held himself so rigidly in his daily life.

"Not as much as you, love," Severus left a warm kiss on your cleavage and his hands found the clasp of your bra as your hands found down his trousers. He removed the rest of his clothes at the same time as you.

Your skin was flushed, your breaths quick and uneven with anticipation. It's a good thing you had taken a few drops of Sweet Juice, otherwise you would have been a nervous wreck. This allowed you to handle the whole experience with confidence, coupled with your trust in Severus, it was pure bliss. And this must have been the case for Severus, because behind his expert strokes, he seemed a bit unsure with himself.

Your skin burned under his every touch, letting the fire spread over your skin down to your trembling, hot, insides. You were wet, swollen and soft. Severus sat on his knees, between your legs. The action left your body screaming with desperation, arching with anticipation for more, for him. Until now, you had not dared to lower your eyes to the level of his girth, but now it was time to get acquainted with what was about to enter you. Your breath was taken away at the sight of his long, veiny and erect manhood. That’s going inside of me?

"Love, I'll be gentle with you," Severus sensed your apprehension immediately, his hands gently resting on your knees to spread your legs leaving your body on high alert. He leaned forward, and placed a first kiss on your jaw, then another one on your breast, before his mouth wrapped around your already hard nipples to sweetly suck on it.

You didn't know if you'd taken a sufficiently large dose of the Potion for it to play on your sexual sensibilities, but you gasped. The feeling of his soft lips over your most forbidden body parts was exhilarating, your insides tensed. Your breasts were sensitive, responsive to every lick he gave. You were blown away by the way your body fit to him, catching his slightest touch. And as if he wasn't satisfied enough with himself, he moved his hand up from your hip, running teasingly along your skin to find your nipple, toying with it, pinching it. You couldn't help but moan, the sensation strains you again, leaving you longing for more. Your mind failed to follow, a wave of pleasure overtaking your whole body. Everything felt heightened, the sound of Severus' sharp breath, his tongue, his touch, his scent. Even the cotton of his sheets was seemingly intense.

Severus let out a long, deep growl from the back of his throat, and it made your whole body shudder. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ready to welcome him. He understood the sign, but continued to whisper his words of adoration, of love for you. How he had dreamed of this for years, that he didn't want to be apart from you anymore. His words that met the hollow of your ear, made you feel in a whirlwind of emotions, cherished and safe. You held on to him, your arms reaching around his shoulders.

He wanted to slowly devour you, until your rational thoughts were consumed by pleasure.

“Sev,” You breathed out a long, deep moan as his finger slid inside you. You were soaking wet at this point, drenched for him. His finger stroked your insides, his thumb brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves while his lips lingered on your throat, placing numerous small kisses.

“You are perfect,” He hummed out, right by your ear, “Perfect for me,” His nose dragged along your skin, in the hope of finding a new spot to kiss. He pressed another finger into you. Your legs tightened while your insides softened further. The stretching of his fingers was astounding. “You are the only one for me, I love you,” His words shattered everything, all the common sense you had in you. You wanted him to ruin you with his love. In a manner as violent as the emotions you had for each other, giving him everything, everything you ever had.

Removing his fingers, your eyes fell on his hand as it darted back and forth between his legs. You gasped as his delicate hand folded around the girth of his manhood. "Love, I'm here. It's going to be fine. Tell me if you don't feel well, I'll stop," he hummed softly as he laid back against you, pressing his body over yours. You nodded, and his lips found yours anew.

You felt his body lowering, and the next instant, he was sinking inside you. You hissed from the pleasure that suddenly caught hold of you. There was no discomfort, no pain, your body adapted, moulded itself to him. Your body was being taken by Severus, and everything at that moment, finally being one with him, felt right.

“Look at me,” He ordered you gently, holding himself up with one arm, ready to move. When your eyes met his, you were immersed in the depth of his love. You felt calm, in heaven, as you were shaped to accommodate him. He was the only one in this world, especially when he was looking at you with such worship.

“Good,” He smiled in satisfaction when you complied. Your eyes were hypnotised by all the love he bore you. He began to draw out, slowly. And as with your skin, your insides were just as sensitive causing electricity to run through your body, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze intensified as he began to move a bit faster, his movements always precise and well controlled, making it more intense.

Catching his breath, Severus kept praising you, “You, are, magnifi-cent,” He growled in a low tone, between thrust as you moaned out his name in a barely comprehensible manner. You find satisfaction in being filled and stroked, to be loved in such a carnal manner, it was intense, overwhelmingly intense. He was everywhere, he was everything to you.

“Sev-, Severus, I love you!” Your voice was slurred, your mind was unable to form a coherent thought, and yet you felt the urgent need to confess your love all over again. At your words, he quickened his pace and buried himself inside you, over and over.

You were consumed by him, by his love, by your love for him. You were his, and he was yours. Entirely, irrevocably, ineluctably. There was no other way. Severus was breaking everything you owned, and it felt right. With every push, with every pull, with his loving hands, with his loving words, with his hungry breath, he was breaking you.

“Please,” You pleaded for him, a moan escaping through your sore lips. His movements became powerful, irregular, hasty. As if to satisfy you as much as possible, even if he was exceeding all your wishes, pushing your mind to the edge of depravity with each of his thrusts.

“Love,” He growled in a feverish manner, as if he had been entrusted with the most valuable mission possible, to please you. He shoved in so deeply that your eyes rolled back and watered from the sensation of being nothing but completely filled. You back arched in pleasure, welcoming the emotion in its fullest.

“Awh-” You gasped as he started to pace harder, faster. Your legs were quivering from the pleasure, your lungs burned from your moans. He held onto you tighter, in order to be able to dig into you with more vigour. Over and over. It was relentless. His need for you became beyond desperate and engulfed him into the same depravity.

“I love-, you,” He moaned darkly under his gruff breath, “I can’t-” He growled this time, in a low rumbling. His movements became irregular, erratic.

You kissed his neck, inhaling his sweaty scent and the taste of his skin stirred in your mouth. “Me too-” You whispered, in a rather dark tone, meeting his love and distress at the same time.

“Y/n-!” He growled, and after a split second, you felt him growing within you, as his whole body tightened, hardened. His cock shifted faster inside you, pounding against your inner walls. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moans his release before his movements come to a slow halt.

Ripples of heat mingled with the throbbing of muscles and the warmth of the skin inside you. You held him close and marvelled at the sensation of your orgasm, of being filled and being enough for him to reach such a fierce release. To be enough for him to love you, to be enough for him to be so intimate with you.

You caught your breath, you were in a state of pure bliss. The last waves of pleasure take over your body, making the pleasure last longer. Severus withdrew from you, leaving you with a longing that he satisfied by taking you in his arms enjoying your post-orgasm state.

He placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead as he affectionately snuggled you pressing your body against his. After the intense encounter you'd just experienced he still longed to feel your burning skin against his. “I love you,” He said it again, as if he needed to prove it to you, but you knew by now that his affection towards you was wrenching.

"I love you more," you lay your head against his chest, letting the sound of his heart lull you to sleep as it only started to calm. His soft laughter vibrated through his rib cage,

"I doubt it, love, but this is not the time to talk about it. Tomorrow is another day, a day when I can finally enjoy you without any rules or barriers," Severus sounded enthusiastic, he pulled the blanket over both of your naked bodies and took his wand to stop all sources of fire from making any light.

His uncharacteristic lively tone brings a peaceful smile to your lips, you are now the one that makes Severus eager to wake up in the morning, to carry on with his life. He was your source of happiness, and you were his.

After years of trying to understand everything between the two of you, you were now in his arms.

Peaceful.

Loved.

#severus snape #snape content #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #severus snape x you #fanfic

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I��ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

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ruins-of-tragedy · 7 days ago

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Began season three with episode one to four of RWBY... This is already scaring me. And nothing really bad has happened yet.

Season 03, Episode 01: Round One

- Good Gods. The animation and art has improved SO MUCH!!! THE LANDSCAPE LOOKS AMAZING!!!

- Ruby is at her mum's memorial plaque. Their father is here too?!

- "Being on a team with Yang helps. I keep her in line." 😂

- This is a good and wholesome way of summarising the events from before. I will give them that.

- Ozpin sounds like Uncle Qrow. Huh.

- Ruby's dad and ZWEI!!! Father be looking like a surfer dude.

- Tournament is about to begin... Team RWBY is already fighting!

- Professor Peter and Professor, no, Doctor Oobleck are the commentators! Be still, my shipper heart. 😆

- Vytal Festival, Team RWBY's on a close call with the team they be fighting against.

- The arena looks so gooooooood! Fire and ice.

- Amity Colosseum. I am aware that couldn't have been a reference to The Owl House. But this information is not going to stop me!!! 😂

- The arena is airing live! Pun intended. 😆

- Character design for the people watching from anywhere not in the flying UFO like thing... SO NOICE!

- Team RWBY of Beacon vs Team ABRN of Haven...

- Haven's team lady has a hover board!!! And is using it to fight?! 👏🏻

- Blake and Hoverboard lady. And of course the hoverboard can turn into guns. ✨

- Am glad they show someone falling on their arse while doing something cool. It happens more often in real life. Hopefully hoverboard lady can live it down.

- Yang vs Close Combat Person. The tremors from their battle can be felt throughout!

- The team has one another's back! So CUTTTTTEEEE!!!

- Ruby and Weiss are now BFFs!!! 💖. No matter how much Weiss may deny it.

- New song alert! It's GOOOOOOOOD!

- Weiss' glyphs can be used as trampolines?!?!! AGHHHHHHHHH!!! 🤯

- The hoverboard can absorb elements. Team ABRN is also a good team. Of course.

- One member of theirs down! Blake has big brain. But we already knew that.

- Team RWBY worked together to get the rest and won!!! 🥳. They did it!!!!

- And now hunnngyyy. Scratch that. Blake's stomach has turned into a lion. 😆

- Yang knows a place. Weiss' father was hung up on. Emerald stole Ruby's wallet.

- "Gahh, girl pockets are the worst!" Much agreement.

- Emerald is "Em." They are doing a great job of infiltration apparently.

- Emerald has other teammates?! Ahhh. It's just Cinder and Neo. They too have advanced.

- Mercury smelling the shoe at the appropriate moment. Things just work out sometimes. 😆

- Doubles round, Mercury and Emerald. Weiss and Yang from Team RWBY. Ooooooh!

- Emerald is having trouble being someone she is not. Team RWBY is happy all the time. The heiress and the bimbo... The fuck. You fucker. Fight me!!!

- Food time. From Dust to Dawn. And now a noodle shop owner. It's that guy!!!

- No, listen. Yang has a regular. And Blake nods at the guy and he brings her a bowl of fish that results in stars for her eyes, plus some very loud heartbeats over it... This means they have been here before. Considering how they are part of the same team, it's not too much of a leap to assume they would come... together. AGHHHHHHHHH!!!! 💖🫶🏻❤️‍🔥. Don't mind me. About to dive into AO3 for this now...

- It's Weiss' treat! Declined... Blake is planning to run away with her food. 😂. Such mood!

- Pyrrha, Blake's savoir!!! Team RWBY is fed and happy, while Weiss may be entering a food coma. Team JNPR has many varying reactions. Jaune might burst from the overload. Pyrrha is polite and full. Nora is happy and healthy, while Ren is asking if they should have eaten before a fight. No more Monty Oum's voice. 🥺

- Nora advises Jaune to aim his barf at the enemy. Ren thinks it's disgusting but if it does happen... I get why they are friends now. 😆✨

- Team JNPR is questioning their chances. Nora is providing valid defence about their shot at winning. Being Jaune is it's own quality. 😂. And now Nora is playing an even better devil's advocate... Ren and her are orphans? ...Whoa. Nora is hyperventilating so bad, she has literally lost all colour. Oooooof. Been there.

- Pyrrha has a good point; now they can fight with real guidelines and not murderers. 😂

- Ruby wants more when they graduate. Weiss is depressed about not being able to pay. Team JNPR receives an official invitation for their battle, because they late. 😆

- Nora is emotionally done. Jaune is physically done. Good Gods. What have they done to Team JNPR?!!?!

- Team RWBY has entered the arena. So have Emerald and Mercury. Yang saw them.

- Pan to the bad guy team. And they already know who will win?! Of course.

- Oh my Gods. Cinder's popcorn kernel popping in her fingers... Hot. Pun intended. 😆

- Team JNPR of Beacon vs Team BRNZ of Shade... There's a school called Shade?!? What do they teach them there? How to throw their school? 😂

- Ooooooh! The arena randomises it's elemental attributes and division after each match. For some reason this reminds me of Pokemon.

- Forest and mountains for this battle.

- Holy hell. I cannot stop focusing on the great work they have done. The end credits are beginning and holy shirtballs. It looks so GOOOOOOOOD!

- OH MY GODS. This song goes hard... "Maybe it's the pool of blood the innocents will lay in, when in the end you have failed to save them..." 😳

- Is Ren voiced by a relative of Monty Oum from now? Neath Oum is written among the names of voice actors for Team JNPR. That's amazing. 🫶🏻✨

- Beacon's going to get attacked?!?! There's monsters taking the school by storm...

- "Mirrors will shatter. Crushed by the weight of the world." As Ozpin and Glynda stare at said mirrors. Ironwood and his army is the world. OH MY GODS.

- Fucking Adam.

- New characters! Weiss is looking up to a lady. Is this Winter? She is her older sister, if I remember right.

- Yang and Ruby are with a man. This must be Qrow.

- Huh. Winter and Qrow are not on good terms. OOOOOOoooooooof.

- Qrow has red eyes?! And is that a picture of his team floating by? It has him, Ruby and Yang's father, Yang's mother and another lady with a white cape. Almost hidden. Huh. That must be Ruby's mum? She wore a similar thing back in season one's openings.

- Team RWBY and JNPR are holding hands while falling together. And then the latter's members stumble away in the air, leaving only RWBY. Oh no.

Season 03, Episode 02: New Challengers

- "Their dying eyes... are wide and white like snow."

- This season is going to kill me. ✨

- Team JNPR's match has begun. One of their opponents' team members ran in the opposite direction of them. Hmmm.

- Ooooooh! Sniper person. Jaune has good instincts. Retreat!

- Ren down. Nora is one of Port's favourite students. She can use charge to power her semblance. Truly Thor.

- LoLLL! The guy electrocuting her has been informed by Doctor Oobleck that Nora will now channel it against him to send him flying.

- Jaune truly is a good leader.

- This opponent team member is sending discs flying at Pyrrha and Jaune. That's a good tactic. Reminds me of a God I am aware of.

- Weiss is noting how far Jaune has come. Ugh. Being platonic friends suits them well!

- I agree with Yang though. He has got nothing on Pyrrha. Who is now taking on two guys at once. ❤️‍🔥

- Ren doing the Naruto ninja run is a prophecy fulfilled. ✨😆

- Oh my Gods. Team JNPR working together so Nora remains unarmed and can use the thunder on top of a mountain... 🫶🏻🥹🤌🏻. Such coordination and support.

- Jaune wants to use team attacks. His team don't know what Flower Power is.

- Ren being the flower and Nora being the power. Okie, that's cooool, not going to lie.

- "So, what are we?" / "Sorry! I just want to make sure it's clearly defined." -Pyrrha Nikos. HOLY SHIRTBALLS. 👏🏻😂❤️‍🔥💯

- Jaune and Pyrrha are Arkos. Awwwwwwwww! Now am just imagining Jaune scribbling their names together to come up with it. CUTTTE! 💖

- Pyrrha may not like the shipname, but I am sure she likes the person who created it.

- The opponent team has gotten up and seems flabbergasted over how JNPR is bantering now. Good Gods... These idiots. I love them so much. 🫶🏻

- "Trying to have a team meeting. Thank you very little!" 😂

- Jaune wants to see it through. He has gotten them crazy eyes. Awwwwww!!! Doesn't want their conversation interrupted. 💖

- One hit of Nora's hammer is all they need. Team JNPR has won! "By knockout. Literally." 😆

- Now we see a Crow Bar. Where lies Qrow. Drinking and perhaps in his natural habitat?

- He don't care for tournaments?

- Team NDGO vs SSSN. The latter is Sun's team. And yup. They are the boyband version of RWBY, it seems. One girl literally has a picture of just Sun's abs and has drawn a heart over them.

- Weiss is rooting for Neptune from the stands. Neptune tries to turn on the charm for the team in front, Weiss has changed sides. YASSSSSSSS!!! 😂

- Oh my Gods. Neptune really thinks he is ALL THAT. I want his unwarranted confidence.

- Desert and the ocean arena. Neptune's afraid of water. Ooooooof.

- He ran off to the barren lands. His teammates are confused. LoLLL.

- Listen. I am rooting for NDGO. I can't not. They look like Disney Princesses. And dress so COOOL. Go ladies!!!

- One SSSN member down. YAYYYYYY!

- Ugh. Three on three now.

- This girl with the hair I want is dressed like a pirate and has a crossbow that can turn into a sword. ✨🤯

- Scarlet got hit in the nuts by some projectile of coconuts. I cannot make this up. 😂.

- Sun, in reaction, said, "Ah, nuts." 👏🏻

- Neptune is extremely afraid. Trying to help from afar his only teammate left. But now needs to get to Sun.

- Salt water is a good conductor of electricity. Bromance be real. Team SSSN wins.

- I am a little sad. But at least this was entertaining.

- Doctor Oobleck called that victory shocking. 😂

- Peter dubs it well earned. Of course. I feel like punching a man-child right now.

- "What you said is stupid." Port should declare that to himself. Not someone like Oobleck. Forker.

- Qrow called this a mess. Inclined to agree.

- He be also here for a fight. Which involves a flying machine.

- The bartender's "Aww. Gee, darn it," got me. Not going to lie. Such serious music in the background and he says that. 😆

- "...the dorks made it to the next round." -Yang

- They are still dancing in the arena. Really a boy band.

- Sun shot some finger guns at Blake. She blushed.

- Yang wants to go congratulate them. Such a good wingwoman. Sun should return the favour. 😉

- Big ship Qrow needs to fight has Weiss' sister? Weiss looks so happy about the particular machine being there though! Love that!

- Team JNPR'S opponent team members' character art. Looks so GOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD!!!

- The arena as well. NOICE sketches! Music makes me want to move along and rock!

Season 03, Episode 03: It's Brawl in the Family

- "And now they know the cost of trusting you's obliteration."

- Weiss and Ruby are running. For a change, Weiss is the one with more energy. CUTTTTTEEEE!

- "Winter is coming." -Jon Snow, and probably Weiss at one point in her life. 😂

- Did she curtsy? Oh my Gods. Ruby is in her natural state, Weiss just punched her dolt.

- And I thought Weiss was tightly wound... Team RWBY's victory could have been better according to Winter, who be a regal queen it looks like, and Weiss wants to impress her so bad. 🥺

- "Silence, you boob." -Winter, after smacking Weiss on the head.

- Awwwwwwwww! Winter does care. Me like her. Weiss considers Ruby her friend. Ruby is grinning about Weiss being called boob.

- Winter Schnee doesn't seem impressed.

- "I wish to thank you for taking an interest in my sister." -Winter. Why does this sound like Ruby asked if she could court Weiss?!?!?

- I have a feeling Team RWBY's living "quarters" might not be up to Winter's "personal standards."

- "...the bunk beds only look unstable." -Weiss. 😂. I actually needed the clarification too, not going to lie. So thanks for that!

- Oh my Gods. Blake and Yang's bunk beds are held up by books. What if Blake wants to read one of them that's being used?!?!?!!! Holy hell. I hope they have eBook facilities in their scrolls.

- Ruby is trying her best to be fancy. Awwwwwww!

- Is Qrow following Winter and Weiss? The camera movements look drunk... Yup.

- Commendable though. He was able to take out the robos even while inebriated.

- Weiss has become so used to people calling her the Ice Queen, she assumes Qrow is referring to her... 😆

- From Qrow to crow. The camera movements in here are cracking me up. 😂

- Winter and this guy definitely have old baggage to take care of... Good Gods. They are about to fight in the streets. I can already see the PR team rampaging around to keep this one in.

- WHOA. Winter be fast. Qrow is good. Did the entire Schnee family practice gymnastics as kids?

- They are equally matched. Ruby is here. Weiss is telling her about the crazy guy, and the former screams it's her uncle... The fruity version of Romeo and Juliet anyone? ✨

- "KICK HER BUTT, UNCLE QROW!" / "Teach him respect, Winter!" Just fall in love already WhiteRose.

- Mercury has now entered the chat. And left as soon as he got there.

- Winter landed a hit! Qrow smiled like crazy over it. (That rhymes!) They are giving the world a great show. I am enjoying this more than you can know. 😁

- Winter's sword can turn into two different ones?!?!?? ✨🤯🤌🏻

- Aura doves? NOICE!

- Holy hell. Qrow really be taunting Winter by not even bothering to use his weapon for her upcoming special move...

- Ohhhhhh. I guess he saw Ironwood coming. Winter has excellent control though. She stopped mere inches away from Qrow's throat. This man also seems to have nerves of steel. 👏🏻

- Ironwood has Penny behind him?!

- Qrow really got Ironwood beginning to fumble and make excuses. Huh.

- Enter Ozpin and Glynda.

- Awwwwwwwww! Penny waved at Ruby and Weiss. CUTTTTTEEEE!!!

- Ruby getting to be a kid with Qrow. AGHHHHHH!!!! Adorable.

- I wonder how many times Glynda has had to repair the entire city now... She is the antidote to Theseus' ship. 😂

- Ozpin wants to talk to Qrow. Ruby makes better sense to Weiss now. Am glad they are not letting it all come between them!

- Grown up talking. At least Qrow is fun. Even Ozpin can't with him. I love this guy.

- Qrow don't want Winter around. She has now left. Ironwood is her boss?!?! Fucking hell.

- I like Winter.

- Who is Autumn?

- Oh my Gods. The headmasters of the main four lands, and this dumb General. They are fighting something bigger. Hmmm. Makes sense.

- Ironwood is still young. And a little too dense somehow. His heart may be in the right place, but... Showmanship ain't going to win wars, according to Qrow. I am bound to agree. Time and place.

- Oh no. The queen chess symbol on Ironwood's scroll. Things are about to get much worse.

- They need to find a guardian. It's Ruby, isn't it.

- Cinder has been informed of Qrow.

- "...smelled like my dad after a long day." -Mercury. Good Gods.

- Cinder shouldn't look so good. Penny is in the doubles round!

- Oh no. Cinder is now controlling who will fight who. Yup. This will be so bad.

- Emerald and Mercury vs two members of Team CFVY. The handbag lady from it is called Coco... With a name like that, being a part of her team was destiny. 😆

- Coco Adel and Yatsuhashi Daichi. Hmmm. Need to figure out their allusions. I only know one Diachi. He was part of Haikyuu!!!

- Cinder smirked. I died.

- GOOOOOOOD GOLLLY. Winter's sketch looks so freaking fantastic. So does the ship. The music is making me want to chase down my fate. Oooooh! Qrow sketches are here as well. And Ironwood sketch. Now Cinder... This seems like a personal attack to me. Oh my Gods.

Season 03, Episode 04: Lessons Learned

- "The pillars collapse in shame..."

- Emerald and Mercury of Haven vs Coco and Yatsuhashi of Beacon.

- OOOOOOooooooooh! Four arenas now.

- Plateau, city, river body with rocks and forest. Much banter.

- Coco is also a trendsetter. I can see it.

- The voice acting for Scarlet sounds like someone is trying to be extremely pretentious. Me likey! What accent is that?

- Mercury can shoot light blasts with his feet?! Cooool.

- This fight is getting so GOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD!!! But going bad for Coco and Daichi.

- Coco's glasses broke. She don't like Emerald anymore. 😆

- Emerald lady is not only Aladdin, but also Abu. 👏🏻

- Her semblance allows her to shapeshift?! Oh no.

- Truly an upset. Team CFVY's members lost.

- Winter is already leaving? She has a way of making Weiss feeling bad about herself, but then good by actually caring and meaning it. Doesn't mince words. I like her. She good. And extremely beautiful.

- So Weiss came to Beacon against their father's will. Hmmm.

- The Schnee family is hereditary? And the rest don't share similar talents? Ooooooh!

- Time dilation and summoning. I still can't make sense of the former. Winter is a good sister though.

- Good GODS. Did this woman just make a light Grimm??!?!!?!! I am in love, mayhaps.

- Not only is Winter good at fighting, she looks amazing in general, means what she says, genuinely cares not only about her sibling's development but also her, gives great advise without being over bearing and is trying her best. 💖

- From Weiss and Winter to Ruby and Qrow. The latter pair is playing video games. The juxtaposition of it all... 👏🏻😆

- Ruby lost. Yang's turn now!

- Oh my GODS. The art they are using for Qrow's story about his last mission... 🤯🤌🏻

- Qrow defeated Yang while also telling a funny anecdote. LoLLL! Nice. Yang isn't impressed though.

- "But they don't give out medals for almost." -Qrow.

- "They do and they are called silver!" -Ruby. Her having silver eyes... Am probably reading too much into it. Point though! Especially since it's honouring an attempt. Those are important too.

- Qrow raises some good issues as well. No crime at all... Alarm bells a ringing.

- Team STRQ. Yang was looking at her mother until her uncle covered her head with his thumb. Intentional?

- Wait. Did Yang know about her mum being a part of her dad and uncle's team?

- It's pretty sweet though, that he has the picture on him and still carries it around.

- Warning about the real world vs school. Much ominous caution, with encouragement and hope. Keep it real, essentially.

- Schnee training session! ...Winter really knows what buttons to push for Weiss.

- I love Winter. She is good.

- "It was really good to see you Winter." -Weiss Schnee. I agree. I agree. I agree.

- This song... I like the almost soothing quality of it. Awwwwwwwww! Winter looked back for a second at Weiss as they parted.

- OOOOOOooooooooh! Weiss is getting there. A small sword projection! CUTTTTTE!

- IT'S MIRROR MIRROR'S ACOUSTIC VERSION!!! 🫶🏻

- So basically this was the learning from our elders, who don't get along but are actually good at their jobs and in general too, episode. Team RWBY has the best of both worlds, in a way. YAYYYYYY!

- End credits song is making me want to headbang along! Ooooooh! The arena sketch. Nice.

- Mercury's character design! He could have had different hair? Emerald's turn! Somehow they look better in the initial sketches. Or maybe I just have a weakness for this particular style. Light Grimm.

(You spoil me, I spoil your day with unnecessary emotional unloading. Au Revoir!)

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cosmicdiaries · 17 days ago

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Steps I am taking toward being more educated

While we all know education is necessary and important, I want to point out in my country, high education nowadays is one of the only ways to get a good life, aside from having a rich family (or at least it's what I was taught by my parents and seen around me till now). My family also takes great pride in being highly educated (not just academically, but any skill you can learn.) So here are the skills I'm improving, currently learning or plan on learning.

-I'm reading any books my professors or the people I look up to in my major recommend me to better understand my major and it's principals.

-One of my passions are calligraphy so I took classes for calligraphy in my language(English is not my first language) and learnt it in 3 month and now I use it in everyday life which has made me feel much better and more confident.

-I have recently started learning French and sometimes ask for help from my younger sister since she's learning it in school.

-I'm learning as much architecture software as I can so I will have a strong portfolio.

-I used to play violin, but left it 2 years ago for my university entrance exam. now I'm taking classes once again to start music all over again.

-I'm planning on learning chess, and I'll started watching tutorials or anything I can find on internet once I have time.(since I really can't afford another class, both in time and finances, since I don't want to put pressure on my father)

-I love reading book so I'm once again starting to really focus and read the books I purchased but haven't read yet)

-It's an understatement if I say I'm in love with any form of arts. I love going to galleries or museums so I read about arts and artists whenever I can so I can connect with them better.

I'm a type of person that whenever I learn a new skill or anything my confidence is boosted and I feel really good. You should do anything that makes you happy and confident. for me it's learning and in this journey of learning I'm not afraid to admit to my mistakes or ask for help, even if it's from my 11 years old sister. I yearn to learn new things from people that know something more than me. You angels, should be proud to do whatever that makes you happy and not shy away from it.💕

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hummingbird-games · 1 year ago

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2023 In Review (Indie Games)

Last year's! | 2021

I apologize in advance for how long this might be. As a reminder, I don't bash games here so even if I hated something with every fiber of my being...I ain't sharing. As a second reminder, my more in depth reviews and live blogging has moved to Gem's Game Gems so I don't clutter the HBG's main blog. Okay. ON WITH THE REVIEW!!

DEMOS

Diffraction (Demo)- A rainy day otome indeed. I love the quiet gentleness of this game, the two romance options, and the fact that our MC is a photographer and struggling with her art and stack of life "failures" (because...SAME!!)

Alaris - I was asleep and now I am awake: I came late for the advertised fae and dragon lore, stayed seated and waiting for Fenir zjgjdf. Oh, and I guess the mystery surrounding our MC's abilities LOL.

The Summit Library - When I say I was maaaaaad when I realized I blew through chapter 1 and would have to go back to waiting for more content??? LOL, I was very miffed. Anyhoo, check out this title for the gorgeous art, another intriguing mystery (like what is *up* with the magic in the poor library?? who or what is to blame?? 👀) and of course the lovely characters we've been introduced to thus far.

Of Sense and Soul - I'm a regency romance girl. Like after you strip away the other stuff, I am but a poor woman with simple needs: a good ass love story 🤧💛 It's about the yearning and the slow burn and the will they/won't they/PLEASEEE they...I've never been so charmed by a demo, and the full game is going to be amazing I just know it!

Made Marion - This project is a game I've been keeping tabs on for a hot minute but hadn't taken the time to sit and properly enjoy the demo. I'M SO GLAD I DID!!! It's in early access now, so I'm hoping eventually I'll be able to carve out some time to play, but guysss Velvet Cupcake is doing the Thing?!? No idea which love interest I'll go for first, but I had a fun time meeting the Nottingham peeps in the demo.

Herotome (Super Demo) - Oh gosh. Oh gosh oh gosh oh my GOSHHH. Where do I even began?? (Really the question is where the hell do I end because this is one of those projects I talk about a lot/think about a lot and surprisingly haven't run out of things to say zkjfksjd). Another game I've been following for a while, it 100% lives up to the superhero genre in its aesthetic, the characters you interact with, the music and sound design, and of course the slowly unfurling story. Jade and Mia had come out as my top faves, Warden is still there, like hovering in the backgroud, shhhh but I have a special place in my heart for Griffin too (that conversation we have with her?? I have so many screenshots just so I can go back and reread and sear the words in my brain. Like a weirdo. Yup.)

Celestial Crowns - Stats building, celestial royalty, dating sim where you fuck around and find out your choices directly affect your MC's personality?? I'm sat. I supported the Kickstarter and now I try to practice patience for the full game's release siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighh.

OTOME/JOSEI JAM

Please note this is a SUPER abridged list for my sanity and I fell a little more in love with these 2 jams with each entry I played...

Intertwine - As embarrassing as it sounds, I've never given much thought to the "red string" thing, and I consume more than enough romance media LOL!! But Van is suuuuuch a beautiful man, the UI for this game is so interactive and lovely, the music is ALSO lovely, just lovely-love all the way around teehee. (Also this game encourages replayabillity so like, do with that info what you will.)

Spring Boy [Demo] - I believe this game is going through a complete rehaul, so my thoughts and feelings refer to the original jam entry I played. The art is bright and cute and it's a super super short demo, but I was intrigued by the other student we meet on our mission to plead with our professor about our bombed exam lol!

Assignment Due: Project Blue - IRl group projects??? Suck absolute ass. Group projects with a guy name Asher?? Suddenly it's my new favorite thing in the world 😁

Cryptid Campaign Manager [DEMO] - Remember the last time I looked over a cryptid dating sim??? Remember how I was SUCH a fool?? Good thing I didn't make that mistake again!! The prologue is such a tease but you get an idea of what the full game is gonna be like, and I'm excited to see where my career involving love (and politics) goes!

Heart Cage [Demo] - Yoooooo I stay my ass far far far away from yanderes (could never get into the trope or the character type). WELP. Guess I just needed to keep searching because I really downloaded this off a whim--well, the whim being one of my fellow dev peers playing and rating-- and proceeded to get sucked in 🤧I thought being a detective would be the highlight, but I guuuueeesssss I was more into the romance options than I thought. Oops.

Evernight - I tried to explain what this game meant to me on the side blog, but words failed me. I still don't know what to say other than I loved it?? Which is like ummm I say I love everything, and yeah I'm easy to please BUT Y'ALLLLLL if you play no other game, play this one. Please. Date a werewolf. Or a vampire. Or a fae. Plz. Also figuring out the mystery of your MC's abilities and past is just delightful, ugh.

Bright Oak (demo) - Anotha one I wrote about on the side blog!!! Play this one!!! The writing is lush and atmospheric and the characters are all delightful and it's another game with a mystery to untangle!

The Faithfulness of the Universe- This one gets the award for most unique all around entry that I played. Theeeeee prettiest pixel art to bless my eyeballs, and this tasty mystery concerning Fate and witch Faustina's future (or lack thereof 👀) and what it all means. As a player I very much want to know what it all means!

A Cup For All Seasons - Another game that needs its flowers y'all. It's short but super healing and super cozy and the voice acting and music really tie the gaming experience together???

The Working Woman's Guide to Burning Bridges - DEMO - It's the way I played the demo twice and I've been thinking about it ever since 😭😭😭🙃 obviously life happens and things come up, plus this was a demo. But. BUT!!! I am on my hands and knees prayinnggg the team gets together again to finish the game. I love playing as a stressed, lowkey bitter hot mess who doesn't have her life together 😂somehow the fictional version is soooo much more entertaining!!!

Keyframes (Spring Demo) - After the game College Craze, this is legit THE college, slice of life visual novel of my dreams. I cannot wait for the updated demo next year, and the Kickstarter whenever that rolls around. And now that the developer is on Tumblr, I've definitely been stalking the account and reading each new post like it's my day/night/weekend job 🤧

Hello Counsel 💋 - Okay I take it back, Evernight is like a 20/10 but Hello Counsel is like an 100/10 👁️👄👁️ This game is necessary for my mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health, alright? The banter ✅ the character designs ✅ the music ✅ the sizzling chemistry between Poise and Salem ✅ I wish this game had more buzz because IT'S SO GOOD!!! (also the dev, Miseri, is who I wanna be when I grow up. I've made it through almost their whole backlog of games and there are no misses and EVERY game is different from the rest and it makes it hard for a toodler dev--ME--to cope LOL)

Candied Hearts - Isekaied into a candy themed game?? Sign me TF UP!!! (Peppermint I love you dearly, you must understand.)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

The Knight's Dilemma - I don't even know how I originally stumbled upon this??? I just know it had been in my backlog for a hot minute and I was intrigued enough to save it way back when. Y'ALL WHY DIDN'T I PLAY SOONER SKJFHFJFH! There's a couple different endings, I loved the voice direction, AND it's such a simple concept of a game that was just executed beautifully.

Trouble Comes Twice - If I had to make a top 5 list of romance VNs, guess who makes the list?? Guess. Guess guess guess. Have you guessed yet??? LOL! I have been in love with TCT since it's development days and with each passing month, waiting in anticipation, playing the Pateron beta builds, screaming on the main blog about every single thought I had about Jace and Hazel (shoutout to Jace for helping me figure out *me*) Lol if you're curious about said thoughts, those posts are on this blog and not the side blog.

Aelfric the Wondrous - 10/10 would love to forget my first play through JUST to have that experience fresh again 😭😭💛Cute and funny and a wonderful parody type game all around.

A Summer's End - Hong Kong 1986 - Goodness, there's no excuse for why this took me years to finish but anyhoo, I finished, I loved it, I recommend it! It's romantic and achingly authentic and the art is soooo gorgeous I literally can't stand it 😭

The Things You Do For Love - Unhinged yandere manages to entertain and garner sympathy and laughter from Gemini. And that poly ending is chef's kiss too????

Band Camp Boyfriend - There are a handful of games I found and loved before I began my game development journey, and this is one of them. BCB is so dear to me, because of the story and characters but also because of the Dynamic Duo creators and their team behind the scenes. I was never a band kid I was a chorus kid but just as the band geeks loved this game to pieces, us normal folks do too!! Even the boys who I didn't like I STILL managed to find joy in playing their routes (still have a few more to finish at the time of this posting lol, GOTTA GET THE FINAL ROUTE YO). Anyway, this game more than delivered for me and I hope more people keep discovering it!!

Belle Automata: Chronicle I [RELEASED] - While only Chronicle 1 is out at the time of this posting, I already know that the 2nd and 3rd parts are going to be just as amazing???? I wrote about this one on the side blog, so here's my copypaste that still rings true:

I love TNP (The Nightmare Prince) but Victor’s route hit the sweet spot for me. Maybe it’s the slow(er) burn nature of this route, maybe it’s the reserved nature of Victor and watching him slowly start to care (AND NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THOSE FEELINGS TEEHEE) for me.

A Date with Death - I wrote about this on the side blog--again--. The demo. And then right after finishing a route. And then again where I was fully awake and still managed to sound deranged. No copypaste for that, I shall be nice. But yeah!! Another game where I was screaming at the sky about how much I love it and how I'll never know peace as long as I live.

Our Life: Baxter DLC - I need to offer an official apology to both Cove and Derek because falling head over heels, down the stairs, crashing into the parking lot, falling again but down a manhole for Baxter's infuriating ass was NOT on my 2023 bingo board??? HELLO???? I bought his DLC just to complete my OL collection. Was not expecting to love it this much. Was not expecting to be called to write fanfic and abandon all responsibilities to do this. WHILE DOWN WITH COVID TOO. Allow me to play the song of my people. *Send in the Clowns plays*

Our Cinderella - (this is so funny I'm taking about a side game before the main game LOLOLOLOL) Guys. Guysss. You guyyyysss 🥹if you're looking for a cozy, hilarious, equally oddly and wonderfully sweet short game, this is the one!! You may have your personal favorite Iggy ship (like me) but all the pairings are so amazing and just make sense lol!

Wylde Flowers - This is the only non visual novel game on here but it gets the spotlight because I did NOT spend 90+ hours on this game to gatekeep this beauty. No. It the coziest, the funniest, the funnest, the most addictive Switch game (after Teacup) I've ever played.

Fully Released (& still on 1st playthrough)

Garden of Seif: Chronicles of an Assassin - Life kicked my butt and then sat on me SO while I finally got my grubby hands on the full copy, I still have only played the entirety of the demo. But. We will return to this in 2024 and hopefully I'll have a full review for the next wrap up!

Our Wonderland - I looked back at the side blog and I can't believe it was only THIS year that I started OW??? Because I'd known of the game and the dev for longer than that??? So basically what I'm saying is that I was chicken shit for longer than I've been in love with this world that Developer Carrot has created kjzhhshggj. But OMG to get me, who is scared oh so easily to get hella invested in this clearly labeled horror game??????????????? And even with shit gets super absurd and hella disturbing, I cannot stop playing. At the time of this post, I'm only in Act 4, hence the category above, but it's only because I play each act in a sitting and lose track of space and time and myself. That's a compliment btw.

...

Okie!! That's 2023 in a nutshell! I played a looooot of really good games this year and while I would have liked to talk about them all, I think this list provides a nice overview.

Let me know if we share any favorites!

- Gemini 💛

#gaming year in review #gamedev rambles #yeah no I cannot keep creating more work for me #2024 I am GOING to make a shorter list 😭🤧#hmmmm fun drinking game:#take a shot every time the word 'mystery' is used ☠️

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ashers1997 · 26 days ago

Text

Obsession

For those of us who constantly wonder what it would be like to date Spencer Reid and be his lover, enjoy ~

Also, yes, this will be a stereotypical Spencer Reid story where he is in a teaching position because it matches my dark academia vibe.

Ivy's POV

As I walk through the hallways, brushing up against fellow classmates and total strangers, I keep my head down and my earbuds in. I had "Enter Sandman" blasting through my earbuds, lulling me into a weird sense of calm and reprieve as the noise of the school faded into the background. I finally found my way to my classroom. Honestly, if anyone asked me to describe how to get there, I would not be able to tell them because it felt like I had just walked down endless hallways, walked up so many flights of stairs, and did about fifteen somersaults to get to my classroom.

MIT was not a small school. In fact, it occupied a 168-acre tract in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and getting from one classroom to another was a workout in and of itself. However, despite the campus's size, I am so happy to be here. Applying and then waiting to be accepted was by far one of the most nerve-wracking events of my life, but I persisted. My entire family was surprised when I told them I wanted to pursue a master's in engineering, given that I always seemed to show more of a liking towards literature and philosophy. But that love never disappeared, so I still participate in outside school activities focusing on my passion for literature, poetry, philosophy, and the arts. Overall, I was pleased with how far I had come. I was now in my senior year and tackling some of the most challenging classes I ever had. Countless nights were spent awake in the labs solving equations that I didn't even know if they had answers, and my caffeine addiction had skyrocketed to the point where I was simply waiting to go to the hospital. As for the nicotine? We won't get into that for now. Let's just say I don't smoke enough to reek of cigarettes, but if you saw me on a weekend, no, you didn't.

I finally walk into my classroom and sit down in the front row. No, I'm not one of those people who sit in the front row for attention. I just genuinely like being closer to the board for the sake of my eyesight, which at this rate was rapidly deteriorating with all the blue light I was constantly looking at. Furthermore, blasting music in my ears daily has clearly done a number on my hearing abilities. Regardless, I sit in the front of the classroom. As I took out my laptop, which at this rate was about to explode or light on fire due to how old it was and due to how many notes were on it, I saw someone who could not have been older than 27 walk in. I almost dropped my laptop on my foot because I was distracted.

The individual who just walked in was probably about 6'1" with lean muscle, fluffy brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a sweet smile. As I look at them, waiting for them to sit in one of the seats, silently praying he would sit next to me, I watch him set his stuff down…at the podium…where the Professor would teach. I feel my body physically stop itself from dropping my jaw to the floor. This person who just walked in and could not be that much older than me is the Professor or, at the very least, the teacher assistant [TA]. I could feel my brain accept defeat as I quickly realized I had no shot with this guy. Not only was he in a position of authority, but realistically, I didn't even think he would dare to glance my way.

I see more of my classmates file in, all of which look as confused as I am before sitting down and taking out their laptops. As voices turn into hushed whispers, I see the Professor counting the desks and nodding, seemingly satisfied that everyone is here.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, and I will be the main teacher of this class. I am not your Professor. I am only a TA. However, due to some health issues, your Professor will be absent. I will be here teaching about 90% of the time and covering office hours."

As embarrassing as this sounds, I feel my brain give a sigh of relief. He was only the TA, meaning we still had a chance. Am I embarrassed? Yes. Am I surprised with myself? No.

"If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to let me know, and I will do my best to help in any way that I can. For today's class, we're mainly going to go over the syllabus." I saw Dr. Reid pull out a stack of paper so thick that you would need a clever to cut through it. He walked around the room, passing it out, and I heard him ask for everyone's names. As he started to walk towards me, I felt my body begin to freeze up, and I felt myself have to force my eyes to make contact with his.

"Here is your syllabus."

"Thank you, Dr. Reid."

"And your name?" My brain is blank. I find myself being too distracted by how attractive Dr. Reid is up close, how delicious his cologne smells, and how smooth his voice is.

"My name is Ivy." I hear myself say in the quietest voice on planet fucking earth.

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?" I want the floor to swallow me whole.

"My name is Ivy," I say again, this time a little bit louder.

"Ivy, what a unique and pretty name. It matches your eyes well." I felt myself smile at his nice comment. I also found it semi-ironic, given the backstory of my name.

When my mom tried to think of baby names, my maternal grandmother suggested Ivy. When my mom asked why Ivy, since most of the family had rather generic names, my grandmother said, "I don't know…I just feel like one day her name is going to match another aspect of hers…" It turns out my grandmother was right because I ended up having green eyes. When my mom noticed the color change, she excitedly told my grandmother that she was right. Another part of me matched my name.

I snap back to reality as my brain suddenly registers that Dr. Reid is talking. I look down and realize that he is just walking us through the syllabus, including the week-by-week instructions, assignments, and class lectures. I quickly realized why he decided to dedicate an entire day to going over the syllabus because it took the whole class time to go over the packet. As I pack up, I feel my eyes glancing at Dr. Reid every few seconds, part of me wanting him to notice and part of me thinking, "I hope he doesn't see me glancing at him because then I would have to explain why and no equation in the world would make my explanation make sense."

Unfortunately, Dr. Reid looks up and sees one of my glances.

"Did you need something, Ivy?"

"No, sorry, I was just looking around." I cringe at my own sad excuse and start packing up faster.

"I see…well, I look forward to seeing you in class, Ivy." The way he says my name sounds like he's tasting it on his tongue every time, almost like he's feeling how the name sounds coming out of his mouth. It's a little odd but somewhat endearing in a way.

"I look forward to seeing- to being in class." It is all I can muster out, and I practically sprint out of the classrooms. I almost flat-out admitted I was looking forward to seeing him in class. I can't make my little crush THAT obvious right at the beginning of the semester. I return to my dorm at the speed of light which if you asked me to calculate, I would be able to because I swear in every class I've taken at MIT, they all ask me to calculate the speed of light at least once using a different method. Now, once again, if you ask me how I got back to my dorm, I could not tell you. I walked down halls of infinity, walked down about a million flights of stairs, and did fifteen somersaults and I was there.

I unlock my door to my dorm and head inside, immediately throwing my books down on the kitchen table and walking over to my coffee machine to pour myself a cup. I love my dorm. I managed to get a lovely private single which came with a bathroom, shower, bedroom, kitchen, and little sitting area. I spend most of my time in my dorm as it's my safe space, but I admit that the separation between school and home didn't exist. I was always doing homework in my dorm, specifically in my kitchen. I usually had a pot of coffee ready and snacks aplenty. Now, there are nights when I go to the labs to work, but given that I dislike walking back in the dark, I typically avoid that and simply stay inside.

Luckily, today was pretty relaxing, with most of my homework either being minimal or non-existent. I managed to finish in an hour and a half and then start working on my dinner. I make a frozen meal with ready-made grilled chicken and take it out to my very tiny porch along with the remains of my coffee, water, and a cigarette. I told you I don't reek of cigarettes usually, but given it was the first day back and it was a Friday, I decided to give myself some grace.

As I start eating, I light up my cigarette and take puffs occasionally. As I'm outside smoking, though, I see someone very familiar walk by…my fucking Professor Dr. Reid. I try and look down to distract myself and hopefully avoid looking too familiar. I felt like I might be able to do the latter, given that I had changed into a sweatsuit, but alas, he saw me.

"Ivy?"

"Dr. Reid?"

"Hey, fancy running into you. You got one of the nice dorms, huh?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I did. I guess having the occasional health flare-up helps." I hear him laugh and then catch my taking a puff.

"You know, no offense, but I don't know if cigarettes help with health flare-ups." I flick the ash off with a smile.

"You're right, but I'm trying to get a master's in engineering. Are you surprised I'm smoking? I could be doing worse."

"That's true I've seen students do coke in the bathrooms before lecture."

"In the bathroom?" I ask with a look of disgust.

"Like you said, these students were getting masters and PhDs in engineering, technology, computer science, philosophy, and more. They had to stay awake somehow."

"Fair enough. I'm more of a smoker and stoner but to each their own." I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, realizing what I had just admitted to. I just admitted to my, essentially, Professor, that I was a smoker and a stoner. An awkward silence hung in the air before Dr. Reid let out a laugh.

"At least you're honest."

"I am so sorry. I'm super tired, and I have no control over my thoughts right now. I usually only do this stuff on the weekends when I don't have any responsibilities, and now I'm rambling…"

"Don't worry, Ivy, I won't report you. For all intents and purposes, this conversation never happened." Dr. Reid states with a smile. I smile back and take another puff of my cigarette. Then, I decided, for some unknown reason, to ask Dr. Reid if he would like a hit.

"You want a puff?" "Okay, Ivy, what makes you so bold all of a sudden," I think to myself. I watch as Dr. Reid hesitates momentarily and then seemingly gives in to temptation.

"I would actually…" He walks up the path to my dorm and takes the cigarette from between my fingers, his fingers brushing against mine, before he puts it to his lips and takes what seems to be the longest inhale I have ever seen. I watch as he slowly pulls the cigarette away from his lips and slowly exhales. I watched the smoke waft up into the sky, which was now a gorgeous collection of pink and yellow hues from the sunset. Dr. Reid continues to watch the smoke with me until it disappears, and then he turns to me and hands back my cigarette.

"Thank you. I needed that. But this is our little secret to keep, alright?" I nod before taking a long inhale, tasting him on the cigarette and exhaling almost right into his face. Everything right now is tense. There's electricity in the air, cackling and popping like an old lightbulb trying to turn on, and something in Dr. Reid's eyes lit up with an almost mischievous glint.

"I'll see you in class on Monday, Ivy." Before he slowly starts walking back down the steps, heading down the driveway, and walking away.

I stare at the cigarettes between my fingers, watching them slowly burn out. I manage to take one more long inhale before I feel my fingers start to burn from the cigarette. I throw the cigarette to the ground and stomp it out, watching the ash burn the ground. I gently touch my fingers to my lips, grateful that I somehow managed to have my lips touch Dr. Reid's lips, even if it was by proxy.

I watch the sun continue to set, and finally, once it's dark, I head inside and start getting ready for bed. I head into the shower and let out a sigh of relief when I feel the steam hit my body. You know a shower is about to be good when there is steam and the water is so hot it makes your skin red. I strip off all my clothes, and just as I'm about to get in the shower, I smell something. I lifted up my hoodie and inhaled, realizing that the faintest smell of Dr. Reid's cologne had stuck to my clothes due to how close we were. The delicious-smelling cologne that was a mix of figs, vanilla, and musk mixed with cigarette smoke created a seductive and addictive concoction that I wanted to smell for days. I set it back down on the floor, slowly step into the shower, and then lean against the wall, allowing the warmth to envelop me, wishing it was the embrace of Dr. Reid.

"Why is this crush so intense…" I mutter to myself, wondering why I am so infatuated with Dr. Reid when, in the past, I never seemed to have a crush this intense. I shake the thought off and quickly wash my whole body, shampoo and condition my hair, wash my face, and shave, which always takes so long, before finally getting out of the shower. I throw on a pair of clean underwear with nothing else because my dorm tends to get quite warm, head into my bedroom, slap on some face moisturizer to at least pretend I do skincare, and then break out a book I had been wanting to read. It was a romance novel, which is a style of writing I don't typically read, but the cover was tempting. It was a very stereotypical story where a girl and a guy meet at a small local bookstore and they start flirting blah blah blah. While I typically would make fun of these books, this time around, I find myself imagining the two characters were me and Dr. Reid, making it more palatable. I get to about chapter five before deciding to put it down and try and fall asleep. I turn my lights off, bunch up my pillow, and lay down. As I drifted off to sleep, I could see images of Dr. Reid in my mind, and the more I thought of him, the more I wanted him.

I remembered the way his dark brown eyes studied me when he first met me and how they lit up when he spoke. I remembered his long, elegant fingers brushing against mine as he took the cigarette from my hand. I remembered his lips tasting my name every time he would say it out loud.

My dreams soon filled with images that would make the saints in heaven blush. I want his body on top of me, under me, close to me. I want his lips to kiss my lips and every other inch of skin and worship my body like a prayer. I want him so badly. My body, all night, felt like it was burning hot. I wake up in a cold sweat, with wetness between my thighs and the need to take a cold shower immediately. I practically run to the shower and jump in, cooling my body off as fast as I possibly can. I get out, shivering cold but refreshed. I make breakfast and then throw on my clothes so I can go out to my porch and smoke while I read my book and drink my coffee.

I continue to shake off the memories and dreams of last night as I sit out on the porch and try to read. I eventually look onto the road, thinking aloud, "I wonder how Dr. Reid feels. I wonder if he felt the same way I felt last night and if he felt the same tension I had. Did he have any dreams during the night that made him wake up wanting more? Did he feel nothing?" I shake my head again, reminding myself that he is my stand-in professor and dating or getting together with him would destroy his reputation and take away his job. Not to mention that I could end up getting expelled from MIT for being with a professor. It was a shitty situation all around. Somehow, I would have to keep my desires under control, but the more I thought about him, the more my control wavered.

Dr. Reid's POV

As I walk away from Ivy's house, I feel my lips tingling. My lips had touched the same cigarette where her lips had been moments prior. Would it feel the same if our lips…I shake my head. I can't think like this. She's one of my students, and there's no way the college would approve of a relationship between the two of us. I needed to get the thought out of my head. I quickly walked to the small apartment I had been renting out for a few months and headed inside. I was lucky enough that I didn't need roommates to keep the place because, after the interaction I just had, I wouldn't want roommates to hear me say what I was thinking about or hear the noises I knew I would be making later.

When I get inside, I set my stuff down at the kitchen table and quickly head into my room. I walk over to the small fridge I kept in my room, take out my whiskey, and grab the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the table next to it. I sit in the leather chair that had been left in my room by the previous apartment owners, then take out a cigarette from the pack. I light up and take a long inhale, holding the smoke inside for a moment or two before exhaling. I adore the taste of smoke on my tongue, but I can't lie and say I wasn't thinking about tasting Ivy's lips while we exchanged smoke. I sighed in frustration at myself for still thinking about her, but I couldn't help it. She was somehow addicting, and I only just met her.

I set the lighter and the pack down before picking up the whiskey bottle, popping the cork out, and taking a swig. I pray the alcohol and smoking will help me forget about her, but as I continue to drink and smoke, I feel my body relaxing and lulling itself into a state where all it can think about is her. My body starts to warm up from the alcohol, and I feel it continue to get hotter and hotter from the thoughts running through my mind. I want her body on top of me, under me, close to me. I want her lips to kiss my lips and every other inch of skin and worship my body like a prayer. I want her so badly.

Finally, after almost drinking half of the bottle and smoking five cigarettes, I put the whiskey and the cigarettes away and stumbled over to my bathroom. I somehow managed to get in my shower, wash my body thoroughly, shampoo and condition my hair, and do the shortest skincare routine on planet Earth. I got out and walked to my bedroom, not even bothering to put on clothes, given what I was about to do.

I flop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling as thoughts of Ivy dance through my head. I had only just met her today, and my crush was this intense. I think about how she talked to me, how the taste of her lips lingered on the cigarette, how her fingers brushed against mine, and how her eyes were captivating and bright. My eyes close shut as my body shudders. I start wondering what her body looks like underneath her baggy clothes. Is she lean, thin, muscled, or curvy…all of those body types would be beautiful on her. Then I find my thoughts becoming even darker. Does her skin bruise easily? Could I give her hickies and have them last a week? How sensitive is that pretty neck of hers? How good does she taste…Her taste. It must be heavenly, and I want to drown in it so badly.

I want to feel her clit twitch on my tongue, and her legs shake as I eat her out, making her orgasm again and again and again. I want her delicious juices all over my lips, tongue, and face. I want so badly to feel her body writhing against me as I hold her wrist down and plunge my cock into her over and over again. I imagine how delicious it will be to watch her ass shake as I slide in and out of her delicious pussy from behind while she's on her hands and knees, praying for me to give her reprieve. I want to see her face contort in pleasure as I either hold her thighs apart or hold them together straight up into the air. I need to feel her pussy tighten around me, begging me to fill her with every passing second that I'm fucking her.

As I continue to think about doing all of these things to her, I feel my hand, which had once been on my chest, slowly drift down to my now incredibly hard and twitching cock. The second I grab it, I hiss out in pleasure and pain. It had been a while since I had had any alone time to self-pleasure, and I was already pent up. That, in culmination with thinking about Ivy on her hands and knees for me, resulted in a lethal combination. I rubbed my thumb over the tip of my cock, hissing some more and letting out a small moan as I spread the precum that had leaked out all over the tip. The action itself makes my hips jerk up and causes me to moan even more. I wanted to be jerking my hips up to go deeper into Ivy, but all I met was the unforgiving cold air of my room.

I start slowly moving my hand up and down my cock, starting from the base and going all the way to the tip. With every slight tug and motion, I let out moans that quickly get louder and louder. This is why I'm grateful I don't have roommates because I would never want to subject them to how loud I am when I'm jerking off. In between moans, I let out small sporadic breaths, trying to catch my breath and slow down the orgasm that I feel rapidly approaching. I didn't want it to come just yet. I couldn't. I wanted…no…needed to think about fucking Ivy more. I needed to imagine how delicious her cries and screams would sound after I've overstimulated her and made her cum so many times she lost count. I needed to imagine how she would look with her arms tied or cuffed to the headboard while her feet were tied to the bed or in a spreader bar. I needed to see how blown out her eyes would be as I teased her with my fingers before sliding my cock deep inside of her to satisfy her cravings that I knew she had.

I need all of this, but my body needs to release more. I feel the orgasm start, and as much as I want to stop it, I can't. I let out a long groan mixed with a growl as I feel my cock release cum all over my body. I feel it hit my chest, my arm, and my face, painting my body in the sins of my imagination. I continue to move my hand up and down my cock until it genuinely becomes painful with how sensitive I am to move anymore. I let out a satisfied groan as the last few bits of cum leaked out, my hips jutting every time.

As I slowly come down from my orgasm-induced high, I realize that the alcohol buzz is beginning to wear off, and I start to become painfully aware that I just came all over myself as a result of imagining fucking one of my "technically" students. My brain, still clouded with lust, fights to make my experience from mere seconds ago rational, but alas, horror quickly consumes me. I reach over with my non cum covered hand to my nightstand and pull open a drawer to take out the hand towel I leave in there in case of nights like this. I quickly wipe all the cum off of me, then get up, throw the towel into the hamper, and go wash down my body with a washcloth before throwing that into the hamper as well. I sit in my bed and stare at the wall as reality crashes down, and I realize that this is more than a crush. This is now becoming an obsession...an obsession with someone I barely know. Here I am, imagining fucking her in every position imaginable, and she doesn't even know. Hell, I don't know if she even wants that. Perhaps I am deluding myself into thinking she finds me attractive or sexy.

I lay down and throw the covers over my body. I will be seeing Ivy next week in class. How was I supposed to look at her and listen to her questions and answer them whilst simultaneously remembering that I jerked off and came to the mere thought of her? It would be brutal trying to ignore that part of me, but then again…who knows…perhaps she feels the same as me.

I shake that thought from my mind, knowing that the school would never approve of a relationship between us, potentially leading to me getting fired and her being expelled. As I try to tell my brain that this will never happen, I find my body drifting off into sleep. My night was filled with dreams that would make God blush, and they made me blush as well. I woke up covered in sweat, my body hot and needy so much to the point where I had to jump in the shower. However, as I stand here now, thinking about last night, my sleep, and everything that happened yesterday while I drink a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette, I wonder to myself if Ivy feels the same, and if there is any possibility that she wants me to do to her what I imagined last night…

Ivy's POV

I let out a sigh as I put the book down. I had finally finished reading the romance book I had started the previous evening. It was now 5:00 p.m., and since it was a Saturday, I had smoked more cigarettes than I would like to admit and drank three cups of coffee. I had barely had any food all day, and that, combined with the previously mentioned bad habits, left me feeling anxious and tightly wound. I decided that it was time to relax a little.

I head inside and walk back to my room. I go over to my nightstand and pull out a bowl, a grinder, and a little jar that I had with some weed nuggets left. I have to admit that I'm not much of a stoner, which means that my grinding and packing skills aren't the best, but hey, they do the trick. I take a nugget out and throw it in the grinder, and just as I'm about to start grinding, I remember that I have some herbs left over from the previous time I smoked. I set the grinder down and shuffle through my drawer until I find it. I don't remember what exactly is in the herb mix, only that it was some combination of rose, marshmallow, and something else. I had bought it off of a website that sold different herb mixes for smoking, and since I didn't love getting super high, I often mixed the two together. I throw some herbs in the grinder and start grinding until I feel like it's good enough.

Once everything is mixed well, I throw it in the bowl, doing the worst packing job ever, so much so that I'm honestly in shock that Snoop Dog didn't appear out of nowhere to chastise me for how utterly terrible it is. However, despite how horrible I did, it's good enough. I grab my lighter and light up, taking a long inhale that I knew would make me cough. And sure enough, I'm hacking up half a lung and desperately reaching for my water bottle, hoping to get any reprieve possible.

I start gulping down water as if I had just found a ravine in a desert, and finally, my lungs calm down, and the coughing stops. I set the water bottle down and immediately felt the high coming on. "I guess I put more weed than I thought I did." I shrug it off and pick up the bowl before taking another hit. Maybe I'll regret it later, but right now, it feels amazing. I sit in my bed, close my eyes, and almost instantly start thinking about Dr. Reid again. Dr. Reid. Dr Reid. Dr. Reid…It is all my drug-induced brain can think about. I once again find myself thinking about the features that allured me to him. Still, instead of shaking off the thoughts like I did the other night, I now find myself unable to focus on anything else. The thought of him, his body, and what I could only imagine lying beneath his clothes consumes me.

"God, why am I so distracted by the herbs…fuck I forgot." I slapped my forehead, suddenly remembering that the herbs were some "Love Herb" mixture. When I previously used it, I never found myself suffering from any effects because I didn't have a crush. At most, it made for some wonderful personal time, but it mainly just helped make the weed stretch out over a more extended period of time for usage. However, now, as I lay here, I realize that using love herbs mixed with weed is not the best idea, given my new crush, which seemingly is not about to go away any time soon.

I let out a little groan and decided to reach over into the same drawer and pull out some of my toys. I'm not saying that my fingers can't do the trick when it comes to having some personal time, but I just had a feeling that it would feel better if I were to use toys tonight. I quickly took off all of my clothes, throwing them to the floor, thinking to myself that that would be a later problem.

As I slowly spread my legs open, I started tracing down my body, allowing myself to enjoy the enhanced feeling I was having. I trailed my hand down my chest, stopping briefly to softly pinch and rub my nipple, causing me to let out a little moan. "They're always so sensitive when I'm high," I mumble to myself. As I continue tracing the rest of my body, I brush my fingers across my hips, shivering as I imagine them being Dr. Reid's long fingers. That thought alone draws out another soft whimper and only pushes me to want more. I trail my hands down and finally allow my right hand to delicately trace the outside of my pussy.

The gentle touches on my outer lips make me let out a soft whimper, my body not appreciating that I'm actively teasing it and not giving it what it wants. However, I want to at least take my time a little. I gently run a finger up slip, pushing a little so I can feel some of the wetness leaking out. When I reach my clit, I decide to use the wetness I collected on my finger and start gently rubbing my clit. Within seconds, the tiny bundle of nerves was on fire, and I started letting out more and more moans. It's moments like these that I am so beyond grateful I do not have a roommate because I am not quiet when I decide to jerk off.

I continue to slowly circle my clit with my fingers, enjoying the heightened experience thanks to the drugs and herbs. I soon find my mind imagining that instead of my fingers circling my clit, it was Dr. Reid's fingers or, even better…his tongue. With how eloquently he spoke, I'm almost positive that tongue could do wonders on my clit. I start to think of how amazing it would be to look down and meet his eyes as he eats me out, my pussy juices soaking his lips, tongue, and face. I think of how good it would feel to have his tongue pressed flat against my pussy, licking long stripes up and down, flicking his tongue against my clit, and tongue fucking every few minutes just to overstimulate me more and more.

I let out a moan as I start thinking about this and found myself rubbing my clit faster and faster, chasing the high that I could feel rapidly approaching. As I continue rubbing my clit, I reach my left hand up and lick my thumb before I reach down and start rubbing my nipple in circles, kneading my breast every few seconds as well to create more stimulation. Everything I do, I imagine Dr. Reid doing to me in my head, and it only spurs me on even further. As I keep going, I try to remember Dr. Reid's first name. However, my drug and lust-induced brain is struggling to finish a single coherent thought. Somehow, from the depths of my memory, I pull it out.

"Spencer…" I moan out as I quickly approach my orgasm. I feel the knot in my stomach that had been building started to unravel. "Fuck!" I scream out as I begin to cum. I feel my legs pull together as my hips jut up, trapping my hand between my thighs as I continue rubbing my clit. I let out a string of moans, whines, and whimpers, mumbling the name "Spencer" every once in a while as I think of how good it would feel to do that but on his face.

Eventually, I feel my body start to slow down, the orgasm subsiding. I let out another soft whimper as I quickly realized that my body was far from satisfied. I reach blindly around my bed and find the toys I took out earlier. One was a dildo, about five to six inches, and the other was a clit sucking toy that was by far the best investment yet.

I slowly push the dildo inside of me, moaning at the intrusion. It had been a long time since I last used this toy, and I was not used to the length or girth. However, eventually, I got it down the base, humming softly once I slid it fully inside of me. Then I slowly reach over and grab the sucker toy, putting it on the first level and positioning it on my clit. I moan loudly the second it makes contact, as my clit is still incredibly sensitive. I feel my hips start to buck wildly again. My body has barely recovered from the orgasm that was mere seconds ago.

I start wondering if it would feel this good to have Dr. Reid's cock inside of me. Was it this long? Was it a little shorter with more girth? Would it fill me the way I so desperately wanted it to? I moan at the thought of his cock, and I continue to moan at the thought of him using me however he wants. Maybe he would want to fuck me from behind so he could go as deep as possible. Perhaps he would want to fuck me from underneath so I could ride him every once and a while so he could watch me put on a show while he rested his hips. Or, maybe he would want to fuck me while on top so he can watch every little reaction I make to how good his cock feels inside of me.

I also wonder if he's more of a rough or gentle lover. I would love to feel him wrap a hand around my throat while he peppered me with kisses and whispered prayers of worship against my skin. I adored the thought of him punishing me with either denial, overstimulation, or even something rougher like spanking or slapping. And imagining him tying me up so he could use me however he pleased only makes me moan more. The dirtier my thoughts got, the faster the orgasm started to approach again. I feel my hips start to buck more sporadically, and more and more moans and swears to tumble past my lips as I chase the high I'm so desperately craving. I finally manage to cum for a second time, screaming out "Spencer!" as I start to squirt. I didn't make much of a mess, but I still knew that tomorrow would be the day that I switched over my sheets and did a large load of laundry.

As I finally calmed down from the second intense orgasm, I felt my breathing slow, and I noticed that the high I had was starting to slowly dissipate. "Fuck…" I groan. How was I supposed to go to class on Monday after I just came twice thinking about my TA fucking me? This was about to me a very interesting semester…

Jumping ahead two weeks…

Ivy's POV

It has now been two weeks since that one fateful night when I came twice thinking about Dr. Reid fucking me into oblivion, and I don't know if I'm delusional or what, but I swear, there is some chemistry happening between the two of us, and I don't really know how to react or feel about it.

The week right after that fateful night was honestly nothing but awkward. It felt like neither of us wanted to even look at each other, and when I say "us," I mean it because Dr. Reid seemingly wanted to avoid all eye contact and interactions with me. When he passed out assignments or papers, he would put them on the desk with the speed of light and immediately walk away. Furthermore, if I ever raised my hand to answer a question, he wouldn't call on me unless I was the ONLY one with their hand up.

However, this past week has not been bad at all. If anything, it's been the entire opposite of the previous week. When Dr. Reid brings me assignments or papers, he lingers at my desk, asking me how I am and if I have any questions about the homework. If I raise my hand, he calls on me whether or not there are other students with their hands raised. Finally, it felt like we were making tension-filled eye contact in almost every class. His eyes would linger on me, seemingly studying everything I did, how I was dressed, and what I would say to my classmates. I also noticed that his eyes seemed to get dark every time I would talk to a fellow classmate who just so happened to be male. I don't know if he just didn't like the student I was talking to or if it had a more possessive aspect.

Regardless of how strange the past two weeks have been, it is now Friday, and all I am thinking about is how good a cigarette is going to taste after this class and how badly I want to smoke a joint tonight. However, despite how badly I want to go straight home, I can't. Throughout the week, while working on the assignments, I found myself running into a couple of problems. Is it possible that I am simply overthinking everything and actually completing the tasks correctly? Very high probability. However, I would rather double-check and have a second pair of eyes review what I finished. However, the second pair of eyes that needed to look over my work was Dr. Reid, and the thought of asking to go to his office hours did, in fact, make me want to die a little bit.

I hear the bell ring, signaling the end of class, and I start packing up at the speed of a snail. I watch as all the other students start filing out, and Dr. Reid says goodbye to each one individually after having memorized all of our names easily thanks to his eidetic memory. Finally, it's only him and me in the room, and he turns to me.

"Can I help you with anything, Ivy?"

"Yes, actually. I was going to ask if you would be willing to set up an appointment with me for office hours so I can come and have you check over some of my work from this week."

He frowns slightly before raising an eyebrow at me. "I mean no disrespect, Ivy, but based on your work in class and previous assignments that you have passed, I don't see why you would need my help or office hours. If anything, you could tutor some of your classmates with how well you have been doing."

I blush at his compliments and look down a little bit, trying to distract myself from packing my bag. "I know I'm doing well, but some of the questions from this week's homework kinda tripped me up some nights. I want to have you look over them and see if I'm doing anything wrong or if they're all correct."

"Okay then, Ivy, I'm happy to set up an appointment with you. Is there any day that works for you?"

I think for a moment, mentally going through my schedule and trying to remember my other appointments. "Typically, Fridays always work for me. I don't do much on campus, but this is my only Friday class, and I don't really do anything after class minus this class's homework and reading."

I watch as he walks over to his desk and flips through his calendar, seemingly trying to find a day that works. Now, I don't encourage snooping, but I finish packing up my backpack and throw it on my shoulders before walking over to the desk and watching him look through his calendar, glancing down briefly every few seconds. I say this because when I walk over and start glancing down every few seconds at his calendar, I see that besides our class and another class he fills in for, there wasn't much else on his calendar, so why was he acting like he has no time to meet with me?

While thinking about the weird calendar situation, he suddenly speaks up. "Would you be willing to meet today, Ivy? " he asks me, looking up at me through his glasses and eyelashes. Something about his eyes looks…dark. I feel as if he is challenging me, daring me to accept his invitation. And, because I'm me, I take the challenge.

"Yes, I can meet today."

"Excellent. I hold my meetings at my apartment because the school did not offer me any office space, but if you are not comfortable with that, we can try to find an empty room, go to the library, or even go to one of the cafeterias."

"I would prefer to meet somewhere a little more private than the library or the cafeterias, and while I think we could find a classroom, it would be difficult since 99% of them are in use and active at all times."

He nods, listening to my suggestions, and then takes a moment to think over what I said. "I think you're right on all accounts, and based on what you said, I am assuming that you're okay with studying in my place."

I nod in response, adjusting my backpack and trying to keep eye contact with him without making it awkward. I watch as he closes his personal planner and throws it in his satchel before putting it on. He grabs a couple of other things from the desk, throws them in his pocket, and then turns to me.

"Ready Ivy?" He asks with a small smile.

"Mhm." I hum.

We walk out and go down all the highways and stairs, finding our way outside and to the path that goes past my place and leads to his. As we approach my dorm, I stop.

"Do you mind if I go in to grab something?"

"If it's cigarettes, I have those." He says with a wry smile that causes me to blush.

"Well, I won't grab those, but I do have something else I want to grab."

He gives me a quizzical look but nods. I walk up the small path and up the stairs before grabbing my keys and unlocking the door. I rush inside and back to my bedroom and grab the lighter from the desk. Then, I walk over to my nightstand and grab the case from my drawer that held the pre-rolled joints that I made the other night. It was the same time of joint I smoked two weeks ago, a mix of Mary Jane and the love herbs. I throw them in my bag along with the lighter before zipping up the pocket, grabbing my keys, and then heading out again.

Once I get outside, I shut and lock the door behind me and then walk back down towards Dr. Reid. I pray that the smell of the joints doesn't leak through my bag, but that is simply a risk I have to take. I planned on smoking a joint on my walk home so that way, by the time I got to my dorm, I would be nice and relaxed. Dr. Reid shows no signs of smelling anything, and we continue to walk on. As we walk, we talk about everything and nothing. The weather, other classes, and miscellaneous activities that we do on the weekend.

We finally get to his apartment, and it is at that minute that I realize just how close we live to each other. He lives maybe two blocks away from me, which equates to roughly a ten-minute walk. We look at each other as he fumbles for his keys once we realize we do not live that far apart. Once he gets his keys, he unlocks the door, and when I look in, I realize how similar the setup is. He has the same kitchen and the same sitting area, and it appears to be the same bathroom. I couldn't tell if his bedroom was to the left or right, but everything else was essentially the same.

He motions for me to walk in, and I do. "Do you want me to take my shoes off?"

"If you want to, you're more than welcome to." Based on his response, I decided to take my shoes off and pad softly inside. I looked around, admiring how organized the area was and smiling at the few decorations. They were simple but fit his style perfectly.

"Would you like a cigarette while we work on your homework?"

I turn around and look at him before nodding with a smile. "I would, thank you so much."

He smiles and walks back and to the left into what I'm assuming is his bedroom, meaning that our apartment's setup is identical.

He emerges from his room, holding a pack of cigarettes, and walks up to me before opening the carton. I pluck one out and hold it between my first and middle fingers.

"I just realized I forgot my lighter one second."

"Oh, don't bother. I have one!" I put the cigarette between my lips and set my bag down before opening the small pocket and grabbing my lighter. I flick on the lighter, and as I'm about to bring it to my cigarette, Dr. Reid says, "Wait, let me grab my cigarette too, and then we can light them at the same time." He reached into the carton and plucked out a cigarette before putting it in his mouth, throwing the carton onto the kitchen table, and walking over to me. He leans down a little and murmurs, "Light 'em up Ivy." I bring the lighter forward, my hands shaking a little due to how close we are. As our cigarettes light up, we both take our first few puffs, blowing cigarette smoke into each other's faces before pulling back. I turn the lighter off and throw it back in my bag.

He motions to the kitchen table, and I sit down, taking a few puffs. I reach into my bag and take out my work. Dr. Reid sits down next to me, making my breath catch in my throat. I suddenly remember how to breathe and sit up, putting my homework folder on the table and moving it towards Dr. Reid. He places the cigarette between his lips while he grabs the folder and opens it. He looks through it until he finds the most recent homework assignment. He takes it out and starts flipping through it, frowning as he reads over my work. To me, this means that my work must be incorrect. However, he never stays for very long on a single page. If anything, he's flying through it.

"Ivy…" He hums out, looking over the last page, his elegant pointer finger tracing down the page as he reads over it.

"I'm sorry if it's bad work, I can fix it-"

"Nothing is bad about it. I'm wondering why you're having me look over work that would have gotten a 100% as a grade." He turns and looks towards me, reaching his first and middle fingers up to pluck the cigarette out of his mouth, tilting his head up before releasing the smoke. I watch as he blows the smoke out, enamored at how beautiful he looks when he does that. His elegant neck was exposed, and I could see his adams apple. I wondered how his neck would look with hickies all over it and how it would feel to run my fingers over his skin and his adams apple and feel it bob as he gulped.

"Ivy?"

"Huh?" I shake my head as I come out of my daze and find Dr. Reid staring at me. I saw the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and I felt my cheeks flush. There is no way he didn't notice that I was staring at him, and I quickly lowered my gaze to the floor.

"So once again, tell me why you gave me a piece of homework that you said wasn't perfect yet? What exactly am I supposed to correct?" He added with a smile.

"I guess I thought there was more to fix up." I take a long inhale of my cigarette and turn to the side to exhale, thinking about how awkward this meeting has been. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice something…Dr. Reid is staring at me.

Dr. Reid's POV

I watch as Ivy turns away from me, takes a puff of her cigarette, and exhales. Her neck was now exposed, and I could only imagine how pretty it would look with hickies covering it and my hand wrapped around her throat. I take a long inhale of my cigarette and exhale, continuing to stare and admire how beautiful she is. Just as I was about to say something, she suddenly turned to me, and I nearly dropped my cigarette.

"Are you staring at me, Dr. Reid?"

I look at her, and I feel my eyes widen as I quickly realize that she saw me staring at her. I now have no way to defend myself. I could look away, play innocent, do anything but admit that I had been staring at her just mere minutes ago. I decide to play coy.

"I was. Just waiting for you to admit that you did a perfectly good job on your homework."

She smiles and turns to me. "I guess I did a perfectly good job on my homework." She says with a laugh before putting out her cigarette in the ashtray on my table. "Now, for doing such a good job, can you direct me to your bathroom?"

I laugh and point at it, and she thanks me for walking inside and closing the door. I let out a big sigh that I had been holding in longer than I wanted to admit. I sit back in the chair, telling my body to relax with how tense it was. I start allowing my eyes to dance around the room to distract my mind from thinking about her. As my eyes danced around the room, I happened to look out the window and see something. I get up and walk over, and once I see what it is, I mumble, "Oh no…" It had started pouring outside. It had already been overcast all day, but I had no idea it was going to rain. I walk over to my little sitting room and turn on the TV I had that honestly shouldn't work but somehow pulls through.

"Storms are expected to start very briefly with downpours following. It is recommended that everyone stay inside until it passes." The weatherman continued to drawl on about the weather, the wind, and the speed of the rain when I heard the bathroom door open.

"Dr. Reid?"

"Back here!" I call out. I turn to the door and see Ivy turn towards me and walk over.

"Something wrong?"

"Yeah, it's about to storm any minute, and the weatherman just recommended you stay inside."

"Oh my goodness, are you kidding me?"

"I wish I were. Come take a look." She walks over to me and looks at the TV, and I see her eyes go wide.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me. I was going to smoke on my way home." She says before slapping a hand over her mouth the way she did that one day two weeks ago when she had admitted to smoking cigarettes and weed for the first time to me. Her sentence and reaction made me let out a loud laugh.

"You are more than welcome to smoke in here. The only rule is I get a hit." She turns to me, and immediately I wonder if I've gone too far. Then again, at this point, we have gone too far and then went a little further.

"I'm sorry, it was meant to be a joke…" I start saying, trying to save my ass, when all of a sudden, Ivy suddenly starts busting out laughing.

"Dr. Reid, I'm not mad or upset. I think it's hilarious that my TA is asking to smoke with me. Would you genuinely like to? It seems like we're going to be stuck inside for a while, so I'm not opposed. Just be warned that it's a strong mix."

I smile at her enthusiasm, incredibly pleased that she doesn't just see me as a TA.

"I would like that if that's okay with you."

"You won't get fired for this, right?" She asks, a look of concern clouding her face briefly.

"I am just a TA, so the rules that apply to Professor and student relationships and their limitations do not apply to me. Not to mention that I'm 25, and you're 21 at least, which means we're both consenting adults."

She nodded and said, "Okay!" before she walked over to her backpack and reached into it. She takes out a small tin and grabs her lighter before bringing it back over to me. I motion for her to sit on the couch, and she does. I sit next to her and watch her as she pulls out a joint, puts it between her lips, and flicks on her lighter. She looks at me one more time and says, "You are absolutely positive you want to do this?" I nod enthusiastically and say, "Yes, Ivy."

She smiles and finally brings the lighter to the joint, burning off the twisted end and eventually reaching the actual weed and other herbs that I'm assuming she mixed in based on the smell. It smelled sweet, like roses and other herbs, and it actually cut down the smell of the weed to the point where even I could enjoy the smell. I watch as she takes a deep inhale, holds the smoke in her mouth, then exhales. She starts coughing up a lung for at least half a minute and then hands the joint to me.

"Be warned, you may cough just like I did."

I nod. I had studied the effects of weed on the body, and along with the combined euphoria, dopamine, and relaxing agents, it also could cause extreme coughing, eye redness, and heavy lids. I brought it to my lips and mimicked Ivy's action, inhaling and then holding it in before exhaling and coughing up half a lung for roughly thirty seconds.

I handed it back to her, and she took another hit. Then she quickly gave it back to me so I could take another hit, and we did that back and forth until we finished the joint, both coughing up our lungs with every pull. When Ivy put the remaining ashes of the cone in the ashtray I had on my living room table, she sat back and let out a small laugh. "I am absolutely getting high. How about you, Dr. Reid."

I look at her and watch as she tries to hold her reaction together until she eventually gives up and just lets out another laugh. I assume my eyes must be super red, so I get up and stumble over to my bathroom to take a look. My eyes are bloodshot, my lids are drooping, and it is abundantly clear that I am high. This gets me laughing, too, and I yell back, "I'd say I'm doing pretty good."

I walk back out and join her once again on the couch. I then decide in my infinite wisdom to blurt out, "So what do you do when you're high."

I watch as Ivy thinks for a moment before she manages to blurt out, "Well, you could play a game, watch a show, or a movie, which I know a lot of people do. Other people masturbate when they're high as well." Ivy trails off at the end, not slapping a hand over her mouth like she tends to, but she definitely has a look of shock on her face that I could tell came from the fact that she just said that last part out loud. My brain, deciding that this was my only chance to make some kind of move, influences me to say, "How does it feel to masturbate when you're high? Does the drug make it a heightened experience? I mean, based on my studies, it would, but I've never dabbled so…"

I trail off, a part of me dying inside at the realization that I just decided to ask Ivy how masturbation when high feels, thereby implying that she does it. I was about to open my mouth and apologize for my crude sentence, but just as I was about to, I heard Ivy say, "I find the heightened experience to be heavenly."

I look over at her, the last working part of my brain realizing that she just admitted to me, her TA and essentially her Professor, that she jerks off and likes the experience when high because it makes everything feel better. With this new information, I get bolder, and I feel my brain running at a million miles a second, not allowing myself enough time between thinking of a new question and asking the question. Because of this, I blurt out my next question: "And what do you think about when doing that, Ivy?"

I'm surprised at how randomly bold I am right now, but what can I say? I get curious.

She turns her face away from me, her face redder than I have ever seen it, and she starts to stumble over her words.

"Well I…I usually think of…it changes between…" I listen as she stumbles over her words, eyes avoiding mine as if looking at me would give her the bubonic plague. Despite my inebriated state, part of my brain is still able to understand basic psychology. Because of this, it was at this moment that I realized her nervousness and behaviors came from the fact that she didn't want to admit she thinks of me when she does it…Ivy thinks of me, her TA, while she jerks off when high. When I realized my discovery, I decided to ask her if I was correct.

"You think about me, don't you, Ivy?" She looks at me, eyes wide, filled with a mix of shock and shame, before lowering her gaze and nodding silently.

"Awwww, what's the matter, Ivy?" I ask in a, I'll admit, somewhat taunting voice.

She turns towards me, and I smile at her reaction. Her eyes seem to get wider, her face even redder, and her mouth continues to open and close while trying to come up with an answer.

"I thought you would be upset…" she finally mumbles. I lean in, cupping her face in my hand and pushing her chin up to force her to meet my gaze. When she blindly obeys, I feel a shiver run down my spine and throughout my whole body. This beautiful girl was so malleable, and I could ruin her so quickly and make her love it.

"Not at all, Ivy, after all…you aren't the only one who's been having some dirty dreams…" Before she can respond to my admittance of guilt, I swoop in and capture her lips in a kiss. They were everything I imagined and more. Her lips were sweet and pillowy, and that, mixed with the taste of cigarette smoke, herbs, and weed, made for a deadly and seductive concoction. I flick my tongue out and flick and swipe against hers in a testing and tempting way, making her do the same back to me. I kiss her again before pulling away, and the look in her eyes…fuck, that needy look…I wanted to make her look at me that way but cum drunk as well. I need to see her melt for me.

I gently trail my hand down from her jaw to her neck, which causes her to shiver, and I hear the softest whimper escape past her lips.

"You like this, don't you, Ivy…" I mumble, my drug-induced brain unable to keep up the wall that would hide my feelings for her. All I could do now was accept the fact that the imaginary line we were not supposed to cross had been crossed, and I may as well indulge myself.

"Mhmmm…" She hums out as her lips remain on mine, capturing me in an endless kiss that feels heavenly and sinful. We continue kissing, and as we do, I start slowly bringing my left hand forward, blindly feeling around until my left-hand finds her right thigh. I grip it lightly, causing her to let out another breathy whimper against my lips. I smirk against her lips before moving my hand up and finally finding her hip. I grip it, and as I do, I bring my right hand down from her delicate neck and grab her left hip. The stimulation caused by both of my hands gripping her hips makes her shiver. I decide at this moment to essentially drag her by her hips onto me and position her so she's sitting on me, her legs on either side of my torso, essentially trapping me in. I feel her move her hands up my chest until she reaches my neck and wraps her arms around it.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she pulls away. Her eyes are still closed, and she takes a deep breath before opening them and looking at me.

"Well then…" She sighs, and I laugh.

"You like that." I hum out, to which she responds with another, "Mhmmm…"

"Good." I saw, my voice low and gravelly from being relaxed by the weed. "Because I'm not done playing with you yet." I see her eyes go wide again before I move my hand to the back of her head and push gently to encourage her to lean forward and kiss me, which she does very quickly. She lets out a long moan into my mouth, which makes me respond with a moan as well.

"Good girl," I mumble against her lips, and I feel her hips buck.

"Awww, getting needy now, aren't we?" She responds by bucking her hips again, which makes my cock start to harden.

"Do you want this, Ivy?" I gasp out between kisses. “Because…once we start…I won't be able to stop…"

“Please Dr. Reid…please just use me…” She hums out, and I nearly growl at how needy her voice is. My mind was numb and swirling with the memories of what I imagined doing to her when I had jerked off, and now I simply needed to show her how good I could make her feel. I grip her hips roughly and pull her forward again so her chest is flush with mine.

"Spread your legs a little more," I mumble, and she obeys immediately.

"Awww, you like to obey, don't you a pretty thing? Very good." I position our bodies so my leg is in between hers, with my thigh now firmly pressing against her clothed pussy, which makes her let out another long moan. Perhaps it was due to the friction that the move just caused, or maybe it was her innate need, which now was exemplified beyond belief due to the weed. Whatever the reason for her reaction, it is addictive to hear, and I need to drag more of those pretty sounds out past her lips.

"Listen very carefully, pretty girl. I want you to grind that pretty clothed pussy against my thigh. I don't care how needy you get, how wet you get, or even if you get close to cumming. You will continue to grind on my thigh until I tell you to stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I give her right thigh a little smack at her response, my eyes narrowing at her as she yelps.

"From now on, when I tell you something or ask you to do something, I expect you to answer me with 'Yes, sir.' Every time you don't answer with 'Yes sir,' I will punish you. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." She whimpers out.

"Good girl now starts grinding," I command.

"Yes, sir." She mumbles out as she starts grinding against my thigh. I smile, pleased at how well she listens. I lean in very slowly and draw my lips to her neck. I simply have to ruin this pretty neck of hers and mark it as mine. I start leaving sloppy kisses all over her neck and sucking on the skin gently, causing her to start letting out more and more moans. I finally find one area behind her ear that is especially sensitive, and when I start slowly sucking on the area with the goal of creating a hickey, she lets out an even louder moan than before and whined out, "Please, Dr. Reid…please…" before grinding against my thigh in an even rougher manner than before.

"Aw, what is it, pretty girl?" I whisper against her skin. "Am I making you extra sensitive?"

"Uhuh." She whimpers out, which earns a smack on her ass, causing her to whimper.

"You know the rule. What do you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good girl. So answer my question again. Am I making you extra sensitive by kissing and sucking on your neck and giving you hickies?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl, you learn so quickly," I say in a low voice before leaning in and attacking her neck again with my lips, desperately trying to mark it as much as possible and making them as dark as possible so she would see them for the rest of the week, and so her classmates would see. I want people to see that someone could ruin her innocence and be left wondering who could've done it. Who would Ivy let ruin her in such a dirty and naughty way? The answer is: her TA.

As she continues to grind her pussy against my thigh, I suddenly feel some wetness start to leak through my pants.

"Fuck…is that wetness from you, angel?"

"Uhu- Yes, sir." She says, correcting herself to avoid getting punished.

"How precious. And look at you correcting yourself before getting in trouble that it…" I hum. I start grinding my thigh against her, causing more friction and causing the wetness that was seeping through my thin dress pants to increase. I take one of the hands that had been gripping her hip and move it so I can feel how wet she is. I grip her hips tightly and say, "Stop moving for a minute." She listened immediately, although she did let out a small whine of frustration. I ignore this and simply move my hand and press it against her clothed pussy to feel just how wet she is, and the action alone made me let out a long groan.

She was fucking soaked. I remove my hand, and while she stares at me, I lick my fingers, tasting the little juices on my fingers. I let out a growl now. Her juices are so sweet and delicious, and I needed more.

"Get up," I order, patting her thigh. She listens and stands up, a little shaky on her feet but otherwise relatively stable.

"Good girl, now lie down on the couch on your back," I tell her as I slowly get up. I look down at my pants and see the wet spot, causing me to smirk. She whimpers when she sees me take notice of her precious little mess, and in response, I lean over and give her thigh a small smack.

"I said, "Lay down." She scrambles to the couch and lies down on her back, and I smile.

"Good girl, now lift your hips up, it's time for me to have a fucking meal." I kneel on the couch, forcing myself between her legs. When she lifts her hips, I quickly reach under and grip the hem of her pants and underwear and pull them down in one swift motion before throwing them onto the floor.

She looks beautiful like this, almost entirely exposed to me but still somewhat covered.

"Fuck you look gorgeous like this," I mumbled while looking at her, my eyes heavy-lidded. "Move up a little bit," I whisper, and she does. I quickly position myself on my stomach, my forearms underneath her upper thighs, with my hands gripping her hips to keep her in place. My legs dangled off the arms of the couch, but I didn't give a damn. My only focus was tasting her and making her scream. As I begin to lower my head, I hear a soft "Wait." And immediately, I stop.

I look up at her and ask, "Do you want to stop? Do you not want to continue, because we can."

"It's not that. I just worry about the taste. And I haven't shaved."

I raise an eyebrow to look at her. "What makes you think you "have" to shave for me to want to eat you out? Furthermore, I tasted you mere minutes ago, and you taste heavenly to me."

"Well, I've never done this before." She says with a laugh.

"No one has ever pleasured you like this before?" I ask, feeling my eyes widen as she shakes her head no.

"I've had previous sexual interactions, but most of them were just focused on the guy's pleasure. Which I didn't mind!" She hastily added.

I let out a soft sigh before murmuring, "Well, now it's your turn to experience pleasure. May I continue?" She nods, and I gratefully lower my head so my lips can meet hers in a forbidden kiss. When I first do this, she lets out the quietest of moans, making me smirk against her. "There you go, darling…" I mumble out softly before I press another kiss against her pretty pussy, this time eliciting a louder moan from her. I needed to hear more.

I slowly slipped my tongue and licked a long stripe from the bottom of her pussy to the top and flicked it a couple of times on her clit, which now was essentially eliciting a scream. Hearing her reaction pushed me forward, and I continued to flick my tongue against her clit and continued licking long stripes up and down her pussy. The more she screamed, the more I craved. And the more I needed to make her a mess. I quickly move my lips back up to her clit and gently wrap them around it and start slowly sucking on it.

"Dr. Reid…" I hear her gasp out as her hips buck against my face. I grip her hip roughly, making her yelp.

I pull my lips away from her clit and growl out, "That's not what I told you to call me." before returning to my attack on her cunt.

"S- S- Sir…" She gasps out, letting out whines and whimpers. "More. Please."

"That's it, good girl," I mumble before I started sucking on her clit even harder while gripping her hips to keep her from moving too much. Every so often, I would take a break from sucking and instead start flicking my tongue against it, causing it to twitch and get more and more sensitive with the passing minutes. As I continue to torture her pussy I slowly take my right hand, pull it out from underneath her leg and bring it to her pussy lips. I very slowly slide them in, which causes her to let out another scream at the intrusion.

"Fuck! Sir…that feels. Fuck. It feels so good." She cries out, pushing me forward. I start moving my fingers in and out of her, curling them occasionally to try and reach the spot that I know will make her melt. I then moved my left hand from out beneath her, snuck it up her shirt, and started groping her breasts and rubbing my finger over her clothed nipple, making her whine at the extra stimulation. She continues crying out to me, telling me that I'm making her feel so good.

"Yes…please finger fuck me more, sir. Please. I need it. I need it. I need it." She cries out like a forbidden prayer. I continue sucking and licking her clit while I finger fuck her and worshipping her beautiful breasts, prepping her for when I would eventually slide my cock into her and fuck her. As I do this, I feel her walls spasm around my fingers. I remove my mouth from her, my face drenched in her juices, my lips swollen from worshipping her, and my pupils blown out so badly that you could barely see my irises anymore.

"Does someone need to cum?" I ask in a taunting voice, speeding up the pace of my fingers.

"Yes sir…please…need to…cu- cum...so badly." She gasps out, her hands clawing at my arms and shoulders.

"Beg," I order, my voice low, before going back to my previous actions.

"Please, sir, you make me feel so good. Please let me know. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold myself back. I need you. Please, sir…please, please, please."

I could've said no, denied her more so I could feel her only cum around my cock. However, despite my original thoughts, I simply couldn't contain myself. I needed to taste her. I needed to feel her cum in my mouth while I drank it up as if it was my last meal, my last drink.

"Cum." I growl into her pussy, my words vibrating throughout her entire cunt, quickly sending her over the edge. I hear her let out a cry and feel her hips jut irregularly before she starts cumming. She reaches down to my head with her hands and grips my hair, holding me in place and making me growl. She rolls her hips against my face, covering more of me in her delicious juices. I felt her cum drip down my chin as I desperately tried to drink up every drop, and I growled in frustration. I wanted it all. I didn't want to miss a single drop. Eventually, I feel her start to slow her hip movements and start whining as my licking, sucking, and rubbing begin to overstimulate her.

“Please…sir…I need a break." Much to my demise, I eventually pull my lips away, remove my hand from underneath her shirt, and lean over her. She looks up at me, her eyes lidded, pupils as blown out as mine, and a small amount of blood coming from her lip due to her biting it so hard, trying to contain her screams for the sake of my neighbors. She reaches a hand up and brushes her thumb against my lips and chin, collecting some of the leftover juices before bringing it to her lips and sucking it off. The action in and of itself makes me groan before I lean down and kiss her, tasting the metal from the blood mixed with her cum, quickly becoming addicted to the taste. I bite down on her bottom lip, causing her to gasp, which allows me to slip my tongue past her lips and brush against hers. Her tongue tries to push against mine and slip into my mouth, but I quickly dominate the battle, forcing her to submit. Eventually, we pull apart, both gasping for air.

I look down at her, not able to get out much more than saying, "More." She nods back at me frantically, and I smirk.

"Undress me." She reaches forward and starts unbuttoning my vest, her fingers shaking, her body clearly still recovering from her powerful orgasm from mere minutes ago. I could've helped, but I must admit I love watching her struggle. She unbuttons my vest and pushes it off of me, to which I remove it and throw it to the side. She goes to unbutton my pants, and I quickly grab her hands by the wrist and bring me to my shirt.

"You need to earn that," I growl out. She whines but complies and starts removing my necktie. When she does, I hold out my hand, and she gives it to me so I can throw it to the side with my vest. She then gets to my shirt and quickly unbuttons it, and I slip it off and toss it once again to the side. She starts drifting her hands down, looking at me inquisitively, waiting for me to give her permission. She stops moving her hands once she reaches my lower abdomen.

"Please, sir?" She asks in a soft voice while giving me the most innocent eyes I've ever seen. That in and of itself made me groan. She looks so innocent even though she's participating in the sins of hell. I nod at her request, and she quickly reaches down, unbuckles my belt, and tosses it to the side before unbuttoning my pants. I shimmy them off and throw them away from us, then reach my hands to the bottom of her t-shirt and look at her with a raised eyebrow.

"May I?"

"Yes, sir." She says in a soft voice before shakily sitting up.

"Good girl…" I mumble, slipping the shirt off at what seems like the speed of light. I throw it to the side and then reach behind her with one hand and undo her bra strap. She looks at me in shock.

"You had an easier time doing that than I do, and I've worn these for years."

Her comment makes me laugh as I toss it to the side.

"Well, you now know I have quick fingers, don't you angel? And you know I'm agile." Her face turns red as she blushes and lies down on her back. I finally have the opportunity to see her entirely exposed to me, and I run my hands down her entire body, making her squirm.

"Perfect," I say softly before getting off the couch and taking off my boxers. I see her eyes go wide at the sight of my cock, and I smirk.

"Didn't expect me to be this long, did you? Or perhaps you did imagine this while you were masturbating in the quiet and privacy of your room."

She went to answer but quickly fell silent.

"Awww, are we shy now? How cute. Get on your knees for me." She looks at me with a questioning look before obeying and getting off the couch and onto her knees. I stand in front of her, my cock almost touching her lips due to the closeness. She stares at me, watching as my cock twitches and licking her lips at the site of my precum.

"Go on, you can kiss it." She leans forward and kisses it, and when she pulls back, there is a line of precum connecting her lips to my cock.

"Now, stick your tongue out and start licking me." She obeys and sticks her tongue out, licking up and down my shaft and moaning as she does so.

"You like how I taste?"

"Yes, sir." She says, her words somewhat garbled from having her tongue out.

"Good. Now get a better one, wrap your lips around it, and start sucking." She does one final lick from the bottom up to the top and then wraps her lips around my cock and starts sucking on the tip.

I threw my head back and let out a groan. I reach my hand around and grip the back of her head, not forcing anything further down but just holding on to keep her and myself steady.

"Just like that pretty girl…Just like that." She moans around my cock and starts sliding her mouth up and down even further, taking more of me in with ease.

"You look so pretty like this. Submitting to me with your pretty mouth wrapped around me."

She gives a half smile and then continues, forcing almost all of me down before gagging and quickly pulling back for air.

"That's it. Take a moment to breathe." I say to them while massaging her neck and scalp. She hums in appreciation before opening her mouth, and she starts sucking again. This time around, she gets all the way down to my base, forcing all of me in, causing her to gag and her eyes to roll back into her head. She pulls back after a moment and then, within seconds, starts sucking again. She did this a few more times, taking little time to recover and instead just focusing on pleasing me.

"God, you're good at this." I groan out, and eventually, I grip her hair and pull her off. She pouts at me, and I laugh.

"I didn't want to cum in your mouth. I want to do it inside that pretty pussy of yours." Her eyes go wide, and I smirk.

"Get back on the couch, sitting up normally and facing me." She slowly rises off of her knees and sits back on the couch. I watch as she spreads her legs a little, and I growl at the sight again. She knows me so well, and she knows exactly what I want.

I step forward and push her legs apart, gazing at her pussy and admiring how pretty it looks, still drenched in her juices.

She reaches underneath her legs and holds them so they remain spread apart and asks, "Are you gonna fuck me, Sir?" in a fake innocent voice. The scene lying before me is the definition of sin and desire. While I know I shouldn't continue to indulge in such actions, I simply couldn't hold myself back. I needed to show Ivy who they belonged to, and I needed her to never be able to fuck another person again and have her only addicted to me. I need her to be mine.

"I am. But I'm not just gonna fuck you." I say quietly while rolling my hips, allowing myself to slide and rub my cock up and down her pussy lips. "I'm going to ruin you," I growl out, staring deep into her eyes before I plunge into her. She lets out a loud moan, and I smirk.

"That's it. Moan. Scream. Make the neighbors hear how good I fuck you. I want you addicted to me. I want you to never be able to have sex with another person again because you know they could never make you feel as good as I do." After I say this, Ivy starts moaning louder and louder with every snap of my hip. Her moans are addictive, a song that I wanted to play again and again, so it's the only thing I can hear and think about. I want to drown in her, and I want her to drown in me.

"Please…more!" She cries out. I growl, grab her hips, and drag her forward. Her head is on the bottom cushion, and her ass and legs are now hanging off, only supported by me holding her up. With this new position, I start fucking her even more roughly, and as my hips snap against her, she pushes her hips forward a little bit to get me even deeper. Our actions combined start dragging more and more moans from me, making me need to fill her and making me need to feel her cum on me.

I remove my right hand from her legs, letting it drop. I bring my thumb to my mouth, and I lick it, getting some spit on it before bringing it down, and I start rubbing her clit.

"Sir…please… you're gonna make m- m- me cum."

"That's the point," I growl out as I continue rubbing her clit and fucking her roughly.

I feel her walls start to clench around me so tightly it nearly made me scream from how good it feels. I feel my cock start to twitch, and my hips start to jut irregularly. I continue rubbing her clit, and listen as her moans get louder and louder. She starts pleading with me, begging me to let her cum on my cock.

"We're going to count down from ten and on one… we're gonna cum at the same time. Understood?"

"Ye- Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Count with me Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…”

"F- five…fou- four…three…t- two…one!"

"One!" We both cry at the same time. I hear Ivy let out a scream, "Fuck, you feel so good! I'm cumming!" that was definitely heard by the neighbors. I follow suit by letting out a long groan and cry out, "Yesssss!"

As I continue fucking her, I feel myself start to release my cum into her pussy, painting her walls. As I did this, the mixed pressure between me rubbing her clit and me continuing to fuck her causes her to start squirting all over my cock, pelvis, and lower stomach.

"Fuck that's it, baby. Make a mess all over me and my cock. Show me how good I make you feel." I feel her slowly stop squirting, and I slow my hips down to allow her some level of reprieve. I hear her let out a few soft moans and whines as her body comes down from the high induced by the weed and the high I just caused her.

I rock my hips three more times very gently and then slowly pull out, supporting her legs with my arms so she doesn't fall to the floor.

"Sit on the couch for me, darling." She shakily moves up the couch and lets out a long sigh as she feels her body finally relax after having been so tense for what had now been hours of activity.

"I'll be right back." I saw, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead and walking over to my bathroom.

Ivy's POV

I watch as Dr. Reid walks into the bathroom, I hear the water running, and then he walks out with a washcloth. He walks over to me and gently starts cleaning off my thighs and the outside of my pussy which makes me whimper since I was still over-sensitive.

"I'm sorry I know it's sensitive."

"It's okay."

"Can you stand up?" I nod and slowly stand up, my legs incredibly shaky.

"Good, now I need you to go to the bathroom, okay? I don't want you getting a UTI." I nod and walk very slowly and shakily to the bathroom. I walk in, finish my business, and then walk out.

"Thank you for the aftercare." I saw Dr. Reid softly when I walked into the living room. "I appreciate being cared for after that rough of a scene."

"This is basic care, Ivy." He says gently before walking over to me. He kisses my forehead again and then gives me a gentle hug.

"You promise you won't regret this?" He asks in a soft voice. I think, somewhat fearful that I would immediately regret having sex with him or at the least smoking with him.

"I promise I don't regret anything. Do you?"

"Not at all. That was heavenly."

I suddenly started laughing, and Dr. Reid looked at me with a confused smile.

"What is it?"

"I was thinking of the trope of a professor and student getting together and then thinking about how sometimes it's done to get a good grade. So am I going to get a good grade on my homework and test for this, Dr. Reid?" I say, giving him a coy look and batting my eyelashes in a silly way.

Dr. Reid lets out a loud laugh.

"Ivy, I already graded your test, and you literally got a 100%. I told you a few hours ago that you got a 100% on your homework."

"I know, I know, I'm kidding!" I add, laughing before getting up on my tiptoes and gently kissing Dr. Reid. He leans back down and kisses me with a ton of passion before standing back up straight and turning towards the window.

"Looks like the rain stopped."

"Mhm…"

"You're more than welcome to stay for the night."

I turn to him with a smile and say, "I would like that…"

He smiles and says in a soft, gentle voice, "Let's go to the bedroom."

I follow him as he walks towards the bedroom, and when we walk in, I feel my eyes go wide at the sight of the large king bed. I have a queen, but I had no idea a king would even fit in one of the rooms. He walks over and immediately flops on the bed. He pokes his head up and motions for me to lie next to him, and I smile. I quickly walk over and hop on the bed, cuddling up to Dr. Reid.

"Thank you."

"Of course, darling. Now get some rest." I feel my eyes slowly drift close, and I hear the softest. "God I love you…" before fully drifting off to sleep.

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