#or rather shoving them in with another college

[lovevalley45]

rn my university is debating combining colleges n shit and people are. not happy about it so i’m reading the report abt it

and i have to say. it’s not great for the sciences (both soft and hard) but i was looking at my lil hfa left alone like ‘well at least my english department chair won’t have to worry abt digging trenches’

[mommynott]

Lights, Lust, and Leather

12 Days of Dickmas — Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Christmas break has you feeling lonesome, taking matters into your own hands you decide to decorate the common area when suddenly your…enemy? 👀 Stumbles in…and let’s just say he’d much rather decorate you.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, ewb!theo, enemy!theo, dom!theo, blow job, throat fucking, restraints, rough sex, degrading, dirty talk, choking, slight slapping, spanking, slight brat taming, slight edging, PIV, creampie, dom&sub, enemy!theo going to fucking town

The Common Room felt deserted, almost empty in the absence of the other Slytherin students. It was the first day of Christmas break and the vast majority of the students were eager to head home for the holidays.

But you had stayed behind. You decided to take it upon yourself to decorate the usual brooding common room, turning it into a dark Christmas wonderland.

With a slick twirl of your wrist, you flicked your wand toward the speaker, ‘Santa Baby’ starting to coo ever so softly around the area. A gentle yet merry smile painted over your face as you rummaged through a box filled with string lights.

Singing softly along to the cheerful music, you felt content. Just a few classmates had stayed behind. But with one particular classmate…you weren’t sure how to feel. Would something even happen?

Wearing a tight verdant v-neck along with a form-fitting, black leather skirt. You felt completely enveloped in the cozy holiday feel. Climbing up on the ladder you had set up next to the fireplace, you carefully began to hang the twinkling lights, draping them with ease yet sophistication.

However, that damn skirt seemed determined to reveal more with each movement. You found yourself teetering precariously on the ladder diligently hanging the set of lights with one hand as the other tried to tug down the leather.

Even with the ladder, you couldn’t seem to reach certain areas across the fireplace. “What the fuck-“ Mumbling a groan to yourself, you messed with your skirt, trying to pull it down to cover the creek of your ass.

Maybe wearing a skirt this short wasn’t the brightest idea. Fuck it. No one was around anyway. You shrugged your shoulders with a sigh as you reached even higher, placing the lights as you could.

At this exact moment, Theo stumbled into the empty common room, his mind still occupied with the final grades yet to come and the fact Mattheo had taken off with some random girl for a week.

Unaware that he had even entered, you were heavily concentrated on the decor. Your tongue creeping from between your lips, your eyes squinting at the bulbous lighting.

As Theodore stepped deeper into the space he froze, his eyes falling on a sight that immediately banished all thoughts of finals and grades from his mind. There, amongst the twinkling lights and Christmas decorations, was you.

You struggled on the ladder. Your skirt having ridden up to reveal a tantalizing expanse of tempting and smooth skin. The skin he knew so fucking well.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed behind you. "Well, well, well…" Theo had walked in on your festive preparations, eyeing you down fully. His stare was searing into your juicy ass just as you turned your head with a smirk.

Playfully rolling your eyes to the Italian. “Nott…” With a soft giggle, you swore you felt your cheeks flush up. Fuck. How could he always get you this flustered? You hated him. Loathed him. In every aspect…besides sex.

Taking another stride toward you, Theo shoved one of his hands in his pocket. Slowly caressing his knuckles down your bare thigh with the other one.

His gaze now shifting up to meet with yours. “-Surprised you’re doing all of this.” In his usual taunting tone, you could feel your jaw clenching. Why do you have to be so annoying yet so fucking hot?

“You’d be surprised by a lot of things I can do, Nott”

Theo now palmed around your thigh, giving it a faded squeeze while a deep chuckle muttered from his lungs. “Hm…Would I be though?— I think I’ve seen all you can do, Bella.” For fucks sake. That damn Italian nickname. It drove you up a wall.

You could feel the heat already shooting down between your legs from not only his words but his touch too. The sexual tension already spilling over the edge. Something that happened quite often with the two of you.

“Actually, you haven’t.” Replying in a snippy manner, you slowly cocked your head to the side as you continued to hang the Christmas lights onto the mantle.

Trying to ignore Theodore, you shifted over, standing on your tiptoes. Your smooth skirt riding up more so. He could hardly hold it together at this point.

“Being a fuckin’ brat today aren’t we?”

Through a growl-like tone, Theo took a step back and you sighed. Your eyes rolled once more as you faced him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a dick.” Mumbling your words, you fully turned your back.

Putting your focus back on the decor. Theodore, walked to a nearby couch, plopping down as he placed his hands behind his head, manspreading as he observed you.

Engrossed in the twinkling lights, you began to think he had wandered off. But no— Theo was still there. His sight traced down your entire body. Admiring every single crook and curve. “Fuckin’ hell-“ Breathing his thoughts aloud, your head whipped around in surprise.

“If you’re still here, why don’t you get off your ass and help me?” The irritation radiated off of you, but fuck, Theo found you that much hotter when you were angry, annoyed, bratty. Liking the challenge of you.

“You see…I could help you…” he started, relaxing further into the couch with a sly shit-eating grin. “…But what fun would that be? I’m enjoying the view, Tesoro.”

Even through his annoying aura, Theodore held his charm. Something that always worked on the ladies. Even you. “God— You are so fucking annoying…” Sneering your words, you felt the rage bubbling inside of you.

The rage that would so easily turn into passion with him. Fuck me. Suddenly you realized what you had said. What you had done. But you weren’t upset about it in the least.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Theo stood up abruptly, making his way over to you on the ladder. Feeling your knees already start to go weak. You had pushed him over the edge like you always did. His aggression was going to be taken out on you like it always was.

“I— nothing. I said nothing.” Stifling back your flirty laugh, you gave Theodore a bratty yet knowing look. Coaxing him deeper into sexual frustration.

“Oh, you’re going to regret this, brat-“ Before you could even respond, he picked you up easily. Throwing you over his shoulder, his free hand yanking the string lights off of the mantel.

“Hey! Those took forever to put up!” With a whine, your body limped against his own. Feeling his strong hands holding tightly onto your thighs. “Don’t care.”

Practically spitting out his words, he stormed you both off to his dorm room, locking the door behind him before throwing you down on the bed. “I got under someone’s skin didn’t I?” You were only fueling the fire now, but fuck. You loved to see Theo so angry.

The way he’d dominate the fuck out of you. The way he’d pound into you like crazy. Angry sex with Theodore Nott? Top fucking tier.

“I’m going to fuck that bratty mouth of yours until you can no longer speak.”

Nothing but dominance danced in Theo’s eyes. He stalked over, plugging the string of lights into the outlet behind his bed before sitting you up on your knees. “Maybe that’s what I wanted…”

The excitement was coursing through your veins but all of a sudden he brought both of your hands behind your back. Tying your wrists together with the wired lights. Feeling the warmness of them against your delicate flesh.

“W-what are you doing?” Stuttering through a low laugh, you felt Theodore tighten them snuggly. However, he didn’t respond. He was in full Dom mode now. Throwing off his shirt before Unbuckling his belt, he tossed them both to the side.

His ocean gaze filled with an assertive winter storm now as he shuffled his jeans off, pulling out his massive hardened length. “Open up, marmocchia-“

The Italian pet name for brat slipped through his lips while he grabbed a fistful of your silky hair. Bringing you closer to his cock. “Needy for me hm-“ Cutting off your words, Theo took his free hand, using his thumb to part your lips open before ramming his blood-filled throbbing cock into your mouth.

“Fuck— Shut the fuck up and suck me, slut.” He groaned loudly, both of his hands wrapped throughout your locks now.

Thrusting his hips against your face, your once siren-like eyes turned to a doe-eyed stare. Taking him all in as your hands instinctively fought against the restraint of the lights.

—Gluck Gluck Gluck- the noises you were making while he fucked your throat was making Theo’s dick spasm with pleasure. Snaking his hands down quickly, he took the material of your shirt and tore it straight down the middle, your forest green lace bra popping out.

“Let’s get these perfect titties out, Tesoro.”

He growled, tugging your breasts right out of your skimpy bra, seeing those hardened nipples perk right up. Theo fought out a groan, mercilessly thrusting down your throat while his hands found their way back into your hair.

One gripping hard on the back as the other brushed through your strands gracefully. Pushing his length further down your throat, you gagged against him, tears now pricking the corners of your eyes.

A low and menacing laugh freed from Theodore as he fucked your face even harder. Taking one of his hands and lightly slapping the apple of your cheek. “Open up that throat, slut- I know you can do it…Open.” The assertiveness was prominent through his grunts.

You tried to loosen up your throat muscles, your mascara dripping down your face as you did. But when you heard an approved moan from Theo, you knew it was working.

“Ah— Good fuckin’ girl…Just like that”

Seeing him bite his lower lip through your blurry vision, you felt a sense of pride run through you. Knowing you were feeding Theo with nothing but pure bliss.

He started to cram further and further down your throat, seeing the outline of his cock down your esophagus. Fuck. Your binded wrist felt hot to the touch by now, whimpering through his intense plows.

This went on for a good few minutes until Theo felt like he could fucking bust a nut on the spot. Not only that but your throat had an intense beating. And he fucking knew that.

He slowly pulled out, drool falling from your mouth as you inhaled sharply. “Fuck—“ Your voice was burnt, sounding hoarse. He did in fact keep his promise.

“C’mere…Imma fuck that perfect pussy of yours now.” Your cunt throbbed with excitement as he spun you around. Not having access to your hands, your head fell directly onto his silk bedsheets.

Your ass flawlessly perked up for him. But that leather skirt? It remained on, he just made sure to carefully roll it up.

-Smack! Theo’s hard and heavy palm swatted across your bottom causing it to redden instantly.

“Gods— P-please fuck me…please.” You begged the Italian through a whimper, veering your head to the side so your submissive eyes could lock with his.

A cruel and ungodly smile of seduction plastered over his features before he gave another slap to your ass, watching as it rippled. “How can I say no when you beg like that?” With a smirk, he slammed his needy cock deep inside of you without warning.

“Cazzo— You’re so fuckin’ wet for me-“ Theo rasped through his rough slams, feeling your walls stretch out with ease. Tightly grabbing your restrained wrists with one hand, the other dug into your hip, surely breaking skin.

But fuck did you enjoy this. “I forgot how big you were!” Crying out from the swirling sensations of pain and pleasure, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“Yeah? I’ll have to fuck you more often, Cara Mia.” Thrusting into your soaked cunt even harder, he pulled back on your wrists, hovering you just above the bedding.

“-Yes—Yes…Fuck! I’m so close, baby—“Your moans only seemed to get louder with each passing second. The gushing sounds of your wetness and Theo’s skin slapping against your own echoed around you.

But suddenly, he quickly pulled out of you. Just as you were on the brink of climax. “-The fuck?!” Squeaking out, your brows furrowed up at him, seeing that taunting, edging look in his eyes.

“Not yet.” Firmly speaking, he swiftly untied your wrists, wincing from the blood pooling back to them. “On your back, slut.” With his demanding tone, he didn’t even give you a chance to respond.

Tossing you over on your back, a raspy yelp emitted from your lips, breathing heavily as Theo restrained your left wrist to the bed, using the sparkling lighting.

Your lips parted but no words seemed to come out. You simply watched as he moved over to your other wrist, tightly binding it to his bed frame. “But what if-“

A hint of concern tainted you. —what if something went wrong? But Theo could see the anxiety spiking within your mind. A small closed-mouth smile twitched on his lips.

“It won’t- I promise…I won’t let anything happen to you…alright, Tesoro?” He reassured smacking a sweeter kiss to your lips as he positioned himself between your legs.

That was the thing with Theodore Nott. As much of an asshole he could be with you, he would randomly show a more soft and affectionate side. Something you wanted to explore even deeper. “O-okay…” Bright red tinged your cheeks, Theo teased your leaky slit with his pre cum covered tip.

Lifting that black leather skirt so it bunched right around your midsection. “Fuck…you’re drenched.” Through a breathy rasp, he tilted his head back momentarily. And right when you’d least expect it, slipping right back between your clenched walls.

Twisting your own hands and gripping the bases of the string lights, you pulled them ever so slightly, feeling the burning bulbs dig further into your flesh. A burn you were slowly craving more and more of.

“You fuck me so good, Theo!— just like that!” Arching your back, you could feel the now warmed sheets shifting beneath your body, Theo only railing into you faster than before.

“That’s right, slut— No one else fucks you like this, hm?” His domineering tone croaked through his own deep moans. The sensations you were sending through Theodore were otherworldly. “N-no fuck!— Only you…only you, Theo…gods- I’m so close!”

Your moans now turning into screams that bounced off of the stone walls of his dorm room. He smirked, wrapping one hand around your throat, the other grabbing onto the top of his bed frame.

The pounding of the wooden oak ramming against the wall was hefty and loud, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

“Yeah? My dirty little slut wants to cum? Release for me.” He husked, those dead eyes flickering between your own. Rolling his hips smoothly at great speed, he was hitting all your sweet spots.

However, as soon as you got the go-ahead, you didn’t wait any longer. Throwing your head back against the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut while your legs trembled. The rush of your juices squirting out all over Theo’s length, soaking it whole as you hit a sensational orgasm. “See…”

A ragged whisper strumbled through his lips, the Italian accent rolling off perfectly along with it. “…No one fucks you like I do…no one makes your body react the way I do…no one can make you feel as good as I do.” His raunchy words only made your heart flutter.

As fucked up as that was, it was true. You were catching your breath, your body fully limp after finally cumming. The pulsating feel of bruises forming shooting up to your wrists.

“You’re…right….”

You moaned through Theo’s plows, your gaze locking with his before you continued. “…But it goes the other way too, Theo…” bucking your hips forward, pushing him deeper inside of you. He smiled, sweat beading down his forehead from how hard he was fucking you.

“And you are also right, Bella.” His muscles flexed, both of his hands holding onto the headboard now as he let himself lose control within you. That perfect fucking pussy

“Fuckin,— God- you’re going to make me cum…Fuck—“ he tripped over his words, feeling his dick twitching within your warmed walls. His seed shooting deep inside of your cunt could have had you cumming again.

Just seeing the way he tensed up, his groans, the way he never took his hungry eyes off of you. Not even for a second. He kept his cock inside of you as he came to a full stop.

Both of your breaths matched each other, a comforting silence wrapping around both of you like a cozy winter blanket before he leaned down. Pressing a lingering soft kiss to your lips, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re too good, Tesoro.” He complimented, pulling out of you and watching his white load dripping out of you. Letting out a satisfied groan as he did. Theodore quickly grabbed a towel to clean you up before untying your wrist.

Massaging your now bruised arms, you hissed. Giving the Italian a cheeky smirk. “I suppose I should go finish hanging those up.” With a giggle you pulled your leather skirt down, throwing your bra back on.

But your shirt? It was a torn mess. Before you could even say something about it, Theo playfully tackled you back on the bed. “Nah- you’re not going anywhere…That can wait.”

The most sarcastic and egotistical grin spread across your face as you stifled back a loud laugh. “Oh? Thee Theodore Nott wants to hang out with me huh?” You teased him, feeling as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into a spooning position. “Oh shut it…don’t let your head get too big.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, he smacked a kiss to the crook of your neck as you both relaxed. Weirdly enough as much as you both loathed each other in a public setting, when it was just the two of you— and sex was involved- Theo wasn’t half bad. You could get used to this. Maybe Christmas break wouldn’t be as boring as you anticipated.

AHHHHH THE START OF DICKMAS !!! I hope everyone enjoyed the first of twelve 🎄🎁

If you haven’t already please go check out @nottsangel @nottswitch @slytherinslut0 as they’re also doing fun little Christmas works!❄️

Dividers linked in my masterlist 🌙

Love my naughty smut sluts 💋

[jaythes1mp]

The Incident

Before the incident, you were no one special. 

Growing up, your family belonged to the middle class, your mother a waitress and your father a construction worker. You were an only child, raised by your grandmother from a very young age, as your parents were young and unfit to care for you. Choosing to spend their time working and partying with their friends rather than looking after their baby.

You hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges in your area, so you resulted in making a basic wage by working dual jobs. Saving up just enough money for some scrappy apartment on the outskirts of Gotham.

One afternoon, just before you were able to clock out of another grooly ten-hour shift, six masked women had smashed through the front windows, raiding the store.

The back room was dimly lit, with only a couple dusty desk lamps shedding any kind of light. You were shoved to the ground and forced to sit amongst the other victims while the women gathered whatever they came for. One of them, presumably the leader, began to count the people they had captured, when she stopped and took notice of you. It was the luck of the draw, really. 

You were terrified, practically trembling as the barrel was shoved up against your temple, the hard shove against your front being the only warning to move. 

You don’t remember much after that. Seeing four of the infamous masked fighters coming to rescue your fellow workers and subdue the other robbers. You, however, weren’t as lucky.

Just as the blunt edge of Robin’s katana was slammed into the side of the woman’s weapon, a shot rang out, echoing throughout the walls. 

The weapon was knocked to the ground by the force, completely out of her reach, and she was wrestled to the ground by the vigilantes.

You’re not sure why you fell, but everything suddenly felt warm.

As the room around you grew dizzy, your head spinning from the impact, the world around you felt like it was slowly fading, blurring and darkening at the edges of your vision. The ground was growing sticky beneath you at a rapid rate, turning dark as the deep red liquid began to seep and pour out around you like a spreading fire.

You remember all four of the vigilantes rushing towards you, their faces twisted into panicked masks unlike anything you had ever seen, not even the one time when you had broken your arm as a child. They were more worried than your father would have been at the thought of you dead. 

Oh... I’m dying.

You wanted to chuckle at how absurd it was. You were barely twenty four, and here you were, lying on the cold, dirty floor of a back room, shot through the chest. 

Fuck, my chest hurts.

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, watching as the last few moments of your life were spent looking at the frantic and worried faces of Gotham's heros.

You weren’t sure why they were so devastated. They had all seen death before, first hand. You shouldn't have been any different. There was nothing special about you. You were just an average, worthless citizen, no friends, a shitty job, and an even shittier apartment.

Your hand moved to the hole in your chest, a pained scream ripping through your lips, your eyes squeezed shut.

Then it all went black.

Or.. at least it should have.

Instead, you woke up. 

Gasping frantically for air, you looked around, your heart racing. The looks of the worried teens around you were inconsequential.

Your hands flew to your chest, clawing at the covered skin, looking for the bullet wound that had once been there. It's gone…

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, a relieved sigh following right after.

Then, you finally looked up to meet the eyes of your tenth grade literature teacher.

After the incident, you had found yourself flung back nine years into the past. However, this time, things were different from how you remember them to be.

Now, a cocky, billionaire’s son was claiming to be your best friend, your neighbours, who you vaguely remember having been old, crabby couples, were now completely different. Your old friends were nowhere to be found, And the ever prevalent vigilantes in Gotham seemed almost obsessed with you.

This is a slightly over-detailed synopsis.

I created this idea while I was working on chapter three for Here, Kitty.

If you’d like me to make this drabble into full chapters, then please reblog, comment, or message me. If it gets no interaction then I will understand that it was a shit concept and drop it. If not, then I have a lot of ideas for how the plot will spiral, and a potential twist-ending.

IF anyone was interested in it, then it would include both the BatFamily and SuperFamily, as yanderes.

Thank you for reading through all of this, lovely readers💚 Feel free to send in any suggestions or questions!!

[honeyncherry]

we never tell - joe burrow

summary some mistakes only happen once — others walk through the front door and say "hi" to your mom

content 18+, suggestive, angst

"Did you take the pie out?!"

Your mother’s voice slices through the kitchen, sharp enough to rattle the glassware. You jump, nearly dropping the bowl of mashed potatoes you’ve been absently stirring for the last five minutes.

“What pie?” you ask, half-turning, but she’s already storming past you, yanking the oven door open with the kind of urgency that suggests an actual crisis is unfolding.

“The pecan pie!” she exclaims, fanning at the billowing heat. “The only thing your Grandma asked for, and I swore I told someone to take it out fifteen minutes ago.”

From outside, your dad’s voice drifts in, relaxed and completely unconcerned. “Everything alright in there?”

“No, it is not alright,” your mother yells, slamming the oven shut with enough force to rattle the stovetop. “It’s burnt.”

Your brother, who has been supervising (read: drinking beer while Dad does all the work), slides the back door open and peers inside. He takes one look at the situation: the scorched pie, your mom’s mounting frustration, the way you’re gripping the counter like bracing for impact.

“Doesn’t look that bad,” he mutters.

Your mother whirls around on him so fast that he takes an instinctive step back. He quickly retreats outside without another word — back to whatever life-threatening experiment he and your father are attempting with the turkey.

The kitchen reeks of cinnamon, nutmeg, and impending disaster. The house is thick with the kind of tension that comes from too many relatives packed into one space for a holiday. The sound of football blares from the living room, clashing with your aunts' chatter at the dining table.

And yet, beneath all of it — beneath the burnt pie, the inevitable migraine, the impending cycle of small talk you’d rather gouge your eyes out than endure; there’s something else.

Something off.

It’s been crawling up your spine all morning. Clinging to you like static. No matter how many times you roll your shoulders, shake out your hands, try to shove it down, it sticks.

Because you’re carrying a secret.

A big one.

The doorbell rings. A welcome interruption.

“Can someone get that?!” your mom huffs while elbow-deep in pie dough, already moving on from disaster to damage control.

Your feet move on autopilot.

You pull open the door.

Robin Burrow beams at you, bundled against the November chill, her blond hair peeking out from under a knitted beanie. “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart!” she says, pulling you into a warm hug before you can even register the cold seeping into the house.

Robin Burrow, who has been in your life for as long as you can remember.

Robin Burrow, who’s practically a second mom.

Robin Burrow — who is very much not the problem.

She and your mother met in elementary school and never really drifted apart. Not through high school, not through college, not even after careers and marriages and kids forced miles between them. They always found their way back to each other, the kind of lifelong friendship that made family out of people who weren’t technically blood.

The Burrows were always there.

When you were little, Robin was the mom who never let you feel left out. The one who snuck you extra cookies when no one was looking. Who let you curl up next to her on their couch during sleepovers when the boys had long since passed out. Who kept bandaids in her purse for scraped knees, and kissed the tops of your heads before sending you back outside to play.

And there was Jimmy whose deep voice and easy laughter always filled a room. If Robin was a second mom, then Jimmy was a second dad. Miraculously, one of your father’s closest friends. Always at every backyard barbecue and every football game. All milestones your families celebrated together.

Then, of course, there were the boys.

You were always a little on the outside when it came to them. Not in a bad way, just in a natural way.

The Burrow brothers were thick as thieves, and your brother fit seamlessly into their chaos. You were the wildcard, the youngest, always just a step behind.

At first, it was all of them: Jamie, Dan, Joe, and your brother. A whirlwind of shoving and shouting and sprinting barefoot across the backyard. But as the years passed, the older Burrow boys got driver’s licenses, girlfriends, and jobs. They didn’t have time for reckless backyard football or pointless dares anymore.

Eventually, it was just Joe and your brother.

Their bond only tightened as the others moved on.

And you?

You were still on the outskirts.

Your brother and Joe let you join in on football games when they needed an extra person, but even then, you weren’t really one of them.

Joe was polite. Quiet. A familiar presence, never more, never less.

A fixture at every family event, a familiar face in a sea of familiar faces. You exchanged small talk: How’s school? How’s football? when your moms forced you into conversation, but it never went deeper than that.

Joe was your brother’s friend.

A name you knew.

A person you’d never really known.

And yet, your breath catches — because now, that Joe is stepping inside.

Except he’s not the same to you.

His broad frame fills the doorway, cold air curling around him like it doesn’t want to let go. He drops a duffel bag (no doubt packed for the annual flag football game) to the floor with a quiet thud.

His shoulders rise with an exhale, the muscles in his neck flexing before his hands shove into the pockets of his LSU sweatshirt. The sweatshirt hangs loose over his frame, but you know what’s underneath.

You remember it.

His hair is still damp, fresh from a shower. The sight of it sends a jolt straight through you because you can recall what it looked like last night — messy from your hands, sticking to his forehead, his jaw slack, breath ragged.

He was wrecked.

Because of you.

You remember the way he tipped his head back with a groan, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his voice cracked when he said your name.

And now?

Now, he’s the picture of control. Completely casual and unbothered.

He scans the room like he doesn’t feel the weight of your stare. Like this is just another Thanksgiving. Like he didn’t have you pinned beneath him, dragging desperate noises from your swollen lips.

He pretends his hands hadn’t been everywhere — gripping, teasing, taking.

Like his mouth hadn’t been on your skin, branding you, unraveling you, ruining you.

Your stomach twists violently.

Because he had.

You slept with Joe Burrow, and now he’s standing in your parents’ entryway — smiling, hugging your mother and shaking your dad’s hand like he wasn’t inside you less than twelve hours ago.

The warmth of the house turns suffocating.

Your mother gushes over Joe, her voice painfully oblivious. Oh, you’ve grown so much! You look amazing! It’s so good to have you home!

His eyes flicker to you. Quick. Too quick.

But you feel it.

Because the last time he looked at you like that, he was above you.

One drink turned into another.

A conversation turned into a touch.

A touch turned into his lips dragging over your jaw. 

"Tell me you want this." 

Your answer wasn’t a simple yes. It was a plea. A confession. A surrender.

Yet now, his jaw tightens. He blinks once and looks away.

Like nothing happened.

Like you don’t still feel him everywhere.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

a/n: i have lotsss of ideas for this au but send in any specific requests of what you'd like to see !

[covenofagatha]

I love your Agatha stories!! I was wondering of you could write something where reader is the daughter of one of detective Agnes’ coworkers, who she doesn’t get along with, and they met in one of those cop friends reunion. She sees reader in the pool and can’t help but be infatuated by them, and when she discovers who reader’s father is, her needs to defile reader just increases😈

may have been a lil drunk finishing this so hopefully there's not too many mistakes lol

(Not so) Good girl, bad cop

Detective Agnes meets the attractive daughter of her annoying partner at the annual Westview PD Christmas party and decides that she has to have her

Word count: 3300

Warnings: bratty reader, top agatha, fingering, virgin reader, teasing, degradation, daddy kink, implied oral

The house of Agnes’s partner, Gary, is filled with food, music, and merriment for the annual Westview Police Department Christmas party. 

And yet, Agnes would rather be anywhere else. She makes a mental list of the places she wishes she could be instead, the bottom of a ditch making an appearance surprisingly high up. 

Her kiss-ass partner had practically begged Chief to let him throw it at his house, always trying to get ahead some way or another. 

Agnes can’t stand him. 

His smug little face when he took credit for one of her solves. The way he would mansplain things to her. The way he would take his fucking shoes off and put his feet up on desk. 

But she puts on a fake smile and hands him the obligatory bottle of wine when she walks into the home. 

“Ah, Agnes, there you are!” He booms and claps her on the shoulder. She grits her teeth before she removes his hand herself. She grunts as a way of greeting and steps right past him further into the foyer. 

Detectives and officers wave as she passes through the crowd of people to go find a corner to stand in and drink a beer. Everyone seems to be having a good time and she hates it. Hates to see Gary win like this. 

Her bored eyes flit through to find someone interesting enough to talk to, and that’s when she catches sight of someone outside. 

More specifically, a girl in the pool. You. 

Agnes’s forehead creases. All she can see is your shoulders and head and she turns her body fully to the sliding glass door to observe. 

You seem to just be floating around but there’s something about you that has her transfixed. 

Maybe it’s your wet hair matted around your face, or your nose and cheekbones, or the color of your eyes that she can see from inside. 

And that mouth, god. Agnes groans inwardly. What it must be like to kiss those pretty lips. 

Or for them to be elsewhere. 

“Hey, Agnes, Merry Christmas!” Agnes jolts out of her trance to find Chief standing next to her. 

“Same to you,” she says gruffly and then lifts her hand with the beer to point at you. “Who is that?” 

“Oh, that’s Gary’s daughter, Y/N. She’s home from freshman year of college. Met her a few times,” he says disinterestedly. 

But Agnes feels a thrill run through her. She didn’t know Gary had a daughter. Now, instead of just wanting an unknown person’s mouth on her, she wants Gary’s daughter’s mouth on her. The son of a bitch may have the favor of the entire Westview PD, but she is surely going to have you. 

And then you wade through the water to the side of the pool and push yourself out of it and Agnes almost moans at the way your muscles flex in your arms. 

And then she’s able to take all of you in. 

Your skimpy purple two-piece, the low cut of the top and how it shows significant cleavage, and the bottoms that rest just above the hip bones that Agnes wants to scrape her teeth against. 

She barely notices Chief walking away before making the executive decision to shove open the door and go talk to Gary’s daughter. 

You’re toweling off next to your pile of clothes on the patio table when you hear someone stepping out onto the back deck. You figure it’s just your dad, maybe coming to yell at you for being outside swimming instead of “mingling with the guests” like he wanted. 

But you hate these parties, having been to enough of them your whole life. Cops were boring and most of them had the biggest superiority complexes you’d ever seen. 

So you said fuck it and put on your swim suit. 

Footsteps get closer to you and you glance back, bracing for the lecture. 

But it’s not your dad. 

It’s Detective Agnes, his partner. 

You had seen her a few times at cop events you’d been forced into going to, but you had never spoken to her. You’re not sure she actually knows who you are.

However, you certainly know her. 

Her frizzy dark hair. Her piercing blue eyes. The way her lips pursed and her veiny hands would grip onto her belt. 

She is one of the hottest women you’ve ever seen. 

And she came wearing a suit tonight, hair tied back in a ponytail: black pants and a blazer over a neatly tucked in white button-down shirt that makes you want to drop to your knees. And a fucking tie, is she serious. 

The things you want her to do to you…god. Even though you’d only seen her from afar a few times, you still spent quite a few nights imagining her, hand between your legs. 

“Come to swim?” You ask when she finally gets close to you. She snorts and gives you a once-over. 

“Aren’t you cold?” 

You shrug even though the windy December air is brutally harsh against your bare wet skin. The urge to shiver is almost all-consuming, but with her standing this close to you, there’s a faint warmth in your stomach distracting you. 

You know that your body is reacting, however, and you twist your hair up into the towel so that Agnes can see your nipples poking through your top, harder than glass. Her eyes dart down, almost too fast to catch, but the way she gulps and clenches her teeth gives her away. 

“Maybe a little,” you answer. “Just need a way to warm up.” It sounds just as suggestive as you intend it and you can see her eyes darken. 

“Putting some clothes on would surely help,” she suggests and you pout mockingly but pull your long sleeve shirt over your head and wrap the towel around your waist. “Better?” 

You hum in agreement. “Did my dad send you out here? I don’t need a babysitter, you know.” 

She chuckles like something’s funny. “No, he didn’t, but are you sure you don’t? You would’ve caught hypothermia if it weren’t for me.”

“Wow,” you say, voice sickly sweet. “I had no idea my dad’s partner was a better daddy than he is. Look at you watching out for me.” You smirk, hearing her breath catch in her throat. 

But then Agnes scoffs. “And I had no idea my partner’s daughter was such a brat.” It’s impossible to miss the spark that goes straight to your cunt when she calls you that and you simper. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Detective?” You’re not sure where this boldness is coming from, but you like it and you think she likes it, too. 

Agnes growls and takes a step closer to you. You stand your ground, daring her with your eyes. 

“Your lips are blue, doll. The only thing I’m ‘gonna do about it’ is get your ass inside so your father doesn’t kill me when you freeze on my watch.” Her hand clasps your bicep and she practically hauls you back towards the door. 

“You’re really strong,” you remark, enjoying the way her grip tightens around you. “Do you work out?” You do mean for it to sound sexier, like a smooth pick-up line, but with the way your teeth have started chattering, it sounds like you’re slurring and you barely get the words out. She slides open the door and pushes you inside, the balmy air instantly making you feel better. 

“Go take a shower,” she tells you. 

You bite your bottom lip and bat your eyelashes. “Why don’t you come join me? That would really warm me up.” You toy with the edge of her tie, pulling on it ever so slightly and looking up at her through your eyelashes.

“You’re shameless, aren’t you?” She hisses, the vein in her forehead throbbing. “Throwing yourself at anyone who gives you a little attention, begging to be put in your place. Are you like this with all the girls at college, too? Getting fucked by a new one every night?”

You lean in closer so only she can hear you. “I’m a virgin,” you whisper in her ear, blush spreading to your cheeks, and she sharply inhales, almost giving into you right there. She’s going to take Gary’s daughter’s virginity. You can see her neck taunt with restraint and she steps back to put some space between you, almost all the blue in her eyes being swallowed up by her pupils. 

“Go upstairs and take a shower now,” she orders, her voice hard. 

“And then what?” 

She rolls her eyes. “If you can behave, maybe you’ll get a reward.” Heat flares through you and you take the stairs two at a time and shower faster than you ever have before. 

When you come back down, clad in a short red dress, you immediately find Agnes standing alone and out of sight in the hallway to the guest room. You join her, momentarily getting distracted by her loosened tie and blazer rolled up to her forearms. 

“I did it,” you say, voice coming out hushed. She rakes her eyes over you, smirking appreciatively. 

“So you did,” she agrees. “I’m glad you can follow simple directions.”

You wait a second with a raised eyebrow. She says nothing. “Do I get a reward now?”

She barks out a laugh. “So eager, aren’t you, pet?” The new name sends a bolt of lightning straight through you and you nod. “Let’s see if you can behave just a bit longer before I ruin you for everyone else.” 

You stick out your bottom lip like a petulant child and she pats your face roughly. 

“Come on,” you try again, whining. “Why can’t we just sneak away right now? No one would notice if you just came up to my bedroom with me.”

Your fingers play with her tie again, giving her a wicked grin as you tug her in closer by it, but she quickly snatches your wrists off her and pins them against the wall over your head, body pressing against yours. 

A moan escapes your mouth and your heart skips a beat. 

“Is this what you want?” She snarls, husky and deep and heat-filled, and it’s hard to think straight. Her leg presses between your legs and your head lolls back against the wall, tilting so she can lean in closer. “You want someone to punish you for being a bad girl? Want someone to take you rough and fast to teach you a lesson? What would your father think if he saw you this desperate for me? His perfect little darling daughter, grinding on my leg like a slut?” 

You whimper and try to force words out of your mouth, but you have no luck. She huffs and steps back, letting go of you and you instantly miss her heat against you. 

“See, you don’t even know what you want,” she scoffs. “Are you going to be good?”

You smirk. “Why should I, if it gets you this hot and bothered?” She fixes her stare on you, but you hold it, glare unwavering. 

“You know what?” She snaps and excitement rises inside you. “Fuck it.” You open your mouth to ask what she means, but she grabs your hand and pulls you back into the guest bedroom. 

You wonder if she had scoped it out while you were in the shower. Just canvassing the place, trying to find the best place for this. 

Agnes shoves your front against the door, holding your arms behind your back with her body like you’re being arrested, and yanks your head back by your hair. 

“What do I have to do to get you to behave, hm?” She asks. “Bend you over and spank you? Get you so wound up that you’re begging to cum and then leave you high and dry? Or make you cum so many times that your pretty face is covered in tears?”

You can’t help but whimper at her words. “Please, Detective,” you beg, feeling an ache that you’ve never felt before. “Anything.” 

Her hand comes down to rub your ass soothingly and you arch back into her touch. “Are you sure you want this to be your first time?” She asks quietly and carefully. Your knees tremble at the sudden softness and you nod so hard your head hurts. 

“Yes,” you rasp. “I need you so badly.”

She groans into your ear, seemingly very affected by your words. “In case you ever want to stop, say ‘purple’ or tap anywhere on me twice. Got it?” 

“Got it,” you breathe and her tongue licks a hot stripe up your throat. “Please, Detective, please touch me.” 

She flips you around and traces her hands up the sides of your stomach, her warmth seeping through your dress. She studies you. “You know, sweetheart, I know you can do better than that with how you’ve been acting all night.”

“Please, please, want you to fuck me, want you to be my first,” you whine, letting the words pour out of your mouth. “Detective, I need to feel you, please, daddy.” The last word kind of just slips out, but based on her strangled gasp, it seems to turn her on. 

She grabs your chin in her hand and holds eye contact with you. “Say it again,” she orders in a deep voice. Hearing her like this, seeing her like this, is doing wonders to you. 

But there’s still a bit of brat inside you. 

“Make me,” you challenge. Agnes raises an eyebrow and her other hand slips under your dress and cups you over your underwear. 

You sharply inhale at the feeling of someone else touching you there. While you are no stranger to your own body, having Agnes’s fingers against your most sensitive area is a whole new sensation. 

“God, you’ve really been getting off on being a brat, haven’t you?” She taunts, feeling your wetness against her fingers.

“Maybe…” you trail off softly and she pushes your underwear aside. Your knees almost buckle at the feeling of her against you, stroking through her folds. One finger teases your entrance and you try to maneuver yourself to get her to dip inside. 

“Ah ah,” she tuts, refusing to give you what you want. “Say it again.” 

This time, you give in straight away, needing her more than your pride. “Please, daddy, just fuck me.” 

She slides a finger into you and you moan, head dropping back against the wall. You can’t believe you're losing your virginity to your dad’s partner against the door to your guest room. You didn’t picture it like this, but you had wished she would be your first, so either way the end result was the same. 

“Fuck, doll, you’re so wet and hot around me,” Agnes says, beginning to slowly move her finger in and out, twisting to hit a spot that has you panting. “If only your father could see me now, fingers deep in his only child. Corrupting his perfect daughter.” 

For some reason, that only turns you on more and you roll your hips against her, drawing her finger in. 

“Please, daddy, need more,” you plead and she chuckles meanly before slipping a second finger into you. The stretch makes you groan but it feels so good. You meet every thrust and you can feel yourself getting closer already. She’s twisting her fingers, not exactly kindly, and you’re a mess, noises falling out of your mouth, doing anything to get her deeper. 

Her thumb swipes at your clit and you let out a loud moan, her other hand coming to clamp over your lips. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby girl,” she says. “Don’t want the whole party to know what a slut you’re being for me, do you?” 

You shake your head but wrap one of your legs around her waist so she can more easily hit the spot inside you that you have trouble reaching yourself. 

She laughs at how needy you are and fucks you even harder, fingers moving at a bruising pace that steals all the breath from your lungs. 

“Daddy, oh my god, please,” you moan, feeling yourself getting so close. Everything is so much more heightened than it feels like when you’re touching yourself, and you can’t believe Agnes is actually fucking you.

“Want to cum all over daddy’s fingers, huh?” Her question makes you even wetter, clenching around her, whimpering. Her eyes are burning into you and you’ve never felt more alive. 

“Please, yes, wanna cum, daddy, just for you.” You’ve never felt so needy, so desperate, in your life. Your entire body is taunt like a lifewire, electricity crackling and making you feel better than you ever have. 

She laughs. “What a naughty brat, making me fuck you at your dad’s Christmas party like this. Just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to act out just to get what you want?” 

All you can do is whine as she forces another finger into you, not even burning a little from how wet you are, and your head falls back against the door. Her thumb starts to rub a rhythm against your clit and your walls flutter around her three fingers. You start babbling, saying her name, telling her how good she’s fucking you. 

Agnes’s lips part, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead, and all you can do is gasp as she continues to fuck you so well. You don’t think anyone else will ever compare to her. 

“Cum for me, baby girl, cum for daddy,” she says, and hearing herself call herself that sends you right over the edge. 

You soak her fingers with a loud moan, riding them until the stimulation becomes too much to bear. She pulls out of you and you still mewl weakly at the emptiness. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” She asks and you drop your forehead onto her shoulder and sigh. 

And then you laugh a little at the situation and she huffs too. “I’m great, thank you, Agnes.” It’s the first time you’ve called her by her real name all night and she lets out a little sound that tells you exactly how much she likes it. 

She strokes a hand through your hair and brings you in for a kiss. You didn't realize how bad you wanted her lips against yours until it finally happens. But her tongue strokes into your mouth and you find out just how good she tastes. 

And just how much you want to taste a different part of her. 

Agnes also seems to have a similar idea. Her fingers tighten in your hair and guide you down to your knees. She unbuttons her pants and your throat goes dry as she slides them down her perfect, pale legs. You can see a bit of muscle in her thighs and it makes you want to lean over and bite them, just to leave marks. 

“You’ve been a brat all night, you know,” she says, peeling over her underwear and revealing her glistening pussy to you. Your jaw drops open, absolutely enthralled, needing to have her on your tongue. You nod at her words, not even denying what you did to get yourself into this position. “Running your mouth, saying the most desperate things, acting like such a brat. Well, I think we better put those pretty little lips to some better use, don’t you?” 

You couldn’t agree more, and you tell her that. 

She leads your eager mouth to her cunt and shuts you up in the best way possible.  

[myth1cs]

Getting Revenge (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

Don't ask (I'm sorry) Word Count: 2166

I was walking through the hallways before I suddenly got shoved into a wall.

"Hey Y/N so any updates on the group assignment?"

I groaned when I realized that it was Momo.

Momo was very popular. When I got assigned to be with her for the group project I was a little excited until I found out Momo didn't have any intention of actually doing any work.

Now I'm pulling her dead weight which isn't easy since I still have major projects from my other classes that I have to do.

"Yeah I'm almost done with it."

"Good anyways see you later Y/N." Momo said as she continued walking down the hallway.

Momo is every teachers favorite student. No one would believe me if I told them she wasn't pulling her weight and since I don't want to fail this assignment then I have no choice but to do it all on my own.

I swear if I ever get a chance to screw her over I will.

I went back to my dorm and saw that my roommate Kim Chaewon was already there.

Chaewon looked up from her laptop and looked at me "Hey Y/N how were classes today."

"You know the same." I said as I sat down next to her on the couch.

"Is that Momo girl still not doing her part of the assignment?"

"Yeah and I'm gonna have to stay up all night doing her part."

"That sucks Y/N. I would help if I could but I have my own class work to do."

I pulled out my laptop and started working on the assignment. Me and Chaewon worked next to each other in silence until she spoke up.

"Before I forget Y/N I invited my friend Yeji over so we can do some karaoke. Is that gonna be a problem?"

Yeji and Chaewon can get pretty loud when they do karaoke. And Chaewon knows that I am going to stay up all night doing work so she's probably asking cause she doesn't want to disturb me. But I didn't want to ruin Chaewons day as she doesn't have much free time and this was likely the only time she could hangout with one of her friends at least until exams ended.

I guess I can suck it up for one night.

"No problem Chaewon but can you try to keep it down this time."

"No promises." Chaewon said before she went back to doing her work.

"I shouldn't be up at this hour." I said as I looked at the clock and saw it was 1:30am.

I tried focusing on my work but I couldn't due to how loud Chaewon and Yeji were.

I texted my friend Haewon if I could stay in her dorm for the night and she quickly replied that I could.

I grabbed my stuff and made my way to her dorm but on my way I heard something coming from the floor below.

"Fuck I'm stuck."

The voice sounded familiar but I couldn't tell who it was because it was so quiet. I'm not sure why someone would be downstairs because the college is doing renovations down there so students shouldn't be their to begin with.

Just in case someone actually needs help I made my way downstairs and saw a bunch of incomplete walls and it looked like someone was stuck.

It was dark so I walked closer to see who it was.

"Wait is there someone there? ... YES I'm stuck can you pull me out!"

I paused as I realized I recognized that voice.

"Momo?"

"Oh great the last person I wanted to see, honestly I'd rather be stuck here until someone else arrives than be helped by you."

"Momo what are you doing here? Students aren't supposed to be down here."

"Well I got curious about what was down here and I tripped. Now I'm stuck in this wall. Happy now Y/N? Now if you can just pull me out we can both act like nothing happened."

I walked in front of Momo and we could barely see each other's faces because of how dark it was.

"I thought you said you'd rather be stuck than have me help you."

"Look Y/N I'm known as a popular student. If a teacher finds me it'll be embarrassing and if another student finds me they'll definitely take pictures and ruin my reputation. So how about you help me out here."

"Help you? Why would I do that if you have never made an effort to help me?"

"Ugh you're so needy. Fine I'll do anything you want if you help me get out of this wall except school work."

I pondered for a moment if I should help out Momo. I mean taking a picture of her stuck in a wall and spreading it to others would ruin her reputation. But on the other hand...

"I'll take that deal."

"Thanks Y/N now just get me out of here and I'll hold up my end of the deal." Momo said desperate to get out of the wall.

"I think you can hold your end of the deal just fine in the wall." I said as I started to pull my pants down.

"Wh-what are you doing." Momo said sounding both shocked and nervous.

"Momo as much as I hate you I can't lie. I find you extremely attractive. So I think I'll pleasure myself with you."

Even though I could barely see Momos face I could tell she was slightly blushing.

"Well ... Fine just know I'm only agreeing because I want to get out of here not because I have any feelings for you."

I pulled my pants all the way down and my cock sprung out. I started smacking it on Momos face which eventually made her groan.

"Y/N stop teasing me."

I decided to listen to her and shoved my cock deep inside her mouth.

Momo was trying to say something but it was muffled. I started to quickly thrust in and out of Momos mouth. I felt extreme pleasure from Momo. I shoved my cock as deep as I could inside Momos mouth and she started gagging. Her throat felt insanely good I didn't want to pull out.

Tears fell down Momos cheek and she tried to push me away but I kept my cock in her mouth.

Eventually I did pull out and Momo started gasping for air. I was more focused on how drenched my cock was. It was completely covered in her spit. I couldn't believe I got the most popular girl in school to choke on my cock.

I got on my knees so I could have my face on the same level as Momos and I started to kiss her.

Momo kissed me back and we started to make out. I slid my tongue into her mouth and our tongues started to fight. I won and the tongue war and started to kiss Momo more roughly.

Momo reached down and started to pump my cock and I moaned into Momos mouth.

My cock started twitching and I knew I was about to cum. I stopped kissing Momo and she looked at me confused.

"Y/N why did you stop? Was I not a good enough kisser?"

"Momo are you on birth control?"

"Yeah wh-" Momo cut herself off as she quickly realized what I wanted to do.

I went to the other side of the wall and pulled her jeans down. When I saw her big ass and her pink panties my cock got hard instantly, and I put my hands on Momos ass and started touching every inch of it.

"Fuck Y/N just do it."

"Well that isn't as fun Momo."

I started to lick Momos ass while rubbing her covered pussy.

"Y/N I fucking swear-"

"Fine since you're so impatient I guess I'll get on with it then Momo."

I decided to get on with it and took her panties off and aligned my cock with her pussy.

"Y/N this is my first time being penetrated by a cock." Momo said in an uneasy tone.

"First time by a cock? Has someone shoved something else in you?"

"Well ... My roommate Sana and I have had lesbian sex every now and then and she has shoved her fingers deep in me before."

I was a little surprised to hear Momo has had lesbian sex before. I thought if someone would be the one to have sex with her first it would be one of the popular boys in college like Lee Felix or Jeon Jungkook.

"So I'm your first guy?" I said as I started to slide my cock into Momos warm pussy.

"Ah ~ yes Y/N your cock is the first cock to enter my pussy."

Hearing Momo moans made me go crazy and it made me want to go rough on her. I started I increase my speed and the sounds of me slamming into Momo could probably be heard from the floor above us.

Momos pussy hugged my cock so tightly it felt like it cut off the blood flow to it. I struggled to even move my cock in her. I smacked Momos ass and left my hand print on it.

"How about you shake that ass for me Momo?"

Momo started to shake her ass and I couldn't help but to continue smacking her ass. Seeing her ass jiggle and get redder every time I smacked it was something I couldn't get enough of and I kept going until Momos ass went fully red.

I ended up cumming into Momo. I filled Momo with a big thick load of cum it almost leaked out of her pussy. I grabbed my cum and put it back into her pussy so it didn't go to waste.

I went back to the side Momos head was and saw that she was covering her mouth.

"Why are you covering your mouth?"

"I didn't want people to hear me."

"Why not I think everyone should hear your pretty moans."

"Don't say that Y/N." Momo looked away from me as she said that.

"So are you gonna get me out now?"

"How about you give me a boob job first."

"Make it quick."

I swiftly took Momos shirt off and saw how tightly her bra was squeezing her tits.

"How about we set these free Momo?" I said as I started playing with her tits with my hands.

"Mhm yes Y/N please take my bra off for me."

I unhooked Momos bra and shoved my face between her breasts. They felt extremely soft and I started to lick them. They tasted like heaven I couldn't get enough of them.

Momo tried to cover her mouth again but I grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"Let me hear your pretty voice Momo. Most people are sleeping at this hour so don't bother covering your moans."

"Agh ~ Y/N keep licking them."

I went back to licking Momos boobs and squeezed them. I pinched Momos nipples and she yelped.

"Y/N that hurts!"

I eventually pulled my face away and started to put my cock in between her soft boobs.

I grabbed both of her tits and squeezed them on my cock. I moaned from the pleasure I felt and started moving her tits up and down on my cock.

I kept going but I felt like I was about to cum. I didn't want to cum on her boobs as it would definitely spill onto the floor.

Momo how about we get you out of here and into my room?

"That'd be great Y/N let's go."

I dressed Momo back up and then helped push Momo free. Afterwards I led her to my dorm room where I was still able to hear Yeji and Chaewon going hard with their karaoke.

I led Momo to my room and we went back to kissing each other. We helped each other take our clothes off and went back to fucking each other.

We did a few more rounds with each other making each other cum.

Out of nowhere Chaewon barged through the door

"Hey Y/N wanna join- WHAT THE FUCK?"

Me and Momo looked at Chaewon and we felt embarrassed. I guess we were so focused on each other that we didn't notice they stopped singing there karaoke.

"I can explain-" but before I could mutter another word Yeji suddenly came into the room also.

"Chaewon what's wrong ... WAIT WHY IS MOMO BEING FUCKED BY YOUR ROOMMATE?!"

Both Yeji and Chaewon started screaming at me. I wasn't able to make out what they were saying but suddenly Haewon entered the room.

"Y/N you never came to my dorm are you-"

Haewon looked at me and Momo on the bed naked, then looked at Yeji and Chaewon before speaking.

"Am I interrupting something important?"

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

Stay tuned for part 2 where they all fuck each other (I won't post a part 2)

I was gonna originally name it "Getting revenge on my bully stuck in a wall" But that's just way too long and I didn't end up leaning into the whole "Momo being a bully" thing as much.

[jaeyunluvbot]

bite the hand

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 enemies to lovers-ish, college au, hockey player!sunghoon, slightly nerdy!reader, angst, happy ending

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.6k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You take a deep breath, staring at your computer screen as you will yourself to finish your lab report before the weekend. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above only makes it harder to focus, their droning buzz tugging at your already fragile attention span.

Groaning, you bury your face in your hands as another burst of laughter erupts from the table next to you. The group of students there seems oblivious to the library’s supposed quiet rule, their chatter growing louder with every passing minute. A part of you wants to tell them to shut up, but the thought of confronting them fills you with dread.

Your eyes drift back to the unfinished lab report, mocking you with every cursor blink. Defeated, you shut your laptop with a sharp click and shove it into your bag. You’ve had enough of the noise, deciding that the solitude of your dorm is a far better place to work—or nap.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder and stand to leave, you throw one last glare at the rowdy table. Your irritation deepens when your eyes meet Park Sunghoon’s. He’s sitting there, mid-laugh, but the second your gazes lock, his amusement falters into surprise. Embarrassed, you look away and hurry out of the library, the encounter making your retreat feel even more awkward.

On your way back to your dorm, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A quick glance reveals an email notification from your professor. You unlock your phone, opening the email and skimming its contents. He’s asking if you’d be willing to tutor a struggling student who’s in danger of failing their class. There’s payment involved, and the arrangement would look good on your resume, but the thought of adding another task to your packed schedule makes you hesitate.

After weighing your options, you sigh and type out a reply. I’ll do it.

Reaching your dorm, you toss your bag onto the floor and collapse onto your bed without even bothering to change your clothes. Sleep comes quickly, a much-needed reprieve from your overworked mind.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days later, you walk into your chemistry lab, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. You’d managed to finish your lab report over the weekend, but at the cost of the recovery time you desperately needed. Now, the decision to tutor feels like a mistake. Scanning the room, you notice several students looking as lost as ever, and you dread the thought of figuring out which one you’d be charged with helping.

Once the lab ends, you pack your things and prepare to leave, but your professor’s voice cuts through the buzz of conversation. “Y/N, could you stay for a moment?”

You pause, your curiosity mingling with annoyance. As you approach his desk, you notice someone standing beside him. It’s Park Sunghoon.

Your stomach sinks. He looks as sheepish as you feel, his hands shoved into his pockets and his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N,” your professor begins with a smile, “I’d like you to meet the student you’ll be tutoring—Park Sunghoon. Sunghoon, this is Y/N. I’m confident you two will make a great team.”

Sunghoon glances at you, his lips quirking into an awkward smile. “Uh, hi,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

You force a smile, your irritation at the boy bubbling up despite your best efforts to bury it. Of all people…

You clear your throat and nod stiffly. “Hi,” you reply, finding it difficult to keep your voice level.

Your professor beams, clearly oblivious to the awkwardness between you. “Why don’t you two exchange contact information so you can set up a time to meet?”

Sunghoon hesitates briefly, then pulls out his phone. You mirror the action, feeling your stomach twist as a rush of old memories surfaces—memories you’d rather forget. He recites his number, and you type it in, deliberately avoiding eye contact as you save it to your contacts under a simple Park Sunghoon.

“I’ll text you later,” you say sharply, locking your phone and slipping it back into your pocket. “We can figure out a schedule then.”

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, his voice softer than you remember. He fidgets, glancing at you briefly before looking away, not that you noticed, having avoided contact, visual or not, with him since you left high school.

Your professor clasps his hands together, clearly satisfied. “Perfect! Thanks again, Y/N—you’re doing a great thing.”

You force a tight smile, muttering a polite response before excusing yourself. The moment you step out of the classroom, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Park Sunghoon. Of course, it had to be him...

The walk to work feels longer than usual, your mind spiraling as you replay the memories you’ve worked so hard to bury. Sunghoon hadn’t been the worst person in high school—not overtly cruel, at least—but he had been a part of the group that made your life hell. His hockey teammates were relentless with their taunts, mocking your clothes, your grades, even the way you walked. And while Sunghoon never joined in directly, he never stopped them either. He just stood by, laughing along like it was some kind of joke.

You swallow hard, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. Maybe he’s changed since then. It’s been a couple of years, after all. People grow up, right? But the thought of spending time with him—helping him, of all things—makes your stomach churn.

By the time you reach the café, your frustration has morphed into a simmering resentment. You shove your bag into the staff locker and tie your apron around your waist, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

The hum of the espresso machine and the steady stream of customers provide a welcome distraction, but Sunghoon’s face lingers in the back of your mind. What was your professor thinking, asking you to tutor him? And why had you agreed so quickly?

You paste on a customer-service smile as you take another order, trying to shake off the unease. Maybe this would be fine. Maybe he wasn’t the same person he used to be. But as much as you want to believe that, a voice in the back of your head whispers otherwise.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next day, after exchanging a few brief texts with Sunghoon, you agree to meet in one of the smaller study rooms in the library. You keep the messages as formal and impersonal as possible, giving him the time and location with no room for small talk.

When you arrive, he’s already there, slouched in a chair with his phone in hand. He looks up as you walk in, straightening slightly but not saying anything. You drop your bag onto the table and pull out your notebook and laptop, keeping your eyes on your supplies instead of him.

“Let’s get started,” you say curtly, flipping open the notebook to the notes you’ve prepared. “What exactly are you struggling with?”

Sunghoon shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Pretty much everything.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course. “Okay, well, we’re going to start with the basics. If you don’t understand those, there’s no point in moving forward.” You flip to the beginning of your notebook, clearly having underestimated just how behind he was.

Sunghoon listens, his expression unreadable. He nods occasionally, jotting down notes without comment. Every time you ask if he has questions, he shakes his head, his indifference irritating you even more.

The air between you feels tense, the silence only broken by the sound of your pen scratching against the paper or the occasional rustle of Sunghoon shifting in his seat. You stick strictly to the material, explaining concepts and walking him through problems all while avoiding eye contact with him.

After about an hour, you close your notebook with a decisive snap. “That’s enough for today,” you say, packing up your things quickly. “Practice these problems before our next session, or this’ll be a waste of time.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at your tone but doesn’t say anything. “Got it,” he says, his voice as neutral as yours.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand, eager to leave. As you head for the door, Sunghoon’s voice stops you.

“Hey,” he says, and you turn reluctantly to face him. He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Thanks, I guess. For doing this.”

You blink, caught off guard, but quickly school your features into neutrality. “Don’t thank me yet,” you say, and walk out without another word.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It had been weeks since you started tutoring Sunghoon, and while he had made some minimal progress, his commitment—or lack thereof—was driving you insane. With the big exam coming up, you’d been trying to schedule an extra session to review the material, but every time you texted him, he either claimed he was busy with hockey or straight-up ignored your messages.

You slammed your phone onto your desk after yet another unread text from him. Why am I even trying?

By the time your next class rolled around, you were on the verge of screaming. As soon as the lecture ended, you spotted him at the back of the room, chatting casually with one of his friends. Your frustration boiled over.

“Sunghoon!” you called sharply, cutting through the buzz of students packing up.

He glanced over, startled, and his friend quickly ducked out of the way, sensing the tension. You marched up to him, your jaw tight and your eyes blazing.

“What’s your problem?” you snapped, ignoring the stares from a few lingering classmates. “You’ve been ignoring my texts for the last week. I’m done.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you wasting my time,” you hissed. “I’ve been trying to help you, but you don’t even care enough to show up half the time! Do you think I don’t have better things to do?”

He frowned, his expression darkening. “I do care. I just—”

“No, you don’t,” you cut him off. “You care about hockey and parties and whatever else you’re doing instead of studying. But you don’t care about passing this class, and I’m not going to keep wasting my time on someone who obviously doesn't care or respect my time.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Then he said, his voice tight, “If I fail, I can’t play. I’ll get benched.”

You stared at him, was he seriously saying that right now? “And whose fault is that?” you asked sharply. “You think I’m the one who’s been skipping sessions and ignoring texts? This is on you, Sunghoon. Not me.”

His face flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger, you couldn’t tell. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing his bag. “Do whatever you want.”

“Fine,” you shot back.

He walked past you without another word, leaving you standing there with your fists clenched at your sides. The stares from the remaining students felt like needles in your skin, but you ignored them, storming out of the room and heading straight for your dorm.

As soon as you got to your desk, you opened your laptop and began typing out an email to your professor. You kept it short and professional, explaining that you could no longer tutor Sunghoon due to his lack of commitment and unwillingness to prioritize his studies.

After hitting send, you sat back in your chair, rubbing your temples. You wanted to feel relieved, but the knot in your chest only seemed to tighten.

Why do I even care? you wondered. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of Sunghoon’s frustrated expression—or the way his voice cracked when he said he couldn’t play.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The big exam had come and gone, with you achieving a perfect score, as usual, and for the first time in what felt like ages, your schedule had a lull. No tutoring, no extra shifts at the café, and no urgent RA duties. You spent most of the afternoon snuggled up in bed, watching your favorite movies and generally rotting away. You’d stopped thinking about Sunghoon entirely—except for the occasional pang of irritation when you remembered his smirk or the way he shrugged off your tutoring sessions. Whether he passed or failed, you didn’t know, and frankly, you didn’t care.

By evening, Liz and Wonyoung showed up at your dorm with all the energy of a cheer routine. Liz, your partner in suffering as a chemical engineering major, was insisting that you went out with them.

“You’ve been cooped up for weeks,” Liz said, digging through your closet. “You need a break. And a drink.”

“I don’t know…” you hesitated, but Wonyoung cut you off.

“No excuses. It’s Friday night, and you deserve to have some fun for once.”

Before you could argue further, Liz pulled out a dress you hadn’t worn in ages—a sleek, flattering number that made you feel good about yourself, but nervous at the same time. They practically shoved you into the bathroom to change, and when you finally emerged, their reactions made you blush.

“Okay, wow,” Liz said, grinning. “You look amazing.”

“Absolute goddess,” Wonyoung added. “You look perfect.”

Despite your initial hesitation, you agreed to go, your nerves bubbling under the surface. You couldn’t help but worry if Sunghoon would be there. After all, hockey players and college parties went hand in hand, and you knew his teammates and old friends would be out in full force.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived, music thumping through the walls of the off-campus house. You stuck close to Liz, nursing a drink she handed you as you tried to shake off your discomfort.

“Relax,” Liz said, nudging you. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”

You took another sip, then another, letting the alcohol lessen the weight of stress on your chest. The more you drank, the less out of place you felt—though Liz kept an eye on you.

“Maybe slow down,” she said after your third drink.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, waving her off. “I just… need to relax. This helps.”

But your slight sense of calm shattered when you saw a group of people from your high school clustered near the back of the room. Among them was Sunghoon, leaning against the wall with that same effortless confidence that had always irritated you.

You tried to ignore them, but it didn’t take long for the group to notice you.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” one of them said, their voice cutting through the noise of the party.

“Oh my god, it is,” another chimed in. “Didn’t she always have her nose in a book back in high school?”

“And now look at her,” someone else snickered. “Trying way too hard.”

Your stomach sank, and you turned to walk away, but their laughter followed you.

“Shut up,” you heard Sunghoon say, his voice sharp.

The group fell silent, and you glanced back to see him glaring at them. For a split second, your eyes met his, but you turned and hurried toward the door before he could say anything.

The cool night air hit you like a slap, and you started walking, the alcohol making your steps uneven. You just needed to get home, to get away from all of it.

“Y/N, wait!”

You groaned, hearing Sunghoon’s voice behind you. “Go away, Sunghoon.”

He jogged to catch up, falling into step beside you. “You can’t walk home alone. You’re drunk.”

“I don’t care,” you muttered, picking up your pace.

He grabbed your arm gently, stopping you. “I care. Even if you hate me, I’m not letting you do this.”

You yanked your arm away, glaring at him. “Why do you care now? You didn’t care back then. You just stood there and let them treat me like garbage.”

He flinched, his expression softening. “I know,” he said quietly. “I was a coward. I should’ve done something, and I didn’t. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“Great,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “You regret it. That doesn’t change anything.”

He looked at you, his jaw tight. “I know it doesn’t. But I’m sorry. For all of it.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, but the anger bubbling in your chest wouldn’t let you accept it. Without another word, you turned and marched up to your dorm, slamming the door in his face as soon as you got inside.

Your phone buzzed with a text a few minutes later:

Park Sunghoon: Are you okay? Please let me know you got home safe.

You stared at the screen, your emotions a tangled mess. But you didn’t reply.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’ve managed to avoid Sunghoon for weeks now, successfully shoving thoughts of him to the back of your mind. For once, your schedule feels manageable—no last-minute tutoring sessions or stressful emails from your professor. You even have some free time to relax, which you’ve been using to catch up on sleep and unwind.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon feels like his guilt is eating him alive. Every time he sees you in class, he wants to apologize again, but the memory of your anger and disappointment keeps holding him back. His friends don’t make it easier.

“Forget her, dude. She’s just some uptight nerd. She's not worth it,” one of them says during lunch, laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

But instead of agreeing, something inside Sunghoon snaps. He realizes that every time he’s around them, they make him feel worse about himself. About everything.

“You know what? I’m done,” he mutters, standing up and walking away, ignoring their confused calls after him.

For the first time in a long time, Sunghoon feels like he’s doing something right.

He starts studying more seriously, forcing himself to focus during lectures and spending time in the library instead of at parties. It’s frustrating at first—everything feels harder without someone to guide him. But little by little, he starts to understand the material.

When his professor hands back their graded exams weeks later, Sunghoon’s heart pounds in his chest. He flips it over and stares at the bold “B” at the top of the page. It’s not an A, but it’s the best grade he’s gotten all semester.

He wants to text you immediately, to show you that he’s not the same person you yelled at. He types out a message, attaching a picture of the exam: “Look, I actually passed! I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your help."

But the text sits unread, as do all the other ones he had sent you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’re just leaving work when you see him waiting outside, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand.

“Sunghoon?” you ask, stopping in your tracks.

He looks nervous but determined. “Can I talk to you? Just for a minute?”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He steps closer, holding up the exam. “I just… wanted to show you this. I got a B.”

You glance at the grade and then back at him. “Ok,” you say flatly, trying to walk past him, but he moves to block your path.

“Please,” he says. “I need to say this.”

You pause, your exhaustion fighting with your curiosity. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” he starts, his voice soft but steady. “Not just for wasting your time or blowing you off during tutoring. For everything. For how I treated you in high school, for standing by when my friends were jerks to you. I was a coward, and I didn’t know how to deal with… anything, honestly.”

His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself staring at him, speechless.

“I’m not trying to excuse it. I just wanted you to know that I hate the way I treated you. I hate that I hurt you. And I hate that I gave you every reason to think I’m just some… useless asshole.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying to change. To prove to myself that I’m not that guy anymore.”

You let his words sink in, the anger and hurt you’ve carried for years simmering just beneath the surface.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “You were a coward. And you did hurt me.”

He flinches, but you keep going.

“But… I can see you’re trying. And I respect that.”

His eyes light up with a glimmer of hope. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “It means I’m not as mad at you anymore. But trust takes time, Sunghoon. You’ll have to prove it.”

“I will,” he promises, his voice earnest. “I won’t let you down again.”

With that, you finally let yourself smile, just a little. “We’ll see.”

As you walk away, you can’t help but feel like something has shifted. Maybe, just maybe, people really can change.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s been a few weeks since the two of you started working together again. Sunghoon is doing better in class—much better, actually—and has taken a noticeable turn for the better in life. He’s distanced himself from his old friends, who never did much for him except drag him down.

As much as you still don’t fully trust him, you can’t ignore how much he’s changed. He’s more focused now, more respectful, and maybe, just maybe, even a little bit likable.

And to your surprise, you’re starting to enjoy spending time with him, both in and out of tutoring. He’s always there now, walking to class with you, grabbing coffee, or just hanging out in the library when you’re working on assignments. He even comes along with you, Liz, and Wonyoung for some of your late-night hangouts, laughing along with your jokes, even if he doesn’t quite understand all the girl talk.

Liz and Wonyoung start giving each other knowing looks, and one night, after Sunghoon heads home, Liz grins mischievously.

“So, what’s going on between you two?” she asks casually.

You freeze. “What do you mean?”

Wonyoung snickers. “You two spend so much time together, and we see the way he looks at you. You sure you’re not into him?”

You shake your head, a nervous laugh escaping. “No. Definitely not. We’re just tutoring partners.”

Liz raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. If that’s true, then why are you so distracted every time he texts you? Why do you smile like that when his name pops up?”

You feel your face flush. “Shut up,” you mutter, pulling a pillow over your face. “I don’t like him. I just—he’s been there for me, ok? He’s changed.”

“Sure, sure,” Liz teases. “But you’re definitely into him. Don’t worry, we won't judge you.”

You groan into the pillow, but part of you wonders if they’re right. You’ve been trying to ignore the flutter in your chest when he’s near, the way your heart speeds up when he smiles at you or gives you one of those rare, genuine compliments. But you push it all aside. You don’t want to get hurt again, not after everything that happened in high school.

So, you keep things casual. You hang out, study together, laugh at his lame jokes, but you keep a distance.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, has been wrestling with his feelings for a while. He knows, deep down, that he likes you. And not just in a surface-level, "oh, she's cute" way. He values your company more than he thought possible. Your patience, your intelligence, your warmth—everything about you pulls him in, and every time he sees you, he wants to be closer.

But you’ve been pulling away recently, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know what’s changed, but he can feel the distance. And he doesn’t like it. Not at all.

So, after days of thinking it over, he makes up his mind. He can’t keep pretending he’s okay with just being your friend, your tutoring client. He decides to tell you how he feels, ignoring the risk and the burn of anxiety in his chest.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s another Friday night when he shows up at your dorm, unannounced. Liz and Wonyoung are with you, watching a movie and chatting when you hear a knock at the door.

“Ugh, who’s that?” Liz mumbles as she gets up to answer it.

When she opens the door, Sunghoon stands there, his hands in his pockets and an anxious look on his face.

“I need to talk to Y/N,” he says, glancing over her shoulder at you.

“Uh, no, we’re having a girls’ night,” Liz says with a playful but firm tone. “What’s up, Hoon?”

Sunghoon looks from Liz to Wonyoung, then back at you. “I—I need to talk to her. It’s important.”

There’s something so serious in his eyes that it catches your attention. You stand up slowly, excusing yourself from the couch.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you two alone,” Liz says with a wink, grabbing Wonyoung’s hand and dragging her out of the room.

Once the door clicks shut, Sunghoon steps forward. His nervousness is palpable.

“Listen, I don’t know how to say this properly, but I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way,” he starts, looking at you with a vulnerability that’s hard to ignore. “I’ve been an idiot, and I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t. But I like you, Y/N. I don’t know how else to say it, but I do.”

You blink at him, taken aback.

“I like you,” he repeats, more firmly this time, stepping closer. “And I think… I think I’ve liked you for a while now. I know this might sound out of nowhere, but I’ve been holding it in and pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You’re the person I want to be around. You’re the person I want to be with. So, I’m asking you…” He takes a deep breath. “Will you go out with me?”

You stand frozen, feeling a rush of emotions flood over you. The mix of confusion, joy, and fear swirls inside you. Your heart races in your chest as his words settle in.

It feels unreal—like this is some dream where everything is finally falling into place. But even so, you hesitate, unsure if you’re ready to take the leap.

But as you look at him, his earnest face, his sincerity, and the way he’s looking at you with so much hope, you can’t help but say it.

“Yes.”

Sunghoon’s face lights up, relief flooding through him as a wide smile spreads across his face. He reaches out to take your hand gently.

“I promise I won’t mess this up,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next day, Liz and Wonyoung don’t waste a single second, pouncing on you as soon as they see you.

“You’re dating Sunghoon now, aren’t you?” Liz asks, her grin stretching across her face.

You try to act casual, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I guess I am.”

Wonyoung jumps up from her seat, practically tackling you in a hug. “Oh my God, we knew it! We knew it!”

Liz joins in the celebration, and you can’t help but laugh, even as the excitement bubbles up inside you. Sunghoon might’ve been a jerk before, but now, he’s someone you can trust. And for the first time in a long time, you’re excited to see where things go from here.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 ummmm i can't tell if i like this or not but oh well i'm too lazy to rewrite it. also sorry for so many text breaks i'm so bad at writing transitions. also thanks to my pookie kenzie for helping me think of the plot :3

[kissitbttr]

dilf!toji giving you a ride back to the party

a small follow up from this !

|

there has been times where you fantasize about hot older men with your friends. all of you agree that they are just better at everything.

you remember this one time when you had a crush on the first older guy you had found attractive. he was your dad’s closest friend. you had always loved admiring him from afar, undressing him with your eyes, imagining how he’d look as he fucks you in your bed. sadly, he’s married. which means, you can’t do anything about it.

one of your friends encouraged you to break it up though, steal him away from his wife in which you reply with a disgusting look on your face. because never in a million years you would stoop that low.

no guys ever came close as your dad’s best friend after that. dismissing every single college guys who tried to get into your pants, tossing every written numbers on a paper from them into a trash can. your ex was the only exception though. why? because he was two years older than you. that counts for something, right?

until now.

you sit rather quiet nervously in the passenger’s seat. fingers drumming slightly against your thick thighs, stealing glances every now and then at the handsome stranger who offered you a ride before,

and boy, does he look so hot doing it.

he leans comfortably against the seat with one hand on the wheel while the other perched on his thigh. looking like a perfect dream

dear god, please do not make me wet tonight

“thank you for the food, sir. i love it” you give him a smile, shoving another fry into your mouth. “i’m starving”

toji cranes his neck to look at you, mirroring your smile. “i thought i told you to call me toji?”

“oh yeah! sorry, i forgot!” you let out a nervous giggle, finger toying with the skirt of your dress. discreetly pulling it down further since it keeps riding up,

“i didn’t catch your name though. mind telling me?” he starts, putting his focus back on the road while taking a turn,

“i’m y/n” you respond to the beautiful dark haired man,

“pretty name for a pretty girl” he compliments, grinning widely at you. chuckling after seeing you blush. “still in college?”

you nod. “mhmm!”

“you like it?”

“pft! as if!” you roll your eyes, making him laugh at your comment. “college is insanity. too much work, but the parties help”

“i bet” he replies, head shaking. “is it like a regular thing?”

“kind of. we always do it once a week, or twice…? can’t exactly count. the frats usually the one who held it, so I can’t really tell” you shrug your shoulders, eyes looking over to the window. “what about you, sir-toji?”

he snorts, running his fingers over his hair and you almost let out a soft gasp.“oh I don’t party, sweetheart. i’m too old for that.”

“can’t be that old” you giggle, reaching out to poke his side with a finger. you don’t know where that confidence comes from, could be from alcohol,

toji raises an eyebrow at the sudden touch, but makes no comment. “i’m pushing 40, so definitely old” he smirks at you,

40..?

oh…

a look of surprise is taking over your face. “really?” you see him nod again in confirmation. “you don’t look like you’re that old”

“how old did you think i am?”

“hmm, 27?”

he barks a laugh, and you never heard something so pretty. “now you’re just being polite, sweetheart”

god, he really is making you swoon with all the terms of endearment . you wonder if he’s married or taken,

“are you single?”

he’s taken aback at the question, eyebrow raising. “why, want to take me out on a date?”

giggling, you toss a hair behind your shoulder before shrugging it. shifting your body to completely facing him now. “maybeee”

toji only laughs at your confidence. the small pouty look you’re giving just makes him want to give you a peck on the lips. maybe two.

you’re so damn cute, he’d give you that.

“yes, i am. divorced about two years ago.”

“oh… what happened? if you don’t mind me asking.”

he shrugs like it’s nothing. “didn’t work out. the whole marriage was draining me. but i got a little boy who i love dearly and would tear down the whole fucking sky for”

he’s got a kid?! holyshit,

“how old is he?”

“just turned two last month” he smiles at the thought of his little megumi sleeping soundly back home. “how about you, sweetheart? got marriage written down on your plan?”

“oh of course! it’s definitely on my bucket list!” you sigh dreamily at the thought of you walking down the aisle. “not any time soon though! i like being like this for a moment”

“good. you enjoy that while it lasts.” he advises. “hate to overstep, but what’s the deal with your ex before?”

hearing that makes your smile drop and body slouch. eyes dropping down to your lap. “oh..”

toji senses that bubbly personality of your is wearing off soon as he mentions that, which causes him to panic. “shit, I didn’t mean to make you sad, darling. sorry. you don’t have to explain”

you shake your head, clearing your throat. “no, no! it’s fine it was just—“ you cut yourself with a sad sigh. “he wanted.. to have sex with me at the party but.. i didn’t want to.. because we were drunk! and it wouldn’t be right for us to do it while we’re drunk, right?! so i told him no… over and over and — he didn’t take it well so… he called me a boring bitch and broke it off..”

his eyebrows deepening hearing that, hand around the wheel tighten at the thought of some lowlife punk trying to force himself at a sweet girl like you to have sex,

“you fucking with me?” his tone rising, seeing you shake your head as a no. “my god that’s not— sweetheart, you know that it was not your fault right? was that why you looked so sad? because you thought that you should’ve gave him what he wanted?”

you toy with the hem of your skirt, still looking down before nodding. “…yes.. because maybe then he wouldn’t be mad”

“no.. oh god, no.. don’t you ever, ever think that. what you did was the right thing, baby. you should be proud for standing up to yourself, you know that?”

slowly you look up to him, seeing his genuine eyes looking into yours. “okay..”

but toji doesn’t buy that, instead he shakes his head. “no, i want to hear you say it, come on. say ‘i did the right thing’”

a smile slowly creeps up to your face while your cheeks are heating up. “tojiii” you whine,

he smiles back at you, “come on. say it”

“i—i did the right thing” you repeat slowly,

“good girl” he praises, and that almost makes your body goes slump and your thighs to squeeze together,

when was the last time someone called you that?

throughout the ride, you and toji talk a lot about each other. from a-z. and you can’t help but admit how refreshing it is to finally have someone to talk to like this. it was a non-stop conversation, accompanied by the soft tunes playing in the background—thanks to your choice of music—

you may not notice this but toji is purposely taking the long way just so the conversation stays a bit longer,hoping you don’t realize what he’s doing. it’s not like you would actually complain, you enjoy his company.

despite your age, toji finds you to be the most interesting woman he has ever met. the way you talk freely and articulate words when you speak to him is so attractive. he loves a woman who has her own opinion on everything and you had just shown him that.

you’re smart, witty, have a great sense of humor and not to mention,

really fucking gorgeous.

toji feels like a downright pervert when he tries to sneak a glance at your soft plump thighs every second. imagining how they would look around his head. or the fat of your tits when you bounce on his cock, giving him the perfect view. and your lips,

god, your pink. glossy . lips.

“is this the place?” he pulls up in front of the big frat house where he can see a few kids standing on the porch, typical red solo cups in their hands. his eyes carefully observe the scene before him. “shit, they’re really getting shit faced huh?”

you laugh, looking over where one kid had puked all over the lawn making you grimace. “they’re not all like that everyday”

“hmm sure, sweetheart” he rolls his eyes, but smile anyways. “be careful now, yeah? you got my number saved?”

nodding, you take one good look at him before unbuckling your seatbelt. “yup! thank you for the ride, toji. you’re a real life saver!”

“don’t mention it. keep an eye out on any one who wants to try something with you. especially your ex. let me know if he’s bothering you, i’ll come quickly as i can” he informs,

your heart feels like its about to jump out of your chest, “i will, thanks again and oh! wait— can i … see you again?”

he quirks an eyebrow at that, a cocky smirk stretches upon his pretty lips causing you to glance down at it,

“you want to?” his finger and thumb softly tapping against the wheel

“i do” you reply quickly, biting down on your lower lip as your hand fiddle against the handle of his car door. “this can’t be the last time, right?”

no, of course not he thinks. because he wants to see you too. if not more than you want to see him. might as well take you out on a date, or a stroll. anything. as long as he gets to see that pretty face of yours longer than just an hour.

“you got it, sweetheart. keep a look out for a text from me, then yeah?” his hand then reach our to grab your other one, giving a soft kiss on the knuckles while maintaining an eye contact with you,

you let out a shaky breathe with a small cute smile as he rubs his thumb against your skin. before you can even move your hand to open the door, he does it for you. shooting you another smile of his.

you grab your purse and climb out of the vehicle, waving your hand at him. “good night , toji”

“goodnight, y/n. i’ll see you very soon” he winks before you close the door and see himself drive off,

you stand there for a while with a bright smile on your face that never seems to leave,

you really can’t wait to see him again

—

next part, first date?👀

a/n: also, planning to make this into a series <3

taglist:

@fushipurro

@crocodilethesir

@chilichopsticks

@trentknd

@tojis-ball-sack

@hellokittyloverrxox

@xavlyzn

[f1lovr]

the prince and me ' ln4 - the meeting (ch 1)

summary: in which he meets her and she runs into him.

pairing: prince!lando x exhcange student!reader

warnings: none i don't think? a little language

word count: 1933 words

series masterlist! series pinterest board!

you never expected to end up leaving the states for anything besides a vacation, but here you stand, listening as your tour guide gives you facts about 'Big Ben' as people would call it. your hand hurries as it writes in your notebook the things that might need to be known for a later test as you listen on, admiring the architecture that was in front of you.

"did you know big ben is actually the clock itself and not the tower?" you whisper to your friend who was standing next to you.

she gave you a pointed look as her head turned to look at you, "you are such a nerd, did you know that?" she says while she chuckles.

"hey! there is nothing wrong with being a nerd!" you say as you pull your phone out to take a picture of the monument. "the tower itself is actually called the Elizabeth Tower after Queen Elizabeth II," you continue as you take a picture.

your friend laughs at that as she goes back to paying attention to their group leader. you were busy capturing pictures for your family back home to notice that your group was leaving to head to the next stop and by the time you were done scrolling through images to look at them and looked back up they were already long gone.

you paused as you just stood, looking around you in every which way to see if you could catch a glimpse of anyone, "fuck," you mutter as you don't see anything.

you move to call somebody on your phone to find out where they were only to see you didn't have any service where you were standing, "double fuck," being the next words you mutter as you walk forward to see if you a get bar of service to call somebody or at least find your trip itinerary to see if you can find where they were headed.

you find yourself at a little cafe when you were able to get service, the hustle and bustle of the people there confusing you, but you just assumed that it was just a popular cafe. you pressed the contact for your friend to make a call to her as you whip your head around to see if maybe you can spot them somewhere, a highly unlikely possibility but you weren't one to stop being hopeful, especially considering you were lost.

"hello?" your friend asks, her voice coming in kind of breaky from the lack of service you had.

"em? where are you guys?" you ask into the phone as you cover your other ear in an attempt to hear her. you were moving back and forth from where you were standing as you tried to continuously get out of people's way as they shove past you to get inside.

"what do you mean where are we-" she broke off after coming back with just the word "palace."

"you're at a palace? what palace?" you ask confused, trying to decipher what she said with the cuts in the call.

your call cuts out as you mutter out another string of curse words, you still having no clue where your group was. you ran to see if you could hail a taxi in hopes that by some miracle if you went to the nearest palace you would find your group, or better yet get better service.

you tried your best to shove through the crowd that was now encompassing you, growing larger by the second. you get pushed backwards by someone making you bump into someone rather harshly.

"i'm so sorry," you say as you try your best to turn around to look at them, hands shooting out to grab you, "hey let me go," you yell as people in suits grab at your wrists.

"this is public defamation you know, i didn't do anything, let go," you yell as you try to get out of their arms. you tried to make eye contact with one of the guys holding you, "i swear i'm not a terrorist, i'm a measly little college student that is stupid and lost her group i swear."

"you probably shouldn't say that," a voice says as another hand reaches out to you, this one gentler, their accent thick on their lips. "you can let her go, Jerry, she's fine."

"are you sure sir?" a voice beside you says, your head whipping to look at them with a glare.

"yes, please listen to this nice british man and unhand me," you say as you tug at your wrist again.

"watch your mouth girl," the voice you assume is jerry snarls.

"jerry, stop, let her go," the gentle voice said again as his hand remains on your wrist, pulling you closer as the other two men let go of you, "come with me, just trust me," the gentle voice whispers into your ear as he holds you close, guiding you forward.

"are you kidnapping me?" you ask as you let him lead you to wherever it was that he was going, the gentleness in his voice telling you to trust him despite not having been able to even see his face.

"you really should watch what you say, you're going to get yourself thrown into the dungeon," the gentle voice laughs as he pushes you into a limousine as camera flashes go off around you.

"they actually have those?" you ask with a shocked face as he follows you in, silence consuming you both as the two men that were holding your wrists earlier got in behind you both and closed the car door.

the gentle voiced man collapses with a sigh next to you and it was then that you finally get a good look at his face and your face flushes when you notice how fine this british man actually was, the curls on his head working great for his mullet that he sported, and the suit he wore clung to his frame just right.

"what? like what you see?" he chuckles with a smirk when he turns to see your stunned and flushed face.

you sat there silently just staring at him not really knowing what to say, him staring back just as confused as he waits for you to say something, "so are you going to say something? maybe a 'thank you prince lando for making your guards unhand me after i threatened your land.' that works you know?" he said sarcastically finally.

your face dropped at the one word, your eyes going wide as you remained silent for a new reason, "p-prince?" you ask carefully.

"prince lando, heir to the throne, at your service," he says, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

you stare at his outstretched hand for a second before looking at the two men who had grabbed you earlier that were sitting across from you both, you now guessing that 'jerry' and this other guy were most likely his bodyguards, "am i allowed to shake his hand or will i be arrested for that?" you ask them jokingly, your response being a glare from the both of them.

"ignore them, they're annoying," the prince says as he grabs your hand and places it on his own to shake.

you shake his hand carefully as you let go, prince lando turning to look at you as he leaned into the seat he was sitting in as the car drove to an unknown place, "so, do you always joke that you're a terrorist or am i just special?" prince lando asks as he relaxes into the seat, his legs spreading a bit as his arm rests on the door.

you flush as he speaks before composing yourself a bit, feeling a little weirder with just sitting normally now that you were in the presence of royalty, and totally being conscious of your more than average outfit, "um- no, that was a heat of the moment thing," you tell him.

"oh? heat of the moment? like you staring at me earlier?" he says with a smirk.

your face flushes more, "is your ego normally this big or am i just special?" you quip back.

you can tell his bodyguards were going to say something at the comment you made considering the prince held his hand up to stop them before leaning forward, "are all you americans like this? the lack of manners i will say is kind of annoying sometimes."

"your poshness is kind of annoying sometimes, what is this? the 1800s?"

the prince chuckles at that, "no i guess not, but i am royalty so what exactly were you expecting from me? sweats and a tank top? dribbling a basketball down the streets? did i nail the american stereotype?"

"just about," you giggle, "you're missing the flirting with every single thing with boobs that passes by though."

you watch as his eyes goes wide at what you said, clearly surprised at how immature you were being in his presence, but he laughs nonetheless, "what are you doing here anyway if i may ask?"

you cleared your throat as you look away from him, realizing his accent and looks were getting to you more than you'd like to admit, "i'm um- i'm doing an exchange program for a semester, i got lost though, got distracted by big ben, hence the whole running into you thing."

prince lando nods his head at your words, "so you were stupid?"

you glare at his words, "yes," you say while gritting your teeth, "i guess you could say i was being stupid. where are we going anyway? you lowkey kind of just kidnapped me, i can call the police on you you know?"

the prince gestures to his bodyguards, "you're perfectly safe, and also this is the police basically and you're on their bad side." he leans towards you again with a smile, "we're going to buckingham palace though."

your eyes go wide in excitement when he mentions that you were going to buckingham palace, "so you were just going to kidnap me away to buckingham palace and just leave me, an american girl who's by herself, on the side of the street?"

prince lando chuckles at you again as he shakes his head, "no, i was going to bring you inside and ask you where you wanted to go, but now that i know you're lost we can help you get back to your group when we get there."

"i'm going inside?" you ask softly as your eyes widen in surprise.

"yeah," the prince chuckles, "who do you think i am? someone who leaves pretty little american girls who are here by themselves to get kidnapped on the side of the street?"

“yeah actually, i don’t really know anything about you” you say honestly.

“well i’m not so you don’t have to worry, and you’re coming inside with us, end of story,” he states as he turns to look back to the front, most likely making eye contact with this jerry guy, as he sits back in his seat.

you decide to just sit in silence for the rest of the ride, wanting to crack a joke on if his other bodyguard was named tom but deciding they were probably already annoyed with you enough so you stuck to watching the city around you pass by outside the window as you all drove to buckingham palace.

you could tell from that moment that it was only the start of your time with the prince, but you didn’t know how you felt about that.

[defronny]

𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘

pairing ── kim minji x female reader

summary ── in which she realizes how much of a lovesick fool she has become, and how needy she became because of you.

contains ── wholesome, non idol au, potter job, confession, whipped minji, reader flirt, soft make out, emotional, slight possessiveness

taglist ── @flyingcigarettes

[masterlist]

── ── ꒰ 𓎻 ꒱ ── ──

"oh."

minji mutters as she freezes by the door frame, eyes landing on you standing by the table filled with different types of fresh pottery, obviously made by you. you just place down your current one and turn to see minji blinking as she watches you.

you blink back before looking away, feigning indifference as you walk away to your seat. you sat down and wet your hands with fresh water that you prepared after finishing the last pot you made.

"morning." you greet simply, not sparing her a glance as you grab a good amount of clay before cupping your hand to gather water and pour it onto the dry clay.

minji felt awkward, walking over to the clean area where your bags are resting. she gently places down her bag, removing the headphones around her neck before shoving them into her bag.

she glances at you while removing her jacket, eyes soft as you gently move your hands onto the wet clay, forming them into your desired shape.

she averts away as she hangs her jacket before heading to another table to get her apron. as she wears them and tying the tie on her back, she brushes her wavy hair over her shoulder and rolls up her sleeves.

she walks over to the other seat next to you, sitting down as she presses her feet onto the pedal to check for speed and capability. Satisfied with the perfect result, she glances over at you once again, staring at you for a good minute before clearing her throat as she looks away with flushed cheeks.

"so..." she mumbles, tapping the clean bat as she thinks over what she should converse on. her heart was racing, and loud. she found it hard not to look at you, "uhm.. how many pots have you made so far?"

well, she tries at least. a rather good way to start the day with you, in a way not to annoy you unlike before.

your hands never stopped as you replied, "six of them." minji felt her heart flutter, cursing at herself for being so flustered around you for no particular reason.

she cleared her throat again awkwardly, "right, that's nice." she responded, eyes wandering over her set before noticed something important.

"oh.. i forgot the water." minji mutters under her breath as she takes the bowl and stands up, walking to the sink, unaware of your eyes landing on her back.

taking her time to rinse the bowl and gather water in it, and might as well wash her hands clean, she breathes to calm her nerves. she doesn't know exactly why she felt nervous around you today. she would've understood that she was a bit late today but it felt different.

it has been a year since minji had been hired into her auntie's pottery shop as a potter. the new young adult has been wanting to pay her college tuition with ease, and thankfully, her kind auntie offered her this job with a good salary that could afford her tuition and even her needs.

when she first met you, it was only you that had been working aside from her auntie. after losing some of her auntie's workers due to some personal issues or whatever, you were, basically, the only one that stayed.

minji was grateful to you for staying with her auntie, even if she doesn't know the full story of what happened. and it was obvious that her auntie doted and adored you quite a lot, when it came to minji's thoughts that you were a good person, based on her auntie's endless conversation about you.

when she tries to get to know you, however, you are a bit cold and indifferent towards her, barely sparing her any glances or sometimes take a long time to reply to her questions or talks.

although minji doesn't really mind, she felt a bit sad about being treated like this. but, as she assumed, maybe you don't like people much, aside from her auntie.

it was a long process and effort, but as time went on within a year, she was able to make long conversation with you, though it was just about the pottery, yet she doesn't really care.

it was nice to hear your voice and chat with you.

you were still like that— cold and maybe awkward, but certainly matured and collected— but you have your rare times when you suddenly become a bit clingy or a talker.

it was endearing, in minji's part.

almost adorable.

"minji?" your voice suddenly interrupts her thoughts, snapping her out and turning to you to see you staring at her with a stain of clay over your chin. minji blinks twice, and her face burns flusteredly.

she didn't notice that she had finished gathering water and washing her hands and had sat down on her chair, staring at the bat blankly until she was called by you.

she pressed the back of her wrist against her lips, looking away to hide her red face from you. "m-my bad.. sorry." she apologizes softly as she breathes to calm her nerves against her skin.

her ears turn red when she hears you hum in response, "are you going to start or what?" you say as you stop pressing your feet on the pedal, at the same time the bat stops spinning as well.

minji cleared her throat, nodding sheepishly with a pursed smile. "yeah, i'm starting." she responded, breathing to cool down her burning face and ears. her heart never stopped racing, just to be around your presence was enough to do something with her heart.

as she begins to do her business, you are staring at her with half-lidded eyes, calm in your eyes. it was obvious that minji noticed your gaze, just her eyes wandering around nervously and her hands trembling against the wet clay, she made a small mistake by her thumb pressing down too deep.

"ah-" minji sputters, blinking at the mess she had made. she clicked her tongue in embarrassment, muttering a quiet apology under her breath as she pressed down the whole clay to start over again.

it has been almost an hour before minji finally finishes with a smile. a large pot perfect for large-sized plants with a good amount of space inside the body, minji was satisfied with her work but was embarrassed to see that she took almost 30 minutes just to finish this.

"that looks nice," you suddenly said, making her look up from her work to you standing near the sink, facing her way. but minji's eyes widened to see your white polo's two bottoms were open, instantly looking away from your... uh, pretty cleavage.

her heart raced again, her thoughts were quick to turn into a storm. "c-could you cover up, please..?" she stutters as she is still looking away, heart jumping to hear you walking. she doesn't know if you're walking towards her or away.

"sorry, the clay stained my collar so i cleaned it a bit," you said calmly, wiping your wet hands with your apron, sighing as you blow away the stubborn fringes over your eyes.

minji bit her lower lips, aware of her own ears burning. "r-right.. alright," she mumbled, turning to her work instead before noticing her hair was covered with clay.

"ugh.." she grimaces, about to wipe it away when she notices her hands were completely covered with the same clay. slowly, she glances up to you through her eyelashes, already making eye-contact with you.

her cheeks turn rosy, "um.. could you.." she bit her tongue, unable to keep her trembling voice. but when she hears your footsteps approaching, you walk towards her way with your hand holding a hair tie.

she blinked when the thought, '.. did she prepare that already?' it popped into her mind, and again, her heart raced even more. the thought of you preparing the hair tie already before she says anything was so..

fuck.

she looks down on her lap, ears booming with her heart beating furiously and flushed face as you stop behind her. she couldn't see your face, and she doesn't want to, for the sake of her dignity of maintaining her cool side.

obviously, she was failing quick.

then her shoulder quivered when your fingers gently pressed around her skull, gathering her hair together and basically pressing your stomach on her back. the warmth of your body was quick to spread around minji— and exaggeratedly, around minji's soul and mind.

her breath was turning shaky, eyes clouded as she subconsciously leans back onto your stomach, finding your overall presence and everything so comforting.

behind her, you smile warmly as you gently tie her hair into a pony tail, brushing out her light fringes over her forehead with your fingers. then, you gently take out her side bangs in front of her ears and twirl them almost in a flirty way.

and you just know that minji saw it, just the way her shoulder jumps and her head bowing down with her ears reddening like an apple.

you pull away from her back, but your finger lingers lightly on her neck, your smile softening when minji presses her legs together. "...there, all done," you muttered behind her, eyes glued on her back.

minji felt her sweat dropping, her legs shaking and her ears burning. she was getting crazy and it was because of you. she was getting insane and it was because of you. really— you're turning her into a fool. a lovesick fool.

and she's not even gonna complain!

"t..thanks," minji mumbled, trying to keep her voice normal and her heart calm, but she was failing miserably. her voice cracked in-between, breathing became heavy and her hearing was just filled with her beating heart.

it was so ridiculous.

"mhm," you hum in response, your smile vanishes as you walk away, tending to your drying pots, leaving minji in her overstimulated state. inside her head was full of cursing towards herself, for being so weird around you.

'aah.. shit, i want to confess. i want to say how i feel to her-' she sobbed internally, biting onto her lower lips to stop her eyes from tearing up in frustration. she doesn't know why she's holding back.

maybe it's because of the rejection that you'll give her? or maybe because of fear that you'll think of her as a weird person who likes women? but she only likes you!

no— she loves you. she wants to tell you her feelings. she wants to say that she has never liked a woman but you, she wants to say that you are her first love, she wants to say everything to you.

but it was so difficult, the fear of getting rejected by you would feel so much worse than having a physical injury.

but minji was determined. she will confess. it has been a year ever since her feelings grew so much bigger than she had initially expected, and it was time to release her feelings to you.

she could only pray that you wouldn't hate her after..

─────

minji waited for the day to finish, eyes staring at the sun setting down, replacing with the awaiting white moon. it has been a long day, time consumed just making new different types of pots and bowls, all used for human resources.

although it was fun in most parts, it's tiring mentally and physically. constant thinking on how to detail out the creation, how to shape it perfectly, how to size it, how to make a function on it and others.

however, it's a good part. it's a good thing, really. minji has become more creative and more observant than she has ever wondered of herself. with countless ideas for the clay to be created into a new type of creation, it was certainly satisfying to make it just with your hands and mind.

minji doesn't regret taking this job.

footsteps caught her attention, making her turn to see you standing beside her by the window. with your hands on your side and your tired eyes staring at the beautiful moon, the light shines through the glass and makes your features even more beautiful.

finding herself staring at you like an idiot, she shakes her head to shake away the flustered redness on her face. then she hears a soft inhale next to her, causing her to look at you.

she blinks slowly, eyebrows subconsciously furrowing as she watches you. "is something wrong?" minji asks softly, her voice mixed with curiosity and concern. you were careful to turn to her, eyes meeting each other and it felt like the world was moving too slowly.

minji couldn't turn away from your glistening eyes.

"minji," you begin quietly, barely above a whisper but enough for the same aged girl to hear it clearly. the room was silent, except with the oven humming lowly with the pots warming inside the machine.

she hums in response, eyes turning solemn at the sight of the hidden emotion inside your beautiful eyes. what made you look so sad? she wanted to ask, but in fear of being turned away because she was stepping into your line, she stopped herself.

but what you said next stopped her whole world, eyes staring into her eyes and your voice only entering her ears.

"i like you," you mumble, a small melancholy smile forming on your face. your voice sounded so weak, small and vulnerable. you sounded so afraid, fearful yet longing at the same time. yearning for something.

"i like you, minji." you repeat softly, breathing slowly. "so much so, i could barely try to calm my heart from racing like a maniac." your soft smile quivered, the tone in your voice struck something in minji's chest.

your eyes were soft, and yet your voice held something different. full of warmth and cold— the confidence and the fright. those words are things minji has been wanting to hear in a year, words that she has been longing to hear from you, from your lips.

and the moment she finally got it, tears fell onto her cheeks and her eyes never stopped looking into your eyes.

you didn't move, smiling at her like she was the only one in this world, the only person you have ever seen in your entire life. the feeling of your cold hand slowly and shyly intertwining with hers fluttered her heart and stomach with butterflies.

too much butterflies.

"...say something," her teary eyes widened slightly at the sight of your eyes wavering, the fear and nerves were so visible. it clenched her heart into something. her mouth moved, but she couldn't release any words nor sounds.

her lower lips twitched, teary eyes turning clouded before she pulls you into her arms and buries her face onto your neck, embracing you so tight and securely— almost as if she doesn't want anything to take you away from her.

a soft choke from you was enough for her to tighten her grip around you, heart thumping hard against her chest as you embraced her back. burying your face on her shoulder, hands clawing her back and bodies pressed together felt so whole.

the smell of the clay on you was so entrancing, she oddly felt so welcomed and accepted in a way she doesn't understand how a single weird smell was making her feel.

"...i like you too," minji muttered against your neck.

she could hear your heart beating the same rate as hers, rapid and loud. it sounds like you share and hold the same feelings as hers, the same emotions as hers. it felt so surreal.

"i like you a lot— i... i love you, y/n." her words came out shaky, affection, fear, nerves and love in her voice was so loud to you. her arms around you tightened more, her face pressed up to your neck even more and she has you against the wall.

your heart thumped, the sight of feminine tall body hovering over yours. you felt small yet safe in her arms, warm like a home and warm blanket around you.

the world felt cold, but in her arms, it felt so warm.

you breathe softly, eyes closed as you take in her warm embrace and the feelings she was trying to express with her whole body and her words. the wall against your back felt rough, but her body was soft and fit with yours.

your hands clawed onto her back, nose against her hair and her scent was masking over you. it felt so good, it felt so overwhelming. it felt so safe.

"i love you, i love you." minji chants as she pressed her lips against your neck, hands gripping onto your shoulder and waist possessively yet securely. she wants you in her arms, only you.

you gently push her away, softly smiling at her crying face. you cup her cheeks, and brushes your lips with hers. "i love you too, minji," you mumbled back, eyes soft and half-lidded with an overwhelming love in your eyes.

her heart beats so loud in her ears. your eyes that were once so cold and indifferent had turned softer than a cloud, and truer than the truth. you're more than sincere, and that genuine was making her fall in love with you even more.

how could a lovely person like you ever exist?

where have you been all her life?

you pressed your lips on her lips, softly rubbing your thumbs against her wet cheeks as she melts onto your lovely lips. her ever-so-tight grip around you loosened, finally gripping you with gentleness and affection.

the soft movement of both your lips paces up, lips finding and craving for each other. minji, who felt more impatient than ever, sticks out her tongue and slid them between your lips.

your breath hitched before parting your lips, allowing her to slide her tongue in and explore the warmth. tongues dancing gracefully with each other, head tilting to each side, teeth softly clanking onto each other and bodies even more pressed with each other.

you and minji were just so into each other, the world had completely stopped spinning.

she pressed you against the wall more, chasing your lips greedily and melts into you like melted butter. you tasted so nice, good and wonderful. you smell so good, beautiful and enchanting.

everything about you captures her whole attention, and she would gladly kneel down onto your feet and worship you

those hands that were carving and shaping the clay so gently had turned needy and clawing onto her back, desperate to pull her closer and devour her mouth like a hungry maniac.

the soft moans you erupt sent down hot shivers down her spine, causing her to grow possessive and desperate to claim you as her own. but you're still you— you who would share thousands of parts of you with her, you who would gladly give yourself to her.

for her to love you unconditionally, you would do that.

and unbeknownst to you, minji would do it more than that.

── ── ꒰ end ꒱ ── ──

[tf-kinky]

Reece was at his wit's end. Sharing a small dorm room with Kurt was challenging enough, but the real torment came from Kurt's habit of never updating his wardrobe, particularly his sneakers. These weren’t just any sneakers; they were an ancient, battle-scarred pair that had seen better days, probably back when they were new in the early 2000s. The stench that emanated from them was like a toxic cloud, enveloping the room whenever Kurt kicked them off after a long day.

Day after day, Reece aired his grievances. "Kurt, man, those sneakers are biohazards. You need new ones, like, yesterday," he'd say, pinching his nose in dramatic fashion.

But Kurt just shrugged, his response always some variation of, "They're broken in. I like 'em."

Weeks passed, and Reece's complaints grew more desperate. He tried everything from leaving subtle hints to outright begging, but to no avail. Kurt's sneakers remained a staple in their shared space, their smell intensifying with each passing day.

One evening, as Reece was once again lamenting the state of their room, Kurt's patience snapped. With a mischievous grin, he pulled out his phone and tapped on an app no one had ever seen before – the "TF App," which stood for "Transformation."

"You want to shut up about my sneakers?" Kurt asked, his eyes glinting with an odd light. Before Reece could respond, Kurt pressed the screen.

In a flash of light, Reece felt an odd sensation, like every part of him was being flattened and reshaped. When he came to, he was no longer human but had become a pair of insoles. Not just any insoles, but ones designed to fit perfectly inside Kurt's repulsive sneakers.

Kurt, with a chuckle, pulled out the old, worn-out insoles and replaced them with Reece. The horror for Reece was immediate and overwhelming. As Kurt shoved his bare, sweat-drenched feet into the sneakers, the experience was magnified for Reece. His senses were heightened; every odor was amplified, every touch was a nightmare.

Kurt's feet were the epitome of nastiness. They were unwashed for days, covered in a thick layer of sweat and grime, with nails that hadn't seen a clipper in ages. The smell was like a physical entity, invading what would have been Reece's nose if he had one. And the taste, oh, the taste was worse – salty, bitter, with a hint of whatever Kurt had stepped in that day.

Reece would have screamed if he could, but all he could do was absorb the horror of his new existence. Each step Kurt took was a crushing blow, each second an eternity of suffering. The irony was cruel; Reece, who hated feet more than anything, was now intimately acquainted with the very thing he despised.

As days turned into weeks, Kurt's feet only grew more vile, and Reece's torment seemed without end. But in this bizarre twist of fate, perhaps Reece would finally learn to keep his complaints to himself – or at least, that was what Kurt hoped as he laced up his sneakers, ready for another day of college life, with his former roommate underfoot.

As time wore on, the melding of Reece into Kurt's sneakers became complete. The insoles, a source of pure horror for Reece, now conformed so perfectly to Kurt's feet that they seemed like they were part of him. But for Reece, this melding was a never-ending nightmare.

With each step Kurt took, the terror in Reece's existence was palpable. His senses, unnaturally heightened, were assaulted by the constant stench and sweat of Kurt's feet. The pressure of each footfall was a reminder of his loss of humanity, his once vibrant life reduced to the sensation of being crushed and molded underfoot.

Kurt, oblivious to the true horror of his former roommate's plight, reveled in the newfound comfort. His feet felt supported and cushioned in a way they never had before. He walked with an ease that suggested he was floating rather than walking. But as he noticed this miraculous change, a decision brewed in his mind, one that would seal Reece's fate.

One night, while lounging with his feet propped up, Kurt pulled out the TF app. He contemplated the reversal process, but the thought of returning to discomfort was unbearable. With a cold resolve, he deleted the reverse data, ensuring Reece could never return to his human form.

"Sorry, man," Kurt said aloud, though he knew Reece couldn't respond. "But you make the best insoles I've ever had."

Reece, trapped within the confines of the insoles, was in constant, silent horror. He tried to scream, to plead, to beg for his humanity back, but his voice was gone, replaced by the silent endurance of inanimate suffering. Each day was a relentless cycle of sensory overload; the smell, the taste, the feel of Kurt's feet were all magnified to torturous levels.

He felt every step, every shift in weight, every moment Kurt's feet rested on him. The horror of his situation never dulled; instead, it grew with each passing second. He was aware, acutely so, of every moment, every touch, and yet, he was powerless, voiceless, his protests nothing more than the inaudible cries of a sentient insole.

Kurt, now accustomed to this perfect fit, wore his sneakers more than ever, seldom taking them off, even when he could. He had no idea of the torment he was perpetuating with every step. For Reece, there was no escape, no relief, just an endless, horrifying existence as the insoles beneath Kurt's feet. His mind, trapped in this cruel reality, could do nothing but endure, hoping against hope for a miracle that would never come.

[jaeyunverse]

chapstick challenge

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

genres: fluff, suggestive

wc: 1163

warnings: making out

summary: the chapstick challenge is just an excuse for you to get heeseung to kiss you. thankfully, he’s more than happy to oblige.

note: i don’t have the motivation to write but i didn’t wanna let the blog die either so here’s another repost :)

masterlist

“Heeseung!” you popped cheerfully and poked his cheek with your pencil. “Can I ask you something?”

The boy looked at you suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“Do I always have to want something from you?” you asked, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“You’re being weirdly nice and unnecessarily upbeat at 8:30 in the morning so—” he shrugged— “yes.”

“Okay, yeah, I do want something,” you deadpanned, dropping your charade immediately. Heeseung rolled his eyes and you shoved his shoulder playfully in response. “But you have to promise you won’t say no.”

“No.”

“Boo!” you complained. “You’re such a party pooper!”

Refraining the urge to roll his eyes again, Heeseung reminded you, “The last time you made me promise to not say no, we ended up in the goddamn police station.”

“That’s on you for running too slow.”

“You forgot to pick up the bag with the fucking spray paints, Y/N!” he exclaimed incredulously. “They’re expensive!”

“I didn’t mind ditching the bag if it meant our parents remained uninformed about what happened that night!”

Letting out a long sigh of exasperation, Heeseung said, “Just tell me. The free period will be over soon.”

“Okay,” you declared and dragged your chair closer to his desk. Gesturing for him to come closer, you whispered in his ear, “It’s a TikTok challenge.”

The disappointment on Heeseung’s face could not have been more evident. “I thought you had something interesting to tell me. This was so lame.”

“C’mon!” you urged. “I swear it’ll be fun!”

“You know I’m not into TikTok.”

“Are you opposed to the idea of kissing me too?”

“Oh.” His demeanour changed immediately and he leaned towards you with a curious expression on his face. “Tell me more.”

“You’re such a dork,” you teased.

“I’m down for anything that involves kissing you,” he admitted shamelessly and shrugged. “Maybe this will finally persuade you to be my girlfriend. What’s the challenge?”

You snorted. You and Heeseung were definitely more than friends, but you weren’t exactly dating either. He wanted the two of you to be together, but you weren’t inclined to get involved with him—he was moving to another country for college in a few months.

It was already hard for you to come to terms with the fact as a friend. You weren’t sure you’d be able to cope if you began dating him.

Heeseung tried to convince you that you could make a long-distance relationship work, but you knew better than that. It wasn’t realistic—the timezones weren’t compatible at all and you were both way too career oriented to be able to commit to someone who lived on the other side of the world.

So, you just flirted with each other without ever putting a label on whatever you were. A few platonic makeout sessions here and there, a few not-a-real-date dates to make memories, but never girlfriend and boyfriend.

“I apply a bunch of different chapstick flavours and you try to guess them.”

Heeseung grinned mischievously. “Oh, I love what you have in mind.”

“Meet me at our usual spot during lunch break?” you asked, your lips mirroring his contagious smile.

“Can’t wait.”

“Will we be recording the challenge?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Heeseung over your shoulder. Tightening your grip on his hand as you tugged him along faster, you said, “I wasn’t planning to. Do you want to?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll just get self-conscious.”

You laughed. “Are you saying you’re camera shy?”

“I’m saying I would rather focus on the challenge!” he exclaimed, the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment.

“Relax.” You chucked and let go of his hand. “I’m just messing with you. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Fetching an eye mask from the pocket of your hoodie, you handed it to Heeseung and told him to put it on. He did, and you uncapped the first chapstick.

After putting it on, you grabbed his tie and pulled him closer. His arm immediately wrapped around your waist, his hand finding its way to your jaw and cupping it gently.

Then, his mouth was on yours. You were a little surprised by how easily he was handling you even though he couldn’t see anything. It made you realise just how well he knew you—how much you’d gotten used to being with each other.

Heeseung tilted his head to the side for better access and ran his tongue over your bottom lip, sucking on it to get a better taste of the flavour you had applied.

“Strawberry,” he guessed without bothering to break the kiss.

You hummed. “You’re good at this.”

He smiled against your mouth and kissed the corner of your lip before pulling away. Removing the eye mask, he asked, “At guessing flavours or at making out?”

“Guessing flavours,” you said with a smirk and slung your arms around his neck. “I’m gonna need to conduct more experiments to reach a conclusion on that regard.”

“Oh, yeah?” he teased, running his thumb up and down the curve of your waist. “Go ahead and apply a second flavour then.”

You did, and this time, Heeseung wasn’t sweet nor gentle. He pretty much had you pinned against the wall, your fingers weaving through his hair and tugging at the strands.

The kiss was deeper and messier, as if the boy couldn’t get enough of you. Could never get enough of you.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you knew he wasn’t holding back anymore. He nibbled on your bottom lip, sucking and licking till you lost sense of everything else but him.

Out of breath, you broke the kiss, but Heeseung, it seemed, was nowhere near done. He placed his lips on your neck, allowing you to get some much needed oxygen into your system.

“That’s not where the chapstick is,” you whispered. You wanted his mouth back on yours. Now.

“Chocolate,” he muttered, sucking hard on the underside of your jaw. You hissed in both pleasure and pain. “It’s chocolate.”

Panting, he detached his lips from your skin and leaned against the wall next to you. You glanced at him and noticed that his tie had come loose.

Not only that, but part of his shirt had also somehow untucked itself and his hair was sticking in all directions. What you loved the most about his dishevelled appearance, though, were his swollen lips.

“Bingo,” you confirmed, resisting the urge to pull him against you again. “It was chocolate.”

Heeseung smirked. “Do I get a reward for passing the challenge?”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead fixing your uniform and hair. He watched you intently with dark eyes.

On your way out of the alley between the two secluded buildings at the back of your school, you said, “Why don’t you meet me back here after class and find out?”

The mischievous glint in Heeseung’s eyes was all the answer you needed.

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Naps 🍂

You've ordered: a cinnamon apple tart! enjoy!

"Cause all I wanna do is lie with you~"

Leona Kingscholar x reader | word count: 1,150 words

Summary: during preparations for halloween, you and leona share a rather comfy moment~ 🍂

Warnings: none!

Note: kinda rushed, not really proofread. also, i love leona sm, OMG-

Cheerful banter, excited voices, and the scents of pumpkin, cinnamon, and apples filled the air of Night Raven College. Students and faculty alike were working hard in preparation for everyone's favorite holiday: Halloween.

Each dorm, being led and directed by their dorm leaders, was hard at work, decorating for the spooky and fun filled holiday that was only days away.

You were working with Grim to hang up some pumpkin and skull shaped garlands, holding a few nails between your teeth as you hammered them into the wall. "These look too boring!" the cat-like creature complained, flicking at one of the paper skulls with his paw.

"Well what do you recommend we do? This was all they had in the storage closet..." you sighed, rolling your eyes at your furry companion's complaints. He thought for a moment before perking up, a mischievous little grin on his face.

"I think it'll look better all lit up!" he exclaimed, taking a deep breath. Before you could stop him, Grim had already let out a breath of fire, the blue flames licking the paper and thread of the garlands.

"Grim, what did you do?!" you yelled, rushing to fan out the flames before they burned your dorm to the ground.

"What? I thought it'd look cool..." grim said, realizing his mistake. You sighed, gently petting his head after you finished putting out the small fire.

"It's alright, you didn't know this would happen." you mumbled, looking at the now charred garland at your feet. "I'll go ask around the other dorms and see if they have extra garlands."

You said, grabbing your jacket as you made your way out the door. "Bring back some tuna!" Grim yelled after you, your response being a thumbs up.

You'd tried most of the dorms, realizing they were either done decorating or still in the process. When you went to Heartslabyul, Deuce and Ace were on their way out, Riddle yelling something along the lines of "Get the right decorations or it's off with your heads!"

"What happened?" you asked as the two walked with their heads hanging in shame.

"Someone took the wrong box of decorations. These actually belong to Savanaclaw dorm." Deuce said, earning himself a poke in the side from Ace.

"Okay, but in my defense, the closet was pretty dark!" he protested, a soft laugh pushing past your lips.

"Looks like they have extra garlands. Mine burned down cause Grim was trying to show off again." you explained, stepping onto the grounds of the Savanaclaw dorms.

"Are you sure that's why you're here?" Ace asked, a knowing grin on his face. You playfully shoved him as Deuce went up to knock on the door. The door swung open and Ruggie stood there, a box full of Heartslabyul decorations in hand.

"Oh, I was just about to come return these." he laughed, shoving the box into Ace's arms.

Deuce gave him the correct box and thanked Ruggie, getting ready to leave before he was tugged to the side by Ace. You raised an eyebrow as you saw the two whispering and glancing at you a few times.

You weren't sure exactly how you got into this situation, but you and Ace were currently helping Ruggie and Jack put up fake cobwebs in the corners of the room. Deuce had volunteered to go take the decorations back to Ramshackle and Heartslabyul.

"Where's Mr. King of the Jungle? Shouldn't he be helping too?" you asked, glancing around for the familiar lion.

"He's taking his "power nap." Says he can't help out if he's sleepy." Ruggie said, rolling his eyes.

"Ugh, Ruggie, we're out of thumbtacks." Ace said, hopping off of the ladder. "Ummm, I think Leona has some in his room." Jack replied, tying off the string of another garland.

"Y/n, could you get them?" Ace asked, that stupid grin on his face again. "Why can't you-"

"Ace, could you come hold this for a second?" Ruggie yelled, obviously in on it and giving Ace the perfect excuse.

"Duty calls!" he smirked, making you scoff and curse at him under your breath.

You softly knocked on the door of Leona's room, listening for a sign to enter. "He's probably asleep..." you thought, slowly opening the door and taking a peek inside.

You were correct: there in a plush, king sized bed, slept Leona Kingscholar himself, still in his uniform minus the jacket. You slowly stepped inside the room, walking over to his desk area and snagging the box of thumbtacks, making your way back to the door. You stopped halfway, glancing over at leona's sleeping form.

He looked so peaceful, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He probably didn't. Absentmindedly, you reached your hand out and gently brushed some of his hair from his eyes, seeing them slowly start to flutter open.

You froze as his emerald green eyes seemed to widen a little at seeing you, a sleepy grumble leaving his lips, his tail flicking behind him. "Herbivore? What are you doing here?"

"Sorry to wake you. Ruggie said he needed help with the Halloween decorations, so Ace and I decided to stay." you couldn't help but laugh a little, taking in his half asleep state as he sat up with a groan.

"Ace needed some thumbtacks for putting up the cobwebs." you said, holding up the box.

"You're really going along with all of this stuff?"

"What, you mean decorating? It's much more fun that way! Gets everyone into the Halloween spirit!" Leona rolled his eyes, playfully flicking you in the forehead.

"Of course you'd say that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to my nap." he said, getting ready to get back into his bed. "At least come and help-!"

You let out a startled yell as you were pulled down into the plush blankets of Leona's bed. "Leona, what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? Sleeping. You can leave if you want. But if you decide to stay, I'd appreciate it if you stayed quiet." he yawned, his tail swishing a bit. You felt your heart skip a beat, your eyes glancing up to meet Leona's.

He wordlessly pulled you closer, resting his chin on your head, already knowing you had no intentions of pulling away.

It felt nice, so nice to be held by the otherwise grumpy lion. He smelled like citrus and something musky. His embrace felt like a protective bubble, keeping you safe and secure. You felt your breathing get a bit slower as eyelids fluttered closed, your arms wrapping around Leona's middle. No words had to be exchanged. It was already obvious how you felt about each other.

Bonus: Ace and Ruggie walked in on you two and of course Ace took pictures...and of course you chased him down the hall the next day when he sent them to you. 🍂

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 2: Harbor Gateway]

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome you have given this series!!! I am sick with bronchitis currently so this has been a big bright spot in an otherwise miserable week 😅 I can't wait to show you where this story is going, I hope you're ready for it 🥰💜

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent...at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon's right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, a tiny bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, ice cream, judgmental parents, aggressive Akitas, we're literally in Minnesota!!!

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado. On the other side of the glass is inky Minnesota night, a full moon dissolving away, glowing freckles of constellations. You’re staying with your parents and Mason has roommates, so the truck was the expedient choice. It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone.

Mason glances down at the used condom on the floor of his Silverado, hastily discarded, viscerally slick in a way that becomes sickening in the letdown, as the endorphins and the adrenaline slip away and the blood pumps slow and unclouded. He smirks as he asks: “You sure you don’t want to get back on the pill?”

You sigh, drawing another star. You are still naked and sprawled across the back seat, glistening with sweat in the moonlight. “Well I tried three different prescriptions and had three miserable experiences, and I’m really not interested in playing side effect roulette again. And I can’t risk my skin going insane and random bleeding when I’m running around all over L.A. trying to get parts.”

“What about that little sperm assassin T-shaped thing?”

You look at him. “An IUD?”

“Yeah.”

You wince, engraving another star into the steam on the window. “I don’t think I like the idea of having a piece of metal shoved up inside me.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get silicone implants?”

You shrug; you can’t deny the irony. “I don’t need an IUD to be an actress.”

“Look, I’m not complaining about the tits thing,” Mason says, holding up his hands. “Obviously I’d enjoy them too. And you’d still have them when you move home, so it’s not a waste even if the acting thing doesn’t work out.”

You already know he feels this way, and yet still, it hurts. “When I move home?”

He smiles and crawls back on top of you, his Carleton College hoodie whispering against your belly and chest, soft royal blue cotton on damp skin. He had been a Political Science and International Relations major who took Theater Arts 195: Acting Shakespeare for an arts credit. He was beyond terrible and had no appreciation for the field whatsoever, but he was tall and strong and jolly, an earnest corn-fed Midwestern boy, and when one day after class he’d asked if he could take you to Culver’s for a burger and frozen custard, you’d said yes.

Here and now, in the back seat of his Chevy Silverado, Mason kisses your forehead. Then he ghosts his thumb over the ridge of your orbital socket and cheekbone, where your dark glittery eyeshadow has smudged like a spreading bruise: Galaxy by Anastasia Beverly Hills, Elysian by Natasha Denona. “I’m not saying you aren’t good. But how many people on this planet get to be movie stars? It’s just not realistic. And it’s about so much more than talent. It’s about who you know, and luck, and chemistry, and looks, and a bunch of other things that are mostly out of your control. You’re never going to be the type of girl who’s an influencer or winning Miss America, you’re just not. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t very, very pretty. And I loved you anyway.”

Loved, past tense. You and Mason stopped using that word a year ago; now the nostalgia is painting memories like the walls of an old house. His memories, anyway. You sit up and start yanking on your clothes: oversized yellow Santa Monica crewneck, black sweatpants with elastic cuffs at the ankles. “I think I’m going to get the gummy bear implants.”

Mason licks his lips. “Yum.”

“They’re a type of silicone, but they’re supposed to feel more natural and be less dangerous if they rupture.”

“Will you have scars?” he says as if the notion has just occurred to him, troubled, perhaps a little revolted.

“Well yeah, they have to end up under my skin somehow.”

Mason shudders, then he has another thought. “Who’s going to take care of you after surgery when you’re all sore and zonked out on opioids?”

“My roommate Baela said she would. She’s had friends who have gone through it already.”

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want you to be alone out there.” Mason touches the back of your head, a quick fond gesture. He’s the only man you’ve ever been with, and even that took a while, months of trying to envision him undressing you before you were sure you could do it without flinching, without being afraid or shy or bewildered. But in the end it had been easy, always easy, which is why you keep coming back to him like a comet. Your elliptical orbit takes you far away and then close again, and such natural patterns are effortless to keep.

You say, the edges of your lips curling into a furtive smile: “I’m definitely not alone.”

Mason groans. “You’re going to hook up with that new agent guy, aren’t you?”

“What? No! No way, he has a fiancée.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s more amused than annoyed. “Okay, whatever.”

“You know I don’t date anyone.” Which is why each time you’re home visiting, Mason gets a text: Want to get lunch at Culver’s? or Can you drive me to Target? or Pick me up around 9 p.m.?

Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

“I’m just grateful. Someone finally gave me a chance.” You look to the window; the steam and your hand-drawn stars have evaporated away. “And yeah, he’s interesting and he’s cute, and he’s kind of mean but then unexpectedly caring sometimes, and I think he’s one of those people who are really good at what they do but only when they’re inspired…but that doesn’t mean I’m into him romantically.” A pause. “And even if I was, there’s no harm in a super-secret, one-sided crush.”

“Okay. Have fun with all the adulterous sex.”

You chuckle. “Thanks, but that is not the plan.” You slip on your flip-flops, shimmy out of the back seat, and trot around the Silverado to the passenger’s door. Mason climbs into the driver’s seat and turns his key in the ignition. You ask: “What happened to that ballerina girl who was in your Instagram stories for a while?”

“Had to ghost her, she got super clingy and controlling. She was texting me at work all the time and got pissed off when I was putting a ton of hours into that election thing for CNN.” Mason is a political analyst. He turns to you. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

“I think people are wonderful. You just have to find the ones you click with.”

“I should have figured you’d say something like that.” He steers his truck out of the otherwise empty parking lot in Lac Lavon Park. “I’m looking forward to you being home again.”

“I’m not.”

You both laugh, and then Mason drives you to your parents’ house.

At the dining room table, Mom and Clara are researching wedding venues, vast countryside estates and metropolitan historic hotels. Clara got engaged two weeks ago during a vacation to Turks and Caicos. In the living room, Dad and Tripp are watching commentary on the NBA Finals. Tripp’s name isn’t really Tripp; he is the third James in a row, named after your father and grandfather, and Tripp is short for triple. All over the house, there are Akitas lolling in plush dog beds and clicking around on Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors. They have faces like teddy bears, but their dark eyes track you mistrustfully, as if you are an intruder.

No one asks where you have been. They barely acknowledge that you are back. “Hello, dear,” your mother calls distractedly from the dining room, and that’s all. You jog upstairs to the bathroom you share with Clara before anyone can notice your smeared makeup and the unsavory post-car-sex sweat gleaming on your skin. You get into the shower, turn on water so hot it is nearly scalding, and close your eyes. With your back pressed to the jade green tiles, your hand wanders down over your belly and stops between your legs. Your mind cycles through fantasies, but nothing seems to be working.

It’s not real. It can’t hurt anybody.

You imagine that Aegon is the one touching you, and in under a minute it’s over.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I want there to be horses,” Clara says, scrolling through her phone and ignoring the food on her plate: roast chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, green beans sauteed in garlic and olive oil, panzanella salad. Mom prepared it all herself, not because there was no help available—your parents have a housekeeper named Angela who comes by several days per week—but to prove she could. In the living room are shelves heavy with books by Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, Cat Cora, Julia Child, Nigella Lawson. You hear echoes of ambient clicking, Akitas meandering down hallways and staircases.

“Horses?!” Tripp replies with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, gesturing to the sliding glass door. “Don’t you get enough horses in your everyday life? Don’t you have like five right out there?” Your parents’ house sits on ten acres of land, including a barn and several paddocks for Clara’s rescued Thoroughbreds.

“I want beautiful horses,” Clara insists. “Unusual, photogenic, so they can be in the background of all the photos. Maybe Friesians or Haflingers?”

“I’m not sure we can sort the venues by types of horses available, dear,” Mom says. All that’s on her own plate is a heap of green beans and a few pieces of skinless white meat chicken.

Clara moans and drops her face into her hands. “It’s so overwhelming!”

“You’ll find a place you like, Clara Bear,” Dad says mildly, painstakingly slicing meat off a drumstick with his fork and knife.

“And Owen is no help at all. Every time I ask for his opinion he just tells me to do whatever I think is best, but I don’t know what’s best, that’s why I’m asking him!”

Your mother pats Clara’s shoulder reassuringly. “Guys don’t care about weddings,” Tripp says, twisting around in his chair to see the television in the living room. On a rerun of E! News, the hosts are discussing Chris Hemsworth’s rigorous fitness regime and Meghan Trainor’s “mommy makeover.” You peek under the tablecloth. One of the Akitas, Yuki, is glaring as she waits for you to drop something for her to eat.

“You could do something like that,” Mom says to you, and you realize you haven’t been listening to the conversation.

“Sorry, do what?”

“You could be a wedding planner or a real estate agent. Those are actual careers, but there’s more creativity involved, isn’t there? And didn’t you take a design class in college? That would certainly come in handy.”

“Hm,” your father says with a frown, still dissecting his chicken. He would rather you go to law school like Tripp. You would rather lie down in traffic.

“I took a set design class, Mom. Because I was studying how to be an actress. And that’s what I’m doing right now in Los Angeles, trying to be an actress.”

“You could become an architect!” Mom bursts out with sudden enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You titter evasively. “I can’t draw, Mom. Or use the modeling software, or do math.”

“You know, you don’t need any specific degree to get into law school,” Tripp says, and your father gives him a nod of approval. “You could have majored in dance or bagpiping or Egyptology, it doesn’t matter. All they want is a high undergrad GPA and a 168+ LSAT score, and I bet you could get that if you studied. You can even retake the test a few times if you need to.”

“Why do you do that?” Clara snaps at him. You eat your panzanella salad and pretend not to be listening. Beneath the tablecloth, Yuki growls. You toss her a few cubes of Italian bread so she won’t bite you.

Tripp shovels mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Do what?”

“Why are you always wasting your time trying to convince her to grow up and get a real job? If she wants to embarrass herself, let her. I have problems that I’m trying to solve, so how about applying yourself to those instead?”

“Are you serious? You think I should be calling around to wedding venues asking about their selection of exotic draft horses?”

Clara aggressively stabs at her green beans with her fork. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Hey, hey, kids, no swearing,” your mother says. “It’s Father’s Day. Be respectful.”

Dad turns to you. “You could be an entertainment lawyer, how about that? You could work in intellectual property or negotiating contracts.”

You smile warily. “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Clara says to your parents: “Well I hope all the money you’re throwing out the window to support her in California isn’t coming out of my wedding fund.”

You close your eyes and think: I can’t spend my life in a cubical. I can’t spend every minute of every day trying to forget who I am.

“Shh, shh,” your mother pleads, rubbing the back of Clara’s clenched hand. “You will get exactly what we promised you, that amount is still set aside for your wedding. Nothing she does affects you.”

“And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies.

Your father is now asking Tripp about his summer associate position at Latham & Watkins in Chicago. Your mother is advising Clara to get a wedding dress with a corset back so it can be adjusted in the event she gains or loses weight at the last minute. Underneath the table, Yuki is growling again; she noses your knees threateningly.

“I got an agent,” you say, and everyone looks at you.

“Really?” Mom asks, sounding a little perplexed.

“Who is it?” Dad says.

“Aegon Targaryen. He has a small office in Elysian Park.”

“Oh, I think I recognize the last name.”

“His family is in the industry.” You are beaming; you can feel the heat rising in your face. “But Aegon kind of does his own thing and tries to stay out of the limelight. He was an actor when he was my age. And I guess he thinks I can get roles, so that’s really exciting.”

Your mother seems concerned as she nibbles at a shred of white meat. “Is he an older man?”

“Not that much older. He’s thirty-five.”

“Well, be careful, darling,” your father says gravely. “Who knows what his intentions are.”

Clara evidently agrees. “Men can be so creepy. I had this one professor in pharmacy school who cheated on his wife with one student, then cheated on her six months later with a different student. And then he retired to Boca Raton and was never heard from again.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Tripp says to your father. “We read about Clinton v. Jones in torts class, it was wild, I didn’t know he was such a freak even before the Monica Lewinsky thing…”

After dinner, while your father and Tripp are flipping through television channels in the living room and Clara is upstairs on the phone with Owen, you go to the kitchen where your mother is washing dishes in a bubble-filled sink. Again, she doesn’t have to do this; Angela will be here to clean the house tomorrow. But it’s part of being a perfect homemaker, and if she’s not good at this then she’s not good at anything.

She glances over when she hears you come in. “Did you get an appointment with one of the doctors your father recommended?”

“I did, yeah. I have a consultation on Friday.” You lean against the marble countertop and cross your arms so you don’t fidget nervously. From a dog bed on the floor, Mochi glowers at you. “Do you think I should get the surgery?”

She shrugs; you’re not certain if she is more indecisive or apathetic. “Your cousin Madison had a nose job the summer before college. Your old classmate Emma got a blepharoplasty and then met her husband three months later. Practically all of my friends have had breast augmentations, and I’ve certainly never regretted mine. I think if you’re going to get anything fixed, it makes sense to pick that.”

You try again to elicit a strong opinion, whether an endorsement or objection. “I don’t think I’d want to do it if I didn’t feel like it was necessary to be an actress.”

“Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless.”

You stare at Mochi distractedly. The dog huffs, unwelcoming. “What was the recovery like?”

“Oh, hell,” your mother says. “But once you heal up it’s worth it. I can wear square necklines and strapless dresses again.”

“Technically, you could have worn whatever you wanted.”

She gives you an impatient look, a you’re too old for that sort of frustration. “No one wants to see some sad flabby woman.” She is including your father in this statement. You remember being home for Thanksgiving Break during your freshman year at Carleton and inadvertently stumbling upon emails from one of the hospital interns when you used his laptop to buy movie tickets: indecent inuendoes, flirtatious photos, no smoking gun but certainly more than was appropriate between colleagues. You had tried to tell your mother, and she had deflected over and over again until you realized that she didn’t want to know; it was easier to be carried by the currents of momentum than to rock the boat until it sank. “This agent of yours…is he celebrating Father’s Day with his family?”

“No, Aegon lost his dad when he was in college.”

“That must have been difficult,” she says vaguely as she scrubs a pot with a green Scotch-Brite dish wand. Your parents are now at the age when their friends have begun to succumb to strokes and heart disease and cancers, and the lurking specter of mortality both horrifies and fascinates them. “What did he die of?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mom?!” Clara shouts from upstairs. “Osaka is puking in the hallway!”

Your mother sighs and dries her hands on a dish towel, then leaves you alone in the kitchen. You linger there for a while, listening to the faint drone of CNN from the living room television, then leave the house through the sliding glass door in the dining room. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

You laugh and respond: They belong to my sister, I am personally very anti-horse

You hope he’ll continue the conversation. You don’t have to wait long. How’s Minnesota? Aegon asks.

You stop and consider how to answer, then decide not to overshare. Devoid of palm trees…but good!

There is a pause—perhaps thirty seconds—and then Aegon types: How’s the ex-boyfriend?

Is he curious or jealous? You smile. Still not standing in the way of anything :)

Aegon reacts with a heart emoji, then immediately switches it to a thumbs-up. You cannot ignore the wave of warmth and fondness and exhilaration that overwhelms you. Logically, you know he’s engaged to another woman. Emotionally, it doesn’t seem relevant.

You think: It’s just a crush. It can’t hurt anybody.

Then you remember what your mother asked, and as you stand outside in the fading dusk light you Google Aegon’s father Viserys Targaryen. He has his own Wikipedia page. You scroll to the bottom, where it reads in nondescript black letters: On October 27, 2009, Targaryen passed away at his Malibu residence after a long illness.

~~~~~~~~~~

You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you.”

“What?” You look towards the ice cream freezer and there he is, dark jeans, green Nike Killshots, a yellow Hawaiian shirt that’s too big for him. “It’s my agent!” you shout as you rush over to meet him, loud enough that everyone in the shop turns to stare.

“Shh,” Aegon says, but he’s laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask from behind the counter.

“I got some good news, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Cool! Should I make you ice cream first?”

“Um, sure.” Aegon surveys the menu of Signature Creations. He seems overwhelmed; he actually looks a little panicked.

“Are you usually a chocolate or vanilla person? Or peanut butter, or coffee? Or mint?”

“Strawberry,” Aegon says.

“Strawberry,” you echo, surprised. “Okay, I think you’ll like Our Strawberry Blonde.”

“Neat.”

“Because, you know, it has strawberries and you’re blonde.”

“Sounds literally perfect for me,” Aegon says, smiling.

“What size?”

“Uh…” He reads the labels on the cups in the display case. “The big one.”

“No, you have to say the real name.”

He chuckles. His cheeks are pink, his turbulent blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then I’m not making you ice cream!”

He groans. “I want an Our Strawberry Blonde in the size Gotta Have It.”

“Cup, cone, or waffle cone bowl?”

“Stop asking me questions or you’re fired.”

“Waffle cone bowl,” you decide. Aegon studies you as you work, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side: scraping a mound of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer with your metal spatulas, taking it to the cold countertop, and smashing in graham cracker pie crust, caramel, fluffy whipped topping, and fresh strawberries. You use one of the spatulas to expertly scoop the mixture into a waffle cone bowl, not spilling a drop. Then you hand Aegon his ice cream and ring him up at the cash register. He pays in cash.

You ask Josh, the manager on duty, if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. He frowns. “I thought you were going to refill the yellow cake and Oreo cookie mix-ins first.”

“Hey,” Aegon says. He waves a ten-dollar bill in the air to show it to Josh and then dunks it in the tip jar. “Do it yourself.”

“Fine,” Josh mutters to you. “But you don’t get a second over fifteen minutes.”

There’s no time to waste. You hurry to a small table by the window. It’s 8:30 p.m., and outside the world is indigo-dark and threaded with inorganic sparks of headlights, streetlights, kaleidoscopic neon signs. Your eyeshadow is vibrant and pink, because no one cares about that when you work at an ice cream shop: Push by Natasha Denona, Coax by Urban Decay.

Aegon takes his first taste of his ice cream as he sits down in the chair across from you. “You were right, this is delicious. A bop, not a flop.” Then he notices the bruise on your right wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Oh. One of the Akitas bit me. Don’t worry, I can cover it up with concealer.”

Aegon is irritated. “Why is your mother letting her Akitas bite you?”

“It was my fault. I forgot that Oni doesn’t like when people pet his feet.”

Aegon sighs, stirring his Our Strawberry Blonde. “You want some of this?”

“I can’t,” you say reluctantly.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I already had a little cup when I got here this afternoon so I have regrettably hit my ice cream quota for the day.” And then, when Aegon clearly does not approve: “I try not to restrict too much but obviously staying the same size takes effort. That’s not a disorder, it’s just reality.”

Aegon seems to debate arguing, then instead scoops up a heaping spoonful of ice cream and holds it out across the table. “Come on. It doesn’t count if it’s on my spoon.”

You smile sheepishly and open your mouth for him. Your lips close around the plastic spoon: coldness, sweetness, the grit of pulverized graham cracker pie crust, the infinitesimal black seeds of strawberries that catch between your teeth. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

“I am,” you confess. “I know the joke. But I really do always get the vanilla-adjacent flavors. Cookie dough, French vanilla, sweet cream, cheesecake…”

Aegon smirks playfully. “Pathetic.”

“So you’re an enlightened being because you eat strawberry ice cream.”

“Boring people like vanilla. Kids like chocolate. Interesting adults like strawberry.”

“Do you actually have good news for me or did you just come here to be a ghoul?”

“I got you a part.”

“What?!” you squeal, and people are gawking again. This time, Aegon doesn’t tell you to be quiet. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies, grinning like he can’t help it.

“A part in what?”

“It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

You scream; Josh scowls at you from behind the counter. “Oh my God, no way, no way!”

“You’re going to be the wife of a guy the doctors kill with negligence. Three scenes, two are pretty short and unremarkable but then you get to yell at the surgeon in the last one. Gives you the opportunity to show some range and make an impression.”

You can’t believe this is happening. “They aren’t going to make me audition first?”

“Well…it’s very last-minute,” Aegon says. “The actress who was supposed to do it has a drug problem or something, I guess, so she ghosted and they were scrambling for a replacement. And I completely fabricated your credentials.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I typed up a resume and sent it over and they loved it. So try not to talk about your actual experience because none of it will match.”

You shake your head, stunned, amazed. “What if they try to contact one of my alleged former employers?”

“Then they’ll be talking to Aemond, and he will lie and say you were an absolute pleasure to work with.”

Aemond Targaryen: Aegon’s younger brother, a screenwriter, a philanthropist, a well-respected entity in Hollywood, and you know this from the Googling that preceded your first meeting with Aegon last week. “And Aemond doesn’t mind helping you commit fraud?”

“It’s not a favor I call in very often.” Aegon finishes his ice cream, then begins breaking apart the waffle cone bowl and shoving shard-like pieces into his mouth.

“When’s the shoot?”

“Very very early on Thursday, that’s the bad news.” Thursday is two days from now. “So I’ll have to pick you up at your apartment at like 5 a.m.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

He smiles, gnawing on a chunk of his waffle cone bowl. “I figured.”

“You’re going too?” The hope is unmistakable in your voice.

“Of course I’m going.”

“I didn’t think agents usually went to film shoots.”

“Well, fortunately for you, your agent is imminently fleeing Los Angeles and has already parted ways with most of his clients and really has nothing else going on besides hiding in his office and playing a Nintendo 64, so I figured I could make it. And also if I’m going to be enthusiastically recommending you to people, I should probably see you work at some point.”

You wiggle your eyebrows flirtatiously. “Do I get to make out with my fake husband?”

Aegon is amused. “From what I understand, you get to chastely kiss him once. They’re sending the script over to my office first thing in the morning, so you’ll only have a day to learn your lines.”

“That’s enough time. I’ll make it work.”

“Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

Thursday. “Is the shoot just one day?”

“Yeah, they should be able to get everything they need from you on Thursday morning. Why?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday and I was just wondering if I’d have to reschedule it.”

Aegon is immediately vigilant. “What kind of appointment?”

“Uh…” You smirk guiltily. “It’s just a consultation. No slicing yet.”

“And you’re going to cancel that,” Aegon says flatly.

“Seriously?”

“Do you want implants because you want them or because you think other people want you to have them?”

You hesitate. “Both.” That’s probably a lie.

Aegon leans back in his chair and studies you. “Yeah, you’re cancelling that appointment.”

“Why?”

“Because when I agreed to sign you, you told me that you’d do anything I say. And I’m telling you to cancel it.”

“But why don’t you want me to get implants? Everyone gets implants.”

“Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—it’s very difficult to stop. First it’s your tits, then it’s your eyes and your nose, then it’s your chin and your cheeks and your neck and your ass, and it’s just this revolving door of painful, dangerous, unnecessary procedures that are condemning you for being mortal, that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

You smile, then reply quietly: “You’ve never seen me.”

Aegon grins. “I don’t care if you have twelve nipples under there like a fucking beagle, you don’t need plastic surgery.”

You both laugh, and the tension evaporates, and even if you don’t cancel the appointment—Aegon is one person, the entertainment industry is omnipotent and eternal—you are glad he seems to like you the way you are. Behind the counter, Josh is waving manically to get your attention and summon you to return to work. You pretend not to see him.

Aegon asks: “Why don’t you like horses?”

“They freak me out. They’re all teeth and legs and they’re huge, I’m always scared they’ll step on me.”

“Your dad’s a doctor, right? I thought all rich girls had horses.”

“Where I’m from, a lot of women ride horses to distract themselves from the fact that their husbands are riding their receptionists or interns. I’d rather have no horse and no awful cheating husband.” And Aegon stares at you and turns serious, because perhaps you’ve inadvertently addressed the elephant in the room: he has a fiancée, and neither of you are acting like she exists. You swiftly pivot. “I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

He appears startled. “What?”

“The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Aegon chuckles uneasily and gets up to throw his trash away, then stands under the florescent lights with his hands in his pockets, his blonde hair falling out of its gel and hanging over his forehead. He gazes down at you pensively; you are still seated at the table. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m closing tonight, so I’ll be done around 10:30 or 11.”

“Okay. Can I come back to pick you up and drive you home?”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

He gestures to the inky dark window, incredulous. “Because obviously you shouldn’t be walking alone in Harbor Gateway at midnight? You know there was a shooting a block from here last week. I looked it up.”

“I walk home all the time.”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“You are being very dramatic for a non-actor.”

“Listen, I can’t go to my house and try to fall asleep while I’m wondering if you’re getting mugged or murdered.”

You look at Aegon. He does seem genuinely worried. “You can drive me home.”

“Great. See you in two hours.” He strides away and shoves open the glass door; the little metal bells hanging there jingle.

“Aegon?”

He halts mid-step and turns around. “Yeah?”

“Does Becca know where you are right now?”

His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

And before you can reply, he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday, June 19th, Aegon picks you up in his white Chrysler Sebring convertible while the city is still asleep. The sky is dark, the streetlights passing by overhead, infinite pinpoint supernovas. There are hardly any other cars on the road. Aegon’s hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary; he’s sipping a Starbucks coffee with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other. He is wearing a suit, but he still manages to look unpolished, his white shirt half-untucked and his black tie too skinny. He sets his coffee down in one of the cup holders and passes you something venti-sized and iced.

“I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

“Aw, thanks! Skim milk?”

“Nope,” he says, smiling. You smile back and take a gulp of it, cold and sweet and bracing. “What’s your hype song?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say, embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to terrorize me.”

“Don’t Stop Believing? Don’t Stop Me Now? I Gotta Feeling?”

“Lose Yourself.”

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, his hair flying in the wind. “That’s definitely a fireable offense. I’m ditching you the second we finish this shoot.” But he taps around on his phone and plugs in the aux, and then Eminem is thudding through the speakers as the Sebring sails north and the red-gold dawn rises on the horizon, a celestial message from the East Coast, an omen from the future.

Aegon drives you to Prospect Studios in Los Feliz, just east of Hollywood. Filming will be indoors on a soundstage. You spend what feels like forever in hair and makeup, and the costume designer—who had prepared for a different actress—dresses and redresses you over and over again, frowning at your chest and waist and thighs, and you have a sudden pang of nauseating panic and dread: I don’t belong here. What the fuck was I thinking?

Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

But when it’s over, while you are still standing on the soundstage with the other actors, Aegon puts on his sunglasses and smiles at you from across the room; and you remember what he said outside his office on the day you first met—you are so bright, sunshine—and you know you’ve done a good job.

[oval3000]

Chapter 1

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, (force) smut. Abduction, violence, rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- ish idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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

The bell ringing caused all the students to pack their bags and walk out of the classroom. The janitors, of the school, sweep the empty floors of the hallways. Teachers were gathering their paperwork, making copies, and saying goodbye to other fellow mentors.

Nanami picked up the black, felt, block and started to erase the chalk from the board. All the math equations of the new lectures become just white dust falling to the ground. He closed the math textbook, feeling his eyelids wanting to shut. Another day, another day lecture that half of his students will fail at.

He shoved all the homework sheets half of the class handed, into his black, leather, briefcase. He enjoyed his job. If he didn't he wouldn't continue to be here. He liked being a teacher. He liked math. He liked to teach those who wanted to learn. quote, "Those." He would love his job even more if all of his students would actually pay attention. He wouldn't be so tired if his students would come up and ask for help when they needed it. When he saw the grades of more than 50% of his students fail their latest test, he changed his teaching ways, however, the statistics never changed. They still failed to understand the mathematical procedures of each formula that would give them the correct answer. If only they pay attention and not stare at their phones all the time. If only they take it a little seriously then maybe they would actually walk out to get their diploma.

He offered to help them as much as he could as a teacher. He stayed after school for those who needed help to come in and ask, but no one came. He gave them all a little paper booklet with specific instructions for how to use each formula to each question, yet, he kept marking f's on their test. At least is not 100% of his students, or else he wouldn't even have a job.

He did notice a pattern of those who fail. The same ones that don't even show up for half of his classes. Those who show up high. Those who show up just to chat or use their phones the whole time.

He spends more time scolding them for not listening than to teach them all the things they need. Especially after he taught them how to deal with their taxes.

His one particular class that he always has issues with. He's a teacher, he shouldn't think badly about his students, but that one class he hates the most. His 10:00am class. When his students don't listen, they don't bother to take notes. They're too busy recovering from their hangover from the party they had last night. Nanami knows what goes on with a college student. He was once a college student. Granted that he was never a party animal, he mostly focused on his grades rather than getting hammered on a Thursday night. However, he saw and heard about the wild nights his classmates had. So, he's not shed out when it comes to his students who come in with their eyes red and their hands covering their heads, trying to control their headaches.

He would enjoy his job even more if the girls actually asked for help rather than pretend they wanted help just for them to flirt with him and show their bodies off.

He would instantly tell when they wanted to have sex with him. It's no secret that he's attractive and handsome. A lot of his students would flirt with him and that includes his co-workers. Girls would come up to him with a question by leaning in, seductively, close to him to show their cleavage and wiggle their asses to show more of their cunt. All Nanami could do is to roll his eyes and tell them to go back to their seats.

He found it lame and embarrassing how easily they would want to give in just to pass a simple math class or to just sleep with him. He knows his other male co-workers are the opposite of him. They would easily go at it and fuck their students if they seduce them like that. After all, he caught his fellow colleague fucking a student in his office. His colleague was afraid of Nanami telling so out of fear, he gave him his position, as the head of the math department. Nanami didn't care nor was he going to tell, but he enjoyed the little promotion. At least he's getting something out of it.

He was honestly disappointed that this was the outcome of his career. Teaching a bunch of students math that they swear they don't need. Dealing with dumb colleagues. Dealing with women who want to have sex with him. Dealing with endless useless grading was like a slap in the face to him.

That was until he received an email. An email saying that he's going to get a new student for his 10:00am class. He rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance. Another student who won't bother trying to understand an equation.

He didn't have any high hopes or care. Especially in his 10:00am class that he hates.

He hates it.

He has to deal with another student.

Or so he thought.

When he heard your voice. your soft-spoken voice. He perked up and saw you. You stood there with your bag hanging on your shoulder and a piece of paper in your hand. "Are you Mr. Nanami?" He didn't reply, he just nodded. He was too busy studying you. your form, the way you spoke, everything. "Okay, I'm (Y/n). The new student." To stook out your hand as he shook it. Your soft, delicate hands. "Can I sit anywhere?" He nodded again. Never once has he been so starstruck by someone, a student.

He watched closely as you picked a seat, just a row behind the first one. Still close to the front. Still close to him.

Now the class he hated the most became the one he'll love the most.

[revehae]

do you like it, dr. lee?

pairing ↠ haechan, jaemin, jeno × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, gangbanging, student x professor, reader is early 30s, mentions of infidelity, age gap (18+)

summary ↠ haechan, jaemin, and jeno are some of the brightest, most accomplished students in your class that never fail to make high marks on the exams. but when they approach you one day in your office, your perspective of them changes dramatically.

wc ↠ 5.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the college-capades series! connected to sexcapade.

don’t like it, don’t read.

it all happened so fast.

one minute, you were chatting with three of your most wonderful students in your office, and the very next, they had you sprawled out on top of your desk.

your heart was speeding. though you attempted to wrestle your way out of their less than gentle embraces, you couldn’t even take one of them, let alone all three. while somebody was keeping your hands still, another was holding you by the legs.

jeno, who had his palm flat over your mouth, only watching your moist, fearfully wide eyes, leaned into your ear and whispered, “scream and we’ll saw your tongue off.”

when he dropped his palm, you sucked in a breath, face tensing with tears as you willed yourself to be compliant. your head was spinning, dizzy with shock. what was happening to you was unfathomable. these boys were some of your favorite students, the ones who never failed to perform magnificently on the exams, and were sparkling in class.

you felt betrayed, in a way. even your worst-performing student wouldn’t stoop this low, and in the midst of your fright, you wondered what you had done to deserve the atrocity that was today. if there was anybody that you could count on to make you feel as if your dedication to this job wasn’t completely useless, it was these boys.

haechan was standing just shy of you, eyes fixed to that knee-length skirt he loved watching you wear. jeno chuckled when he noticed where his friend’s gaze had fallen, because he found himself glancing there too, but usually when you were facing away from your students.

he always thought about getting you naked, seeing your ass without anything to hinder his view. more often than not, jeno fisted himself to the thought of stuffing your ass full of his thick cock, wondering if anybody had ever fucked you there.

snapping out of his imagination, haechan approached you, shoving your long skirt closer to your hips. instinctively, the first thing you did was try to protect yourself, but jaemin grabbed you and ceased all control. you slumped, whimpering defeatedly, “boys, please stop. you know that i have a husband.”

haechan snickered, amused that that was the card you chose to play. “didn’t really look like you cared about your husband when you were fucking my dad,” he retorted.

rather than beat even quicker, it felt as if your heart stilled. “what?”

jeno laughed boisterously. “would you look at that. she thinks you don’t know.”

“that’s right, baby,” haechan replied menacingly, nothing affectionate about his tone, in spite of the pet name. “you run your mouth and we’ll make sure the whole school knows that you can’t stop spreading your legs for my father.”

donning the sweetest tone, jaemin crooned in your ear, “and you wouldn’t want that, right, sweetheart? you wouldn’t want mr. lee to know that his wife isn’t satisfied with just his cock, is she now?”

it felt as if the whole world was crumbling beneath your feet. haechan was johnny’s son, the offspring of the man you had been hooking up with behind your husband’s back, and now he and his friends were threatening to expose your affair if you refused to let them have their way with you.

your lips were trembling. this is all your fault, you chided to yourself. if you could’ve just been a faithful wife, a committed woman, none of this would be happening. they would have nothing against you, nothing that would stop you from reporting to the closest figure of authority. but you had too much at stake.

though you were no stranger to jeno’s short patience, you had never seen it manifest quite like this before, gripping your hair so roughly you whimpered in a blend of pain and shock. he growled, “he asked you a question. i shouldn’t have to tell you that that called for an answer.”

“no,” you replied shakily.

jeno’s grip only tightened and he pressed, “no, what?”

“no, i don’t want him to know…,” you trailed, because it was humiliating to repeat back aloud, but jeno was still gazing at you expectantly. “that i’m not satisfied with just his cock.”

“see, that wasn’t so hard. don’t be a little bitch and make things more complicated than they have to be,” jeno said, releasing his hold on your hair. you would’ve fallen back had not jaemin been there to catch you, only to then grab the little buttons on your blouse. “we’re doing you a favor, really. it’s a three for one deal. a little whore like you should be excited.”

but you didn’t want them, you didn’t even want your husband. you wanted johnny. it made you wonder how they knew of the affair, because haechan seemed oblivious only a couple of weeks ago. he referred to you as some fucking nurse johnny had flirted with, not his molecular biology professor.

for fuck’s sake, you were a solid decade older than them. granted, johnny was at least a decade older than you, though there was a discernible difference between the age gap between the two of you and the gap between you and your undergraduate students. 

your button-up blouse finally came undone and jaemin didn’t waste a breath before he snatched off your bra, eager to suck your breasts into his mouth. you gasped out when he did, his tongue darting around your nipples. in the same way, haechan yanked your panties off, cupping between your legs without a second thought.

never in your life had you felt more defenseless, powerless. stripped of all autonomy and forced to let other people have their wicked ways with you. you felt nothing short of violated and it made you sick to your stomach, gut tossing and churning with reproach.

through your stinging eyes, blurry with hot tears, you watched haechan sink to his knees in front of your desk. you weren’t particularly enthusiastic about how exposed you were, your breasts out and your skirt bunched just above your thighs. it felt like the closest thing to walking around the plaza half-naked.

obviously, you felt more watched than you would’ve had it just been one of them, but you were at the mercy of three guys that were paying a godawful amount of attention to your bare figure. jaemin was fixed to your perky chest and jeno was watching haechan situate himself between your legs, holding them open for his friend in case you wanted to be defiant.

“haechan, i don’t want this,” you whined, wiping your face with the back of your hand. 

“that’s too bad, baby.” haechan wasn’t even looking at you, gaze locked on your pussy, like that was what you were reduced to. “don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

you sucked in another gasp when his mouth angled towards your pussy without affording you a notice in advance, your body’s natural instinct being to shut your legs, but jeno was still holding them in place and he was infinitely stronger than you. with the vigorous training that it took to be a member of the campus’ athletic teams, it came to you as no shock, but you were heavily disappointed.

haechan’s tongue singled out your clit while he lapped at you, ravenous. the second he saw you on the first day of class, he knew that he had to have you. so when he found out that you were sleeping with his father, cheating on your husband with haechan’s dad of all people, he became furious. 

neither you or johnny were as good at keeping secrets as you thought yourselves to be. on more than one occasion, haechan saw you leaving their house. every now and then, he would see your name on his father’s phone. and it wasn’t fair. if anybody could please you, if anybody could bring you to heaven and back, it was the boy with his head buried between your legs.

as if matters couldn’t get any worse, haechan actually seemed to know what he was doing. though you would never admit it to his face, the way he was sucking at your bundle of nerves had you throbbing, pulsing involuntarily around nothing. you whimpered and whined, but chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the noise.

jaemin chuckled so quietly it was barely audible, but said nothing as of right now, cupping your tits in his palms and squeezing. his patience was much less limited than jeno’s, who was currently shifting out of his boxers, freeing his raging hard cock. you saw him in the corner of your misty eyes, noticing how rigid and thick his cock was, but said nothing.

what you didn’t expect, though probably should have seen coming, was for him to start jacking himself to the sight of you being mishandled. haechan wasn’t the only one that couldn’t stop thinking about from the moment you locked eyes. matter of fact, that mutual pining was the common denominator of this little team.

all three of them were sick in the head, out of their minds obsessed with you. you would have expected some lethal kind of rivalry to develop out of that, but instead, they were much more menacing about it. they were helping each other get what they wanted.

you were a little overwhelmed from all the attention and jeno wasn’t even touching you, but just knowing that he was stroking his cock for you was more than a little unnerving. jaemin’s hands were so strangely gentle, setting a pattern as he groped you, all the while haechan was eating you out vigorously.

“pretty, pretty. so pretty when you cry,” jaemin sang in a way that could’ve been kind, if you ignored the nature of what was happening to you. then, like he knew your secret and was implying that he wouldn’t tell, he whispered for only your ears, “pretty when you lie, too.”

it wasn’t fair. you didn’t want to like this, just like how you didn’t want to be aroused. but when haechan pushed a pair of fingers inside of your pussy you gushed and tightened around his digits. you were so unstill, it drove him mad, prompting him to go harder.

your brain was empty but racing all the while, thinking, this is so fucking wrong. you were fucking his father, for crying out loud, and even that was wrong. you didn’t care then, so according to their logic, it shouldn’t have made a difference now.

haechan and jeno’s grunts blended into one giant cacophony of sound, haechan moaning with a mouthful of pussy because he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted and your pussy was spasming around his digits, whereas jeno was grunting because he thought you were most right now when you were deprived of all control.

blood was pumping quicker than ever through your veins, your heart screaming for survival. you weren’t even remotely in control of your own body anymore, seized not only by your three reckless students, but the pleasure burning through you like wildfire.

your office, that was typically admirably ventilated, seemed to hot to breathe in. but your breaths became quicker and shorter, as if there was no space in your lungs, and you started to feel the sweat cooling down your back, reminding you of how naked you were.

haechan was so hard, stiffening in his pants the longer he watched you start to unravel, and he could’ve probably gotten off just from making you cum. you were grinding your hips against his mouth, and his long, slender fingers that were surely getting you there. you might not have wanted to confess the truth, but your body couldn’t lie.

“she’s so close,” jeno commented with a chuckle, addressing you as if you weren’t even there. “fuck, i am too.”

a hole of negative emotions opened then and there and swallowed you whole, namely guilt and humiliation. you didn’t want haechan to make you cum, you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure, but that ship had already sailed. 

nonetheless, you parted your lips and begged in between shaky moans, “haechan, stop. please, i’m begging you!”

“he’s not going to stop, sweetheart,” jaemin crooned, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “don’t you see? he can’t get enough of your pretty pussy. you should feel so good about yourself.”

few things in life had ever made you feel this conflicted. on the one hand, this was degrading on way too many levels and you felt forcibly stripped of all of your dignity. but on the other, deep down inside, the sight of haechan with his head between your thighs as he licked and sucked at your cunt was inexplicably arousing.

and that did it for you. you tried to fight it, you really did, but your orgasm completely blindsided you, taking you by the reins and going to town. your lips parted in a cry of haechan’s name, your thighs trembling and heat striking through you like lightning as you gripped onto jaemin for dear life.

haechan continued to go down on you after you orgasmed, just until you finished more or less riding his face, going limp against your desk with only jaemin to keep you upright. you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. all the blood was rushing to your head and your heart was thumping in your ears.

haechan finally pulled back, licking your arousal off of his lips and the corners of his mouth in a way that made your core throb emptily, then asked, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

your ears burned and you said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. your answer was in the way your chest heaved like unstill waters, your fingers still holding onto jaemin’s shirt. like you thought you would collapse if you had nothing to anchor yourself.

jaemin took one glance at you and scoffed, “i think she loved it, man.”

there was something so smug in haechan’s stare, like he just knew that he had you.

when haechan moved, jeno came between your spread legs, still holding his cock while he stroked himself to climax in front of you. like it would never be satisfied, your pussy continued to throb at the sounds you were indirectly plucking out of him, culminating in one deep, guttural growl when he came, shooting his load on your cunt.

though you were (thank god) on birth control, him orgasming there still made you feel iffy. you could feel it trickling down into your hole and hated how eager it seemed to be filled. for half a second, you were convinced that was the worst that could happen.

imagine your shock when jaemin abandoned your boobs, soft and supple as they were, and shifted between your thighs next. you didn’t know what to expect when you noticed him move, they enjoyed keeping you guessing, but it definitely wasn’t for jaemin to lick at your release-stained pussy.

you gasped, “jaemin!”

the sound of him sucking and licking at your clit was lewd, and there were long, damp lines being made with his flattened tongue. while you were appalled, the other watched in amusement how jaemin unabashedly more or less ate jeno’s cum from your hole in a disturbing licking pattern. because where it was a nightmare for you, it was just one giant game to them.

to say nothing of the fact that you had only just orgasmed, sensitive. your thighs couldn’t handle the stimulation and you let out a breath of relief when his mouth separated from you, only for him to stand and force his lips against yours. you resisted, jolting away from him, but your attempts to evade him were in vain.

jaemin didn’t even need to grab your face to keep you still, because there was nowhere for you to hide. it was a disgusting, messy kiss, given that you were adamant on pushing him off. only so much of it was your fault though. jaemin liked it messy, liked how repulsed you were. he liked the grimace you were sporting and the blend of jeno’s cum and saliva dribbling down your chin. the damp spots of his saliva on your cheek from your attempts to dodge him and where his tongue pressed against you instead.

it was nauseating to you. you could taste jeno’s cum on your tongue, even though his cock hadn’t been anywhere near your mouth. and the the taste just wouldn’t go away.

jaemin, at last, pulled back, though only to laugh at the look on your face. “aw, don’t make that face. you liked it, right?”

you parted your lips to say deny him, but jaemin saw it coming and just kissed you again, not one to take no for an answer.

“okay, move your ass,” haechan said after a minute of watching you squirm. you never realized how strong jaemin was.

jaemin frowned, but moved out of the way. not because haechan told him to, but because he had something equally devious running through his brain.

you were baffled when you noticed haechan returning between your thighs, because he should’ve already had his fill. then, you noticed that he had freed his cock from his boxers in the time jaemin spent sucking on your tongue, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

you let out a cry of shock when they spread you over your desk the long way, carelessly toppling over your belongings, and yanked your skirt off your body completely. you were utterly naked, and there was no bit of you they hadn’t seen.

haechan positioned himself behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. there was so much terror in your body at the moment, scared not only for what was to come, but of liking it too.

“please,” you begged, trying to negotiate once more. “you boys should fool around with someone your own age.”

haechan snickered, as if that was funny. he probably thinks it is. “maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”

your jaw slacked when his first thrust drew a pitched cry from the back of your throat. he wasn’t even half as patient as his father would be to sheathe himself completely. johnny would take his time, wallowing in your wetness just before slowly but steadily filling you, inch by fucking inch. haechan, on the other hand, went straight for the kill.

but to your horror, you were soaked enough for him to slip right in smoothly, to say nothing of jeno’s leftover cum facilitating the process. haechan was girthy like johnny too, in spite of all of their stark differences, and you hated that it was so familiar how he was stretching you out.

“wait,” you whimpered, fingers clamping aggressively against the edges of your desk. “haechan, please. you don’t need to do this.”

irritated, jeno nudged jaemin, groaning, “will you shut her up already?”

“gladly,” jaemin chirped, a devilish little smile tugging at his lips.

you lifted your head up when you heard jaemin approaching the side of your desk that you were facing, watching him shuffle out of his pants and boxers, and you quickly started to flail. haechan grabbed your neck, lowered his head, and hissed, “behave, or we’ll have to tell the class that their favorite professor is just a slutty little whore.” 

you stilled, remembering what was at stake. it wasn’t just your career, but johnny’s too. the second it got out that the two of you were involved in an affair, you knew you would both have to answer for your sins.

when jaemin finally got his underwear off, lengthy hard cock standing angrily against his stomach, he positioned himself beside your mouth and crooned, “say ‘ah.’”

“i don’t want to,” you whimpered.

jeno crept over, evidently disgruntled, and there was a resounding smack when his palm landed flat against your cheek. “one more thing from you and your husband’s gonna get a nice surprise in his email,” he warned.

defeated, you silently opened your mouth, letting jaemin push himself to the back of your throat. he let out a pleasant little sigh, eyes fluttering closed, paying no attention to the tears dripping down your cheeks. your mouth was too warm for him to a give damn whether or not you wanted this, to care about what you were feeling.

all the while, haechan’s hands were bruising your hips with the merciless grip he had of them. unlike you, his moans were unrestrained, never shy to reveal the ecstasy making his blood pump and his dick throb. you were so wet, so tight, everything he imagined tenfold. his father didn’t deserve you, not in his opinion. everything johnny could do, haechan was certain that he could do better, even if you didn’t want to confess.

even if he was a lot less caring than his dad would present. you didn’t know johnny, not like you thought. the dark side haechan had didn’t just come out of nowhere. though you would never realize, there was a clear reason why haechan was so sick in the head, especially when it came to you. why he took great delight in forcing you over your desk, stuffing you full of his cock and listening to you cry, struggling to hide that you loved his cock.

“he doesn’t love you, you know,” haechan said none too gently, snickering from between your legs. “i hope you realize you’re just another easy whore. not the first, not the last.”

there was so much going on that you were hoping you could somehow detach yourself from the brutal reality. not only was your body overloaded, but your mind and soul, ripping a hole right through all that you thought to be true.

it was all too fucking much. “your mouth feels so good,” jaemin exhaled, a hand tangled through your hair.

“you should feel her pussy. she’s so fucking wet, dude. and she thinks we’re going to buy that she’s not begging for this,” haechan replied, completely degrading. 

jaemin chuckled breathlessly. you were sucking it out of him, against your will or not. “yeah, i can hear how wet she is.”

jeno said nothing, but you were already too overwhelmed to notice his absence in the conversation. he was engrossed in thought, waiting with staggering patience for his own turn. which wasn’t typical for him at all. he swore, when he was done with you, you weren’t even going to think for weeks. 

between haechan’s twisted smack of his hips against yours and the way jaemin was unabashedly using your mouth to get off, you couldn’t decide which was more brutal. torture was torture, but if it was meant to be so bad, there shouldn’t have been moans slipping from your mouth uncontrollably. there shouldn’t have been a familar weight sitting in the pit of your stomach, waiting to wreck you.

“i know you love this,” haechan said, maybe project just a little, but the body didn’t lie and he could feel you tightening. “i know you love this fucking dick. wish i could hear you say it, baby.”

“that can be arranged,” jaemin quipped, but it took you by surprise when he actually pulled his cock from your mouth. “c’mon, angel. tell haechan how much you love his dick.”

your face flushed with humiliation, but you knew what would happen if you failed to comply. “i...,” you started, hesitant. “i love your dick, haechan.”

haechan smacked your ass, making you stifle a scream. “again.”

you cried out, “i love your dick!”

“i know,” haechan said, sickeningly confident in himself. “i also know that you’re about to cum.”

it was maddening that your husband of ages could hardly even get you off these days but some students in your class were recognizing the signs in record time. you were also ashamed with yourself for being so aroused, for needing to orgasm this badly, but you forfeited control of yourself moments ago.

jaemin had enough and once his dick started to twitch desperately, he shoved his cock back into your mouth, chasing relief for the raging hard-on you’d given him. rather than you sucking him off, it was more of him relentlessly fucking your throat, not stopping when you gagged.

and it wasn’t long before the three of you ultimately came, like a chain of dominoes collapsing after each other. this orgasm was just as powerful as the one that came before, the room reeling as your screams were muffled against jaemin’s stiff cock. your whole body was a thousand degrees hotter. jaemin’s warm cum releasing in your mouth while haechan’s seeped deeply into your pussy.

although you tried to swallow jaemin’s cum, per his request, some of it dripped onto the floor. you were terrified of leaving evidence of this encounter, wishing you would’ve gulped it all back, but then you felt haechan’s cum leaking out of you and your priorities shifted.

“my turn,” jeno said, though that was a given. you were confused when he started to spread haechan’s cum over your asshole, though for the longest you could feel his stare burning through your backside.

baffled, and maybe somewhat startled, you asked, “jeno, what are you doing?”

“shut the fuck up,” jeno snapped belligerently, smacking his palm harshly against your cunt. you cried out in pain, unexpecting. “i’m tired of hearing your voice. just take it.”

but nothing could have prepared you for what was to come. nothing could have prepared you for the merciless way he penetrated your ass, effectively knocking the wind out of you. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, as if all the air in the sky was stolen and hid in this little box somewhere.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to beg for forgiveness for whatever you had done, but no sound would come from your mouth. there was only instant tears, your hands gripped the rim of your desk for purchase. the makeup you were wearing was ruined ages ago, but it had to have looked despicable now, because you were sobbing harder than ever.

“poor thing.” jaemin frowned, pretending to be compassionate. that was something he was good at, you realized. he had you fooled until you saw how recklessly he fucked your throat, and you came to accept they were all too alike.

“she’ll be, fuck, fine,” jeno groaned, careless. he was the roughest of the bunch, the most antagonistic. “this hole is so fucking tight.”

jeno was pressing you against the desk harder than haechan had, roughly mishandling you. it was obvious that jeno didn’t see you as his equal. when it came to you, all he gave a damn about was passing your class and fucking your ass.

never in your life had anyone ever fucked you there before, and the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. you were so repulsed, choking on your own feelings as they killed you slowly. the pain was unbearable, making it impossible to remain still, but that didn’t matter when jeno had you borderline flattened.

it was almost awe-inducing how he held you down with ease, regardless of how strong you thought you were and how violently you were reacting. it was the closest thing to being split open. pitiful little noises escaped you, but you bit them back, because the last thing you wanted was to get caught. somehow, though, the shock was more agonizing than the pain itself.

your agonized whimpers and jeno’s husky grunts made an awkward cacophony. if there was any of them that got off to your helplessness, you knew it was all of them, but jeno had to wallow in it more than either of them.

haechan and jaemin were stroking their cocks to the sight of you being ravaged to the point of total destruction. there were plenty of times in your life where you felt nothing short of broken, but this was a different variant, a kind from which you knew that you would never recover.

jeno couldn’t believe his thick cock was even fitting into your tight, flexing asshole, though then again, whatever you thought you couldn’t take, jeno would make you do. your body was for his own personal amusement. he leveraged himself deeper and deeper, groaning and laughing, using you to his advantage. because what jeno wanted, he always got. every time without fail. obviously, you were no exception to this pattern, even if it was to your own dismay.

your lip was bleeding from how frequently you were biting. all you wanted was to protect your reputation. you had things to lose, things you knew jeno would steal away from you in a heartbeat, because all he did was take.

“she’s such a damn whore, fuck. she should be grateful i’m fucking her,” jeno hissed, aggressive.

given how much you had heard adjacent statements in the past hour, you were starting to believe them, no matter how disparaging they were. you were accepting the cold truth, that this was your punishment for being unfaithful.

quickening his pace, jeno continued, “i’ve never wanted to fuck that nasty little pussy of hers. not when everybody’s been inside of it. but i can tell she’s never had this ass stretched before.”

his words were hurting more than his cruel movements, and you didn’t understand the science behind that. you whined, “jeno.” please, have mercy, was what you wanted to say, but you knew there was no point.

jeno squeezed your neck, cutting off your ability to inhale, and you felt every nerve in your body start to panic. “for the umpteenth time, shut the fuck up. no one’s fucking talking to you, bitch.”

you quieted, face tensing with delirious pain. 

“pathetic if you ask me,” haechan added, breath shaky. “her husband’s dick isn’t good enough for her, so she fucks my dad, and now that we give her three more, she still has the audacity to complain.”

jaemin snorted. “textbook cockslut.”

you wanted to speak, you were desperate to defend your honor and identity, but you had already said enough and you were lucky that they hadn’t already decided to expose you to the whole planet. you had no defenses against them, nothing in your arsenal. 

“begging us to stop, but she won’t stop fucking cumming. needy little bitch,” jeno chided, though judging from his breathlessness, he was far from disgruntled.

jaemin chortled, his cock still close to your face, and it was making you mildly uncomfortable. “maybe we should send her back to the husband with some tips.”

“oh, i’ve got one,” haechan said, beaming with his usual mischief. “hold her down and use her little holes until you’re done.”

“yeah, looks like she loves that,” jaemin retorted. 

jeno quipped, “we should’ve recorded. maybe showed him a tutorial.”

haechan blew out a contented sigh. “well, there’s always next time.”

your heart was taut with fear at the thought of there being a next time, but the three of your students were grinning with excitement, as if they wholly anticipated reliving this moment in the not so distant future.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” jeno grunted, wanting to go even deeper, but there was nowhere for him to move. 

haechan hummed, reminiscing over how good it felt to cum inside of your throbbing pussy. how you milked the cum out of him, bled him dry. “shame she’s on birth control. i overheard her and my dad talking,” he replied, nonchalant. “imagine if we got her pregnant.”

“man, don’t talk like that,” jeno groaned. 

haechan glanced to jaemin, both of them snickering amongst each other. “dude, i was just kidding. don’t tell me that’s actually getting your dick hard.”

“fuck, i’m gonna…”

the most delicious growl came from the tip of jeno’s tongue when he released inside of your asshole, his brows scrunching together with pleasure. his hips finally grinded to a halt when he met his climax, dumping way too much of his load inside. you could feel his fingertips leaving marks that would indefinitely stain your skin, and you dreaded having to explain them to your husband.

when jeno finally pulled away from you, having had his fill for now, your body went limp against your desk. you could have moved, but you were too exhausted. sweat cooled down your back, chilling you to shudders, but there wasn’t a single thought in your head. all you could do was lie there, used and exploited, hoping that life would return to the way you knew it before they broke you.

because right now, it was bland. the only thing you could feel was the soreness in your legs and the cum dripping from your hole, numbing yourself to everything else.

there was so patronizing about the way jeno turned to you, asking with the slyest grin on his face, “did you like it, dr. lee?”