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vampiree-555 · 6 months ago

Text

"Please, I need it." part 2

c.s - drvgdealer

contains: smut , p! in v! , unprotected (wrap it folks) , dom!chris , sub!reader , oral fem!receiving , creampie , fem!reader , angst! , weed , alcohol , partying

part 1

a/n: sorry this took so long babes! im gonna start to make this into a series and will def make more oneshots. please give me suggestions and also let me know if you wanna be in my taglist! i hope yall enjoy! sorry it took so long 🤍

★・・・・・・★★・・・・・・★★・・・

I watched Chris walk out my apartment, slamming the door behind him, disappearing into the night.

"Don't text me again." repeated in my head constantly. I sat there, completely naked, still trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened. I gathered all my clothes that were sprawled out onto the floor and went to my shower, which I desperately needed.

I laid in my bed for the rest of the night, aimlessly scrolling on my phone, though I was continually puzzled by the earlier events.

I opened my messages and hovered above Chris' contact. He said to not text him again, but should I really listen?

I clicked his contact and typed away at my keyboard.

╰┈➤ texting

y/n : chris wtf was that

I sent the message but it immediately turned green.

"HE BLOCKED ME?" i shot up in my bed and yelled out in udder disbelief.

I opened instagram and searched up his username.

"user not found" now I was getting upset.

The last thing I had was snapchat. I reluctantly clicked on the app and scrolled to his name. Next to it sat a tiny x.

*timeskip*

"He blocked me on everything." I echoed through the phone to my best friend, Kailee.

"Girl that's weird as fuck. He really is gonna fuck you and then dip before letting you finish AND block you on everything? I always had a bad vibe about him." Kailee said in an obnoxious tone.

"I just want to get drunk and go out. Do you think we could go to that new club?" I spoke enthusiastically as I glued on the last of my press on nails to my fingers.

Kailee looked up at the phone with a small smirk and bit her lip. I knew she had been wanting to go for a while but I always shut her down simply because I was tired. Now, I needed a distraction.

"Hell yeah! Get ready and I'll come over in like an hour, then we can uber there!" She said in her usual excited tone.

We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone before I jumped into the shower, quickly shaving and cleaning myself.

I ran to my closet to pick my outfit. I settled on my black, long sleeve, off the shoulder, skin tight shirt and a matching pleated, black mini skirt, that perfectly showed off just enough of my ass.

I set the outfit on my bed and went to my vanity to start on my makeup. I decided to do a more natural look with a smoked out black wing and a brown lip.

Before I knew it, Kailee waltzed into my apartment and barged into my bedroom in her own hot, slutty, outfit.

"I brought pre-game!" she spoke as she pulled out two small shot glasses of Svedka vodka and set them each on the bed, next to my chosen outfit.

i quickly changed into my chosen outfit and added a pair of black platform heels. before Kailee and I left for the club, we both took our own shots of the vodka Kailee brought, both of us making gross faces to the taste.

We got into our uber once it arrived and made our way to the Aether Lounge club.

Flashing neon lights of all colors surrounded me. It was so dark you could barely see any faces in the crowded room. All you heard was that one song, Needed me, by Rihanna. The smell of sweating bodies, weed, and alcohol filled my nose the deeper we went into the crowd. Girls danced the night away as guys desperately tried to dance with the drunken girls though getting shoved away.

Kailee and I made our way to the bar, both ordering vodka redbulls. I took maybe one sip of my drink before I was sucked into the sweaty crowd by my best friend. We both let the alcohol take over our bodies as we became more sloppy with our movements the more we drank.

The lights added a euphoric sensation while it seemed everything moved in slow motion. I was down at least 6 vodka redbulls along with 3 shots of Jameson.

As the night went on I spent most of my time dancing with Kailee just having fun. Suddenly, I felt firm and large hands grab my waist.

They were cold and the fact they had metal rings on made me shiver against their touch. I quickly turned around to see a familiar silhouette standing above me. I followed his body carefully up to his shoulders, then his neck, to his jawline, eventually to those cold and piercing blue eyes.

I felt my heart rate skyrocket as a sly grin showed on his face. Chris.

"Miss me, sweetheart?" he spoke so smoothly. I could smell every ounce of alcohol and weed on his breath as he muttered into my ear.

I escaped from his tight grasp and slipped out the crowd to a more private and secluded part of the club. Chris knowingly, followed me.

I turned to face him with a scowl. I gritted my teeth as I threw my arms up in defeat and confusion.

It had been weeks since the last time we saw each other last and his last words to me were to "never contact him again". So what the hell was he doing here?

"What the fuck are you doing Chris? You told me to never contact you again. Are you following me? What do you want?". I was already angry with him and the fact that I had been drinking was not much help to deescalate the situation.

"I missed you, ma. I saw you dancing and thought I should probably speak to you because of what happened. And no, by the way. I'm not following you. I wanted to apologize for what happened but you have to understand I did it for your own sake." his words came out slurred every now and then and though I was impaired... I could still tell he meant it.

I folded my arms and shook my head as I scoffed at him.

"For my own sake? I'm the only one that can determine what's good and what's bad for me, Chris. You have to right to try and tell me what's good or bad for me." I wanted to scream at him. "You didn't have to block me on everything."

He rolled his eyes and licked his teeth.

"Y/n, last time I told you to not text me again and I didn't block you, you still texted me. So again I did it for your own well being. And when it comes to us... I do have say in what's good or bad for you." he retaliated.

I looked at him with an offended expression.

"Us?" i questioned. "There is no us. You and I are not an item and never have been. What happened last time was a mistake and it never should've happened."

Chris looked almost offended and hurt at my words. Instead he responded in anger.

"Are you fucking kidding me y/n?! You don't understand what's going on. How can you be so goddamn ignorant and oblivious to everything that's happening around you?! I shouldn't even be speaking to you right now but I am because I love you!" his chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily.

I rose my eyebrows and turned my lip up. My mouth fell open as I stared at him. I felt the heat in my chest rise and I just wanted to rip my hair out.

"Y/n. There's bad people out there who want to get to me through you. I had to cut contact with you after the first time to protect you but obviously didn't work. Being a dealer is not a safe job and being with me is too dangerous for both of us."

I just shook my head and began to walk away from him. I grabbed my phone and pulled up Kailee's contact. I told her I was going home early because I was exhausted and didn't feel good.

I walked outside and the fresh, cool air felt amazing against my skin. I closed my eyes to take it in before I felt someone grab my hand. I opened my eyes to face the man I had just been arguing with.

"Chris this is ridiculous. You sound ridiculous." I was cut off by his lips crashing against mine. I once again, did not pull away. I let our lips dance together until the burning sensation to breathe was hurting me.

I swallowed harshly while I looked up at him with my doe eyes. He placed his finger under my chin as he admired my features with his eyes that seemed to have turned soft instead of the cold blue that stabbed daggers into you.

"I called us an uber. It'll be here soon." He spoke so softly that it seemed to soothe me. I hadn't realized how tense I was until just now.

Pretty soon a black car pulled up and I followed Chris to the car. He opened the back door for me and helped me in before following suit.

It was a short ride that I don't remember much of. Only just the fact that Chris kept staring at me though I tried my best to ignore it. I looked out the window but could still feel his eyes watching me and my every move.

We stopped in front of an apartment building. My apartment building. I followed Chris out the vehicle as I thanked the driver.

"Go home y/n." he spoke so softly yet so sternly.

I only stared up at him for a few seconds though it felt like minutes. I was contemplating in my head and weighing out my decisions as I looked deeply into his eyes.

I never saw Chris during the day. It was only at night. If his eyes were still so bright at night, I could only imagine how captivating they were during the day.

"Come inside."

He cocked his head at me and chuckled.

"Y/n... you're drunk." he retaliated.

"Come on. I never finished last time... let's see if you can do it this time." i winked and smirked at him as i spoke. He seemed surprised at my actions though he still agreed. He rolled his eyes and scoffed as he followed me into my apartment.

Before I was even able to set my bag down or take off my painful shoes I was thrown against the wall. Chris held my hips to pin me in that position as he attacked my own lips with his.

Chris pushed his tongue against my lips and I instinctively opened my mouth to give him full access to freely explore my mouth. I moaned softly into his mouth with the passionate kiss.

He removed me from the wall and instead led me to the kitchen where he bent me over the cold countertop, sending shivers across my body.

Chris lifted my short skirt to expose my bare ass. I could sense the sly smirk on his face when he noticed I was not wearing any underwear.

"Who did you plan to fuck tonight, baby?" i heard that stupid ass smile in his voice. i rolled my eyes and groaned.

He slapped my ass that left a burning sensation. "Who do you belong to y/n?" he said in a deep and possessive voice. i gulped before looking back at him. his eyes were dark and angry but still so bright and soft.

"you. i belong to you." he nodded his head and practically ripped off his own pants and underwear.

just as before he entered into me ruthlessly and kept his fast and hard pace.

considering it had weeks since i last had sex i was so not used to his size. i winced in pain but that same pain slowly began turning into pleasure.

Chris tucked his left hand under my jaw and tilted my head up while with his right hand he held tightly onto my hip as he fucked me relentlessly.

i could feel as i got closer to my climax and Chris could tell when my moans and whines got more sloppy. i tightened around him which elicited groans from the man.

with only a few more thrusts from Chris i felt him coat my walls while i coated him with my own liquids.

he flipped me over to face him and he lifted me onto the counter, forcing my legs opened. i held myself up with my right hand while my left went straight to Chris's hair as he knelt down in between my legs.

without warning he inserted his middle and ring finger into me causing loud moans to escape my mouth. he used his tongue to circle around my clit. i gripped tightly onto his brown locks and leaned my head back in pleasure. i removed my hand from underneath me and laid back fully on the counter.

chris wrapped his arms around my thighs to keep me still. my core tightened when he sucked onto my clit and used his tongue to lick my folds.

he removed his mouth from in between my thighs and smirked that stupid smirk. "All clean baby."

i stared up at the ceiling while my chest rose and fell at a fast pace. i heard chris slip back into his own clothes and i quickly sat up on my elbows.

"You're leaving again?" chris tilted his head and softly chuckled. i furrowed my eyebrows at him and felt a heat rise in my chest from anger.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" he widened his eyes in surprise at my sudden outburst.

i jumped off the counter and stood in front of him.

"You cannot just tell me to never text you again and then you randomly come back, fuck me in my kitchen, and then leave!" i felt my eyes start to well up with tears as i glared at the taller in front of me.

he shook his head and gritted his teeth while looking off to the side. "I already told you this y/n. I'm leaving you to protect you."

"Then fucking leave! Do not just come back and make me get attached to you!!" the tears rolled down my cheeks as i continued my yelling. i choked on my own words.

"If you want to protect me then stop coming back!" i could see Chris getting angry too. his nostrils flared and grinded his jaw.

he looked down at me and noticed my red cheeks and tear swollen eyes. i could see guilt fill his eyes. he knew he had gone too far.

"Please listen to me y/n... I'm only leaving because I have to go meet with someone." he paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

"After this job, I'm done. I'll meet with some people and tell them I'm out... okay?" he cuffed my cheek in his hand as he wiped my tears with his thumb. "I promise."

I looked at the man standing over me. I couldn't say anything. i relaxed in his touch.

"Go take a bath, just relax, and I'll be back in about 2 hours." he spoke so softly I could hardly hear him. he placed a sweet and lustrous kiss on my lips before he left my apartment.

★・・・・・・★★・・・・・・★★・・・

taglist: @sturnthepot @sturniololo

#chris sturniolo #chris x reader #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris smut #drvgs

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cieloclercs · 1 year ago

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what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 5/? (read part 4 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

warnings. it’s GROVELLING time !! sad charles, sad reader, swearing, everyone still kind of hates charles (as they should) angst but not quite as angsty as the last part

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. i hope this is enough suffering for you guys 😭 i’m weak tho so there’s a tinyyy bit of progress at the end 👀 i feel like this one’s a bit messy so i’m sorry about that?? it’s also kind of just setting up the next part but oh well 😭 anyways, LAST PART COMING UP NEXT ☹️ i’m gonna miss this series :’(

NOW PLAYING | Singapore 2023 post-FP1 interview: Charles Leclerc

COMMENTS 32k

username i’m still charles’ number 1 hater rn but he looked so sad at the end… ☹️

username girl no we need to be strong! don’t fall for the sad puppy dog eyes (i know he’s cute but srsly don’t) 🫠

username you’re right, you’re right 😔 haters until the end 🫡

username sir don’t try and blame your shitty mistakes on y/n 😭😭

username HE LOOKS SO SAD I CANT 🥲

username i really hope y/n sees this and realises he’s actually sorry

username no way that’s too easy. charles needs to apologise properly !!

username oh my GOD the way he started smiling when he said y/n is his ‘lucky charm’ AND THEN THE WAY IT DROPPED WHEN HE REMEMBERED THEY’RE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE IM GONNA SCREAM 😭😭😭💔💔💔

username charles do you see what you’re doing to us charlesy/n stans?? PLEASE JUST TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL FFS 😫

username i swear if these two don’t pull their heads out of their asses soon I WILL COMMIT MURDER

username so real bestie 😔

username it’s such an invasion of privacy to ask about this though 😭

username fr the press don’t know when to keep out of it 😒

username i think he knows he’s in love with her now, he’s just not sure how to fix things ☹️

username i’m scared this feels like right person wrong time you know? 😃

username don’t say that 🫣 i’m just praying y/n forgives him. as soon as he apologises properly ofc, can’t make it too easy for him mwahahah

username i want to keep hating him but i’ve never seen him look that sad 🥲

username CHARLES YOU DONT GET TO ACT LIKE THE VICTIM WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S CAUSED THIS

username so true. he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself and apologise 🙄

liked by yourfriend and 47,837 others

yourusername always on my mind ☁️💫

view all comments…

username SHE’S BACK IN MONACO GUYS EVERYBODY STAY CALM

username MOTHER HAS RETURNED !!!

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username charles podium as well 😩😩

username it’s like he knew she was watching 🥹

username i hate how quickly everyone’s switching up on the charles situation just because of that interview but at the same time i can’t deal with my parents fighting anymore i need them to make up 😫

leclerc_pascale Bienvenue à la maison, ma fille ❤️ / welcome home, my girl

yourusername 🥰

arthur_leclerc YOU’RE BACK

yourusername did you forget? i literally saw you twenty minutes ago 😭

username the caption 🤔

username we can all agree she’s talking about charles, right?

yourfriend ma femme 🤩 / my wife

yourusername mon amour 😘

username she is everything.

username forget her art SHE IS THE ART RIGHT THERE

charles_leclerc belle / beautiful

username EXCUSE ME??

username SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE PHAHAHA

username charles get tf out of here 😭

username i love how y/n’s just straight up ignoring him 😭

username CHARLES IS HERE GUYS HOW ARE WE FEELING

username i’m so conflicted rn

username like i want them to make up but at the same time he needs to SUFFER like he made y/n suffer

username fr, make him squirm a little 😌

username idk guys, if charles leclerc commented ‘belle’ on MY instagram, i’d be on my knees in an instant 🫣

username girl please 😭

username charles babe please go away you’re ruining the vibes x

username i swear to god if he’s here just to fuck with y/n’s head again i’ll fucking kill him

username he wouldn’t do that

username @charles_leclerc if you want to win her back this is NOT the way to do it

arthur_leclerc @charles_leclerc what did i tell you? 👀

username HAHAHA ARTHUR STOP

joris_trouche @charles_leclerc you should listen to our advice mate 😃

yourfriend @arthur_leclerc @joris_trouche shut up both of you 😒

joris_trouche yes ma’am 🫡

username they’re all ganging up on him 😭

liked by formula1updates and 9,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N spotted at the same night club in Monaco 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IS IT HAPPENING??

username there’s no way this is coincidence charles is boutta beg for forgiveness i’m calling it

username y/n’s actually smiling tho 😭 charles please don’t ruin it x

username we need y/f/n to scare him off before he can ruin her night 🤞

username AHAHAHA YES

username what i’d give to be in that club rn 😔

username fr y/n better be roasting him 😭

➜ part 6

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy

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starscabaret · 10 months ago

Note

How would Elizabeth react to reader wearing her jersey number on their shirt and matching their makeup to fit Elizabeth’s college colors? And what if they promised her a kiss and more if she wins?

Gameday Fluff Introduction

pairing : yandere! College Student Athlete Fem (Elizabeth) 🏀 x Fem Reader

summary : Gameday fluff really, Elizabeth and Y/N meet kinda

warnings : n/a

Authors note : You are a goddamn genius !!! Elizabeth is so cool and calm on the outside, very intimidating.

Today was a big game for Lizzie. This game would decide if her team went to the playoffs. As the star player, all eyes were on her. No one said it but she knew. The stadium would be jammed packed, every sports news outlet would have their cameras set up. Her coaches and teammates were worried because the team they were competing against was definitely a worthy opponent. But they knew Lizzie was strong. She’d dominate the court like she always did.

But Lizzie couldn’t think about the game… you hadn’t been in class all week. That wasn’t like you. When you didn’t show up to Monday’s class Lizzie was sad, but she took the opportunity to focus on the lecture instead of you for once. She just assumed you were busy with something else or maybe you were sick. Oh no she didn’t want her darling sick. She would have to come to care for you ASAP. By the end of the class and you not showing she was sick with worry.

She had to know what was wrong, where was her darling ??? She went on her burner account and checked your Instagram for clues. No new post yet. But that was normal you never posted. But then she spotted the colorful ring around your profile picture. Immediately she clicked to watch your story. There you were beautiful as ever…she looked at your picture for a long time until her eyes finally drifted to the words on the screen. “So excited for this week of field research with my colleagues!!”. A week?!?! You would be gone a whole week ?!?! But there was nothing she could do. You were already hours away for your research and you had no clue of her devout love and obsession for you.

Lizzie skipped class Wednesday, you wouldn’t be there anyway. instead, she moped in her dorm trying to study but instead listened to your favorite songs, and writing your name with her last name in her notebook. Over and over and over again. She went to Friday’s class. Only because Student-Athletes could only miss so many classes.

Then Saturday came, the day of the big game. But all Lizzie cared about was if you’d be back today. would you be in class on Monday? Or better yet would you be at her game? She had to push all thoughts of you from her head. It was time to play ball. Usually, she stayed logged into her burner Instagram so she would watch your every move without being caught. But on gameday, she logged into her own Instagram where she had hundreds of thousands of followers, notably you. But she didn’t think much of it, everyone followed the women’s basketball players. Your school’s team was very popular. Always ranked top ten. And since Lizzie joined as a freshman, the team had been higher ranked. Of course, you’d follow the most talked about person at your school on Instagram.

So many posts wishing her luck, posting her game highlights, and of course haters from the other teams. She scrolled through her mentions liking and thanking some important ones. She did this task mindlessly. She did it out of kindness, she wasn’t stuck up and genuinely loved all of her fans. But that’s when she saw your username… you had mentioned the women’s basketball team … and her ?!?!? on your Instagram story.

Even though her heart was racing she clicked immediately. And there you were. In your dorm room mirror. Yes! you were back on campus. But the rest of the Instagram story made Lizzie swoon. You were outfitted in tight blue jeans, a shirt that replicated her jersey, her exact number on the front, and her last name on the back… your future last name. Oh and your makeup, a perfect cut crease with a blend of your school colors, and clear lipgloss on your perfect lips. She stared for so long and kept clicking so the story wouldn’t go away.

That’s when she saw the caption, “Game day !!! See you at 1! Go, Elizabeth Moore! I’m your biggest fan !!! I will literally kiss you if we win !!”. Oh my god! You were a women’s basketball fan ?? You knew her ??? You were her fan ?? Her gloom from you missing class this week immediately disappeared. She was floating her darling, at her game, rooting for her, wearing her last name. She had to make sure she played her best tonight … you would be in the crowd !!

She liked your story right away and reposted it to hers with the caption “I’ll hold you to that!”. Was that too bold ?? What else would she say? She wanted to bite her nails with worry. But she wouldn’t she overheard in your lecture that you found it gross.

Immediately tons of likes and DM’s flooded in from her story. Lots asking who are you? are you two dating? Lizzie wanted to reply, “This is my darling, yes she’s mine.” But she ignored them all. Her teammate then burst into her dorm, “Hey Liz? Who’s the girl on your story she’s super cute!”

Lizzie didn’t like that but she couldn’t exactly injure her teammate and best friend before the big game. She replied with a smirk, “You’re looking at the future, Mrs. Moore”. Her teammate chuckled in response, “Yeah well I’m sure she’ll only want you if we win this game. Come on coach said we need to be at the training facility in 15 minutes.”

And with that, Lizzie checked her phone one last time before she left. She always turned off her phone at the beginning of gameday, it kept her only thinking about basketball, and you of course. She replied to the usual text from her family saying they’d be there of course. She checked Instagram one last time, and in the thousands of notifications, she saw you. You had Dmed her. The text read, “Omg, I can’t believe you saw my story, lowkey embarrassing… but I was serious about that kiss! See you at the game! I’ll be pretty close to the court. Also, I think we have a lecture together but you sit all the way in the back… let me know if you ever need any help with the class, I know you are probably super busy!”

This was her chance! Her darling was falling right into her lap! She felt like she was floating, she no longer was worried about winning today’s game. There was no other option. Her team would win. She liked your message with a red heart, so you knew she meant business. She then powered off her phone with plans to text you back, and maybe even try to see you the second her game was over.

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bluedalahorse · 2 months ago

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posting fic snippets out of a desperate need to feel something (that isn’t stress)

There are more real things to be stressed about, and then there are also things to be personally stressed about, like the camping trip I will be away chaperoning from Wednesday to Friday. I do not particularly love to be away from home or disruptions to my routine.

I had hoped to finish the fanfic I was working on before I left, because then I could just avoid my email inbox and my AO3 account and not constantly refresh to see if anyone decided to read my fic. But! That did not happen. It probably won’t happen because I still have the last scene to finish and those always take me too long.

I still want to share a little bit of fic though, so I think I’ll post some of the raw unedited text from today’s work. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Anyway have some post-university pre-second-chance-saraugust, I guess.

Usually driving home—or in this case, driving back to the temporary apartment she’s renting this week—is a way for Sara to decompress after long days on set. She can put on music or an audiobook, or call Simon and Felice. Sara wants nothing more than to recap the last ten hours to one of them, just so they can reassure her she isn’t overreacting. But Simon and Wilhelm are catching up with Rosh and Ayub over pizza and boardgames, and tonight is one of the nights Felice works late in her food truck.

Mamma? Things are better with Mamma lately, but she’d still tell Sara to not read too much into the directors’ and writers’ decisions. Pappa might understand better, if he’s sober, but Sara doesn’t want to reach out unless she’s certain he is.

What is she thinking? It’s not like she can go too far into the behind-the-scenes details of Age of Liberty, anyway, since the production team made her sign an NDA, and that means no venting.

When Sara returns to her temporary rental, the kitchen lights are too bright. They’re the same lights as yesterday, so she must be overstimulated. She flicks them off and on a few times trying to decide if she can stand them, before she finally lets the square yellow light of the microwave faintly illuminate the room instead. Then, Sara scrolls through her phone as the starchy, comforting smell of pasta fills the air.

Instagram provides the usual array of photographic distractions: the girls’ football team Rosh coaches, the award-winning hibiscus cake from Felice’s dessert menu, the too many ads for hair care products and earplugs and soft clothing and tropey novels. That’s mixed in with occasional news articles about climate change, as well as infographics from other neurodivergent influencers with bullet points about masking or proprioception or social scripts. Sara lets the images blur before her eyes and the letters in usernames turn into meaningless shapes, until a familiar expression—one that habitually holds back grief—causes her thumb to finally stop swiping.

It’s the official instagram of the Crown Prince of Sweden. August’s most recent post shows him working at a desk, head bowed over a neat stack of papers. He’s gripping a pen and wearing glasses, but he isn’t writing on the paper. The glasses are new and make him look serious. To his left is a tablet-sharped therapy light. That’s even newer, and it washes August’s face in a muted silver glow. Sara wonders if anyone will recognize the light’s true purpose.

Then she reads the caption: As the hours of daylight grow shorter, many Swedes show increased symptoms of depression. Don’t forget to spend time outdoors, and reach out to your medical provider if you are experiencing persistent low moods or feelings of hopelessness. Take care.

The microwave beeps as Sara reaches the last two words of the post. She puts her phone away as she extracts her pasta and sits down at the table to eat. After an initial few bites, her mind fills up with questions. Is the post meant to be a simple public health message? Or is there a more personal meaning behind it?

She shouldn’t be ruminating this much when August is her ex, and for good reasons, but after a long day—one where Sara’s surroundings had her thinking about August anyway—can she really help it?

After Sara moves her empty pasta bowl to the sink, she returns to her phone. The photo has disappeared from her feed when she opens the app again, which doesn’t surprise her. When Sara navigates over to the Crown Prince’s official account, however, the photo isn’t there either.

Someone had it deleted. Probably some social media manager who works for the royal court.

The palace loves it when you promote sympathetic causes, Wilhelm once told Sara. As long as the sympathetic cause you promote has no connection to you whatsoever.

#saraugust #in which I am just trying to feel something

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mychemstat · 1 year ago

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just text me- ray toro

summary- you don't expect your tutor to be remotely attractive. you certainly don't expect him to care about anything other than his transcript. but seeing the recipient of the president's scholarship and the name on top of the dean's list shredding electric guitar on stage with his tattooed and pierced band members has you reevaluating your life; did you want to fuck your tutor? author's note and warnings- ray/ftm!reader, cunnilingus, sexual tension, nerd ray, suspicious gerard, pete wentz mention if you squint (comment if you find him), trans allegory, smut. enjoy :)

you stare blankly at the loading webpage, gut coiling at the speed of the buffering dots in the middle of the screen. rubbed, red eyes and undone hair bathing in the fluorescent light of the screen, instant noodles steaming near your keyboard in a cheap plastic cup, you lean back in your chair, the plasticky armrests pricking your skin. the only light source in your room is the laptop you were given last year, especially because the main white tubelight in your ceiling makes you depressed, something about the emptiness it casts over your room, reminding you of hospital lights; the feeling of being on display bothers you deeply.

the digital clock on your nightstand reads 3:03 am; near the giant text is a small symbol reading the time you set for your alarm, 8:00 am. most days you would get less than four hours of sleep, so this was not surprising for you at all. you toggle your index finger on the mouse, scrolling down to the end of the page, clicking on “see available tutors.” incisors sinking into the plush flesh of your bottom lip, you skim through the math tutors listed on the pdf.

most tutors were listed under first-year math courses, resulting in an immediate elimination from your shortlist. you word-search “fourth-year data statistics,” meeting with only one result. you pout at the lack of options but click on his profile anyway; not like you have a choice.

there is no profile picture on his listing, just the words “raymond toro: fourth year, dean’s list.” your eyes flicker to his tutoring times and contact information, fingers reaching for the nearest pen and pad to jot down the information. you have definitely heard his name before in classwide emails about how he received the president’s scholarship. but, fucking hell, you never expected him to tutor people; you figured he was just too busy studying to do anything for others.

shutting your laptop, you kick away from your study desk, looking over your roommate’s bed behind you to make sure she doesn’t wake up. she stirs slightly and goes back to softly snoring, making you sigh in relief. tiptoeing to your bed, you lift the covers as quietly as possible and climb in, switching your phone on and going over to instagram.

you ignore your inbox and any notifications that pop down from the top of your screen and focus on typing the tutor’s name into the search bar. you click the top result, the one with the most mutual friends. that has to be him you think, hoping his profile was public.

it was, but it didn’t help; his profile picture was an electric guitar, and he had not posted. furrowing your brows, you bite the inside of your lip, pressing on the tagged pictures.

bingo.

the only picture he was tagged in was posted by the username “gwayyy.” your thumb is quick to scroll through the post, barely paying attention to the owner of the account, tapping on each slide to see if any of the tagged people in the pictures is this “raymond toro.”

you end up in the last slide, meeting the back profile of a man with shoulder-length curly hair, a broad back, and a slimmer waist than you would expect.

you pictured a gallon of hair gel slicking his hair to the side and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses; you know, someone who would get a hard-on from every a-plus they get in their classes.

you switch your phone off, place it on the nightstand and shut your eyes, trying to fall asleep, even though you know you stay up past four in the morning every day.

your eyes shoot open to stare at your wall, the queen poster staring back at you. the aircon sends a chill down your spine, triggering a pang of anxiety and turning your legs into jelly. you cannot afford to lose your scholarship, and your declining grades only add pressure to every fiber in your body.

you miss the first-year of your undergraduate degree, when you could pass exams without studying too much, get high every few days, and waste time with your friends. it definitely does not help that your family wants you to get a well-paying job right out of college, and you are already in your fourth-year, no clue what you want to do with your life. you barely meet with your friends now, forget about getting high for no reason and spending time at some rando’s dorm party getting tipsy, trying to flirt with the nearest warm body you find.

the focused, determined student you once aspired to be had died, leaving but a husk of weak motivation. one part of you wants to graduate and leave this place, the other part does not want to enter the workforce that would put you in a cubicle with other mindless drones feeding capitalism’s drooling gluttonous gut.

or something like that.

plugging in your headphones, you lie on your back, eyelids drooping down. the lulling melody submerging you under a thin layer of unconsciousness.

you dream about a budding flower that night, a dahlia, it seems. it looks fake, though, almost like it is made of plastic. it grows thorns, roots growing deeper and stronger into the soil. dew drops slide into the center of the flower, swirling into a hurricane-like pattern, revealing a red rose.

the enticing nature of the flower, the way it swings against the wind like its first breath of fresh air. the flower stands tall, taller than it did when it was a fake, plastic dahlia. rose petals glow against the moonlight, almost smiling. your chest feels warm, you feel your body rise to the air, disintegrate into rose petals. you are happy.

the deafening ringing of your alarm wakes you up, fluorescent rings of pink and yellow emerging from the darkness under your squinted eyes.

“turn it off, bitch!” you hear your roommate muffle through her pillow, your fingers reaching for the top of the alarm to slam it off. your roommate was never a morning person, exactly like you, so you don’t mind her cussing you out even though she was basically a twenty something year old mother teresa if she were a stoner reincarnated any other time of day.

your phone in one hand and toothbrush in the other, you email the tutor, not putting too much thought into the message before sending it and shoving your phone into your hoodie’s pocket. dark circles curve under your eyes- remnants of last night’s anxiety keeping you up. splashing ice-cold water helps them depuff, you heard.

the library is colder than usual, making you bring the cup of coffee to your eyes and warming them one at a time as you walk toward one of the study rooms. the email he almost immediately replied back with, said he would be in room 102, followed by five exclamations.

way too enthusiastic for a tutoring session. and nine in the morning. and data statistics.

the gray carpet in the building makes you sleepier for some reason, sipping on your drink and knocking on the door labeled ‘102.’ the liquid warms you, soothing your organs as the door creaks open and your head cranes up.

“hey! nice to see you! i’m ray,” the boy flashes you a toothy smile, curly brown hair like you saw in “gwayyy’s” instagram post. you marvel at how tall he is, almost reaching the doorframe. you don’t know whether to feel inferior or attracted to his height, but you nod, reaching your hand out.

his hand engulfs yours easily, fingertips clearly calloused by the way they feel against the back of your palm. your cold hands that were once rigid, are now warm and protected, almost making you gasp at the reintroduction of the aircon to your skin when he pulls back.

he walks in, making way for you as you assess the room. pale eggshell-white walls, destroyed on the edges with water stains, envelop the two of you. it smells like old books and mothballs at first as you drop your back near the foot of the chair nearest to you, and take a seat, adjusting your clothes.

“thanks for replying so fast, by the way. i kind of needed help with this class.” you state, bending down to fish your notebook out as you feel his footsteps near your chair.

his backpack was perched on top of the other side of the table, near the whiteboard, so you knew he was coming near you.

“of course! yeah," raymond speaks. his voice is higher than you expect, masked by a husky filter and you look up at the direction of his voice, surprised by how close he was.

it isn’t weird, he is there to tutor you after all. all he does is pull out a chair near yours, and place his hand on the table, fingers sprawled across the wooden top. you take a millisecond to see how his hand was basically the size of your notebook before meeting his face, closer to getting a better view.

“you know, i don’t get many students hitting me up to tutor them, so this is refreshing. i was totally just going to rot in my bed all day.” he comments, rolling his eyes playfully, trying to make you warm up to him. you smile, looking down at your notebook and grabbing your pen. your go-to move with anyone, platonic or romantic, is avoiding direct eye-contact for as long as possible. you straighten your back, swearing you watched his eyes flicked to your chest before switching to the whiteboard across the room.

“so, what do you need help with?” he asks, pushing his chair back against the rough carpet and walking to the other side, watching his tight black shirt bundle up near his waist. your gaze scans his figure, noticing how the flimsy black fabric hugs his back and trails down to the waistband of his jeans that hug his hips tight. you make a mental note to stop staring but where else are you going to look? you’re there to watch him teach.

nope, you are there to learn, so you don’t fail your classes and lose your scholarship.

that reminder makes you snap out of the staring contest you had with the small of his back and look back up at him, ready with an answer, “uhh. confidence intervals.”

it comes out more like a question, spoiling how clueless you are with the subject and you see him smile and nod at your tone before grabbing a dry-erase marker. five pens lie on the thin metal tray across the underside of the white board, and of course, ray doesn’t grab the one that works well the first time. or the fourth time.

you watch him struggle and cuss through the process, biting back a smile at the way his curls shake at every sigh of disappointment.

“there we go!” he exclaims, writing down the concept name on the white board, involuntarily flexing the muscles bulging near the ends of his short-sleeves. you see the hint of a tiny tattoo under the sleeve but you decide to save that for later amusement and focus on his words.

“so, it’s super simple,” he begins, rambling about the definition, something about how it is the range in which you expect your test value to follow, and you soon realize that it, in fact, was not super simple.

you nod, wanting to let him know that you were listening and alert. your eyes widen, and an unknowing smile spreads on your lips. he talked with his hands. a lot. the more animated he was, the more his hair moved around his face, and the more distracted you were.

“so basically that is how you end up with the test value, do you know how to figure out if it is a right or left-tailed test?”

fuck, what the hell was that? you look away from him, pretending to think, knowing full well you have no fucking clue what it is. you press your lips together and squint your eyes, “...no.”

“no worries, that’s what i’m here for,” he smiles this time, a toothy grin, almost unexpected from someone of his stature, flashing before he turns around to draw yet another bell-curve on the white board. you watch his shoulder blades move with every letter he writes, how the small of his back stands prominent with the tightness of his shirt.

he looks back a few times to confirm your attention, his lips pursing before turning back to the board and continuing teaching. he likes to ramble a lot, you notice, but it isn’t unnecessary by any means. if anything, it helps you retain information.

you ask him questions, pen gliding against the thin notebook paper as you write down what is on the board. he folds his hands, one arm propping up on the other and reaching for his chin like he’s thinking of the answers.

as more time passes, his shoulders relax, the back and forth between the two of you reaching a comfortable rhythm. you ask a question, he goes on a tangent and you fill out another page with ease, all the pieces of puzzle from different lectures falling into place.

you let out a couple astonished “ohhhhh”s, like you finally understood the meaning of life and your tutor just smiles at your surprise each time. you bite down on your lip and knit your brows as he asks you if you understand him or not.

“holy shit, this makes so much sense now.” you drop your head in relief and look back at him screwing the lid of the marker back on. he walks to the chair near you as you pen down the last of the diagram he drew before shutting your notebook close.

“i wish you taught this class instead of higgins,” you comment, stuffing your belongings in your back, “i swear he hates his students.”

“higgins can be a toughie, but he’s just old, you know? and maybe slightly senile.”

you chuckle, “thank you, raymond, seriously,” you rise to your feet strapping your bag on and looking down at where he sits.

“oh, you can just call me ray, raymond is more for the official student records.”

oh, ray toro. has a nice ring to it.

“okay, cool. do you teach anything else, ray?” you don’t expect your words to come out as flirtatiously as they do, but you can’t swallow them so you go with it, flashing a smile to coat them as platonically as possible.

“uh… not officially. but if you ever need me to look over essays, or whatever, i’ll do it, i don’t get much traffic nowadays anyway so i’ll probably be free unless i’m at a gig.”

so that electric guitar in his profile picture wasn’t for show.

“oh, you perform?” you ask, feeling like a stalker.

“yeah, i play guitar in this band, you probably haven’t heard of us.” he waves it off, clearly not one to boast about his personal life.

“i’d love to catch a show,” you blurt out, not expecting your statement to sound as intense as it does.

he cocks an eyebrow, “oh, for real? let me give you my number then, we have this show tomorrow night.”

already exchanging numbers? you giggle internally, watching his fingers tap the screen before giving you his phone.

“i’ll just text you the time and address, gerard's still working out the logistics.” ray explains, erasing the whiteboard and pushing all the chairs into place.

you tilt your head in confusion, “gerard…?”

“oh, he’s our lead singer. you’ll see him tomorrow. hard to miss him.”

ray is right, of course. the next night, after hours of stewing in excitement to see ray perform, you watch this “gerard” dance and sing around the stage, flicking his tongue at the crowd, glistening in sweat from the stage lights beating down on the band. they are good.

you aren’t at the very front though, that space was occupied by people who look like they have been waiting all their lives to see ray’s band perform so you sit right off the pit, pulling your jacket taut into yourself. you squint, trying to gauge a feel for each member. there is one on the left, banging his head, his lips spread apart like he’s mid orgasm at any given moment, tattoos spreading up his arms all the way to his neck. there’s one on the bass, seemingly timid, a beanie pulled over his straightened hair swooped to the side, the only one with glasses on and the tightest shirt on the planet.

then there’s ray whose gaze is fixated down at his guitar, his tongue sticking out like there is nothing more important in the world. his guitar is crystal clear even when the expressive, red-haired frontman screams into the microphone. you feel your heart race at the sight of him shredding on the instrument, bouncing curls and flexing forearms prominent under the yellow lights.

the overpriced drink in your hand that is seventy percent tequila and ten percent juice has you nodding along to the song, even though rock was never in your top genres on spotify. it may be the alcohol or their talent in general, because they sound good. like, scream your heart out to their songs and want to be their groupie good.

okay, maybe the latter is the alcohol talking.

mostly girls around you fawn over the band’s frontman, or the one playing the bass, mikey, you gather from their screams. as their set comes to an end, he girls beeline from the pit to the backstage, excited giggles erupting one after the other. you feel like shit.

ray is probably straight. he probably fucks girls left and right, he’s in a rock band after all.

the defeatist in you, however, soon fails as you find your fingers fighting the cold and typing out a message to ray.

-hey, i watched your set. you were great!

a sense of superiority dawns over you. do the others have his number? fuck no, they don’t.

your eyes follow ray as he walks out the stage with his guitar in one hand and the amplifier in the other. fuck, he’s strong.

the tequila has hit you, you realize, as you rake your eyes over his body from the crowd, a strange sense of jealousy over someone you met only yesterday pricking at your chest. your phone vibrates against your palm in your coat pocket, and you see a text from ray.

-super! you wanna come backstage?”

bing-fuckin-o.

you send a thumbs up and begin your trail around the venue, budding anxiety popping like bubbles. your eyes scour for the backstage, or any group of girls bunched together. where there’s smoke there’s fire, after all.

you hear your name through the commotion of screams and giggles and whip your head in the direction, spotting him. he waves from inside a shed, the door open for anyone who wants to meet the band. you flash a smile, feeling giddy that he has the same interest in you as you do after only a few days of meeting him.

he’s just being nice, you tell yourself.

he wants to fuck you, you argue, immediately knowing which part of you is the drunk one.

you fight the wind, running toward the shed that has a string of fairy lights wrapped around the inside of the room. the room isn’t huge; enough for about twenty people to stand around and mingle. a sudden warmth embraces you as you blow a tired breath out and approach ray who’s nursing a beer, his eyebrows shooting up.

“you made it! how’d you like us?” ray raises his voice over the slightly loud music playing over somebody’s bluetooth speaker. you look over at the noise and look up at him through your eyelashes, feeling smaller than him.

it turns you on.

“you were awesome! the way you shred, it was so fucking cool.” ray hears you curse for the first time and giggles, the same toothy grin flashing across his face. he takes a swig of his beer, bringing the mouth of the glass bottle to his- wow his lips were plump.

the shed is barely lit, a lavender-colored sunset light on the right corner of the floor was the only light source. a strong scent of cigarettes and weed lingers in the air and occasionally clears out as the door opens when someone has to go out to piss, you assume. people huddle in groups, some way larger than the others. but ray stood alone when you walked in.

he leans down to you, and your heart stops momentarily. his breath fans the shell of your ear. his face was fucking near yours.

“i didn’t think you would make it.” he says, this time at a regular volume now that his lips were right near your ears. you shiver when his breath hits your skin, failing to compute what he says for a second.

you lean toward his ear, pulling him in by his arms on reflex because he seems too far to your tipsy ass brain, “of course i did. i need to get my grades up!” you joke, hoping to god he sees the humor lacing your voice.

he chuckles, oh how sweet his voice is, you think, relief fighting the cortisol in your brain.

“ray! what are you doing all the way over-” you hear his name being called, a blur of red hair knifing through the little crowd around him. you could see girls’ hands drag across his chest and even grab his shirt and he flashes them an obligatory get-the-fuck-off-me smile before catching up to the man in front of you.

it is gerard, his red hair dripping in sweat making him the most easy to recognize. you watch the shorter guy turn his head towards you, “who’s this, ray?”

ray introduces you, “i tutored him yesterday.”

gerard’s eyes scan you from head to toe, a polite smile appearing, “good to know you’re not trying to rip ray’s clothes off like that crowd back there.”

if only he knew. you chuckle at his comment, looking at ray nervously before turning toward gerard, “you guys were super great, by the way.”

“you’re sweet, aren’t you.” gerard tilts his head, his fingers massaging ray’s biceps. you believe gerard notices the way your eye twitches at his move on ray and the corner of his mouth perks up, “huh, maybe not.”

the crowd filters out of the shed, leaving the band and a couple of their friends, you assume, to let their hair down and get a couple of drinks in.

“how long do these,” you look around at people rolling joints and pout, impressed, “...afterparties go on for?”

ray looks up, trying to come up with an answer, “uh, like a few hours, no one knows really. i live on campus so i leave whenever i want to, sometimes g and frank stay back. sometimes we see mikey come to practice the next day with the same clothes on,” he shrugs, “it’s different every time.”

you aren’t sober by any means, but you aren’t piss-drunk either when you meet frank and mikey, the shorter one with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, with closer inspection, betraying his onstage persona. mikey, who you’re told is gerard’s younger brother, is as quiet as he seems when he plays on stage. you smile at him and make small talk, compliment his neon genesis evangelion shirt and he grins in surprise, revealing his pointy canines.

ray is across the room, mingling with some people who you assume are from other bands who performed before them. a man with a shorter stature and a fuckton of eyeliner, wearing a zip-up hoodie that barely hid his torso, a tattoo around his collarbone with nothing underneath, sips on a cigarette and talks to ray, looking up at him like you did yesterday.

you don’t realize how long you’re staring until ray finds your stare, downing the beer he holds so casually between his index and middle finger. your gut flips. heat spreads from your chest to your stomach, making you crush your paper cup and throw it away in dismissal.

you dream of the same flower you did yesterday. an odd sense of belonging tags along the haze you’re merged in. this time with another rose beside it. the roots of the other, pinker rose intertwined with yours, the ends connecting and becoming one.

you wake up the next morning with a headache you haven’t had in months. you’ve heard of hangover remedies like swallowing a raw egg yolk. but you would never do that, even if it meant you were throwing up in the paper bag near your nightstand. which you do.

admittedly, throwing up makes you feel better before you realize what you have to do today.

the stack of papers on your table resembles mount everest as you contemplate the quantity of it all. not only had you forgotten about the project, but it is also due tomorrow night.

grabbing a coffee and a breakfast sandwich from the cafeteria, you sprint back to your dorm, trying not to wake your roommate up who had worked late last night and met you on the way to your shared room after the afterparty with ray’s band.

ray was offering and insisting that he drop you off since he invited you there, but you politely declined, horny and exhausted out of your mind.

the way he looked at you last night. his gaze clinging to every inch of you before looking away, had not only given you some interesting dreams that may have involved getting fucked in the lecture hall, but also left a lasting feeling that there was a ball of fire in your ribcage.

you consider asking ray for help on your project.

no, you can’t. he has better things to do.

scanning through the question on the paper only makes you lean into the idea. suddenly forgetting everything ray taught you the day before. time blurs for you, and you don’t realize you have already texted ray and asked him if he can help you, fixing your hair and second-guessing your outfit.

wait, why did you care?

your phone dings.

-all of the study rooms are booked :(

you throw your phone on the bed, the pile of papers making your stomach sink lower into your body. fuck, you’re going to fail the class. you’re going to fail all because you went to the show yesterday to look at this fucking boy, who caught your fucking eye, and you wanted to fuc-

-unless you’re okay with me coming over.

you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t pound so hard against your rib cage that your ears started ringing. you send the same thumbs up emoji, pretending to be casual, regular; anything synonymous with normalcy. the coffee in your system kicks into overdrive; you straighten out your room, tell your roommate to get the fuck out once she gets up and receive a bunch of sex jokes in exchange, all of which you blush at.

“have fun blowing that dude,” she yells, probably loud enough for your neighbors to hear. she closes the door on the way out, missing the paper ball you threw at her.

“oh wow, your room is way cleaner than mine.” ray appears at your dorm in another tight black shirt, this time with the iron maiden logo that has clearly fought the washer and lost the fight multiple times.

you see him duck through the door frame, fixing his hair back into position, and you try not to feel your heart wrench at the sight of him being adorable. you bring the papers down to the floor, a signal for ray to mirror you. he sits next to the foot of the bed, leaning against the wooden leg. his hands wrap around his knee, neck craning near yours to get a better look at the questions laid out on the fluffy grayish white carpet.

you don’t realize that the shorts you’re wearing ride up your thighs, almost presenting themselves to the taller figure in the room. your legs lay on top of each other, almost parallel to the direction ray faces. you prop yourself up on the ball of your left palm, the arm that is stretched behind you, leaning into ray. ray begins helping you, talking about the different mistakes you make as you go through the process of solving the questions. his voice rings near your face, and you find yourself adjusting your seat on the carpet, moving the hem of the shorts closer to your pelvis.

ray begins stuttering, and for a while you wonder what that is about. he strokes his chin like he’s thinking hard but it is clear that he is pretending to do so. the room gets hotter and you turn your head to check the thermostat.

it’s the same.

maybe it is the way you meet ray’s eyes, his plump, berry lips curving into a smirk at every joke you crack, or the way he, at least you think, gets distracted by your legs on display. he bends down to the papers, the fabric of the shirt stretching over his back, and you can’t help but think about leaving scratches on his back and trailing your fingers down his spine.

ray smells like soap and the kind of cologne that a college kid can afford, not too charming, not too repellant. his hair is nearer to you than his face, and you can smell his shampoo that’s kind of coconut-y and beachy, and you try your best not to audibly inhale.

you go through the papers at the speed of lightning with ray there to coach you through it. you chew and bite your lip, working through the problems with utter concentration. sometimes you don’t realize that ray is talking, and you end up ignoring him and apologizing for spacing out at the project.

“holy shit, you were focused huh? like shiva at his penance,” ray comments, and you don’t understand. and he figures.

“shiva is a hindu deity. he’s known to be the sage of all sages, nobody would disturb his penance on top of this mountain in india,” he says, like he's almost embarrassed about knowing trivia.

“wow…” you trail off, “and you just know all this?”

he chuckles, ducking his head and looking back up, “i used to google things a lot as a kid…” you cock an eyebrow, not believing him.

“...and maybe i still do.” he admits, palming his face, hiding that smile of his you love to see.

“i admire that actually. i used to be obsessed with dinosaurs, google was like my life for a good few years” you comment, not expecting his countenance to be that of enthrallment; almost childlike joy.

“you’re kidding, right? i did too! if you ever come over, you’ll see dinosaur stickers on my laptop and some of my drawers.” and you try not to think too much about the implication of the statement.

you sort through the papers to make sure you don’t miss a single page and then turn toward ray, who was closer than before. you see specks of gray and black in his eyes, the way his nose bumps up slightly, freckles adorning his olive-toned skin. you notice he has dimples, appearing with each smile. his toothy grin melts you, and you feel that similar warmth you felt last night blossoming in your ribs.

your breath hitches in your throat before you realize you’re staring like a madman into his eyes.

“good job today,” ray says, his hand shaking your shoulder, jolts of electricity branching up the point of contact. you look away, a tight-lipped smile masking the sudden pulse his compliment sent straight between your legs.

“oh, thanks. i really couldn’t have done this without you.”

ray waves you off, leaning away, upsetting you slightly, “of course you could have. i just pointed you in the direction, you were the one on the journey.”

“any chance you play dnd?” you question, almost teasing his attempt at being poetic.

“it’s that obvious, huh?”

you both laugh, voices ringing out. you don’t remember laughing like this in a while, especially with someone you admired this much. the laughs settle into a comfortable silence as the two of you look out at the plane passing through the window.

“you know, you’re super talented.” you say, out of the blue, and immediately regret it, thinking you were giving away too much. he turns to you, you observe through your peripheral vision, almost like he knows you have more to say.

“i mean. the way you just performed like it was breathing to you, it really is rare to see talent like that, especially in this dump of a town.” you finish, clearing your throat in the end, waiting for him to say something.

“i don’t know what to say,”

“for starters, a thank you would suffice,” you quip, a humorous tone tagging along.

he starts to rise from his seat, “thanks, i do appreciate it. it’s difficult for me to take compliments, though, if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

you ignore him, “oh yeah, you probably have to leave, sorry to keep yo-”

“no no! i love helping other students, you weren’t keeping me from anything else. i just have band practice in a few, so i have to get going,”

you swear you hear regret in his voice but maybe you liked to lie to yourself.

as you watch him see himself out, you wait for him to turn around, say something.

come on, don’t leave without giving me something.

“oh by the way,” ray turns around. you hope he doesn’t notice your eyes gleam at the sudden lightbulb moment of his.

“there’s a mixer on sunday. the band’s gonna be there. you should come, if you’re not busy.”

you nod, and he leaves with a promise that he’ll text you the address.

he does, followed by a text that says, “hope 2 c u :)”, and you receive a side eye from your roommate who watches you bury your face in your pillow and kick your feet. something about the way ray had to peel his eyes off your legs subconsciously makes you pick something that shows them off, ending up with fishnets and a short skirt you bought on a whim months ago that collected dust in the back of your closet.

at this point, you know one thing. ray isn’t straight. you very well know you can imagine and exaggerate situations to fit your narrative, and that very well may be the case, but you don’t care.

it’s your last year. it doesn’t matter if you’re rejected or if you really are imagining things. senioritis in university makes you hit a special low where you could care less what happened. you borrow a jacket from your roommate, ignoring the comment on how she would be really mad if you got ray’s jizz on it.

sunday rolls in and your stomach does not stop jumping. you had somehow completed all your work ahead of time without having to ask ray for help. anxiety was nowhere to be found, just excitement and a little bit of nervousness to see him after days of texting him.

he had sent you a picture of the dinosaur sticker on his drawer unprompted, and your heart skipped a beat at the notification before you began having conversations that extended late into the night.

late night conversations turn into exchanging music recommendations and funny videos you find. he sends you videos of his band playing, and he’s the only one you watch, but of course you say, “you guys are going to make it big someday.”

saturday night before turning in, you text him.

-good luck. can’t wait to see you guys perform.

-you’re sweet.

you keep going back to the text, giggling at it throughout the day, even as you get dressed for the mixer. you keep telling yourself he’s being nice but you are at the event, looking around for ray or gerard, or anyone you know. a rotating light hung low in the middle of the floor, a small podium for people to perform at the mixer. people hover around the bar, clearly no age check involved in the process as they swipe drinks and trail off with a huge smile on their faces.

you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you swear your heart jumps into your throat.

“ray! i’ve been trying to find you forever.” you look up at him, a sliver of purple and pink lights from the disco ball light streaks across his face like an illuminated scar.

“so have i, come on back, this place is just for the general public,” he nods his head toward the other direction, fingers grabbing your wrist and nudging you toward him.

“ooo, i feel like a groupie,” you comment, and you hear him giggle, thanking god he doesn’t take you seriously no matter how much you want your words to be true.

gerard sips a cigarette indoors, frank tunes his guitar with an ear down to the strings, and mikey is nowhere to be found. gerard looks amused at you as he blows smoke out. ray steps out to grab drinks, and you feel vulnerable. exposed.

“so…” gerard begins, and you know he’s not about to make small talk, “ray has told me a lot about you.”

“all of us actually,” frank interjects, and you look at both of them, bewildered.

“oh,” he talks about you? “all good things, i hope.”

“oh yes, overwhelmingly.” gerard ashes the stick between his fingers on the crystal tray near him. you sense mischief in his voice as he gives you the same head-to-toe scan that he did the first time you met him.

“ray isn’t the outgoing type,” mikey walks in. you turn around in surprise to see him without his beanie and glasses for the first time. you can see how similar his features are to gerard’s.

“yet, here you are, after what?” gerard tilts his head, “a week of meeting him?”

his tone isn’t malicious, nothing he says could sound malicious because he knew how to talk to people, how to handle them. that’s what made him a good frontman.

“would you be surprised if i say i don’t gel well with strangers either?” you shrug and straighten your back, trying not to seem so timid around them.

they chuckle with you at the irony of the statement, gerard simply says, “i like you,”

you tilt your head slightly, not sure what to say and gerard offers you his cigarette, “ray doesn’t trust people often. and when he does he’s rarely wrong.”

you wave his offer with a small “no, thanks,” and he continues, “i hope he isn’t wrong.”

“are you okay?” ray asks you after the show, a beer in his right hand as he leans back into the wall of the green room.

“yeah, i’m fine, i think i was just too close to the speakers so my head hurts a bit,”

you aren’t fine. you’re thinking about what gerard said to you, and you barely paid attention to the performance and focused on distracting yourself with a shot of tequila that burned deliciously down your throat.

you make eye contact with gerard across the room who is sitting on frank’s lap for some reason, his stare less threatening at this point because ray is there. he can’t be obvious.

gut slowly burning and the alcohol in your system climbing up to your head, you ask ray if he wants shots and before you know it you’re carrying a small tray of salt and slices of lime with two little vials of tequila.

“do you know how to do this?” you ask, not knowing what you got yourself into.

“yeah it's super simple,” you hear, trying your best not to giggle at his go-to phrase, “lick, shoot, and suck.”

you dip the back of your hand in the hill of salt, where the index finger and the thumb meet, you glance at ray once before nodding, and lick up a stripe of your hand. ray does the same and you try not to think about the fact that that is how he would look between your legs. you throw your head back in unison with ray, squinted eyes and sour face, sucking at the bright green slice of fruit before smacking your lips.

ray sits beside you, thighs pressed up against yours, leaning into you, giggling. a rosy blush rises to his cheeks, and his eyelids lie lower than before. your body is on fire. tipsy words making you stutter and laugh for no reason, forgetting about what gerard said for a while.

ray walks you to your dorm that night, stumbling on the street and giggling at nothing in particular. you clutch his shirt for support as you burst into a fit of laughter at a joke he makes, not caring if you’re loud.

the lingering breeze in the air makes your skin feel less hot even though being near ray was enough to make you sweat through a leather jacket. the streetlights shine down on the two of you, slowing down in your path and strolling, kicking pebbles and making a game out of them.

you ask him how he got into playing guitar, he tells you a story about how he got ripped off buying his first guitar that broke in the first fifteen minutes of playing it. you tell him about your university experience, your plans for your career.

he beams at you with genuine admiration in his eyes, eyes softening. the spirit had weakened its effects on your body; you walked with a straighter back and a higher chin than before. almost like a gateway opening for your anxiety.

“so, gerard told me something,” you begin, not sure what you want to know from striking this topic up.

“hm? what’d he say?” he asks, kicking the poor pebble on the pavement.

“he said you don’t make friends that easily.” it sounds bad out loud, but you know that he knows what you mean.

he chortles, “yeah? what else did he say?”

you raise an eyebrow, as if checking with him if you should continue, “he just… he said he hopes you’re not wrong with me.”

the two of you enter your dorm, shuffling through pockets and keycards. ray stays quiet. you noticed he does that when he isn’t ready to talk just yet because he’s thinking of the most logical and rational answer possible.

“why did he-” he begins, and you listen, ignoring the fact that ray follows you to your actual room, trying to justify his friend’s words.

“he said something about how you can’t stop talking about me and thinking about me,” you flash a shit-eating grin, his eyes widening immediately.

“that fucker…” he trails off, his head dropping down in defeat.

“so it’s true?” you ask, leaning your back against the main door, a foot propped up on the surface. your back is straight, if not arched. you feel the after effects of downing two shots of fireball take over, the haze of the liquor blurs the line between “study buddies.”

he steps closer to you. there’s barely anyone outside in the hallways, they are either out partying or fast asleep. his hand trails up the doorframe, palm against the bumped surface. he’s so big that he casts a shadow over you from the main light. you notice his eyes trace your figure, backed up against a door, at his mercy.

his left arm trails up your waist and stays there, “do you want it to be?”

your bodies move in the dark, an orchestra of heavy breaths and moans bouncing off your dorm’s walls. the posters in your room are but flies on the wall as ray carries you to your bed, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. you lick into his mouth, his warm and soft lips slick with your saliva engulfing yours.

you breathe in, the scent of his sweat driving your senses into a frenzy and your grip on his hair tenses up. he pulls away to look at your face under the moonlight beaming through your frosted window. ray tastes like the tequila you downed with him, deliciously bitter and intoxicating, his shiny lips sending waves of lightning to your clit.

neither of you have spoken a word, fingers and lips grabbing and groping each other like hormonal teenagers away from their families at summer camp. ray places you on your bed, your sheets suddenly feeling foreign to you with him hovering above you, his fingers nosing toward the curve of your ass.

involuntary whimpers escape your throat as his fingers stroke down the back of your thighs; he hooks one of them to the fishnets and rips them in one go, handling your thighs like he starves for something more than open mouthed kisses over his lips that make his cock stir in his tight jeans. the gasp you let out is more out of pleasure and surprise, and less of you mourning the loss of your clothing.

“all this time, toro, yo- ah, fuck you- you liked me?” you kiss his neck as he works on peeling the fishnets off your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders, elbows digging into your mattress, leaving kisses up your inner thighs. your arousal was obvious, ray- even you- could smell it through your underwear.

ray stops and climbs up to face you, his fingers stroking your happy trail and you buck your hips for more just at his touch at your sensitive waist. he asks you if you’re okay and if you want to stop, you need to tell him.

you grab him by his collar and pull him in, teeth clashing, skin feeling like a burning matchstick, flame eating away at its wooden body. you blabber nonsense, not able to get enough of his full lips around yours; hands lacing around his waist pulling him so close that if he didn’t pull away you would be crushed by his body weight. he kisses down your stomach, his calloused fingers soothing under your hoodie and to your breasts, tracing under the mounds of flesh before his hands flew to your thighs.

soft trailing kisses become warm, careful presses down your stomach. you breathe like you don’t want him to hear how bad you need him, but your efforts are soon wasted as he presses his nose against your clit.

inner thighs pressing into his ears, hips bucking up to the warmth of his mouth over the damp cotton underwear, you look down at him, locks of curls falling beautifully over his eyes. his tongue licks a stripe up through the fabric, the frills of your skirt resembling one of those bell-curves ray drew on the whiteboard the first time you met him, with him underneath it.

skilled tongue that circles on your clit before curling his digits under the hem of your panties, yanking the fabric off your skin, a sudden chill making you feel exposed. ray doesn’t let you feel that way any longer; his tongue licks up the folds of your pussy, tasting you whole and you almost pass out from the sheer euphoria locking down the ends of your spine on your bed, the arch in your back pushing your clit further against his nose.

you beg and beg and beg him to do something. he simply chuckles and swipes the pad of his thumb on your slit before dipping his middle finger into you, a guttural groan emanating from your throat. your feet move against his crotch and you feel his dick strain against his tight jeans, his tongue replacing his finger and tugging you into his face, delving into you.

hands thread through his curls, clutching and pulling at him needing to feel a release expeditiously. the hotness of his mouth against your pulsing core has you palming your tits hoodie, playing and pinching at your nipples.

teeth pulling at the skin on your thighs, making you moan helplessly has him circling your clit with his thumb, wanting to hear more of your voice. you chant his name like a prayer, like he would somehow lift your soul up to the heavens with his tongue.

his stubble adds delectable friction to your cunt and you gasp like your life depends on him; you forget everything. every word, every person in the world, every fucking thing is wiped clean like patterns in the sand under the foamy waves of the ocean.

your thighs clench around his head, the honestly fucking corrupt noises of him devouring your pussy muffling under the flesh of your tastefully bruised thighs. he hums lowly, gulping and licking and gorging, the vibrations of his voice (that you didn’t know could get that fuckin low) driving you closer to the white light of orgasm that seems so close.

his moans crescendo as the heels of your feet grind into his cock, his lips pressing and sucking harder at your clit, his fingers that once moved carefully in your slick walls, now quickening and curling up into you.

you plead, you beg, you pray to him, hips jerking againsts mouth as his teeth lightly graze over the swollen lips of your cunt, your nails scratch his scalp perfectly, the tip of his tongue licks up your clit perfectly and his fingers, oh his fingers, scratch an itch seated so deep inside you that you swear you see stars before tipping over the edge, bottom lips falling open in a silent plea.

you ride his nose, his tongue, you push his head down, fist his hair, do whatever it takes, to make your orgasm last as long as possible, ankles meeting at the back of his neck. the way your legs shake at his last lap on your swollen clit, moonlight reflecting off of his beautiful brown eyes and your arousal dripping down his chin makes you go dizzier- if it was even fucking possible- and you feel like you’re high on the world’s most euphoric drug.

you smile down at him, fingers holding his cheeks gently, nudging him up to meet your face; his palms digging into your ruined sheets on either side of you, lowering his wet lips onto yours, wanting you to taste yourself against his tongue. you breathe into his kiss, his hair falling on your face, you feel him smile against your mouth and you suddenly remember.

“ray, do you want me to-” you start, eyebrows twisting up in concern and he cuts you off with another sweet kiss to your lips.

“you expect me to not cream my pants when you’re splayed out like this in front of me, in this little fucking thing around your waist?” his words sound harsh, but admiration fills his eyes, and you know it’s just an amalgamation of what the both of you have been feeling for the past few days.

“you fucking-” you sputter, still recovering from incredible high- the type of orgasm that the little toy in your nighstand or your fingers could never give you, “-you fucker.”

he sits back on the bed, pulling down your skirt and helping you up to sit, his hands sturdy as a brick wall holding you up while your legs still solidify. as viciously as he ate you out mere minutes ago, he was back to being himself, sweet, nerdy, kind ray. helpful as ever.

“can i take you out tomorrow?” he asks, his thumb stroking yours, like he’s afraid he’ll break you.

you kiss his neck and then his jaw, smiling up at him, “just text me the address.”

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crazycookiemaniac · 9 months ago

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hi can u give me dummy steps on how commissions work? What app do u use??? How does it link to ur bank account?? Can ppl see ur real identity when they pay?? What r the usual prices etc.... im in a bit of a bind, financially and i have quite a lot of time on my hands during my job where i can write i feel and i want to start commissions. Im technologically (and more importantly, w my bank) very incompetent iG pls help thamk you. Love ur work btw!!:)

Hello there! Let me try to help you:

First, make sure your clients can easily get in touch with you. For example, try to have the same username in different social media and allow your clients to request via any of them. In my case, I'm "crazycookiemaniac" on Tumblr, Twitter/X, Instagram, Gmail and I even made a website that's offline at the moment (though the website is completely optional. You don't need to go that far). You can also create a linktree and copy&paste the link on your social media bios so people know where to find you!

Second step is, decide how much you want to be paid for your work. This step is pretty hard because it depends on so many things, like how much time you spend working on your writing, what you're willing to write and what you aren't, how much in a bind you are and how much you actually want to earn with commissions.

Using my own case as an example, when I first started working on art commissions 12~13 years ago, my prices varied between $2 and $7 USD. Nowadays, I charge $70~$130 (per character, and charge almost the same prices for additional characters). Even now, I'm not sure if I'm charging correctly for my work, but I still get clients so I'm assuming it's fair enough. I also offer discounts every so often when I'm in need to earn more quickly. A tip I can give you is to look for how much people who offer similar work as you are charging and create your price sheet according to theirs. Reminder that you are allowed to charge extra if the requests are too difficult or something you're not used to doing often (NSFW, for example).

Third: How to accept payments. I personally use PayPal Business, because in this case people will only see my business name (CrazyCookieManiac Productions) instead of my real name. And one VERY important note: always send invoices. DO NOT allow people to transfer you money of their own accord, because if you do you won't be eligible for the seller protection and you might get scammed (happened to me a couple times). If you don't want to send invoices, you can open a ko-fi, link it to your paypal and allow people to pay you through there (it'll be like they're paying for a service, so you'll be eligible for seller protection).

Other important notes:

-> Make sure you're paid at least 50% before starting to work on a commission, especially if it's a new client. It reduces the chances of you being scammed.

-> Always ask your client if they have a deadline, or let them know in how long they can expect you to finish or deliver part of what they paid for. Communication is key for a successful commission!

-> Set an amount of times your client can ask for free edits. I'm saying this because it may happen that one of them asks for way too many edits and you might have other commissions to work on. Time is money!

-> If you can, come up with a FAQ (even if no one asked you anything lol). Write stuff about deadlines, permissions to use your work, what you're comfortable with working and not, if you can make exceptions or not, stuff like that!

And I think that's it? I'm sorry if this isn't perfect, I just wrote down how I usually deal with stuff. If there's anything else I can help you with, let me know!

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i-am-still-bb · 1 year ago

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Treat for 22/10:

One of them is a modern witch and an owner of a famous potions recipe blog. The other one is a bit of a fanboy / just trying not to get his eyebrows synged off…

A/N: Originally conceived as an AU of The World Next Door. That had me stuck though. So we have this. But it still has similar elements, age gap, instructor/student dynamic, etc.

—

Fili drummed his fingers on the walnut conference table. One. Finger. At. A. Time. Focusing on how there were pits in the wood and some scratches in the varnish beneath his fingertips.

“Do you have any ideas?”

The silence following the question stretched on a beat too long and Fili knew he was supposed to answer. “Can you rephrase the question?”

“Enrollment numbers are dropping.”

“I’d noticed.”

“We need better student engagement and retention. Do you have any ideas? You are the most junior member of staff.” That last part was a thinly veiled dig and threat.

Fili shrugged, brushing off the words, “We could try putting some stuff on social media, teasers, sneak peeks, behind the scenes stuff. Stories about how potions and other magic sometimes go awry.”

Frowns appeared on the tenured track professors’ faces as soon as the words “social media” had left his mouth. This is why he rarely spoke up during these things. He kept his head down, did his research, lectured, and quickly attended conferences and published.

Alice, the other young faculty member, specializing in potions that assisted in the growing of plants, clapped her hands. “My students would love something like that,” she grinned. “And I think it would do them good to see us as human, to see that we also make mistakes and singe our eyebrows and armchairs off.”

The department head looked skeptical. “It is an ‘interesting’ idea,” Fili could hear the air quotes around the word. “I think one of you younger people should be in charge. And as Ms. Yu is already assisting the Archives in their project then it should be you, if you don’t mind.

Fili did mind. Very much in fact.

“It shouldn’t take that much time, maybe an hour a week,” the Head continued.

And that was how a decade later Fili found himself spending more time on social media (Instagram, TikTok, and the like) promoting the university more broadly and the potions department specifically.

He had asked for an assistant and was denied.

It was fun.

Sometimes.

But other times he was just answering basic questions, or telling people “NO! ABSOLUTELY DO NOT MIX THOSE THINGS TOGETHER!” and then hoping that they actually listened.

Most of the time he was typing up replies, proofreading, posting, recording response videos, without paying much attention to the usernames that came across his screen. Sometimes there was one that would strike him as particularly ridiculous or clever; he would screenshot it, crop it, and save it to a special folder on his computer. He did the same with responses that made him give up home for humanity.

But then there was one user, K.O.A.K., who asked questions that often made Fili pause and wonder and sometimes his only response was “I don’t know” even after he did some research and some serious thinking.

They had a video chain going back at least six months at this point.

Fili’s videos were well-lit against a carefully chosen background from a tripod; all courtesy of a performing arts student who interned for him for a semester. Really, she had bullied him into letting her do an unpaid internship. She was a double major and she said that the content of his videos were fantastic, but everything else was tragic.

So now part of Fili’s large office / workspace was permanently set up for filming videos.

K.O.A.K.’s videos were probably worse that Fili’s had started out as. He always held his phone which sometimes made Fili nauseous while the user tossed ingredients into a travel sized cauldron that sat on a stove that had a single burner and plugged into a wall outlet. The wooden table it sat on was scarred from mishaps and frequently littered with ingredients, snacks, dust, and the occasional iced coffee cup of varying fullness.

K.O.A.K. never showed his face.

His hands featured in nearly every video. Sometimes his bare feet (which Fili had scolded him for, “What if you spill [insert potion here]? Or it boils over?” K.O.A.K.’s only response had been laughter, and to show off a fairly impressive old scar on his shin from just that thing happening) appeared.

Fili shared tricks for making a potion that temporarily improved hand dexterity. “Roast the willow root before cutting it into thin 1 inch strips.”

K.O.A.K. responded with a video demonstrating the differences between his original potion, one following Fili’s tip, and then one where he had added some olive oil to the foil packet before roasting, and then had roughly minced the root.

Fili amended his notes.

He toyed with the idea of sharing his phone number as they starting talking about more than just tips and tricks for potions. But decided against it. This account operated in an official capacity. And it was probably bad enough that he was carrying on personal conversations through it.

But he did notice that the twinge of excitement he got when he saw a notification form K.O.A.K. was the same as the one he would get early on in a new relationship. He had more than a little bit of a crush. It was merely academic, or so he told himself. He did not often get to talk about potions with anyone else.

—

Direct Messages between You (Prof.Durin) and K.O.A.K.

You: Why don’t you have a degree in this? You’re better than some of my grad students.

IDK.

You: You should apply to Erebor’s program.

I don’t think they’d take me. I never took those ridiculous tests.

You: I’ll get them waived.

�� I may not have finished secondary school

You: I’ll see what I can do.

—

Fili dismissed the class early. The first day of a new semester was always short. Most of his students were out of their seats and out the door before Fili had finished wiping down the whiteboard. Except for one. He was standing by the lectern, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Did you have a question?”

The student shook his head. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

Fili consulted his attendance sheet for a moment, “It’s Killian Oaks, right? If you would prefer something else, I can certainly do that. I just don’t have a note from the college about anything like that for you.”

“It is. But that’s not how you’d know me.”

Fili frowned in thought, one hand splayed over his papers on the desk. There was the niggle in the back of his brain that told him he was missing something.”

“You’d know me as . . .”

Taglist: Everything: @silvermoon-scrolls Fili/Kili: @dubhlachen

#bb writes #fili/kili #fiki

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mariska · 1 year ago

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tumblr buddies, hello!!! its been like two months since i've posted on here which is maybe one of the longest periods of time i've ever unintentionally gone on a posting hiatus on this blog ever in the 10+ years i've had it???? im super sorry if i've worried anyone with my unexplained absence; long story short i have been in literal fight-or-flight survival mode since pretty much right after my birthday at the start of May because of medication and healthcare and disability related issues so it's been very difficult for me to set aside even a few minutes to browse through my dashboard here or on instagram and stuff. i just wanted to make a post to let you all know that i'm [glados voice] Still Alive, and hopefully i'll be feeling more like my usual self soon, but at the moment i'm still very overwhelmed and burned out from life outside of the internet and my hobbies/internet communities etc so i might still be away from here a bit longer. i am surviving though!! not entirely sure how at this point but my god dude i sure am trying as much as i physically and mentally can 😭😭😭

also, in unrelated and much more positive brief news; if any of you are taking part in this year's "Art Fight" on the official website for it, i'm hoping to at least contribute some art for the first time and have slowly been uploading reference pics/info/etc about some of my ocs on my profile there if anyone is interested in that! my art fight username is MariskaO so if you look me up i should hopefully be on there, so far i only have pics/descriptions of my dungeons & dragons necromancer Sludge, but as soon as i have a few minutes to do so i'll be adding my oc Paige (the blonde one from the 60s/70s that i made as a teenager and hold very close 2 my heart forever lol 🩵) to my character page on there too. i'm on the Vampire team but i'm more interested in just making art in general than the point game system so if you have an art fight profile and want me to check it out and maybe make some art of an oc of yours let me know, i haven't had a chance to contribute any new art yet and i would absolutely love to start drawing stuff to give (or, attack/defend, is how i think its worded on the site) to anyone!!

ok thats all for now just wanted to check in and mostly let everyone know that i have not expired. that i am still runnin up that road runnin up that hill runnin up that building

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att4boy · 1 year ago

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some thoughts

i was reminded of this blog bc i was watching mina le's lovely video on subcultures and aesthetics, and rmbed the times i came on here and reblogged all these art hoe (or whatever) photos with the #aesthetic tag, and tried to make my blog look all cohesive and pretty as well. i was 13 when i first started this blog - in fact i started it the day after i turned 13, if i'm not wrong? just a few days after... - and now i'm turning 21, and still thinking about this place. i joined tumblr bc all my friends were on it and it seemed like such a cool place. now all the friends (irl and not) i used to have here are gone.

(are any of you still here? let me know...)

i've been thinking about my relationship with the internet recently, inspired mainly by chia amisola (among many others on twitter). when i was younger i was so careless with what i posted. not using careless in a bad way, btw. i mean careless as in unself-conscious, careless as in happy to chat with anyone who happened to be around. when i had just started elementary school my sister helped me set up a blog where i happily posted about my day (i went to kfc today!), and then in p3 i tried to set up a blog to document my family (though it never materialised in the end; i think my mum heard about it and discouraged me from doing it, though i truly don't rmb much anymore). and when i got instagram i started a transparents account (those overlays to put on pictures that everyone was rly into back then) on instagram that got almost 1k followers, i had (have - it's still available online, though we haven't posted since 2016) a book fandom account with three of my friends where we posted our little fanedits of books like divergent and hunger games and twilight. i remember briefly chatting in the comments to some guy a year or two older whose username referenced mockingjay about singapore and school... making a transparent for this ? influencer ? my age ?? that i thought was rly cool... and then something changed, i'm not sure what. i think i became more conscious not of data privacy and security and whatnot, but of how hostile the internet could be when you had a "bad" opinion. i was finding my way into the parts of the internet that discussed feminism, intersectionality, lgbtq+ rights, etc... and don't get me wrong, i think those are all excellent movements that i'm proud to be part of, but i think i also stumbled into areas where accidentally being insensitive or uninformed was very harshly criticised and looked down upon. and i think, probably, i was already the sort of person to naturally be a bit more worried and anxious about doing the "right thing" - i was always the goody-two-shoes in class, still am today to some extent. so the internet changed around me and i came to know it as somewhere where i shouldn't ask too many questions, where i shouldn't criticise.

but then i've been reading about other people's experiences on the internet - how they grew up and built their entire worldview there, made friends across the globe and changed the trajectory of their lives because of it... and i am of course remembering my younger days of freedom of the internet. i miss that era! i wonder how different i would be if i had walked further into this space and talked more. now all i do is lurk on twitter with a private account, ghost cool people trying to follow me back, dream about replying to posts and weaving a friendship from nothingness... i am definitely romanticising, to some extent, but i don't think my version of the internet back then (/ now) is wholly accurate either. i am imagining a version of myself with more confidence and curiosity, and i am wondering if i can still spin that version into existence.

i guess this post is an attempt at that? the last time i came here to talk abt something and then i ended up moving that into a private google doc. but it feels appropriate for me to post about coming back onto / into the internet on tumblr, where i have "been" for years and years. i've been thinking about starting a blog, or a public twitter, or maybe (this one just came to mind) restarting a tumblr and seeing where things go. i don't know if i'll keep it up... but wouldn't it be nice to try?

#mine #oh.. tumblr has changed so much since i last came back #every time i come back and get surprised again and again #i love that when i highlight smth to put quotation marks around it it just Does that without deleting the entire thing! like an ide!#since i started coding i've resented that browsers don't do that more often. i understand why but i'm too used to it now

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patheticlittlemen · 2 years ago

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ALL ABOUT ME

[Kurt Kunkle x female reader]

Chapter 2- Are You Bored Yet?

Words: 2111

Warnings: Little bit NSFW, non-graphic sex scene

A/N: There’s some messaging included so here’s a guide for future reference (your username is doodlesgalore)

(username): Youtube

(username)> instagram

(Name): text

Rick is still sleeping peacefully by the time you wake. You get up and decide to make breakfast, quietly walking into the kitchen. You put in your headphones and start pulling out ingredients to make omelets. Normally you would play a podcast, but you’re caught up on all your favorites. Scrolling through youtube, you see a notification.

KurtsWorld- Trying boba for the first time!

You’re absolutely intrigued. Clicking on the video, you see that it was posted just an hour ago and there were 2 views. After the ads play, you set your phone up and start preparing ingredients.

The video starts with Kurt walking down the street. It’s a bit windy so you have a hard time hearing what he’s saying but luckily he goes into a building and you can hear him.

“So today I’m at the new boba shop that just opened up in Azusa! Join me while I try it for the first time!”

You can’t help but smile. He doesn’t have great camera presence but he sure is excited. You go to the fridge and hear a lot of rustling from the video. After grabbing what you need, you go back to the video and replay what you missed. You hear him repeat the end of the sentence and he puts the camera in his pocket. The video continues like that for about 15 seconds and finally jumps to the next clip.

You’re holding back laughter at this point. Does he have an editor? Does he even know how to edit? The video continues with him zooming in on the menu, then cuts to a shot of him ordering that is angled below his chin. After the cashier takes his order, he looks down at the camera and gives an excited smile.

Oh my god, this is your new favorite person ever. Something about his awkwardness is so endearing. You’re starting to tear up from holding back laughter when Rick leaves the bedroom.

“Hey babe,” he calls from the hallway.

“Hey, honey. I’m making food for us,” you say, turning your phone off and pouring the eggs onto the pan. Rick walks up behind you and plants a kiss on your neck, humming when he sees what you’re making.

“You make the best omelets,” he says, kissing your head as he heads to the bathroom to take a shower.

You finish making the omelets, putting them on plates and bringing them to the table. You sit down to eat and call Rick to the table. For some reason you can’t get Kurt out of your mind. He was just so… silly. In a really cute way.

Rick sits down and starts devouring his food. The way he eats really grosses you out but you just try to ignore it. You take bites of your food, praising yourself for making it so well. By the time you’re halfway done with yours, Rick already washed his plate off and put it in the dishwasher.

“Hey babe,” you say. “Do you know the guy who used to babysit Bobby? Kurt?”

“Ah yeah, Kurt Kunkle,” he scoffs at the name. “Bobby says he’s a fucking weirdo.”

You’re a bit taken aback by the comment.

“Well, I just wanted to say he has a youtube channel. I think it’s really funny.” Rick laughs at that.

“Oh, I’ve seen it. The dude is such a fucking loser, he’s seriously trying so hard to go ‘viral’.” Rick says, using air quotes around the last word.

“I mean he’s just doing something he enjoys. Who cares if he’s good at it?” You try to defend Kurt despite knowing arguing would go nowhere with Rick. He rolls his eyes and walks back to his bedroom. You feel a bit hurt, even though you know it doesn’t have to do with you. You finish the omelet and start the dishwasher, walking to the bedroom.

Rick is on his phone, laughing at whatever is on the screen. He looks up to see you and sets it down.

“Bobby’s coming over. We’re probably gonna be playing video games, so if it’s too loud you can just head out.”

The last sentence really frustrated you. While you did often get overwhelmed with the noise and just left, he made it sound like he was giving you permission to leave. You were too tired to say anything and just started getting ready for the day, already expecting to leave. Rick’s eyes were glued onto you as you took your shirt off, watching you find a bra to put on.

“God you’re so hot,” he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Normally you love when he does that, but it just feels wrong this time. He starts kissing down your neck and you try to push him away.

“Isn’t Bobby coming over?” you insist.

“It won’t be for a little while, it’s fine,” he says, pulling your hair to the side so he can kiss further down your shoulder. It was really easy to turn you on, which Rick knew and loved. The strange feeling was really nagging at you but you know the horniness won’t go away quickly unless dealt with.

Before you could even respond, Rick gently bit down on your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. He laughed against your neck and turned you around, kissing you deeply. You had started to dissociate every time you had sex with Rick a while ago and never cared to change that. The whole process was so repetitive, you knew exactly what to do and say to make Rick happy and could do it on autopilot.

The whole time you’re going through the familiar motions, Kurt is on your mind. Not in a sexual way, just that you are enamored by him. The only time you’re pulled from your thoughts is when you cum. It never really feels that good but you know how uncomfortable it gets being aroused all day. Luckily Rick finishes not long after and you give him a quick kiss as you go to the bathroom.

The indifference to sex always brings the question of your relationship with Rick to your mind. You know why you don’t leave but it hurts to think about. You met Rick after you moved to Azusa to be closer to family and didn’t know a lot of people. Not many people showed interest in you before so Rick quickly had you wrapped around his finger. Rick isn’t a bad person. You’re just bored of being with him. The only ray of hope recently had been the party where you met Kurt.

Heading back to the bedroom, you see Rick making the bed. You smile at him and kiss his cheek as you head to get dressed. For a moment, the thought of leaving him runs through your mind but you brush it off as you put clothes on and head to the living room, where you hear a knock on the door.

Opening the door, you’re greeted by Bobby. You smile at him politely as he gives a nod of greeting. You step to the side and he makes his way to the bedroom as you shut the door. Already, there is a lot of noise coming from the bedroom. You want to stick it out and stay as long as it is tolerable so you put in your headphones and continue Kurt’s video.

It continues where you left off, with Kurt ordering at the boba shop. There are a few clips of him getting his order and finding a seat outside, where luckily the wind has calmed down. He sets the camera down to face him and it falls a couple of times in the process, once again adding to the thought that he doesn’t know how to edit.

“Alright, I’m not quite sure how this works…” He says, looking at the straw and then the top of the cup. He looks back and forth at them with a confused look on his face.

“Sorry guys, I’ve never done this before. Let me…” His voice trails off as he taps the lid of the boba with the sharp end of the straw. He does it a couple more times, flinching every time it connects. Finally, he manages to puncture the lid and looks so proud of himself. You cheer internally as he brings the straw to his mouth and immediately chokes on a tapioca pearl. You can’t hold it back after that and laugh as he coughs and tries to process what just happened. At the same time, you see Bobby walk out of the bedroom. He scoffs as he passes by.

“Is that Kurt?” He says condescendingly as you pause the video.

“Oh, yeah. I met him at your party last night.”

“He’s fucking crazy. Seems to think we’re best friends just because he babysat me when I was a fucking kid. Swear to god he’s gonna kill someone someday.” Bobby says, genuinely sounding upset.

“Oh.” You say, not knowing how to even respond. “Uh, good to know I guess.”

“Hey, I’m taking the last two Sprites,” Bobby calls from the kitchen.

“That’s fine, I need to go shopping anyway.”

“Sweet,” Bobby says, heading back to the bedroom. You watch him walk away and hit play on the video. Despite everything Rick and Bobby said, you’re still fascinated by Kurt.

After he coughs a bit, Kurt manages to catch his breath and looks at the camera.

“So first impression is to, uh, not…suck that hard.” His eyes flicker to the camera as if he realizes that phrase sounds weird but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He takes another drink and manages to get a good sip without choking. He chews on the boba thoughtfully and raises his eyebrows in approval. He hums before he swallows and speaks again.

“That’s really good. So yeah guys, if you want a good drink, come down to Boba Beast in Azusa.” He gives the camera a thumbs-up and smiles, slightly cocking his head to the side. The video cuts to one more clip of Kurt walking up to a traffic pole, placing on it a yellow sticker of a very crudely drawn planet with a face and “Kurt’s World” written above.

You immediately go to like the video. You decide to leave a comment, trying to think of something to say.

doodlesgalore: Great review, laughed so hard when you choked. I’ll def be going there soon

The frustrated yelling of Rick and Bobby makes you jump. You try to ignore it and decide to check Instagram. You scroll through posts of people you haven’t seen since high school, feeling more pathetic after each happy photo shown on your feed. A notification pops up on your phone from youtube saying that Kurt responded to your comment. You go to click on it but stop after getting an idea. You tap on the search bar on Instagram, looking up “KurtsWorld96”. Your phone takes a minute to load but an account pops up with the same name and the yellow planet as the profile picture. You excitedly click on the account and hit follow.

Scrolling through the feed, you see reposts of clips from his videos and some outdated memes. After clicking on only a few posts, you get a notification that Kurt followed you back. Your heart rate picks up as you decide to message him.

doodlesgalore> Hey Kurt, it’s Y/N from the party last night

doodlesgalore> I saw the video you posted today :)

You swipe out of Instagram and look at the response Kurt gave on youtube.

KurtsWorld96: Awesome! I love giving fans recommendations 😊

You smile at the emoji and see that Kurt responded to your message. Does he have nothing better to do right now? You brush it off as him being dedicated to his online presence and click on his DM.

kurtsworld96> Hey Y/N! Did you like the video??

doodlesgalore> I loved it !! I was the one who left a comment btw

kurtsworld96> Thank you for your support 😌

You close the app and turn off your phone for a second, painfully aware of the increasing noise coming from the bedroom. You roll your eyes while grabbing your shoes and a tote bag, deciding to go to the boba place Kurt mentioned.

Hesitantly walking towards the bedroom, you poke your head in to say goodbye to Rick. He and Bobby are engrossed in their game, yelling at each other and the screen. You assume Rick won’t hear or acknowledge your departure so you just leave without saying anything as the strange feeling from before gnaws at your insides.

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle x reader #kurtsworld96 #spree #spree 2020 #i laughed so hard writing the video

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wutlaikalikes · 1 year ago

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Threads

This post is mainly my early thoughts, you can keep scrolling.

Honestly, for someone who doesn’t like making new unnecessary accounts, I don’t know why I made one. lol I guess there’s still a side of me that likes to make sure I can get my usual username.

I have been thinking of deleting my instagram account for a while. I made an IG account to have a place for my nail art and special effects make-up photos. But I have moved most of it on another Tumblr blog together with my drawings and DIY props.

So today, I made a Threads account. I got really annoyed as soon as I made one since one of the first posts I saw was that you can’t delete Threads without deleting Instagram. Well, since I am thinking of deleting my Instagram at some point, I wouldn’t feel bad about deleting both.

But I am going to give it a try or rather I’m gonna keep it active just in case any of the Holostars members make an account. I kinda don’t see that happening actually cause HoloPlus might come out soon. Right now, it's like talking to a void since I plan on just following mainly Holosutamin or Holostars related accounts. I don’t know if following people would guarantee that the only posts I’ll see are just from those I’m following. I don’t think hashtags don’t work yet. Also as someone that is mainly in front of the PC rather than my phone, Instagram and Threads kinda sucks.

As much as I’m tired of Twitter, it's the best way to keep up with the content I like to support.

I really like using Tumblr recently. It's really not a good social media site but then again this site is initially marketed as a blog site (if I remember correctly). I honestly just don’t like how conversations / post replies look like on this site. But as a blog, I quite like it. There is an ask box which I never opened and there’s also an option to open private messages which I have opened but might not respond to. (I’m very introverted even online lol)

Algorithm, kinda sucks too cause even though I set up my preferred tags and only interact with my preferred content, I still don’t see fellow Holosutamin and I would still see posts I’m not interested with.

But as they say there is no perfect “something”, its either you work with it, work around it, or quit.

However, It's still really early to say that Threads is going to be the “Twitter Killer”. It needs to have some unique features. The only thing going on for Threads that would help it go against Twitter is the fact that its associated with Meta.

#blog

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theyaremycrocsyoudonut · 9 months ago

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Thank you @anthruser for tagging me! I've never done one of these before so any and all corrections/recommendations are welcome.

🔠Name: I'm hiding my Tumblr account from a couple of friends so I don't want to say my name, but for the sake of brevity I guess you can call me Don (theyaremycrocsyoudonut haha get it ba-dum tssss)

🌀How do you pronounce your own Tumblr handle in your head? My username is a combination of the "what are those???" "They are my crocs" meme and Gordon Ramsay yelling at some poor wannabe chef and calling him a donut. So I imagine the crocs meme in a really angry Gordon Ramsay voice

🪟When you look out the window right now what do you see? The apartment complex beside mine. I wish I could see some trees though. Trees fuck

💼What is the most unusual profession someone in your family was in? I can't think of one that really stands out. Almost everyone in my family practices an "unusual" profession, but not like mind-boggling unusual, you know. My mother is a counselor for the ministry of immigration, specializing in securing EU programs and funding for the immigrants. My dad is responsible for the security of my country's equivalent of the Pentagon, I think it is the ministry of external affairs? My grandfather was the captain of various cargo ships and travelled the entirety of the world like 3-4 times, which for me is the coolest profession on the list. My other grandfather was a helicopter pilot and a meteorologist for the Air Force.

🎨What hobby were you really into as a kid? I was really into speedcubing. Then I continued to learn how to solve new cubes till I was about 16. I wasn't ever freakishly good at it but I was decent. My personal best at the classic 3x3 was 29.7 seconds and I intend to get into this hobby again when I finish my exams and lower it even more.

🔍First autofill Google result when you type 'How can I...? "How can I see who unfollowed me on Instagram" Turns out you can't unless you search for them by name

🎶If you were the main character in a sitcom, what song would be playing during the opening credits? Oraia tipissa I zoi- by Psycho(or by Akikloforita on Spotify)

🎬What's the last movie you watched? The Iron Claw. Holy fuck you cannot understand how much of a masterpiece this film was. It baffles me how it did not get a single Oscar nomination. Visually it was a masterpiece. I don't cry easily, but this movie had me slobbering like a 7 year old. Those few final scenes and the reference on ancient Greek mythology fucking broke me. 10/10 please watch this immediately or I will explode.

🎥What's your favorite movie genre? Whatever Tarantino makes (ik that as a person he sucks but his movies are FIRE) and the entire genre of "obsessed artist"(see Whiplash, I, Tonya, Black Swan and such)

🍿What movie would you recommend? I could go on forever but I'm going to try and be brief. All of the aforementioned films + Pour Things (an ode to absurdism), Babylon (truly an underrated gem), Eteros Ego (the best film of modern Greek cinema, an amazingly well put thriller and can be found on YouTube with English subs).

👯‍♀️Do your IRL humans know about your fandom life? Well, because of my inability to shut up they know about it. The thing is, I don't want them to see just how deep my shameless obsession goes. Which has created a problem, cause now they're BEGGING me to give them my username. I've promised to give it to them after our exams, so shout-out to R and T if they're seeing this then. Love you guys 🫶🫶🫶

🚣🏼‍♀️If you could do one activity with your pocket/fandom friends what would it be? We would go to John Wells's house and very kindly set it on fire <3. Then we would go for a picnic or something idk.

I don't know most of you personally, so I don't want to be annoying and tag anyone that doesn't want to be tagged. I'd love to get to know more about you all though so I have someone to tag in the future!

#shameless #tag game

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gretavanbear · 2 years ago

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Snapped.

Jake Kiszka x fem!reader*

*! SMUT !

You had nothing to lose after sending that snapchat video; yet everything to gain.

[Notes :

2.7k words

dom Jake, kinda rude Jake? but you like it?

it's my first time writing anything like this pls be nice]

_ _ _

You were on the phone with your best friend, listening to her chew her chips loudly on speakerphone. You had been on call for about three hours now; discussing school, work and of course; boys. You had known her for over ten years- as she was basically your other half now. Your bond being stronger than anyone else’s.

Your college life has always been calm. You were busy studying for tests as other people in your classes would ditch class to go party. The only life of the party in your surroundings was your eccentric, loud best friend.

“You’ll never guess who added me on snapchat earlier.” You speak into your phone, awaiting your friend’s gasp.

“Whoooo?” She asks; giggling a little.

“Jacob Kiszka.” You reply, she gasps and you’re as shocked as her by your answer. Jacob Kiszka was extremely popular around campus. He would throw the greatest parties with his two brothers; so you’ve heard. Whenever the Kiszkas were having a party, campus would be trashed by morning. Jacob had long hair, a defined nose, broad shoulders and a really nice physique. You always found a way to stare at him in class, when he’d attend.

“I know. It must’ve been a mistake.” You reply and she laughs.

“I added his brother and he didn’t add me back. Like, I’m desperate for some Kiszka dick.” She laughs and you giggle in response, calling out her name.

“Whaat?” She replies. “You should most definitely send something, make it look like the snap was meant for someone else!” She suggests and you shake your head in response.

“Oh come on, he probably doesn’t even know I exist.” You respond to her crazy suggestion. You both talk for another hour, a little about Jake and his sexy face, body, and everything else. Until you end the call after she falls asleep; the sound of her snores taking over the silence of your dorm room.

You scroll through your instagram feed for a couple of minutes as you’re reminded from your friend’s words. The idea pops into your head, your finger lingering over the snapchat icon. You stand up and pace around the room; thinking of Jake and his stupid long brown hair, his stupid big brown dreamy eyes, his stupid sexy broad shoulders.

Sighing loudly, you find yourself standing in front of your closet looking through your clothes; finding something seemingly flattering for a stupid little snapchat that Jacob will most definitely just skip over, then unfriend you. You shake your head, trying to get this stupid idea out yet you’re taking your shirt off, putting on a lacy black bra and panties. It had been only about three months since you were last intimate with someone; thanks to your best friend who set up the blind date with someone who had no idea what they were doing.

You knew what you wanted; and if it had to be the most known guy in school; then so be it.

You tap on the ‘Snapchat’ app and your finger stops over Jake’s username. You hesitate a little before double-tapping on the name and the camera pops up. Placing yourself in front of your mirror, you push out your chest a little, making your breasts spill out a little from the lacy black material. You place yourself in a seductive position, two of your fingers wrapped around the bra strap- extending it a little to show off even more skin. Your bottom lip in between your teeth, showing a little in the upper corner of the screen. Though the screen didn’t show lower than your belly button, the material of your black thong appeared slightly in the bottom corner of the screen.

You hold your breath slightly, pressing the little circle at the bottom of the screen and taking the picture, breathing out as you look over the image to make sure it looks presentable to send. It does. You press on the screen to add a text. After pondering for a couple of minutes; you decide on

‘waiting for you…’

The text right smack in the middle of the screen. He would be unable to miss it. You hold your breath once again, pressing send and breathing out; throwing your phone onto the bed and pacing around the room.

You wait a couple minutes before laying in bed, reaching for your phone and unlocking it. As you press on the Snapchat app, a little purple square catches your attention. Placed so nicely next to ‘Jake Kiszka.’ Your fingers shake a little as your heartbeat rings in your ears, beating quickly like a drum. This is Jacob Kiszka. The hot frat guy who sits in the back and fucks around all class. The hot frat guy that has never looked over at you or paid attention to you. You push yourself to return your focus to the screen in front of you, pressing the little purple square. You could not prepare yourself for what was about to take over the entirety of your screen.

The video starts with the bottom half of Jake’s face, he has a straight face; he doesn’t bother to smile. The video pans down slowly to expose his smooth chest, lightly covered by an extremely unbuttoned shirt. You can’t help yourself but stare in disbelief at the filthiness covering your screen. The camera keeps making its way down, reaching the area underneath his bellybutton. Your breath hitches as he keeps going; the video ends right before the camera reaches the hem of his boxers.

Holy shit.

You don't waste a second to lay yourself comfortably in bed, pushing your chest out a little again, and repeating the same video that he sent you. You hit record and slowly make your way down, all the way down, as you reach your underwear; you lower the camera so all he can see is you placing your finger inside the lacy material; ending the video. You don't type anything and send the video.

He immediately watches it. You smile to yourself; wondering if your acts are placing an effect on him. He takes a couple seconds to answer, and you're unable to prepare yourself for the response, once again.

He doesn't send a video, but a picture of his lap. He's laid in bed, his length hard underneath his boxers; the tip tucked into his skinny jeans. You're in shock at the content you just witnessed. You close your phone quickly and shut your eyes as you try to take a deep breath- wanting to slow down your heart rate. Your moment of meditation ends quickly as the sound of a snapchat notification replaces all your thoughts. You unlock your phone quickly and notice Jacob has sent a chat, you don't waste a second opening it.

Jake Kiszka. : dorm #

He doesn't say anything else. You don't care about manners at this point. You quickly put on an oversized shirt before replying.

You : 504B

You send the text and close your phone, taking a deep breath. Your mind traces back to his cock exposed on your screen and you already feel turned on by him, without his presence. A couple minutes pass by and you stand up to examine yourself in the mirror, taking deep breaths trying to calm down so you can appear laid-back like him. The knock at the door makes you jump, staring at yourself wide-eyed in the mirror. You quickly walk over to your door; unlocking it and letting him in.

He smiles down at you with a smug look, you can't help yourself but take in the view in front of you. He was wearing the same clothes as in the picture, and your eyes make their way to his.

"I'm Jake." He says, softly as he makes his way over to the bed, sitting down. You smile at him, wondering where the softness came from. You follow him to the bed and stand in front of him.

"Hi. I'm [y/n]." You reply and he smiles, taking out his hand to kiss yours. Your heart flutters at the change of pace, confusion takes over your thoughts as you watch him act so kind. You place your hand in his but he does not kiss it, instead he pulls you towards him. Your faces inches apart.

"Lets skip the small talk." He says quietly, you feel his warm breath on your lips. You don't waste a second to lean in and kiss him quickly; stepping closer and straddling his lap on your bed; your soft sheets rubbing against your knees. Jake is a good kisser- an excellent one. You bite his bottom lip softly, pulling back to look at him in the eyes. He groans softly at the action, letting you taste him. You let go and kiss him again, as he pulls you closer. His large hands take over a big portion of your back. He pulls away to have a moment to speak.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth." He declares and you can't help but nod. "I want that shirt off. No time to be shy. Let me see those pretty tits." Fuck, he is not shy at all.

You listen to his commands like a well trained dog, getting off his lap and placing yourself on your knees- lifting your arms with your shirt as you take it off.

"That's right. Show me what's hiding under there. As if I haven't seen it already, tease" He says, quietly. You can't help but blush at his commands. A guy has never taken over you like this and you loved it. You throw the shirt somewhere around the room but don't take your eyes off of Jake. Not breaking eye contact.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, biting your bottom lip as your hands make their way to his belt- unbuckling it slowly. He stares at you, watching your every move. Examining your figure as your fingers wrap around the zipper of his jeans, pulling it down slowly. His breath hitches as your fingers slip inside the band of his underwear, the warmth of his skin almost burning your fingertips. He gets up for a slight second, pulling off his jeans and underwear. You hold back a gasp as his large length sticks right up, covering almost your entire face. You look up at him, approaching it slowly- wrapping your hand around the girth as you begin to stroke him slowly.

He twitches in your hand and you feel the wetness soak through your underwear. He stares you down, his eyes burning into your soul. Your lips approach the tip of his cock as you wrap them around him, slowly bringing your head down to the base; taking in his full length. He reaches the back of your throat and you hold back a gag; wanting to keep the moment as sexy as possible.

"Such a pretty good girl. always in the front of the class- don't wanna miss anything huh? Is that why you never come to my parties? You scared of me, darling?" He states, and you don't answer. You feel a little shocked by how much you feel seen. You wonder if he had added you on purpose, if he did see you. You want to pause and ask him, but instead you begin bobbing your head up and down his length while quickening the pace. He moans softly and places his large hand on the back of your head, pushing you down.

He begins to thrust in your mouth and you stop moving, letting him take complete control of your mouth. You hum softly against his cock to send vibrations onto his gorgeous length- and he loves it. He moans louder.

"You sent me that on purpose. Filthy." He looks down and smiles at you sheepishly, thrusting faster and deeper in your mouth if that was even possible. "I bet this is exactly what you wanted, huh?" He adds. You nod and he pulls out of your mouth, placing his hands on your sides to pull you up and place you on the bed face down.

Your ass is perked up as Jake stands behind you, examining your curves. You feel his pointer finger make its way inside the band of your underwear, pulling on it slowly as he makes his way down to your soaking centre.

"So fucking wet already. Dirty, dirty girl." He says softly, his lips making their way to your ass, planting soft warm kisses against your skin. You're taken by surprise when a loud 'smack' from his hand makes its way to your ass. You moan in response, shaking under his touch.

"That's what you get for sending that. Like a fucking whore. You want my cock? Ask for it." He smacks your ass once again, his rough hands working so well for you.

"I- I want you" You can barely say, as his fingers slowly make their way to your inner thighs, reaching for your wet slit.

"That's not what I asked." Jake says, his fingers reaching your soaked underwear. He reaches in and places them to the side, stepping closer. You feel his hard length against your leg, only making you wetter. His fingers start rubbing your clit, slow, slow circles.

"Jake. Please." You whimper, his fingers placing the loveliest effect on your warm centre. He slips a finger in, thrusting it in and out slowly.

"Third time's the charm, babe." He whispers, his face next to your ear. You shake under his touch; his fingers moving so nicely inside of you. You squeeze around them, whimpering. "C'mon. Beg." He says. Your skin tingles, as you bite your lip hesitating. You build up the courage to ask him what he's waiting for.

"I want your cock. Please. Please Jake. I want you inside me. I sent it on purpose- Please." You crumble under his touch. You hear him smile as his fingers pulls out of you. You turn around so you can face him, and watch him grab a condom out of his jeans pocket. He opens the package with his teeth and pulls the condom out, making eye contact with you as he rolls it on his hard length. He smiles down at you as he makes his way closer, now he's standing in front of you at the edge of the bed.

You back up a little so he can climb on, but he has other plans. Jake grabs your hips and pull you to the edge of the bed. He lines up his dick to your entrance, rubbing you with his tip. You whimper under his touch, and he smiles at your reaction.

"Is this what you wanted? To be shaking on my cock when I'm not even inside you yet?" He chuckles and you whimper. He inserts the tip but doesn't go further. You gasp; adjusting to his length.

"What do you want. Tell me" He pauses, waiting for you to beg.

"You. Inside. Please." You reply quickly and he wastes no time, inserting himself fully. He gives you a couple seconds to adjust before thrusting slowly. You moan and shake underneath him. His hands grabbing your hips make you feel like you belong to him; and you love it.

You wrap your legs around his body and pull him closer, he gasps and starts thrusting faster; his moans filling up the room. You hold him close as he places both his hands around you, fucking you so well.

You place your hand on his chest and he pauses, giving you a confused look. In a way, and you aren't entirely sure how; you find the force to push him off and spin him onto the bed. Climbing over him and lowering yourself down on his cock, you begin thrusting yourself onto him. He closes his eyes and throws his head back, placing his hands on your hips once again.

"Fuck. Riding me so well like the whore you are." He moans, his left hand letting go of your hip and making its way to your breast. He pulls your bra down so both your tits are out, he stares at you in awe as you bounce so gracefully on top of him. His quiet moans mixed with yours fill up the room as you both become close.

"If you keep going this way I'm shooting my load inside you, darling. Fuck. You're doing so good." He moans. You squeeze around him and the noises coming out of him just pushes you closer and closer to your climax.

"You feel so good, Jake." You moan and he smiles sheepishly. He starts thrusting up into you, the action causing your climax to be seconds away.

"I'm gonna-" You start but he cuts you off.

"Fucking cum on my cock, slut. You wanted this, fucking do it" He moans. "I'm there, too, fuck." You squeeze around him as your orgasm takes over; leaving you a shaking mess around him. His load bursts into you, filling you with warmth and please rolls over you both. He moans your name and your heart melts, as you breathe out, getting off of him and laying next to him.

He breathes fast and turns his head to you, facing you and making eye contact; almost looking into your soul as you've just shown a stranger one of your most vulnerable states.

"That was.." You pause and he smiles. "It was amazing." You finish and he nods, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm so glad I added you on that stupid app. I was going to send you something." He smiles and your heart drops.

"You noticed me?" You ask, your voice almost shaky as the heartbeat in your throat shakes your vocal cords.

"Always have. Glad you made the first move, darling." He says softly and you melt, your mind replaying the events that just happened; as you fall asleep next to him.

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