#she would be like OKAY *moves all her shit in*

[mossiethe3rd]

Hey @thebaconsandwichofregret first of all fuck the bitch and can I have a source for this first statement?

"She's also publicly stated that she believes that anyone who reads her books or watches her shows and films does so because they explicitly agree with her political views."

If there's evidence of this, then this is great news and would be something amazing to send to my headteacher who decided that it was okay to turn "World Book Day" into a day of Harry Potter activities and dress-up which involved the purchase of costumes, props and possibly books from the witch will profit. They say that this school is trans-friendly and I would say we have a vibrant LGBTQ+ community some of whom felt this was a shit move. It not only promotes her work, and contributes to her funding against transition but continues to feed this idea that the series is the best ever written, discouraging people from reading more modern books or exploring better-written literature etc.

Excuse my rant. Anyway, I'd really like to be able to send him this after he used the "love the art, not the artist" argument on me despite her explicitly funding the ever-growing anti-trans machine.

Any help would be massively appreciated :)

[luveline]

HEY JADE I HOPE UR DOING WELL ILY

im curious to hear ur thoughts on what an interaction between zombie!au steve and reader would look like had the apocalypse not happened. would she fly completely under his radar like in high school or would he be interested in getting to know her?? we know she knew who he was pre-apocalypse but does she really care? i keep thinking about what would happen if she walked into family video one day and if he would hit on her or not lmao

hi I love you! zombie au (ish) | fem, 1.3k

Voices force Steve’s attention. 

“I’ll be five minutes!”

“Two minutes or I’m driving off without you!” 

Steve’s more familiar with the second one. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his creaky shit van idling on the curb outside of the store. That sheds some light on the first voice —one of the club members. Or, honorary club members? When Steve decides to be kind and drive Dustin home in the winter after his games, you can be seen occasionally sitting on stoops waiting for Eddie to finish. 

Who knew The Freak could get a girlfriend? That makes Steve being single even sadder.

You say something else. Eddie laughs. “Do you want popcorn or not?” you quip. 

“Why, are you paying for it?” 

“Not for you I’m not.” 

“You got a minute and counting.” 

“If you drive off without me, you can forget about Friday night.” 

Steve angles his head to watch you through the open door. Summer heat has made a mess of Munson’s hair where he’s leaning toward the open door. You’re holding the car door, in a light chequered dress with bows on the shoulders and the cutest pair of socks and buckled shoes. How the fuck does Eddie get a girl like that? Also, Steve’s been wondering, where the fuck did you come from? Clearly you went to Hawkins High, and when Robin told him that he swore he could remember you, but there’s nothing in his head. It’s like Robin all over again, in the same homeroom for two years and he didn’t know she was awesome until the summer after high school ended. 

“Can you just go get your fucking movie so we can go?” 

You’re still glaring when you turn around, but you’re quiet as you edge into Family Video. “Jerk,” you mouth to yourself, taking a quick cut to the slasher moves at the back. You don’t spend much time browsing, Steve can see from the back that it’s Day of the Dead. You emerge and head to the blockbusters. 

You catch Steve watching at the desk. 

He knows he doesn’t have a chance, you already have a boyfriend, so all he says is, “Let me know if you need any help.”

You smile weakly and turn back.

Maybe he wasn’t nice to you. He can’t remember, is the thing. He was such a jerk, Tommy and Carol were such jerks. 

He’s not a miserable person, but he does hate himself more often than not. It’s easier because he actually has friends who love him. Robin might give him shit every day, but she’s the first person to teach him what being loved feels like, and it makes him better. He’s less cruel, less quick to anger, less selfish. But Steve knows he isn’t completely kind or patient in turn. He’s a fuck up. He’s nearly twenty three working for $4.50 in an hour with no degree and no prospects and— 

“Hey,” you say, setting three tapes down on the desk. 

“Hey.” He clears his throat. “Is this everything?” 

You look vaguely embarrassed to ask, “Do you guys still do the bags of popcorn, do you know?” 

“Sure, they’re by the window, let me just–”

“That’s okay, I’ll get it.” 

You speed walk for the popcorn. Steve finds himself with a weirdly dry mouth as you reach for one, swallowing hard as you make your way back. It’s just the one bag of popcorn after all. Eddie must’ve really pissed you off. 

Steve rings up your movies. The barcode on Pretty in Pink won’t work. He opens the window and starts to type it in with his keyboard. 

Outside, someone lays on the horn for three long beeps. 

“I’m real sorry about him,” you say, letting out a breathy, nearly-timid laugh. 

“Is he always like that?” 

“Every day of his life.” 

Steve works in customer service. He has mastered the art of the polite smile. “I don’t think you should put up with it. Nice girl like you,” he says lightly. 

“That’s what friends are for, right?” you say with chagrin. 

Steve glances over your shoulder. Just friends? Who the fuck would put up with Eddie voluntarily? Steve understands that love isn’t a choice, but if you’re not even kissing to soften the blow of things, you’re just crazy. 

He slides your tapes back to you. “How long did you want them for, just the one night?” 

“Two, please.” 

“Awesome, can I have a phone number and address?” 

You give them.

Steve uses his employee discount and doesn’t really know why as he clicks it out. “It’s four dollars when you’re ready.” 

You take the swing purse from your hip and clip it open, pulling out a ten dollar bill. “He’s not totally mean,” you say, “I know he seems rude. But that’s just his character.” 

“Sure.” 

You offer him the ten dollars, shifting around on your shoes, eyes over his shoulder toward the back. You seem a little put off by him. He really must’ve been mean to you. Maybe he laughed when Carol called you names. Maybe he ignored you as he put himself in Nancy Wheeler’s path. 

“Steve?” 

He looks up in surprise, still counting your change out. It should be easy, except he doesn’t have a five dollar bill in the register, and he had three one dollars, so he’s counting quarters he’ll have to apologise for. “Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He pauses. “I’m good. Why?” 

You gesture to your eye. “You have a cut. Did you get hurt?” 

“This? This is nothing. I threw Robin, you know Robin? Robin Buckley? She’s going to college, she actually already left, but I threw her a surprise going away party. When everybody yelled ’surprise’ she sort of panicked and her ring caught me.” He chews his lip. “Yeah, I’m fine though.” 

“Oh, shit. Eddie’s going to do this internship thing in Michigan at the end of the week, I hope he doesn’t get me with his rings when I give him his goodbye present.”

“Lot of rings.” 

“Right? He’ll blind me.” 

Steve startles both of you when he laughs heartily, grabbing the remainder of your change and shutting the register tightly. “Can’t let that happen.”

“So we both find ourselves without best friends for the autumn,” you say, holding out your hand for your change. “Maybe if you’re bored, you can call me. We can go to the movies or something.” 

“You’re serious?” 

“How else do you make friends?” you ask. “If you don’t wanna be my friend that’s fine, I’m putting you on the spot, just don’t call me, but my number’s in there.” 

“And when you come back to return the movies, and I still haven’t called, that won’t be awkward at all,” he says wryly, teasingly, enjoying the way your face has changed. He wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re flirting, but your smile is something else.

“So… call me?” you ask quietly, grabbing your movies, your popcorn, and waiting for an answer. 

Steve thinks that sounds more like a date being planned than a burgeoning friendship, and his grin probably shows that. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll call you. We’ll go to the movies.” 

You’re decidedly quick as you escape the store, rushing down off the curb and upto Eddie’s van. You open the door and climb in fast, Steve only hears a snippet of your conversation as Eddie turns the engine back on. 

“What the hell?”

“What?” 

“I fucking knew you had a crush on that jerk! Look at your face!” 

“Shut up, can we go?” you hiss. “This is why I didn’t get you any popcorn.”

“This is why you can't come to Michigan.” 

Steve presses the back of his hand to his cheek as the van leaves the parking lot. He’s hot as a burning hearth. Probably red as one too. God, who are you? Where have you been this entire time? You might’ve just saved Steve’s life. (Or, his social life.) 

—

I was curious and maybe this is like an au of the au and it’s not as cute as I wanted it to be but I think they’d accidentally trap themselves in the friends box for a while trying to survive being without their best friends together and Steve still falls slowly, I was gonna make this a bit longer but I thought I won’t bother unless it’s something people really want cos there’s a few requests I wanna do soon!! thank you for requesting

[angelic--kitty]

okay, hear me out... TRANSFEM! XILONEN IN HEAT 🗣️💥💥🗣️💥

ପ( xilonen in rut )ଓ

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, transfem!xilonen x sub!fem reader, xilonen is in rut and her dick is spiny (🤧), breeding kink, size kink, cunnilingus

a/n: the double ask was crazyyy bro really wanted me to hear them out on xilonen 😭😭😭 but i got you 🫡 though im gonna call it rut 😭

"xilonen-"

she stares blankly at you, ears tilted back slightly and twitching, her nails digging into the wood of the table.

"are you listening-"

she stares at your body, the soft curves of your frame, picturing her hands on your hips, yanking you back against her-

"xilonen, the table!" your voice finally snaps her from her thoughts. she looks down, seeing the nasty marks her claws have left in your shared kitchen table.

"shit," she sighs, smoothing the placemat back down over to cover it. "sorry, i've been so out of it." her eyes glance away, tail lashing, showing her irritation as you frown.

"is something wrong?" you ask softly, your hand covering hers as she bristles, and you move closer. "you're burning up." the back of your hand lays against her forehead, your body nearly pressing to hers.

xilonen grunts, pushing your body away. "i'm fine, really. i should get back to work-"

you scoff, finally having enough of her dismissive attitude. "okay, now i know something is wrong and you're just hiding it. you? finding an excuse to work? and not to mention after you've come home already. so, what's going on?"

you watch as she sighs, hand pushing her hair away from her face. "it's my rut." she says plainly, not one to beat around the bush. "normally, it's no problem for me. but for some reason i just... it's you." she bristles, catching you off guard.

"me?" your voice is sharp, confused as she finally sits up, ears flicking with irritation. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean it's you. i can't stop thinking about you. archons, you make it impossible for me." she shifts around in her seat, and for the first time, you finally notice the bulge in her shorts.

"oh- oh fuck. i'm sorry-" your eyes are wide, concerned, and archons, it makes xilonen harder imagining you looking up at her like that while she fucks you. "i didn't think- archons, you've been working like that all day?"

normally, you would avert your eyes until you were in the bedroom, but you just can't help yourself, eyeing her shyly. "you know, i'm your partner. if something is wrong, i want you to tell me plainly." your face feels hot as you finally make eyecontact with her again. "which obviously you did, and you're really good at it." you mumble.

she can tell you're embarrassed, but you collect yourself, slowly standing up and walking towards her chair.

you slowly ease into her lap, your clothed cunt pressing to her barely contained bulge as she hisses.

"fuck." her hands grab your hips, claws lightly digging in.

"why were you keeping your rut a secret? you know you can have me anytime you-"

"you don't understand." she asserts, her head falling forward, resting on your shoulder as she breathes softly against your neck. "it's more than just fucking you."

her sharp teeth graze your neck as her hand tugs your shirt down to give her access to your skin. "i need to breed you."

you go silent for a moment, feeling her press you down against her harder, the firmness pushed up to your clit. "xilonen-" you gasp for her, grabbing at her biceps. "yes- yes- please-"

she is about to argue, when you begin to roll your hips against her, wringing out gasps of her own.

she lifts you up with ease, your legs wrapped around her hips as she rushes the both of you to the bedroom. it's messy and hot, your tongues sliding over each other, sharp teeth making their home in your neck as she kicks the door open, tossing you onto the bed.

before you can sit up, she pushes you down, one of her hands easily caging both of yours down against the soft blankets. her tail tickles you as it sways, and her eyes trail slowly up your body, drinking you in.

your clothes are practically shredded off, and you find yourself on all fours, face pressed to the sheets with her tongue inside of your cunt.

she kneels for you, one hand holding you open while her other remains occupied, wrapped around her cock as she jerks herself off. you can feel her shaking from the movements, feel her moaning into your pussy, and it drives you insane.

her hips jerk up, cock sensitive and desperate to fuck you full as she pulls away, saliva connecting you to her as she pants. "are you ready?" she asks you gently, uncharacteristically, really.

you turn around, gently cupping your cheek, nodding as she mounts you, sliding herself through your wetness. before you can beg her, she begins to slide herself in.

you whimper, feeling that she's much bigger this time, and the spines are more pronounced. not painful, but designed to keep you locked together. your hands grasp the bedsheets. "xilonen- you're...why are you so-"

"i know," she grunts, her full chest smushed against your back. "sorry- m'sorry." she rushes to apologize, giving you kisses and licks across your skin as she stretches you further than you've ever felt with her.

you melt from how soft her voice is, how she tries desperately to restrain herself from fucking you roughly, like you know she wants to. you see claw marks in the sheets, hear her grunting and mumbling to herself, and so you lay lax beneath her. "fuck me- please...need it so bad-"

you don't even finish your sentence before she shoves herself impossibly deeper. generally, xilonen isn't one to have this much energy, though it seems she has much to spare in her rut with how she jackhammers into you.

she can't help but picture you as a cute, noisy little toy. you practically disappear under the size of her body anyways, and the grip your pussy had on her left her throbbing. her spines catch on your walls, refusing to let her out as you cry for her, hips grinding back against her cock.

she leans down, shoving you against the mattress, kissing your neck to get you to relax as she fucks you, leaving such a pretty bulge in your lower stomach. her hand smooths over your skin, groaning at the feel of herself inside you. all the while, you whimper for her, squirming beneath her body.

her fingers slide down to your clit, ensuring that you cum first. even in her rut-filled fantasies, she puts you first.

when it comes time to fill you up, she shoves herself as deep as she can, biting down on your shoulder, holding you still as you feel her cum flood your pussy.

your left speechless, writhing, yet being held still as you pant, your cries turning to soft little mumbles as she lays you on your side. she doesn't pull out, nor does she move, only flopping down next to you, pulling you close.

"xilonen..."

"mmm."

"i need to clean up."

xilonen only scoffs, peering one of her eyes open. "oh? but it'd be a waste. you didn't think we were done yet, right?"

[bueckersleftbraid]

a/n: a small preview of what’s to come in the next few days! super super excited about this one. Still not sure on a name so drop some suggestions in my inbox! anyways love you! xx

p.s. thank you for all the love on my pazzi as moms fic, means the world to me that you guys like it!! <3

————

Paige propped herself up on her shoulder in her bed, phone in hand, trying to fight the giddy smile that was threatening to spread across her face. She could see the excitement on Azzi’s face, and it made her chest feel light in a way only Azzi ever could.

“Az I can’t wait for you to move in- Caroline is excited too. We’ve been planning a- oh shit- I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that. Sorry!” Paige spoke quickly with excitement as she was on the phone with Azzi, almost managing to slip up about the surprise party that the whole team had planned on holding for her. 

On the other end of the call, Azzi chuckled softly. "Paige…"

"What? I didn’t say anything! You don’t know anything! I could’ve been talking about literally anything," Paige rushed out, biting her lip.

Azzi rolled her eyes, though the fondness in them was unmistakable. "Sure, P. Whatever you say."

She was the last of the freshman to move in- considering she was at the Steph Curry Camp the last 2 weeks, Geno gave her a pass to be late to summer training- and the others, Caroline and Amari, were already settled in Storrs.

Paige was ecstatic that Azzi had chosen UConn, considering it had always been their dream to play together. And, as feelings developed over the past 2 years and they because something in between best friends and more, neither of them could imagine their lives without each other. 

“I’m excited too P,” Azzi said as a soft smile spread crossed her face. Paige watched through the screen as the golden San Francisco sun bathed Azzi in its glow, highlighting the warmth in her brown eyes. They looked lighter in the sunlight, a shade closer to honey, and her tan skin practically shimmered beneath its rays. Paige knew she was staring, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Looks like Cali’s treating you well,” A faint smirk forming on the blonde face as she continued to gaze at the beautiful girl that stood on the other side of the country, but somehow felt so close.

“Yeah it is, can’t wait to be in Storrs though,” Azzi remarked as she brushed a small brown curl out of her face.

“Ima pick you up from the airport, just text me when you land okay?” Paige’s voice was soft, as it always was with Azzi, as if she was scared speaking to loud would scare the younger girl away.

“Sounds good, Talk later P,” Azzi gave her a smile, and she couldn’t help but admire the girls ocean blue eyes— ones that she had shared so many memories with. And her long blonde hair, which Azzi craved nothing more than to just be able to run her fingers through right in this moment.

“Yeah talk later,” Paige spoke before Azzi hung up the phone.

As the call ended, Paige let her phone rest on her chest, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed smile. She knew the moment Azzi got to Storrs, everything would change. They had spent so long pretending to be just friends, pretending the stolen glances and soft words didn’t mean something more. But now, they wouldn’t have distance to hide behind.

And truthfully? Paige wasn’t sure she wanted to pretend anymore.

[itgirlgyurecs]

i fucking finally read it and omg aaaaaaaah someone sedate me this was so fucking adorable and so insanely well written i can close my fuckin eyes and see it playing it out?!?!

first of all the entire layout, like the characterization of both characters, is sooo insanely well done and the world building is quite literally genius. hp you a literal genius! cause the ground work is so nuts i was here for the smut and stayed for the beautifully flowing story and their chemistry. the moments when we see both of their personalities shine through: like our oc is no meek person they are sooo proactive and cool esp standing against that one prof that gave them pain (ngl if that one prof wasn't old and a fucking annoying old fart of a person: he had that ONE LIKE that had me like 🤔😁).

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

now only imagine if halo effect was applied 👀🙏 okay no one? just me? okay…

like ofc vaughn is a piece of shit and then there's soobin, like even if he wasn't our lead, bro is just such a well written character. dudes like how a professor should be fr when he listened to oc about their troubles in the old fart’s class and then explained it TO THEM! MOTIVATED THEM NY TELLING HIM ABOUT HIS REASON TO STUDY CHEMISTRY (like again seeee the characterisation!!!)

and of course the ALMOST MOMENTS?!? WHEN THEYHAD THAT STUPID DELCIOUS CHEMISTRY LOOKING AT EACH OTHER AND THEN UNABLE TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER 🤭🤭🤭 SO FREAKIN DELICIOUS AND THE KISS! AND THE BACK AND FORTH BC OF THE TABOONESS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP?!? like that entire section my heart was at my mouth to see which one of them would break down first and become the one desperate BUT OH I WAS SO HAPPY TO REALISE BOTH OF THEM WERE! LOVE WHEN THE CHARACTERS ARE SOOOOOOO IN LOVE!

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students.

like are you kidding me?? +!? this is so adorable. This made my stomach flip soooo many times and the little exchange they had with their EYES AFTER JT THE SMILE?!?! that was such a subtle but impactful move like this fic does such a great job at building the dynamic and genuine sense of want and love between the characters.

and then we see the smut! the highlighted part and it's somehow a mirror reflection of their dynamic within the story. it's gentle, it's sweet but it's laced with the desperation that they both have for each other. it's such a sweet section, and I love when soobin becomes vulnerable with her because like omg he can like that with her, and she is soo giving, and accepting of him, like a flip of their dynamic in the real life. it's the perfect balance, they are soo accepting of each other. this shows that they prefer each other like that. it was soo needy, soo passionate and perfect I LOVED IT SOO MUCH!!

I'm so sorry this was SOO ALL OVER THE PLACE BUT HONEST TO GOD I ENJOYED IT SO MUCH THIS FELT LIKE ENRICHMENT TO MY HEALTH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH! I LOVE THE CHARACTERS SO MUCH AND THE WRITING! HP YOURE WRITING AND YOUR ABILITY TO BUILD THE STORY IS ALWAYS SO INSANE! legit felt like i was reading a book, like the sections in the beginning leading to how we see soobin and oc are together and the sweet build up to their chemistry! OMG JUST REALISED THE CHEMISTRY FOR THIS FIC IS INSANE SHE IS LIVING UP TO HER NAME!!!!!!!

AND THE TENSION IN BETWEEN IM SO GLAD WE HAD THAT PART BECAUSE even if the age isn't an issue they still were at a vulnerable spot at the power dynamics and im glad they waited for her break before they decide to do anything. and even the period when they tried to stay away and both parties looked like they were about to… ki..i mean like not doing well!.

and the ending is soooo sweet too I LOVE!!

office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader

cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k

“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.” 

Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries. 

Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus. 

Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.

“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow. 

-

“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.

Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk. 

“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous. 

“What can I do ya for?”

“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”

In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures. 

How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”

You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought. 

-

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class. 

"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.

Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."

Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.

"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."

Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind. 

"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"

"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."

"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"

"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.

You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift. 

A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue. 

"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."

-

Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks. 

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself. 

Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.

But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—

Professor Choi,  Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.  If not, no worries! 

Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home. 

The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you. 

Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not. 

“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.” 

“I can go if you need some time by—”

“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.

And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He asks.

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”

A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—

“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb. 

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”

In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.” 

That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class. 

He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.

“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.” 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”

You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.

“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”

Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing. 

“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”

-

The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any. 

The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours. 

You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own. 

On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else. 

“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.

He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.

But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.

“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”

“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.

“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.

“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.

“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer. 

The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake. 

You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed. 

- 

Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here. 

“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back. 

“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag. 

“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt? 

“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”

“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy. 

There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping. 

-

As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings. 

From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi

Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!” 

“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah—”

“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.

“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”

He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”

“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”

“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”

“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.

He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

-

“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips. 

“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump. 

If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him. 

“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag. 

“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat. 

You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you. 

“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk. 

You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.” 

“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles. 

Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. 

It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”

Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.

Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”

“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.

“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.

“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.

You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.

But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back. 

-

What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again? 

Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.

The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.

Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea. 

Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything. 

-

After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class. 

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face. 

As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now? 

You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing. 

Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream. 

Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy? 

You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks. 

Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!” 

Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up. 

-

“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.

You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss. 

“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”

“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush. 

“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.

“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”

“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”

He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”

“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.

His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”

You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”

He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.” 

But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two. 

It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer. 

When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week! 

Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore. 

-

After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.

hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?

soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow? 

how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you

You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back? 

i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs. 

be there in 45 :) 

-

Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it. 

Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you. 

“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment. 

The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV. 

“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice. 

“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.” 

Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?

He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.

“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.

“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.

You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?” 

“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?” 

Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.  

“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”

“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully. 

“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”

“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."

"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you. 

"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”

“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer. 

“Like what?” 

“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue. 

Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips. 

You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.

“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.” 

A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.

“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you. 

Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.

“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.

“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races. 

You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And he does.

It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?” 

Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.

“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”

“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak. 

“What is it?” You ask softly. 

“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath. 

“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.” 

“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.

“A year.” 

You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.

“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

-

As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?” 

“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.” 

“You touching my body or me touching yours?” 

He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips. 

You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?” 

Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.

After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.” 

Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs. 

“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently. 

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh. 

He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you. 

“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say. 

“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp. 

“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it. 

One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly. 

“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.

If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck. 

Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you. 

“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear. 

“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube. 

While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.

Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm. 

He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes. 

Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines. 

Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile. 

You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch. 

“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts. 

“Mommy?” 

“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.” 

“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.

“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.” 

“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to. 

“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste. 

There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.

But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much. 

It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows. 

And then it happens. 

You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you. 

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”

“What?” He chuckles. 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I told you I’m good at it.” 

“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.” 

Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away. 

“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you. 

“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”

“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”

And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more. 

As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously. 

“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”

“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere. 

“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.” 

“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now. 

Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck. 

“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice. 

He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf. 

“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—” 

"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"

“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—” 

“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there. 

He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit. 

But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—

“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”

“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy. 

And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling. 

But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips. 

“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.” 

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” 

Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers. 

“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient. 

Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you. 

Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else. 

All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you. 

Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little. 

And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it. 

Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?” 

You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years. 

Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically. 

“Please.” 

“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”

“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths. 

You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass. 

You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”

“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.

“Huh? About what?” 

“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.” 

“You weren’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.” 

His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait— 

“Was it good for you?”

“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?” 

“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”

“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly. 

“Why am I not surprised?” 

“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily. 

“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do. 

And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea. 

“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips. 

And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.” 

[lady-lostmind]

FILL ME UP

Written for @steddiebingo Get Lucky Prompt: Shots

Rating: T | WC: 1013

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie stumbles into the room, barely holding onto the shot glasses he has crowded in his hands, liquid sloshing out and dripping all along the floor. 

Steve groans and gestures to the mess. “Eddie! Come on man! Can we wait to destroy this place for like a single day?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and backtracks, swiping his socks over the spilled drinks. “There!”

Steve and Robin both look up at him from the couch in horror. Eddie ignores them and carefully sets the glasses on the coffee table, nudging a shot toward each of them. 

Eddie picks his up and holds it out, waiting. “Come on! We’re celebrating!”

Steve looks over to Robin and shrugs, picking his shot up. Robin rolls her eyes and grabs her. They clink glasses and throw them back with a grimace, Eddie bursting out laughing and bouncing on his feet. “I can’t believe we actually did it. No more fucking Hawkins.” 

Steve grins up at him fondly and puts his glass back on the table. “Alright, Munson. Fill me up.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide, his face turning bright pink as Robin chokes on a laugh. 

Steve’s brows scrunch together and he looks between them, confused. “What?”

Eddie shakes his head and scurries back to the kitchen to grab the bottle of shitty vodka. He comes back and refills all their glasses. “Nothing. Here–” 

He shoots Robin a glare when she snorts again. Steve eyes them both but Eddie just leans down and clinks their glasses again. They do this round and as soon as the glasses hit the table again, Eddie refills them. He takes his shot with him to the couch, squeezing in between them and nudging Robin’s knee when she chuckles again. “Do I have to cut you off already, Buckley?” 

That just makes her laugh even harder and has Steve leaning forward to look at her with a confused grin on his face. “Okay, seriously. What did I miss?”

Eddie shakes head. “Nothing! Just–” He clinks Steve’s shot with his and gives him a big smile as they down them. 

Robin scoffs. “You left me out. Great. It’s been one day and I’m already being demoted to third wheel.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, leaning forward to fill his glass again, holding it out so she can clink her glass with his. “Happy?” His face scrunches as he downs the shot. 

Robin nods, downing her own. 

Steve shakes his head. “Why would you think you’d be the third wheel, Robs?” His voice is laced with concern. 

Robin’s face drops a little, her eyes flicking to Eddie. “Uh–”

Eddie glares at her with wide eyes. He can tell she doesn’t have much of a filter right now. Maybe shots weren’t such a good idea. 

Robin shrugs. “You know. Just– living here with you guys…being guys. You know. I’m the only girl.”

Steve’s brow scrunches. “Yeah but–”

Eddie snags the bottle off the table again and pours Steve another shot, effectively distracting him from the conversation at hand. 

“Eds– I don’t want to get fucking wasted–” He shakes his head. “Whatever, fine.” He downs the shot and goes right back to the conversation.

Eddie sighs, his heart hammering in his chest. Great. They just moved in together and Eddie is already about to blow things with his stupid crush. He does another shot.

“You guys are being weird. What’s going on?” 

Eddie feels like his face is burning bright red. They haven’t even said anything that damning. But he can feel how tense Robin is next to him, desperately fighting not to blurt out Eddie’s secret. Because Steve is asking. And Robin can’t lie for shit. Especially when she’s drunk. And Steve is looking at her like his feelings are really hurt. And now he feels like he’s driving a wedge between them, and he hates that. And it’s not like Steve doesn’t already know he’s gay. He just doesn’t know–

“I have a crush on you.” Eddie stares at his feet, the shots really taking over as his mouth runs wild. “I have a stupid crush on you, and Robin knows so when you said–” Eddie sighs and trails off, wishing he could melt directly into the couch. 

Steve shakes his head. “When I said wh– wait. You have a crush on me?” 

Eddie takes a deep breath and lifts his eyes to Steve, and Robin’s shocked faces and gives a tiny nod. “Yeah. I mean. I know you aren’t–”

Steve’s mouth is on his mouth. Suddenly, and very fiercely. Eddie freezes and he swears he can feel his brain whirling around in his head as he tries to understand what the fuck just happened. 

Robin is cackling and muttering about it being about time, and Steve is pulling back with a shy grin, doubt filling his eyes. 

“Sorry. Uh– I–” Steve sighs, eyes flicking between Eddie’s mouth and his eyes. “You said– And I do too. So I just thought–”

Eddie is still frozen, staring at Steve with wide eyes. “What the fuck just happened?”

Robin smacks his arm. “He likes you too, idiot.” 

That finally makes it click. 

Steve kissed him. 

Steve kissed him. 

Steve kissed him. 

And now he’s looking away from Eddie like he fucked up because he’s sitting here like a jackass and didn’t kiss him back. Fuck. He didn’t kiss him back. 

Eddie lunges forward and pulls Steve back in, locking their lips together in a sloppy, alcohol fueled kiss, ignoring Robin’s protests and only stopping when Steve starts giggling against Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie pulls back with a confused look. “What’s so–”

“I asked you to fill me up.” 

That starts Robin’s cackling again, which only ramps up Steve’s laughter, and gets Eddie rolling too. He shrugs, eyeing Steve up and down. “I mean. That can be arranged, big boy.” 

Steve’s face drops in shock and Robin smacks his arm again. 

“Ew! Don’t do that in front of me! Don’t do that when I’m home!”

Eddie chuckles and flips her off as he leans back in to give Steve another kiss. 

[missmindyyy]

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭

someone new has moved into the neighborhood who’s seems like a rough giant

pairing: southern!Reiner x f!Reader

wc: 2.2k

divider by @i-kyujin and @diviniyae

“Someone new just moved into the complex,” Sasha teased. “A young guy, mid-20s, muscular build, short blonde hair, beard, and mustache. Totally your type, Y/n.”

You let out a little giggle, rolling your eyes at her playful grin.

“Now why do you think that,” you asked, amused.

“I don’t know, just do, you should bring him some cookies like you did for me when I first moved here,” she suggested.

“I don’t know, haven’t seen him once since he got here so I think he wants to be left alone,” you say with a shrug.

“Speaking of which, how do you even know what he looks like,” you asked.

“Oh well, I saw him heading to work one day while I was leaving to meet up with Connie and Jean,” she grinned.

“Okay good I thought you did some weird stalking shit,” you said in relief.

“Hey that only happened one time, and besides me and him are now dating that means it's your turn to find the one,” Sasha exclaimed.

You laugh once more, shaking your head at your friend's claim. “Maybe I’ll give him something depending if I have time,” you say finally giving in.

“Alright great, tell me if you do it,” she smiled, clearly enjoying herself.

You returned home later, realizing you had nothing planned after hanging out with Sasha. With a sigh, you decided to make the cookies. You felt a little nervous because you usually wouldn’t bother people if they don’t want to socialize.

And the new guy felt right in that category. You were only pushing yourself to bring him something because you trusted Sasha's judgement, maybe you will end up liking him.

After an hour the cookies are done, you slipped off your apron and stepped out your apartment, heading to the new guys a bit down the hall. You take a deep breath before knocking at the door.

For a good 30 seconds nothing is heard, but before you can turn back the door opens. A man around 6’1 opens the door and fits Sasha's description perfectly. Except for that she didn’t mention how muscular he actually was.

“May I help you ma’am?” His deep, southern accent made your heart skip a beat.

“Sorry to bother but you're new to the neighborhood and I bought you some homemade cookies,” You explained, a smile pulling at your lips.

“My name is Y/n L/n. I live a couple doors down from at 304, if you need anything you can always knock on the door,” you added.

He looked down at her for a bit, the tension behind his eyes slowly leaving as he listened to your introduction. “My name is Reiner Braun. Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Nice to meet you Reiner, it was nice meeting you,” you said. You handed him the cookies, and he took them with a smile before retreating back inside.

You thought it would be the last time you would see him, but fate had other ideas.

A few days later, you had bought a coffee table, and as luck would have it, the complex had no elevators. You groaned as you realized you’d have to drag it up three flights of stairs. But just as you were about to start hauling it yourself, you spotted Reiner returning from work.

“You need a hand,” he asked, surprising you.

“Um yes if you don’t mind,” you said, grateful.

“What’s in here,” he asked, rolling up sleeves to help lift it up.

“Well while shopping I saw this really cute coffee table, and I bought it,” you explained sheepishly.

Reiner lets out a chuckle which catches you off guard quite a bit. “Sorry, you just remind me of a friend, she was always buying things and would complain she has no money,” he explained, making you to laugh with him.

“Well thank you for helping me. Would you also help me set it up,” you asked. “Uh yeah,” he said.

“You're the best,” you exclaimed, causing him to get a bit flustered.

The two carry the box all the way to your apartment. “So where do you want the table to be,” he asked. “Over there by the couch,” you say back. “Also do you want anything for your troubles,” you added.

“Some water is fine, I don’t want to bother you too much,” he said.

“Coming right up,” you said cheerfully, heading to the fridge. When you returned with a bottle of water, Reiner was in the middle of assembling the table.

“Here you go,” you said, handing him the bottle.

“Thanks. I also forgot to mention your cookies were very good,” he said.

“Thanks, would you like some more to give you for your home,” you ask.

He pauses for a second thinking before responding, “yeah that would be nice,” he smiled.

You blinked in surprise, his smile was even more charming up close. “Um, yeah, of course,” you said, still a little entranced.

As time passes by you both talk about a bunch of things and causes the both of you to become less tense with one another. Once it hit 5, Reiner was finished, wiping off the sweat on his head.

“Thank you once again Reiner,” you say once again.

“No problem, if you ever need something just knock your always welcome,” he said. “Alright, thanks have a good day,” you said, waving him off to his apartment.

“Sasha you were right,” you groaned.

“What he’s your type,” she teases.

“Exactly my type, and you failed to mention how jacked he really was,” you exclaimed. Sasha laughs at you as you sulk at the thought of Reiner.

“Why do you make it such a bad thing,” she asked.

“I’m not it's just, I don’t know anything about him and I don’t want to knock on his door for no reason,” you explained.

“Try searching for his instagram, if he follows back you guys can start talking,” she suggested.

“Oh my gosh you're so smart why I didn’t think of that,” you say, whipping out your phone almost instantly.

The both of you look down at your phone intently, searching up his name on instagram.

You both searched for his profile, eventually spotting a picture of him posing in a gym mirror.

“Oh wait, is that him?” Sasha pointed,

You click on the profile and click on a highlight to see a photo of Reiner with a guy who was tall with black hair.

“Omg that’s him,” you and Sasha squeal, causing others in the cafe to look at you weird.

You guys continue to go through his highlights, he has a couple photos of him but a good majority is with his friends.

“He seems to have a good social life,” Sasha mused.

“Yeah but I barely see him leave unless it’s for work, or shopping,” you say.

“Well it doesn't matter. Follow him already!” she urged, glowing at the thought of her friend and Reiner.

You laugh before clicking on the follow button and a minute later he follows you back.

“He wants you bad girl,” Sasha teased.

“You're pushing it, Sasha,” you joked.

Sasha smirked. “Alright, here’s the plan: a few days from now, post something, and if he likes it, you’ve got to make a move.”

“You and these plans, you're so unserious,” you said. “Fine, do it your way but he definitely wants you,” she said.

You sigh looking back at his page, maybe you will try it out.

A couple days pass and you decide instead of doing Sasha's plan, you post a relatable quote about groceries prices.

An hour later you get a dm from Reiner responding about how atrocious the prices were becoming. And after that the conversation continued and flowed smoothly.

There were no awkward pauses and they even called later that night. Since then the two who call, text and even hang out at each other's apartment.

Finally, Reiner got the courage to ask you out on a date.

“Bro Sasha I’m nervous this is my first date in a year,” you say over the phone.

“You're going to be fine, you hang out so many times these couple of months, you’ll be fine I promise” she reassures.

You let out a sigh, Sasha right you should be completely fine.

“Your right girl, I should be fine, I’ll call you after the date,” you say.

“You better get laid or at least a kiss or I’m going to be mad,” she teased.

“Bye Sasha,” you say, ending the call.

You touch up your makeup a bit, before you hear a knock on the door. You take a deep breath and open the door to see Reiner holding flowers.

“I, uh, got you some flowers,” he said awkwardly.

“Thank you Reiner, let me put them inside and then we can head out,” you smile.

He nods and watches you head back inside to put the flowers away, before reappearing back outside.

“So where are we going,” you ask.

“A fair,” he replied. “I thought a restaurant was too formal, since we’ve already gotten to know each other.”

“Ooh I’m excited,” you said with a smile.

The ride to the fair was fairly quiet, the radio taking up most of the silence.

Once there, you and Reiner look around for things to do.

“Ooh look we can play some games or try some food, or go on rides. There are so many things to do,” you exclaimed, making Reiner laugh.

“Let’s start off with the games first,” he suggested. “Good idea” you say.

The first game was a basketball toss, and while Reiner got a large stuffed animal, you managed to win a smaller one.

The next game was the rope ladder game. That game was not the best for you. You feel a couple of times and Reiner got close to the end he fell which caused you both to laugh.

You guys play a couple more games before going on the rides. One thing you learned about Reiner and that the rides did not really phase him, he had the same expression on his face the whole way through.

The only time you would see a change was if he looked in your direction and smiled or laughed at how scared you were. That led you to realize that he didn’t laugh or smile as often as you think.

He is a calm person like when you first met him. He only started showing different emotions once you guys got to know each other and you thrived on seeing him happy.

Finally at the end of the night Reiner had convinced you to go on the ferris wheel. You first turned down the idea, but after a lot of convincing you decided it wasn’t going to hurt.

“So did you like tonight,” he asked as the ferris wheel reached its peak.

“Yeah I did, never seen you show so much emotion in one night,” you teased, making him smile.

He turned toward you, his gaze softening. “I get that a lot from my friends.”

The view outside was breathtaking, and you both sat in a comfortable silence for a while. “It’s beautiful,” you say breathfully. “Yeah,” he said in a low voice.

Finally, Reiner turned to you again. “You look good in this lighting,” he said quietly.

You smile, grabbing onto his hands. “You look good when you smile,” you said, causing him to blush slightly.

“For someone who is really big looking, you're just a gentle giant,” you teased.

Reiner laughed softly. “I’m just not used to those compliments.”

You smile at him and he does the same. He moves from his side of the ferris wheel to your side, looking into your eyes. He grabs your cheek, his lips hovering yours.

“May I,” he asked, looking between your lips and your eyes.

You swallowed, your lips parting slightly. You nodded, barely able to breathe, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes,” you whispered back, the word barely escaping your lips

Slowly, carefully, his lips hovered over yours, the tension in the air being cuttable. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade away. It was just you and him, suspended in this quiet, beautiful moment.

And then, with a soft exhale, his lips met yours.

It was gentle at first, as if he was waiting for a sign that you were okay with it. You melted into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching up to hold onto him, feeling his warmth, his strength.

The kiss deepened slowly, both of you exploring, your breaths mingling, the world outside forgotten. Reiner’s lips were soft but sure against yours, a contrast to the calm, collected exterior he often showed. It was a kiss that spoke of everything unspoken, the connection, the silent understanding that had been growing between you for weeks.

When he finally pulled away, it was like breaking the surface of water after diving deep. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily, as if you’d just run a marathon.

Reiner smiled again, a little breathless, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“You good?” he asked, his voice still low, but now with that familiar warmth that made your heart race all over again.

You laughed softly, still feeling the buzz of the kiss lingering. “Yeah, I’m good,” you whispered, your hand resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat match yours.

And there, in that quiet moment, everything felt right.

[growth-opportunities]

Remember that one time at band camp where you grew massive boobs?

Jackie didn't really believe it. I mean, come on. A boob note? A tone that can be played to make tits grow bigger? That was just the brown note, but made up by slightly older boys who had just discovered that boobs were a good thing. But, then again, Wendy did play the Saxophone. She was cool. A nose ring and an undercut beneath her long, purple hair cemented it. Jackie's long-time crush on her fellow bandmate made her slightly gullible, eager to believe anything the woman said, but even this stretched credulity. Although, Jackie had her own reasons for wanting it to be true. The blush creeping into her cheeks betrayed the embarrassment that she was trying so hard to hide.

"...Okay, let's pretend for a moment that such a thing does exist. Like, how would that even work?" Jackie's question was not accompanied by any kind of eye contact. "Would the person listening to it just grow? And what about the person playing the note? It's not like sound can pick and choose a target."

"I dunno," Wendy mused. "Maybe it's a tinkerbell sort of thing. It only works if you believe in it." She grinned, sliding closer to her friend on the hotel bed. The space between them all but disappeared. "Why, you interested in trying it out?"

The feeling of Wendy's breasts, D cups as the confident saxophonist had once confided in her, made Jackie's breathing stop for a moment. "I... I mean- Eep!"

Wendy didn't let her flustered roommate finish her thought, giving her cheek a quick peck. "Goodness, you are so cute to play with."

Jackie couldn't move. The feeling of the kiss lingered on her cheek and the beating of her heart thundered in her ear. It was all too much. She felt like she might faint. Her thoughts raced and raced and went nowhere at all, perfectly distracted as Wendy got up and began moving about. What did the kiss mean? Does Wendy want more? God, her tits felt so good against my arm...

"Alright, ready!"

Wendy's declaration snapped Jackie out of her trance, suddenly looking over at Wendy in a chair, her saxophone all set up. Licking her lips gave one last distraction, wondering how it would feel to kiss them properly, delaying her objection as Wendy put her lips on the mouthpiece and-

HOOOOONK!

It sounded like a goose being strangled into a broken megaphone. The dissonant sound hung in the air, echoing off the walls of the small hotel room, Jackie staring at Wendy with wide eyes. Soon, silence was all that was left, the two women unsure what to say. Jackie giggled. Wendy chuckled. Laughter built, feeding off of each other, until both women could barely breath.

"That- ha! That was it, huh? The fabled Boob Note?!"

Wendy rolled on the ground, holding her middle. "I guess! Wow, that was fucking dumb."

The tremors and aftershocks of laughter took a full fifteen minutes to pass, the two women finally given a chance to catch their breath. Jackie readjusted her clothes as she stood up and stretched. The late hour meant it was best to start getting ready for bed, trying not to make a big deal about pulling her shirt over her head in front of her crush. "Well, that was a fun experiment. Let's hope no one in the room nextdoor heard it, otherwise they might wake up-"

Wendy pulled herself up into a seated position, looking up at her friend. A look of concern flashed across her face. "Hey, Jackie?"

"Yeah? What-" Wendy's concern gave Jackie concern of her own, following her gaze down to her chest.

"Holy shit!"

Jackie's hands moves swiftly to her chest, confirming what she had both feared and hoped. The bulges rising out of her bra were actually her tits. Her cute, modest handfuls had been replaced with massive boulders, more bursting out than was still inside the cups. "What the fuck... What the fuck... The boob note is fucking real? Wendy, what did you do to me?!"

Wendy scrambled to her feet. "I don't know! I don't know! It wasn't supposed to be real, I just saw something online..." The closer Wendy got to Jackie, the bigger the tits seemed to be. For the first time in a long time, Wendy felt small. It wasn't a big margin, but the fact that they had changed at all was significant. The playful air in the room was quickly replaced with one of tension, the two women excited by the prospect of what they had just discovered. Jackie bit her lip.

"H-hey, Wendy?"

"Yeah, Jackie?"

"...think you can hit that note again?"

Wendy broke into a wide grin, giving Jackie's tits a firm squeeze, prompting Jackie to break out in a lewd moan. "You greedy minx! I'll see what I can do, but only if I get to suck on them afterwards!"

[jelloapocalypse]

First off, incredible video, it was extremely Jibun-wo to see digimon make the cut! That being said, I gotta know, would Dandadan have made top 10 if it hadn't come out past the cut off point? It feels like such a slam dunk

Aha okay I am happy someone asked me about this.

So. If I am being dead honest with you? If I am being a trillion percent real? Even if it came out three years ago, Dandadan would probably not make the list, and if it was on it it'd be pretty low. Like high 90s maybe.

I did a temperature check with Amy just to see if I was crazy after watching it a few times and she came to the came conclusion I did: The Creepy Nuts song absolutely slaps and is insanely catchy. No surprise there, it's Creepy Nuts, they're awesome and you should check out their stuff.

Watch this little clip of them in real time. The way their bodies flow as they perform (see 0:37) is mesmerizing. I love it.

That being said, I think Dandadan's visuals are just Pretty Good™.

Most of the shots are flat pop art colors with A Weird Creature on them and big text. It's not bad, but it's also not exceptional and it doesn't tell me a lot about the series. Speaking as someone who hasn't watched Dandadan and doesn't know what it's about, I'm still not really sure! Seems like the glasses boy... can transform into a Creature? And they fight... aliens? So it's like Kaiju No. 8, maybe? Looks like a shonen. That's all I got. Speaking as an outsider, it doesn't really have any kind of thematic hook or solid show pitch.

BRIGHT COLOR + BIG TEXT is a current trend in, like, Netflix openings that I'm not a huge fan of. It's a lot of POP but not a lot of substance, if that makes sense.

There are some shots where the stylization hits harder than others. Big fan of the song credit in this one. It's creepy and weird in a hypnotizing sort of way.

The rest of the shots in this style with monsters just make me think "Oh, ok. There's monsters? What makes these monsters cool or unique?" And the opening doesn't really answer that question, which I think is an issue when a solid third of your OP is just shots of the monsters.

I should say, I loooove that slow part in the middle of the song. But I mostly like it because of the song, the visuals aren't really doing anything for me.

It doesn't help my opinion of the OP that this shot with the girl wiggling her hand around is the one that shows up in all the Top 100 lists and New Anime OP quizzes. I think this motion is a few frames short of looking good, tbh.

If I had to guess, this is because this show is made by Science Saru. They make lots of cool weird shit like Lu Over the Wall and The Night is Short, Walk On Girl and their style is a mixture of high-effort anime with wild, almost rubberhosey western animation influences. They also did Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, which I think looks gorgeous. I also think you can absolutely tell it's the same studio if you watch both OPs side by side.

Oh hey, look at that. A Netflix OP with big thick text over bright pop art colors with traditional media textures overlaid on top of it.

Science Saru is an incredibly talented studio and they're much more artistically daring than most of their colleagues, but I think they're at their best when they get to work with a very unique artstyle, like the ones you see in Walk on Girl and Scott Pilgrim. The Dandadan characters being closer to "regular" anime proportions doesn't work as well with their slightly more staggered style (i.e. the money shot of the girl moving her arm with a low frame count).

If you ask me? I think these OPs are pretty close in quality to each other. Both quite good, neither quite exceptional. Dandadan is better though, mostly because the Creepy Nuts song is so good.

I think that's where most of the hype for this opening is coming from. Creepy Nuts is at the height of their popularity in the anime community right now. Anime fans got a taste of them with Call of the Night, a series named after one of their songs, and people loved that opening but it didn't "pop off". Then Mashle came and it went megaviral. Everyone loves the second Mashle opening because everything about it slaps. It's so good. It also shows you a lot about the character of the protagonist and the show itself. The way Muscle Mob stays unflappable no matter what happens and the way his friends react to his antics show off the show's gimmick (One Punch Man at Hogwarts) very well, and it shows the dynamic he has with the rest of the cast. He doesn't give a shit. It looks kinda funny. Plus the way they use the character face tattoos to accent different shots is inspired. Very cool!

I've heard pretty universally that Mashle is kind of a bad show. But do you know how many people I know were tricked into trying it because of that opening? Its like seven of them. That's some wild advertising power. Sure, Mashle doesn't have a lot going on, but the opening pitches what it does have so well that you can't help be a little bit interested in checking it out.

Dandadan just doesn't really do that for me. I look at it and I think "Oh, okay. Cool Creepy Nuts song."

I think a large amount of Dandadan's popularity as an opening is just that people are excited for more Creepy Nuts. They were relatively unknown (at least in the west) by the time Call of the Night came out and lots of artists only do one anime opening and never touch the medium again. Mashle was a sidewinder. It came out of nowhere and proved that Creepy Nuts were not only willing to do more openings, but they were willing to crush it every time. Both of the shows they did songs for have GOAT openings.

Then it was announced fuckin' Science Saru was adapting Dandadan and the NUT BOYS were gonna be returning to do the opening? Everyone was so hyped for it. And guess what! It was really cool! They did it, yet another cool opening. They set expectations and met them pretty well while they were directly in the middle of the public eye, and I'm so happy for Creepy Nuts, I hope they make fuckin' millions off this because they deserve it.

But! I don't think the Dandadan OP has the spice the other two openings they worked on do.

Call of the Night is an incredible opening. Cool dynamic between the main two characters with evocative visuals from start to finish. The psychic vampire bite? The film-making language and clackerboard? So much fun. Diagetic lyrics. A fake-out pause in the middle of the song. Half the shots are upside down and they did it on purpose. It's a great execution of a cool artistic vision. Legit one of the strongest OPs ever made.

Mashle season two comes out. Incredible opening. Sick urban street punk rapper flare to it. The characters walk in front of graffiti, the protagonist raps about how his haters have nothing on him and he can kick everyone's ass just because he's the best. Animation that far outstrips the stuff present in the actual show. Cool artistic vision, hella execution.

Dandadan is like a pretty cool 2020s opening that happens to have a Creepy Nuts song, and you get the sense the studio was told "Hey, Mashle's second opening has like 80 million views on YouTube. We got Creepy Nuts. Do that, please." And they did! It's a similar mix of bright colors, rap, and mixed media. Mashle has grafitti, Dandadan has the texture of spray paint stencils. Looks cool! Kinda looks like Mashle, but weirder and more abstract. And that's fine! Is it list material? Ehhhh. Is it Top 10 material like some comments are claiming? Abso-lutely not. Absolutely creepy nots.

In terms of VMCTJ, the Dandadan opening has S-tier music and above-average visuals and credits. I think the theming is middle-of-the-road and there honestly aren't any Jennies for me at all. Amy and I have sort of trained ourselves so that any OP where the music does most of the heavy lifting kind of gets put on the backfoot right away, because nothing shoots an opening to popularity like a fuck jam and you need to be wary of that when judging them all on the same criteria.

So anyways, yeah! Dandadan is pretty good. I'd hesitate to lock it in anywhere in the Top 100, but I think my gut would place it somewhere between like... 160-140. That's still REALLY good, but I do have to think at least some of the comments asking about it on Patreon and YouTube are fueled at least in part by a love for Creepy Nuts and more than a bit of recency bias.

Hope that answers your question, lmao

[jes3icasriley]

late night confessions - tlou

paring - Ellie Williams x fem!reader/ Ellie Williams x miller!reader

summary: Ellie had been drowning in a feeling she could no longer ignore—was it love? It gnawed at her, restless and undeniable, until she finally turned to Tommy for advice, knowing Joel would lose his mind if he found out. Tommy’s answer was simple: get up and confess. And so, she did—knocking on your window, heart pounding, ready to spill everything.

Ellie knew she was screwed ever since she saw you standing alongside Joel and Tess. Not in the life-or-death kind of way—not like when she was running from infected, dodging bullets, or nearly dying by a group of hunters. No, this was worse. These were feelings. And worse than that, they were feelings for you—Joel’s daughter.

Which meant she was really screwed.

She didn’t know when it started. Maybe it was the first time you stood up for her against Joel, saying she wasn’t some dumb kid who needed to be babysat. Maybe it was the way you laughed—really laughed—when she made some dumb joke. Or maybe it was just you, always you, existing in a way that made her heart do things it shouldn’t be doing.

But there was no way in hell she was telling Jesse or Dina about it. Jesse would make fun of her for life, and Dina? Dina would absolutely run straight to you with the biggest, dumbest grin on her face. So Ellie did what any completely rational person would do in her situation—she went to Tommy.

The decision was made in a panic. She hadn’t even planned it. One minute she was helping him kill stragglers out on patrol, and the next, she was blurting out, “I think I’m dying.”

Tommy had blinked at her, understandably confused. “Uh… what?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me..” Ellie mumbled, dragging her hands down her face. “I feel all… weird. It’s like where my stomach does this thing…like, like a tummy ache or some shit—whenever I see her, and my hands get all sweaty, and my mouth just stops working!”

Tommy frowned. “Who’s ‘her’?”

Ellie looked at him, looking around the area, almost seeming to want to ignore that question until she gulped. She sighed, cursing at herself, then actually telling Tommy.

“Yn..” she whispered, mostly to herself. Tommy moved his head to the side, giving Ellie that look like “speak up, I can’t hear shit” so she did just that.

“Urgh… y/n, okay? I don’t know, it’s… Complicated.”

Tommy stared at her for a long moment before a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Ohh. Ohhh.” He nodded, clearly enjoying this way too much. “You got yourself a little crush, huh?”

Ellie groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? Like the truth?” Tommy smirked, nudging her with his elbow. “Wow, Ellie. You really went and fell for good old y/n? You sure you’re not actually dying?”

Ellie let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back against a nearby tree. “Might as well be. If Joel finds out, he’s gonna kill me.”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, he won’t kill ya. Probably just glare at you real hard until you wither away.”

Ellie groaned again. “Not helping.”

“Alright, alright.” Tommy held up his hands in surrender. “Look, it’s simple—if she makes you all sweaty and dumb, you like her.”

“Wow. Thanks, Doc,” Ellie deadpanned.

“You want my advice or not, smartass?”

Ellie huffed but nodded.

“Just tell her.”

Ellie made a noise like she was physically in pain. “Are you insane? Joel would totally kill me. He’d turn me into boots, Tommy.”

Tommy shook his head with a small snort. “C’mon, Joel ain’t that bad.”

Ellie cocked her head towards him, giving Tommy a deadpan look.

“…Alright, yeah, he’s that bad,” Tommy admitted, laughing. “But I’ll tell you what—if he tries anything, I’ll take the blame. Tell him I put you up to it.”

Ellie stared at him, eyes wide with genuine horror. “You would die.”

Tommy grinned. “Eh, maybe. But it’d be funny.”

With that so-called “advice,” it led her to now. Standing outside your window like some creep, hands sweating, heart racing, trying to convince herself not to run away.

She knocked—too loud, too aggressive—before immediately panicking and knocking again, this time way too soft. She cursed herself, looking around the night of Jackson.

Maybe she still had time to run away and forget even confessing—until a few seconds passed before the curtain shifted, and then suddenly, there you were. Sleepy-eyed, confused, and unfairly pretty even in an old shirt and sweatpants.

“Ellie?” Your voice was groggy, and God, why did you have to sound cute right now? “What are you doing?”

Ellie opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

Shit. She should’ve planned this out.

“Okay, uh—so, funny story.” Ellie scratched the back of her neck, shifting on her feet. “You know how, like, sometimes you think you’re dying, but it turns out you have, like, emotions?”

You blinked. “Ellie, what—”

“I like you,” Ellie blurted, then immediately winced. “I-mean yeah, I like you. A whole lot actually. And I didn’t know what the hell was going on until Tommy—yeah, Tommy—explained it, which, by the way, super embarrassing—”

“Ellie.”

“—but then I figured I should tell you before I implode or Joel literally murders me—”

“Ellie!”

She finally shut up.

You just stared at her for a long moment, eyes scanning her face like you were trying to make sense of her rambling. Then—before she could fully process what was happening—you reached out, grabbed the collar of her hoodie, and pulled her forward, pressing your lips against hers.

Ellie froze.

Oh.

Oh.

She barely had time to react before you pulled back, searching her face with an expression she couldn’t quite place. “Does that answer your whole… thing?”

Ellie, who was still short-circuiting, managed to let out a very intelligent, “Huh?”

You laughed—soft, amused, ridiculously fond. Your cheeks matching her flushed ones, Ellie staring at you, then your lips again.

“I guess you can say I like you too?”

“I guess? What does that mean–”

“I’m kidding, I really–really like you too.”

Ellie blinked. Then blinked again.

Then—“Holy shit.”

You grinned, tugging her inside before Joel could wake up and murder her on the spot. Your hands still on her collar, pressing your lips against her cheek, a soft hitch coming out of Ellie.

You pulled back, your eyes scanning Ellie’s freckled cheeks and nose, turning a bright pink color as she placed her hand on the spot where you kissed her. Then, the stupidest—goofiest grin appeared on her face as she leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. You cupped her cheeks in your hands, deepening the kiss as the nerves left Ellie’s system and melted into the kiss.

Maybe, confessing wasn’t such a bad thing after all?

hiiI! So this is my first post, hoped you guys enjoyed it! And thank you soo soo sooo much for reading!

[evermoredeluxe]

rant ahead.

seeing people villainize omark is weird to me. like yes you can absolutely be mad at him for being condescending to imark or not seeing the full humanity of innies, but to say that he’s The Evil Character and having no empathy for him is not the point. you’re obviously supposed to have empathy for the innies (and btw i totally see why imark chose 10 mins in hell with helly over choosing doing what omark would’ve done), but that doesn’t mean that you can’t feel for the outies simultaneously.

i saw someone talking about how omark is a man in his 40s and was a history professor so he should’ve known better and not gotten severed etc, and yes while i may agree that falling for a capitalist company is not the smartest move and he created imark, he didn’t do it because he wanted imark to bear his pain; he actually did it so he imark could be pain-free! mark’s life was built with gemma, in losing her he lost himself, and he was literally an alcoholic and not in his right state of mind when he got severed. this cult company literally targeted gemma and him to be their test subjects and manipulated both of them. severance is obviously a controversial procedure in society in the show, but there’s still a side of society that is not necessarily against it because no one knows what goes on down there. lumon sold the severance procedure to omark in the prettiest wrapping paper. they told him his innie would be content and this is all for work/life balance and they told him that he is a person, his innie isn’t. they didn’t tell him the implications of their lies (which they actually believe to be true) about innie’s not being real people and being sub-human. ofc a smarter version of mark may have called bullshit on it, but he was literally down in the deepest dumps known to man.

omark made a mistake and currently he is failing to see his innie with humanity, but consider that gemma means more to him than whatever self-torture he is doing. people applauding odylan for seeing idylan and giving him agency (as they should!), but ignoring that that’s another man who chose to undergo severance, and so by their logic, he is evil too. what does that say about you view odylan’s intelligence? it’s a tv show, and yes omark is imark’s antagonist in ways, and typically the audience is supposed to hate the antagonist, but consider that you can have empathy for him and root for his happiness despite the fact that he made mistakes. it’s very human of him to make bad decisions after his loss and it’s okay to be gracious towards him.

same with helena btw. i absolutely think she is evil just by the virtue of being the eagan heiress. she literally chose to undergo severance to benefit lumon and spied on innies and assaulted imark and so much other fucked up shit. despite all of that, the audience is allowed to have sympathy for her and what she has gone through life with her father and how she has never experienced love, and also how she’s been brainwashed and indoctrinated since she was a child. would love a reality where young helena grows up and unlearns all the eagan bullshit, but that’s not the reality and we’re allowed to feel for her for that.

lastly, people pick and choose to fit stuff into their narrative. hating omark, but liking milchik? im not against liking milchik because he too is a victim and faces so many microaggressions and all, but he is still on lumon’s side so how do these people justify liking him? you are allowed to sympathize with the characters because they are all victims of lumon, it’s okay and it doesn’t make you a bad watcher with no philosophical knowledge or a bad human being with no moral code.

[belit0]

Hey lovely! this is my first time requesting. Could you do a story where the reader leaves on her wedding night, running away from a marriage she never wanted? After running for hours, exhausted and desperate, she stumbles into Uchiha territory, where she is discovered by the Uchihas.

Tension rises as he questions her presence. Was she just a lost bride, or was there more to her story?

(Could you include all the Uchihas, especially Madara)

Hello love! Welcome! I hope you place many more requests, this one was great!!!

Madara

The night is cold.

Madara stands before her like a monolith of shadow, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight, arms folded over his chest in an unmistakable stance of power. His expression—cut from stone—betrays nothing, but his eyes, burning like coals in the dark, pin her in place.

-You’re far from where you should be.

(Y/N) doesn’t speak. She can’t. Her breath is ragged, her limbs weak from the hours she spent running, and the weight of his presence is suffocating.

Madara’s gaze flicks downward, taking in the embroidered silks of her wedding attire—torn at the hem, stained with dirt and blood from where she must have stumbled. His jaw tightens.

-Were you running from someone?

Silence.

A single step forward, slow, deliberate.

-Or something?

She sways on her feet but doesn’t answer.

Madara exhales through his nose, a sharp, measured sound, and suddenly she knows—he doesn’t like uncertainty. He doesn’t like not knowing. And he will not be patient forever.

-Speak.

(Y/N) swallows, throat dry, and forces herself to meet his gaze.

-I had no choice.

Madara watches her for a long moment. The air between them is thick, weighted with something unreadable. Then, he tilts his head, voice lowering to something almost gentle.

-You always have a choice.

His fingers twitch—an impulse, perhaps, to grab her, to keep her from running again. But he does not move. Instead, he watches, waiting, gaze heavy with something she cannot yet name.

She doesn’t know whether she has run into salvation or something far worse.

Izuna

-A runaway bride.

Izuna leans against a tree, arms crossed, head tilted as he grins.

-That’s new.

(Y/N) glares. She is breathless, trembling, but stubborn. She had fought to make it this far, and she won’t let herself be toyed with now.

Izuna takes a step forward, and something in his posture shifts—his amusement, though present, does not soften the way he watches her.

-You came all this way just to stumble into my clan’s lands?- A quiet chuckle. -That’s bold.

-I didn’t mean to,- she snaps, frustrated, exhausted.

-Oh?- His smirk widens. -Then where were you running to?

She hesitates. And Izuna notices.

His gaze sharpens, the glint of something dangerous flashing beneath his easy charm.

-You weren’t just running away,- he murmurs, stepping closer. -You were running toward something.

Her breath catches.

And Izuna, ever perceptive, ever shamelessly intrigued, watches the way she reacts with genuine delight.

-Well, then.- His fingers brush her chin, lifting it just slightly. -I do love a good mystery.

(Y/N) jerks away.

Izuna only laughs.

Obito

He finds her in the rain.

Obito had been patrolling the outskirts, soaked to the bone, cursing under his breath about how unlucky he was to be assigned to this duty of all things when he heard the sound—a choked breath, a sharp inhale.

And then he saw her.

Dripping wet. Shivering. Barely standing.

His first instinct was panic.

-Shit—hey, are you—?

He moves fast, catching her just before she can collapse.

Her hands grip his cloak, trembling, desperate, holding on as if letting go would mean death.

Obito stares.

-What the hell happened to you?

She doesn’t answer. Just shakes her head, eyes wild, as if even forming words is too much.

Obito swallows, heart pounding. He should call someone. He should alert the others. But—

Her fingers tighten. Don’t let go.

And suddenly, his arms tighten around her, as if something instinctual won’t allow him to step away.

-Okay. Okay, I got you.

Obito doesn’t know who she is. He doesn’t know why she ran, or what she’s running from.

But he knows that kind of fear.

And he won’t leave her to face it alone.

Shisui

-You really have bad luck, huh?

(Y/N) jerks, startled by the voice above her.

She looks up—Shisui is perched on a tree branch, casually swinging his legs, looking down at her like he’s just found the most interesting thing in the world.

His eyes glint.

-Most people who run away don’t end up in Uchiha territory.

(Y/N) grits her teeth. She is cold, drenched in sweat, her body still aching from the run, and the last thing she needs is a smug stranger looking at her like she’s entertainment.

-And yet, here you are.

He leaps down effortlessly, landing just before her, standing close enough that she stiffens.

His gaze flicks over her—the torn silks, the bruises on her arms, the exhaustion in her stance. And in an instant, his teasing fades.

- …Did someone chase you?

The concern in his voice is genuine.

(Y/N) doesn’t answer.

Shisui watches her, silent, considering. And then—

-You must be exhausted.

She blinks.

Before she can react, he steps behind her, crouching slightly—

-Hop on. I’ll carry you.

(Y/N) stares at him, baffled.

-What? No—

-You look like you’re about to drop dead. C’mon, I promise I don’t bite. A playful smirk. Unless you want me to.- He only laughs.

Itachi

He finds her in the early dawn.

It is quiet.

Too quiet.

(Y/N) is hunched over, trembling, knees in the dirt, arms wrapped around herself as if to contain something breaking inside her.

Itachi watches her for a moment before stepping forward.

-You should not be here.

Her head jerks up.

She had not noticed him approach.

A mistake.

She stares at him—dark robes, the quiet intensity in his expression, the way his gaze, though not unkind, holds nothing she can read.

-I— Her voice breaks. She swallows. -I didn’t mean to—

-I know.

Silence stretches between them.

Itachi’s gaze flickers over her state—she has been running for hours.

-If you are looking for refuge, he says, calm, this is not the safest place to find it.

(Y/N) exhales shakily.

-Then why haven’t you sent me away?

A pause.

Itachi studies her. The way she trembles, yet holds herself upright. The way she fears him, yet does not back down.

Finally, he speaks.

-Because I do not believe you have anywhere else to go.

Her breath catches.

And Itachi—silent, unreadable, calculating—waits.

[neonacity]

JUST MY LUCK | NJM x F. READER [PROLOGUE]

Summary: you were tired of life. He is hope personified. What happens when destiny decides to give you one last chance in the person of Na Jaemin?

Genre/Warnings: mentions and allusions to suicide and self-harm. Cursing. Alcohol is mentioned and consumed. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF THESE ARE YOUR TRIGGERS. Minors do not interact.

Slice of life. Romance. Angst. Reader is in her early 30s, Jaemin is 25. Appearances from other Dream members. Might include smut in next chapters, who knows. Not proofread.

So I saw Jaemin driving and felt so... inspired. Here's to my comfort person.

You wanted to die.

You wish there is another way you can phrase it, but there is no level of sugar coating or patronizing self-lie that can take off the edge of that one thought that keeps ringing in your goddamn head right now.

You wanted to die. You want all of this to end—the act of living, breathing, and thinking to simply disappear. You did not want to exist one more minute and spend energy wishing that the pain would end, or wondering when it would end.

Now that you feel almost detached to your body, you can’t even remember what the last thread is for you. Maybe it was the way your boss told you that your promotion is going to be given to his newest assistant, a booby, bouncy 22-year old who joined the company only six months prior. “She is a talented young girl,” he told you as he sat you down for coffee to break the news. It took you everything to ask if she is talented with her mouth or cunt as you sat there, sipping on your scalding hot cup of poison.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’ve found out your boyfriend of seven years has been cheating on you that has done it. It was a pretty cliche reveal to be honest, except it was you being fucked over so you couldn't really laugh at it. Fiance got too close to your wedding planner, and you, the supposed bride walks in on them with his tongue down her throat. Pretty classic. Almost bad movie type of corny ass shit even. Yet it still hurt like a bitch because you were the butt of the joke.

So now you have been fucked over twice, and not even in a good way. Ten years spent working for a company who ran you through hell and seven years of relationship both down the drain. You’re spent. Done. You’re old and tired and simply no longer give a fuck.

“Damn it,” you mumbled under your breath now as you lifted the empty bottle of wine in front of your face. Your vision was blurry as you glared at it, until you decided to just throw it out of the way. You thought you heard someone give a startled sound from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t care enough to look around as you buried your hands on the pockets of your coat to warm them from the cold.

Squinting, you placed your attention instead on what’s in front of you. The highway across the shop where you are currently hunkered over is already washed by road lights as twilight fell deeper, and cars zoomed across it all intent on hurrying to whatever destination they have to be. How convenient, you thought. You wish you also have somewhere you have to be. Maybe then, you wouldn’t feel so lost.

It took you just a short moment before you decided to move from your spot. Sniffling under the cold of early spring, you took a step towards the road. Another step. Then another. Maybe you do have somewhere to be after all. All you need is just a few more steps to get to that destination.

“Hey! Stop! Hey!”

You barely registered it when you were suddenly yanked back with such force that the air was knocked out of you. Instead of falling flat on your back, however, you felt something warm cushion your form. Strong arms supported your shoulders as your body sagged further, and the next thing you know you were being gently shaken. You tried looking at whoever was the culprit, but your vision was already dimming that you could barely make out a face.

“Hey, miss! Are you okay?”

You frowned. What a stupid question. You were about to be okay, but he had to get in the way.

“Who the hell are you.”

There was a quick pause after your question. Despite the alcohol in your system, you did notice how the stranger never let go of you for even a second. In fact, you felt as if his grip just got a little bit tighter as he took in more of you.

“You almost hit me with a flying bottle.”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

“A bottle. You threw it and it almost hit me.”

“Ah,” you said, leaning a little to the left. The world felt like it’s spinning so fast you needed to steady yourself.

“Well, that’s too bad. I can pay you.”

“What?”

You tsked as if he asked such a stupid question. Clumsily, you tried to search your pockets for your wallet.

“Money. For the inconvenience.”

“I don’t really need—look. Do you have an emergency contact? You need to go home.”

At that, you turned to look at the stranger once more. This time, it was you who took quite a bit to answer.

“No. I’m alone.”

That was all you said before your head drooped down once more. With the remaining energy you have left, you pried your arms away and started walking away. It only took you a few steps, however, before you felt the cold concrete against your cheek. The world was spinning and everything was blurry. But at least, for the first time in a long while, the pain was gone.

The last thing you heard was a curse, then the sound of hurried steps.

*******

“Ya! Where the fuck are you Jaemin? You’re only supposed to buy chips, not the whole grocery store.”

Jaemin winced as he tried to keep his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder while carrying dead weight towards the passenger seat of his car. From the other end of the line, he could hear Haechan smashing on his keyboard and cursing every now and then at his game.

“Dude, why the hell are you huffing? Are you banging some—”

“I’ll be home soon,” he cut him off with an agitated tone before he could finish. “I ran into trouble.”

“Trouble? What do you mean? You’re supposed to be at the grocery store.”

“Yes, and usually, grocery stores don’t have drunk women who walk straight towards highways.”

“What the hell?”

“Just call Renjun or Jeno to get your chips. I need to drive back. See you in twenty.”

“But—!”

Jaemin ended the call before his roommate could even go off into a tangent again. With a heavy sigh, he walked over and slipped into the driver’s seat to start the car. He quickly glanced at the woman beside him then, her face serene and her breathing even. Her hair was covering most of her features, but he could still see the tinge of red of her cheeks from the cold and alcohol.

Just how long has she been out and how much did she drink to black out like this?

Most importantly, was she really meaning to walk straight into the highway?

He continued watching her for just a little bit more before finally turning his attention to the wheel. As he turned the engine on, there was one phrase that echoed in his mind before finally driving away.

What luck you have, Na Jaemin. What luck you have.

*******

Taglist: @marijmin @bettyschwallocksyee @cabaretyun @jhornytrash @lilyinthewinter @huangberryyy

[mimihasmotionsickness]

Home Again

(unedited)

II.

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Y/N was an anxious mess at the moment. When she felt her anxiety kicking in, which happened often, she would just surround herself with her two friends and her family. That wasn't a choice for her now. It was Saturday and she was going to a new college in two days, and she was also in a completely different state from her family and friends. She kept thinking to herself how this change was necessary. She knew she needed this.

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────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

She awkwardly stood outside her new apartment and fidgeted with her car keys. Her roommate was named Sarah Cameron. A girl who seemed to be the complete opposite of Y/N. Y/N had already sent a text to her saying that she arrived, so she didn't want to knock. A couple seconds later, a girl her height opened the door. “Y/N?!” The girl exclaimed with a bright smile on her face.

Y/N couldn't help but smile and giggle. “Hi Sarah!” She responded as she was pulled into a hug.

“I'm so excited you're here! I've been waiting for this all week. Oh my god, how was the drive here? Are you tired? Do you want some water? Come in!”

Y/N followed Sarah into the apartment and responded to her multiple questions. “It was good, but I think the people that drive around here are a little insane. I'm kind of tired, but I did chug 3 Redbulls, and yes some water would be nice.”

Y/N leaned against the counter as she watched Sarah pour her some water. “It feels so unreal that I'm actually back in the Outer Banks,” Y/N said as Sarah handed her a cup.

Sarah gave her a confused look, “Wait are you from here??”

Y/N nodded her head in confirmation. “Yup I moved to Georgia when I was like 13, but I decided to come back here. I hated it there. I tried college down there my freshman year, and it was awful. Never again,” she said as she shivered remembering her first year of college.

All Sarah could think about was her earlier conversation with JJ, Pope, Kie, and John B. This was the same Y/N that they were talking about. She was quickly snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a voice call out to her. “Uh Sarah? You good dude?” Y/N asked as she took another sip of her water.

Sarah nodded her head, “Yup! Just peachy! I just zoned out for a second, but anyways I can't believe that you used to live here. Are you excited to see people you used to know?”

“Hell no. I'm praying they don't remember me. I actually don't think they would. I look a lot different from 13 year old me. I’m not gonna lie to you, I was kind of odd when I was a kid. I had this whole anime phase. It was pretty bad.” Just the thought of it made Y/N want to die. She thought naruto running was the coolest thing ever at the time💔

“It's okay you were cringe, but free I get it. I used to have a bad One Direction phase. I was reading Hobama and Kidnapped by One Direction fics on Wattpad,” Sarah admitted as she hung her head in shame.

Y/N bursted out in laughter. “Holy shit dude we’re basically the same person, but in different fonts.”

Sarah joined in on laughing, but then she remembered the party. “Oh Y/N! Do you want to come to a frat party with me and my friends tonight?” Sarah asked.

“Hell no,” Y/N immediately said, “Wait, that was kinda harsh, my bad. Don't get me wrong I want to meet your friends and hang with y'all, but I've never really been a party person. Plus I still need to unpack, and then sleep. I've been up since 4 AM.”

Sarah pouted, but she didn't protest. “It's okay I'll drag you to one with me eventually <3 Do you want help with grabbing your things from your car?”

“How did you do the heart thing? Actually, never mind! Help would be nice yes please,” Y/N said as she grabbed her car keys. The two headed out to grab all of the things Y/N brought with her from Georgia.

An excruciating painfully long hour later, both of the girls decided that they were pooped and took a nap in their rooms. Y/N knocked tf out as soon as she put her bedsheets on the bed. When she woke up again it was already 10 PM, and the she checked her texts.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Twt time😈

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NOTES: CHAPTERS TWO YAY!!! i literally have class in 6 hours i need to go sleep bye

@bloodofadoll @amterasuu

[scorpiorising-swiftie]

hello all!! i just wrote the first chapter of any caitvi fanfic called “illicit affairs”, in which Caitlyn and Vi begin to have an affair while Caitlyn is engaged to Maddie. hope you enjoy!!

Chapter one

Vi huffed angrily at her reflection, tossing her hair this way and that, trying to get it just right. She couldn’t risk looking bad today, not when she was about to see Caitlyn for the first time in nearly five years.

Okay, it wasn’t just about that. She was revisiting her alma mater in honor of today being five years since her class graduated. She was excited to see all of her school friends who she hadn’t seen in years, what with her being so busy with her career as a world-renowned boxer. She hadn’t expected to become so famous, but there was no denying that there would probably be a fleet of paparazzi following her today. She cringed at the thought of that. She would have to wear a hat and glasses in order to obscure herself from the public eye. She looked at herself in the mirror one final time. She looked good enough. Her hair, which was buzzed on one side, has grown out quite a bit, and the long side now reached down to her collarbones. She was wearing a white tank top, black jeans, combat boots, and her favorite red and black leather jacket. The one she’d had since high school. The one she knew Caitlyn adored. God, she needed to stop thinking about her. For all she knew, Caitlyn could’ve moved on and found someone new. The thought of that made Vi’s heart sink, but it had been five years. She had to be open to that possibility. She walked out the door, got in her car and began driving to her old school. Butterflies began to flutter in her gut as she thought of seeing Caitlyn again. Would she be happy to see her? It had been so many years. All Vi knew now was that Caitlyn had just graduated college, and was now working as a police officer in the next town over. She kept thinking about Caitlyn in a cop outfit, and a blush crept across her face. Damn, she would look good dressed like that. She shook those thoughts from her head as she approached the school, her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel. She parked, got out of the car, and began walking towards the gym. As soon as she entered, she anxiously looked around, trying to spot a familiar face. She had never been the most popular, but she had a good amount of friends. Standing towards the center of the gym, she spotted two of her old friends, Jayce and Viktor. Jayce was standing with a hand draped around the smaller man’s waist, and Viktor seemed to be looking around the gym for people he knew. As soon as his eyes landed on Vi, his face lit up, and he pointed Jayce towards her. Jayce waved happily to his old friend, and they began to walk over together.

“Look at you two!” Vi gushed, bringing Jayce in for a hug. “You guys look awfully close.” She teased.

Viktor’s face went beet red, and he tried to hide it behind his hands. Jayce just smiled.

“Well, after ignoring our feelings for four years, we finally got our shit together and I asked him out.” He said sheepishly. A small smile crept across Viktor’s face. “Yes, we are quite happy together.” He said, pecking a chaste kiss to Jayce’s cheek.

Vi just beamed at the sight of her two friends, clearly so in love. Speaking of which..

“Hey, have either of you seen Cait yet?” Vi asked casually.

The smile on Jayce’s face disappeared just for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with one that wasn’t as genuine. “Oh! Uh, yeah I think I saw her outside.” He said awkwardly.

“Thanks!” Vi exclaimed, hurriedly rushing out of the gym. Why did Jayce seem so.. off as soon as she brought up Caitlyn? Did he know something she didn't? Never mind that. She was too damn excited to care.

It took a minute for Vi’s eyes to adjust to the sunlight, but once she did, she immediately spotted Caitlyn. Her jaw dropped.

She looked better than she ever had. Her cobalt hair was tied up in a ponytail, a few strands loose in the front. She was wearing a black turtleneck that hugged her figure in all the right places. She also had on a black miniskirt, tights, and boots, that must’ve made her six and a half feet tall. Goddamn. Those familiar butterflies returned to Vi’s gut once again. But wait, she was so distracted by how good Cait looked that she didn’t even notice she was with someone. Another woman. The girl was small, with short ginger hair, and a face full of freckles. Vi felt like crying as she saw Caitlyn tuck a strand of russet hair behind the girl’s ear. It took everything in Vi not to rush to the bathroom and sob. But no, she wasn’t an immature teenager anymore. Cait had moved on, and she just has to come to terms with that. But just how intimate had those two gotten. Had this stranger kissed every crevice of Caitlyn’s body, as Vi had? Had she made her see stars, and scream her name, like she had? Did she know that her favorite flowers were forget-me-not’s? That she secretly yearned to be an actress, but settled for a more reasonable career in order not to disappoint her parents? Vi pushed these thoughts away. She had to be mature about the situation. Even if she wanted to run up to Caitlyn and kiss her pretty face right in front of her new lover. She was about to go inside again, when Caitlyn’s eyes landed on her. Her mouth formed an “o” shape as she eyed Vi up and down, likely staring at her muscles. Vi was certainly ripped in high school, but now being a full-time boxer, her muscles had nearly doubled in size. A hint of pride welled up in her as Cait stared her down. There was no denying that she was still attracted to her, right? No! She couldn’t risk thinking like that. Cait was here with another girl, for God’s sake!

Before Vi could even register what was happening, Caitlyn was walking over to her, her girlfriend reluctantly following behind.

Caitlyn engulfed Vi in a more than friendly hug, and Vi had to pray for the blush to disappear from her cheeks before the other girl saw.

“Vi! I’ve missed you!” Caitlyn explained, her English accent making Vi go weak in the knees. She still smelled like expensive vanilla perfume.

“Hey, cupcake.” Vi replied, staring into those gorgeous cerulean eyes. The two were lost in the moment together, clearing fighting back old feelings that were threatening to resurface. Caitlyn seemed to break from the spell first, as her new lover approached her side.

“Oh! How could I forget! Vi, this is Maddie, she’s my.. uh..” Caitlyn seemed to be at a loss for words, so Maddie chimed in.

“Fiancé! I’m her fiancé!” She chirped in a heavy Scottish accent.

Vi felt the tears prick at her eyes, threatening to spill over. Fiancé? So this wasn’t just a girlfriend, this was the woman Caitlyn was going to marry. She put on her best fake smile, praying that Caitlyn didn’t spot the sadness behind her eyes.

“That’s great. I’m so happy for you guys. When’s the wedding?”

“Next spring!” Maddie gushed. “It’s going to be in my hometown, in Edinburgh!” Vi couldn’t help but think Maddie was much more excited about the whole ordeal than Caitlyn.

“You’ve got to come, Vi!” Caitlyn finally said. “If you’re not busy, that is.”

“Oh! I would love to.” Vi replied, though the thought of witnessing Caitlyn get married to another woman made her want to throw up.

“How’s the career going? Maddie and I watch you all the time.” Caitlyn changed the subject, and Vi could swear she saw the slightest bit of blush creeping across her cheeks.

“It’s good! Had to wear a disguise here, just to make sure the paparazzi wouldn’t see me, but other than that it’s great.” Vi stated casually.

“You’re so incredible! I knew you were strong, but watching you in the ring is.. well, it’s invigorating.” Okay, Cait was definitely blushing now. Vi just chuckled.

“Thanks, how’s your job going? Heard you’re a cop now.”

“It’s great! It’s how Maddie and I met, actually..” She stated, her voice laced with awkwardness.

“That’s great! Hey, wanna head inside? Jayce and Viktor are already in there, and they’re all over each other.” Vi giggled mischievously.

“Oh, let’s!” Caitlyn exclaimed, grabbing Maddie’s hand and heading towards the gym.

Vi trailed behind them and watched them, hand in hand. She had to fight back tears as she thought of Caitlyn making love to this woman. What did Maddie have that Vi didn’t? A cute accent, red hair, and she was probably rich, too. Maybe that’s what it was. Though Caitlyn never cared that Vi came from a low income home, that was more her parents.

Vi watched from a distance as Caitlyn and Jayce shared a warm embrace, and Cait introduced Jayce and Viktor to Maddie. She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to leave, and this time she couldn’t stop it. She rushed out to her car, and swung open the door, when she suddenly heard a familiar voice call out to her.

“Vi, wait!” Caitlyn exclaimed. Vi turned around to find her ex- lover just inches away from her face. She grabbed her arm and stared into her eyes.

“I hope you’re not too upset about Maddie, it all happened so suddenly. You see, my parents set us up..”

That made Vi feel a little better. Maybe Caitlyn didn’t really love Maddie like she thought she did.

“No, I’m happy for you, Cait.” Vi responded, her voice devoid of any emotion.

“Can we go out sometime? Let me take you for coffee.” Caitlyn nearly pleaded.

“You think that’s appropriate? You’re engaged, Caitlyn.” Vi replied.

“No! I didn’t mean a date.. we just haven’t really caught up since..”

“Since you dumped me.” Vi interjected.

Caitlyn looked hurt, and Vi instantly regretted the jab. “You know I didn’t want to. It was my parents.” Caitlyn lamented. Vi just sighed.

“I know. Coffee sounds great, I have Sundays off, so how about tomorrow?”

Caitlyn’s face lit up, and for a moment, Vi swore she saw the lovesick teenager she fell in love with.

“Yes! Tomorrow would be excellent!” She rejoiced.

Vi just smiled, and tucked a strand of hair behind Caitlyn’s ears.

“Great. See you tomorrow, cupcake.”

[jomiddlemarch]

And there go all my defenses

Tyler was driving. It was his truck, his rules. It wasn’t a big deal.

Kate stared out the passenger side window and tried repeating the statements to herself, willing them to be a mantra, to take her to some zen-like place of acceptance, the tranquil eye of a hurricane, even though she wasn’t a hurricane person, just like she wasn’t a cat-person or a burger lover. It wasn’t working, whatever, everything she was doing, but that didn’t mean she could give up.

“There’s literally nothing but soybean fields and a clear blue sky out there, so you might as well tell me what’s bugging you,” Tyler said.

“What? Nothing,” Kate said. Tyler’s truck. He’s driving. Not a big deal.

“You sick? Do I need to pull over?” he asked. He was so goddamn considerate, it wasn’t just an intense physical attraction, unlike any other she’d ever experienced, I mean, his fucking forearms and that smile, that ass…He was kinder than she’d thought, even after everything that had gone down, more thoughtful, smart and observant and willing to train those smarts and that keen gaze on her. It had seemed like a leap of faith to resign from her job in New York before she’d confirmed the university would take her back for her PhD, before they’d even spent a week together, but now it seemed like she’d have been a fool not to come, like it should have been as easy as opening the fridge door to take out a couple of bottles of pop on a hot summer night, Tyler sitting on the porch, waiting for her to join him.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” she said. Yeah, her skin was actually crawling, but he didn’t need to hear that.

“You know, turns out you’re a shit liar, Kate,” he replied, slowing down and pulling over, even though there wasn’t another vehicle for miles. It made things worse for a moment, the absence of road noise, the low vibration that truck made gone, and then he turned off the ignition altogether and she couldn’t help her small sigh of relief. 

“What gives?” he said.

“Don’t take it personally, okay?” she said, turning in the seat to face him. Now that she didn’t think he was an arrogant dick, she could appreciate how handsome he was, that jaw, those cheekbones…

“Promise I won’t. Cross my heart,” he said. He even made the little gesture over his heart and she smiled.

“I can’t stand country. If I have to hear another song about trucks and flags and good ole boys coming back home, I think I’ll scream,” she said.

“The radio? That’s what’s got you all hot and bothered?” he grinned. “The woman who drove into a tornado can’t stand country music?”

“It’s your truck, you’re driving, you should listen to what you want to. I just—it’s on all the time, everywhere and in New York, you can’t imagine—”

“I can too. What, you like hip-hop, city girl?”

“Yeah. And salsa, reggaetón,” she said. 

“What else you miss?” he asked, curious, not critical, one elbow balanced on the window, reaching out with his other arm to lay a hand on her bare thigh, just above the knee, just below her scar.

“Besides a three dollar slice? I miss the free night at the museum and breakfast sandwiches from the bodega near my apartment and when you’re on the subway and it’s crowded and no one’s looking at you and the not-looking is its own thing, this agreement everyone made without talking about it,” she said. He was the first person to ask her since she moved back. The first person who thought there was something worth missing about Manhattan, who’d figured out that her apartment was in Canarsie, not across from Central Park, who didn’t grimace when he mentioned sushi or pho.

He made a sound that was acknowledgement, that meant she didn’t have to apologize or defend what she’d said. It wasn’t far off from the sound he made when she put her hand at the back of his neck to pull him closer and that settled her down.

“Do you want the radio off then? Or do you want to try and find a station without country playing 24/7? We could jury-rig a set-up for your Spotify when we get back,” he said.

“It’s your truck, you should pick what’s playing,” she said.

“It’s not my truck when we’re riding in it together, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment wry and sincere at the same time. He gave her thigh a squeeze that was mostly affectionate but still a little bit hot, his thumb on the inside stroking her before he let go.

“There a station that plays more classic country? I don’t mind Johnny Cash. Or Dolly,” she said.

“No one with any sense minds Dolly. That woman’s a musical genius and a national treasure,” Tyler said. “But why don’t we leave the radio off the rest of the ride. If you don’t feel like talking, we can just be quiet together.”

“Really?” Kate said. If they weren’t talking or arguing, he’d had the radio on every time they’d gone out.

“I was worried you were going to say you loved show tunes. Quiet’s a pleasure, being with you,” he said.

For @broadwaybaggins whom I recall having a particular tendre for this pairing.