#so everyone in my bio class looks at me

[mysicksecrets]

sometimes i think about my professor that used to like lowkey have a crush on me (he was at least 55.) last semester and every time i tell my friends about the stuff he did towards me i realize how u incredibly not normal that was

[sunsetsandsunshine]

HIIII!!! 💖💖💖 Absolutely adoring the fics you’ve been writing recently!! Since requests are open I can’t help but want a part two to the mutant mayhem fic you write with lee Leo ✨ I’d love lee Leo and ler April. Maybe they’re hanging out together and she finally gets to use the info she learned on FaceTime with him! Take all the time you need of course and hope you’re well!

~ 𝙻𝚎𝚘, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛! 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎…𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 ~

💛💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @veryblushyswitch 💛💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚎𝚢𝚊 𝙱𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚢 🤩🫶🏾!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚎 😭💞💗💖💕! 𝙸’𝚖 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝙸’𝚖 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛!! 𝙿𝚕𝚞𝚜, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 ⭐️✨👏🏾!?! 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟽𝟺𝟷

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙 

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 👩🏾‍🦱💛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚝��𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗…𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 -> https://www.tumblr.com/sunsetsandsunshine/751212539507097600/oh-my-gosh-prompts-i-adore-your-fics-so?source=share

T𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜: @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @saturnzskyzz

@someone1348 @savemeafruitjuice @giggly-cloud

@mistyandsnow @tmntalways @rice-cake-teen10 @titters-and-tingles

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙼𝙽𝚃 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘— 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!!!˚*•✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Okay…I am so. freaking. lost.” Leo grumbled, putting his cheek on his palm as April sighed dramatically. “I’m gonna explain it to you one more time, Nardo. And if you still don’t get it so help me.” April grabbed the empty shoebox she had in front of her, putting it in between her and the other teen.

“We are doing a biome project for Bio class. And since you wanted to be special and different you decided to choose the hardest one to do: a Tundra.” April said as she raised a brow.

“Sounds like me.” The mutant in blue chuckled. 

The girl with glasses shook her head fondly, “And so, we need to replicate a Tundra biome using a shoebox and just explain what we know about the biome.” 

The slightly taller teen titled his head to the side, squinting his eyes at his best friend, “…That’s it?” 

“What do you mean that’s it?!” The yellow cladded girl basically squawked, “Do I look like someone who know’s a lot about snow?” 

The turtle giggled in amusement, crossing his arms playfully, “We live in Manhattan, Pril. We get, like, 20 to 30 inches of snow most of the time…”

“Just because we get a shit ton of snow every season does not mean I know a lot about it.” 

Leonardo grinned at his friend’s funny comment, going into his backpack and pulling out a bunch of written on notecards. “Then it’s a good thing I wrote down facts about the Tundra when Mr. Fredrickson was going over the different biomes in depth in class.”

April’s eyes widened in both shock and respect, going over to look at the notecards Leo wrote on, “You actually listened when he was doing that?! I fell asleep when he got to the rainforest biome…”

“Prillie…that was literally the first one he went over…” 

“My point still stands.” She shrugged, looking at the notecards in awe. “Dude…you wrote down everything. You have the definition, what animals live there, fun facts and a whole bunch of other stuff!” 

“You even wrote down the different plants and regions that are inside of the biome.” She said in surprise, giving Leo back his notecards, “Oh my god I love you so fucking much. We are going to ace this project.” The human girl said as she went back to the empty shoebox.

The mutant’s eyes widened at her comment, a small blush appearing on his face as he cleared his throat to try and recollect himself, “Y-Yeah u-um I-I love you too…”

“What?” April said genuinely, not hearing what the other said. 

“What?” Leo replied. 

The girl raised a suspicious brow, “You mumbled something, you weirdo.” 

“Me? What? N-No I was j-just…talking to myself!” Leonardo explained, his blush deepening as he fiddled with his fingers, looking absolutely anywhere but the person in front of him. 

April huffed out a laugh, getting her art kit from her desk that was next to her bed, “Whatever you say, you dork.” She chuckled out, sitting on her carpet as she suddenly spray painted the inside of the cardboard box white. 

The turtle mutant covered his mouth, “Don’t you think it would’ve been better if you did that…outside?” 

The girl in glasses pursed her lips together, stopping and nodding slowly, “Yeah…I should’ve. My bad. But…I kinda already started.” She said as she continued to spray paint the box. Leo rolled his eyes, opening the other teen’s door as he started to spray Frebreze everywhere. “Leo…what are you doing?” April asked.

The turtle raised a brow at his friend, “What does it look like? I’m airing out the spray paint smell.” 

April covered her mouth, fanning out the air with her hand as she walked to Leo, “You legit just put the Frebreze scent over the spray paint scent. Now it’s just mixed together.” 

Leonardo groaned internally, nodding his head as the slightly smaller teen explained how dumb his logic was. As the mutant in blue tuned his friend out, he looked out her window to look at her balcony…but his heart dropped in shock (and a tad bit in confusion) as he saw his little brother’s just chilling on the small balcony.

“Nardo…are you okay?” The girl in glasses asked worriedly. “YEP! I-I’m fine! Perfectly perfect.” He grinned wobbily, grabbing the now fully dry white shoebox and giving it to the other, lightly pushing her out of the room, “I’ll just fan out everything here. You can go chill in your living room.” 

April huffed out a small laugh, “We’re New Yorkers, Leo…we’ve smelled worse.” 

“Y-Yeah, I know! Trust…I know. It’ll be quick, I promise.” He said as calmly as he could muster at the moment. The girl just fondly rolled her eyes, going over to the living room, “Don’t take too long, though! I need your help with finding a good show to watch as I finish the biome replica!” She shouted. 

“I’ll be right there!” He shouted back as he turned on her ceiling fan. He basically stomped to the balcony, closing the door as he glared at his younger brothers, “What the FUCK are you guys doing here?!” Leonardo screamed. 

Donnie raised a brow as he leaned on the railway, “What ever do you mean?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO I MEAN?!” The leader in blue shouted, “H-How did you guys even get here in the first place?! Me and April rode her scooter to her apartment!!!”

“We’re ninjas, bro. I think you always forget that.” Mikey chuckled and only chuckled harder at the eldest’s pissed off face.

Raph went over to his immediate older brother, slinging a hand over his shoulder, “So~! How’s the date going~?” 

“IT’S NOT A DATE!!!” Leo screeched before facepalming, “How long have you guys even been here, anyway?!”

“Not long.” Mikey shrugged, “It was kindaaaaa hard having to climb up the building…”

“Whatever…” The blue banded teen grumbled as he turned away, “Just go home and don’t tell Dad about any of this...”

“Why~?” Donnie asked teasingly, “I personally think Dad’ll be happy that his rizz is finally shining in you.” 

“Donatello.” Leonardo glared.

“Fine! Fine! We’re going!” Donatello said as he took off the backpack he had on, taking out color-coded grappling hooks and giving them to Raph and Mikey. “Also, since April mentioned wanting to watch something with you, you guys should watch Smiling Friends. The rest of season two dropped.” The purple banded turtle explained. But before the eldest turtle could give his brother’s a piece of his mind, they were just…gone.

Talk about being ninja’s…

“Jiminy mother loving toaster strudel…” Leo grumbled to himself.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Smiling Friends?! I didn’t know the rest of season two dropped!” April gasped as Leo walked into the living room talking about the show.

The hazel eyed mutant rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “Uh…yeah. I just looked online for stuff to watch and, um…yeah…”

April snickered at the awkward demeanor of the other teen; not really and truly questioning it due to the fact Leo was just an awkward person 24/7. The blue banded mutant sat next to his friend, fiddling with his fingers as Smiling Friends played on the TV.

“Hey, Nardo? I wanted to say sorry about the whole spraying-spray-paint-and-literally-almost-intoxicating-you thing. I just wasn’t really thinking about it making more sense for me to spray it outside.” The girl explained solemnly. 

The younger teen snorted, “Prillie…it’s fine. It’s not like you killed me or anything like that. I think you should worry about your Mom coming home to the smell and killing you, though.”

“OH SHIT!” The elder teen shouted, going to her room to spray Frebreze and spray some in the living room as well. The girl with glasses sat down before sighing, leaning back, “Oh! And btdubs, I finished the Tundra replica.” She said as she finished the last final touches on the piece before handing it to the other teen.

And to Leo’s surprise…the replica actually looked pretty good. Like…really really good. The inside of the shoebox honestly looked like a mini Tundra…and it even had little mini clay plants and animals. 

“You seriously just made this?! April, I wasn’t even gone for ten minutes!” Leonardo said in awe. 

“You, my dear friend, underestimate my artistic skills.” The brown eyed teen said as she continued to watch the television. 

Now…Leo wasn’t known for getting into…moods often. 

I mean, in all honesty he would just get tickle attacked by his brothers 24/7…so in a weird way, he kind of got used to it.

But ever since he and Raph went on that call with April a couple weeks ago…she hasn’t mentioned said call. At all.

And perhaps maybe she forgot! Maybe she forgot the legit most embarrassing moment of Leo’s life…

…so why the absolute hell did Leo want her to mention it? Or at least acknowledge it! 

I mean…Raph even dropped the bomb that Leo liked it! That was a clear opportunity right there!!!

But in order for one to be actually tickled…one must ask for it first. And there was no fucking wayLeonardo was going to do that.

“You want me to tickle you, don’t you?” April said casually as she looked at the other teasingly. 

The mutant’s eyes widened in shock, his face becoming a glowing hot red as he absolutely refused to make eye contact with the other teen. “A-April whahat—?”

“Dude…don’t even try to deny it. You’ve made it so painfully obvious.” She giggled softly as the other’s face burned in embarrassment. 

Was he seriously that easy to read?!

“Should I take your silence as a 'yes'?” The human girl smiled as the blue banded mutant shyly nodded, still refusing to look at his best friend. “Okay, Nardo…just tell me when you want me to stop…okay?” She said carefully as she gently reached for the other’s side but stopped when the young leader held her wrists. 

“W-Wahait!!! Wahait wahahait A-Ahapril wahait!!!” Leonardo panicky giggled as he blushed more (if even possible). The girl stopped, resting her hands in her lap. The slightly taller teen covered his face with his hands, giggling in anticipation before nodding slightly.

The yellow cladded teen awed at the sight, scribbling her nails against the other’s sides. The mutant pursed his lips together, kicking his legs on the ground. The girl with glasses chuckled at the action as a lightbulb went off in her head, “Wait a sec, Nardo. Do you remember the FaceTime call me, you and Raph went on?”

“N-Noho shihihit…” 

“I do believe on said FaceTime call, Raph mentioned you being more ticklish to squeezes than to scribbles…is that correct?” She asked teasingly, although she knew damn well what the answer was already. 

The blue banded mutant’s giggles raised an octave as he now started to squirm as his friend squeezed his sides…

…Now this could go one of two ways…

He could absolutely make a complete fool out of himself or he makes a complete fool out of himself. Either or. 

“A-AHAhapril!” The turtle squeaked out.

“Yes, Leo?” The human replied casually.

“PleHA— *snort* p-pleheHEASE!!!” 

“Plehease whahat~?”

“I-IHI *snort* duhunno!!” Leo squealed, now hugging his middles as he continued to laugh. The slightly smaller teen wrapped him in a hug with one arm, using her other arm to pull out her phone. She went to her camera roll and scrolled until she found a screen recording…

…A specific screen recording…

…The screen recording April screen recorded while they were on that FaceTime call.

Leo hid in his shell a bit, his laugh echoing in said shell but he did not care in the slightest at this point. The teen girl raised a brow at the action, holding the other’s hand in her’s as she used her other hand to squeeze his hip mercilessly. 

Leonardo squawked in surprise as a loud (totally not expected) snort followed. He hid in his shell even deeper as he full on laughed and laughed. “Woah wohoah! Why are you hiding your face from me~?” 

“I-IHI’M NAHAT!!” 

“Yohou sure? 'Cuz it kinda looks like you are…”

“IHI’M *snort* NAHAT I-IHI SWAHA— *snort* SWEAR!” 

The girl with glasses laughed in amusement, “Raph was right…you really are a liar, huh Gigglenardo~?” 

Leo snorted loudly at the girl’s tease, his laughs becoming more louder and more frantic. And the worst part is she barely even touched the surface of his ticklishness…

The girl wrapped the taller teen into an even tighter hug, using her free hand to scribble her fingers all over his stomach. The taller teen screeched, slumping in her hold as he 'tried' to escape her tickling wrath.

April played the screen recording (on mute of course…she wasn’t that mean), wanting to test something the tallest turtle did that got a good hell of a reaction from the leader in blue. “Nardo…just a quick question…does this happen to tickle by any chance~?”

“S-STAHAHAP! DAHA— *snort *snort* DOHON’T STAHART!!”

“What’s wrong~? I’m just asking if this tickles, Gigglenardo.” She said as she gently squeezed his stomach with one hand, causing the other to squirm despreatley in the hug. “It seems like it does~! Tickle tickle~! Kitchie kitchie coo~!”

“NOHO— *snort* *snort* PLEHEASE DAHA— *snort* DOHOHON’T!!!” The brown eyed turtle screamed before April randomly stopped so the mutant was able to catch his breath for at least a little bit. “Nerdo~! Do you mind getting out of your shell for me, please~?”

Leonardo snorted loudly for probably the umpteenth time today, “NOHO— *snort* *snort* WHYHYHY?!”

“Just 'cuz~! I wanna try something.” She said as Leo poked his head out from his shell. The two made eye contact with one another— Leo glared at her while she innocently smiled back as she tickled the crook of his neck.

“PFFT— *snort* *snort* *snort* NAHAHA IHIT’S SAHA— *snort* *snort* SOHO BAHA— *snort* *snort* BAHAHAD!!!”

“Reheally?” The brown eyed teen mused, “I personally think you’re trying to say it tickles~! It tickletickletickletickles~!” She giggled as she tickled both sides of the turtle teen’s neck with one hand, leaving him in stitches. “KSSTAHA— *snort* *snort* *snort* NAHAHA *snort* *snort* *snort* *snort* *snort*!!!” 

The girl in glasses slowly stopped her tickle attack, hugging him from behind as he caught his breath. “Ohon the FahaceTime call, I rehecall Rahaph saying you snort fihive tihimes if it’s a good dahay~!” She teased lightly as Leo just groaned in response. 

“Whahatever…” Leonardo grumbled as the girl with glasses got up to get him a cup of water from the kitchen. She handed it to him, which he gladly accepted.

And that…wasn’t as bad nor scary as Leo initially thought it was going to be. 

The hazel eyed mutant fiddled with the now empty cup, “Uhm…thahank you for the wahater…ahand..uh, y-y'know…” He trailed off, looking at the ground in embarrassment as the other smiled fondly, “It’s no problem, Leo.” She chuckled, “There’s really no need to be so embarrassed about it. I get it.” 

“I-I know that but— wait. What do you mean you get—“ But the slightly taller teen was cut off by April’s doorbell going off. The two paused, not expecting any visitors besides April’s mom— who was supposed to come later and also had the key to the apartment. 

So…she wouldn’t need to ring the doorbell.

The doorbell rang again as Leo got up and simply stepped forward, opening the door slowly but sighing loudly as he saw who was on the other side. 

It was his brother’s. Because of course it was. 

“So~! How’d the date go~?” Mikey grinned plqyfully.

“It went fine— wait what?! For the last time it— this— is NOT a date!!!” Leonardo glared.

“So in Leo language…I’m assuming that means it went well.” Donnie chuckled, “Happy for you, bro.” The purple banded turtle said almost genuinely as April walked to the open door next to Leo. “Whahat are you guys doing here? And…how did you get here?” 

“Well, I got bored and hungry so I ordered pizza. We decided to come over here so you two could eat with us.” Raphael explained. 

“You got said money from my savings account?” Leo deadpanned. 

“I got said money from your savings account.” Raph grinned, “Now let’s go! If we hurry we could catch the person delivering the pizza!” He shouted as the four teens ran down the fire escape. April grabbed her keys before closing (and of course locking) her apartment door, soon following her mutant friends.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[2thegreatsunshine]

[chocosvt]

oh

[hoshifighting]

      wonwoo!best friend's brother

— your best friend's older brother, the guy who dropped out of university a long time ago but still shows up once in a while at your and your best friend's dorm. the thing is, she's in a tutoring class right now, leaving you and him alone after all these years of having a huge crush on him.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, making out, almost getting caught, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob, spiting.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you hear the door click as you wipe down the last bit of the counter, the smell of cleaning products lingering in the air. wonwoo’s here again—because of course, he is. once a year, like clockwork, he pulls up outside your dorm building, car keys in hand, sipping some energy drink like he’s the busiest man alive, even though he’s been out of university for, what? two years now? maybe more. it’s almost funny, how he thinks showing up in his beat-up car, leaning against the doorframe, makes him look cool.

your best friend’s not even here. she’s in some tutoring session because she "really needs to pass this bio class." but, of course, she told you, warned you, that wonwoo might drop by.

“hey,” he says, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of model, downing a sip from the can like it's giving him more life than it should.

“she’s not here,” you say, wiping your hands on your shorts. you’re pretending like you’re not even thinking about the way they’re barely covering anything right now. it’s just cleaning clothes, but you catch his eyes flick down for half a second, and your heart skips a beat.

“oh? what, she ditch me or something?” he teases, eyes sparkling with that casual cockiness he always carries around.

you laugh, shaking your head. “nah, she’s at a tutoring session. bio, i think? she’s stressing hard. she said she’d be back in a couple hours, so you can wait if you want... or leave. i won’t stop you.”

“tutoring? she actually studying? i thought she gave that up ages ago,” he snickers, leaning against the couch, tapping his foot like he’s been there forever. “reminds me of my sister, always freaking out about school... only she actually tries.”

you snort, rolling your eyes. “yeah, well, not everyone’s like you, mister ‘dropped out but still thinks he runs the place.’”

“i’m just here for the vibes,” he shrugs, eyes settling on you for a little too long, way too comfortable. way too focused. “plus, i wouldn’t call it ‘dropping out’... i just, y’know, found my path elsewhere.”

you shake your head, pretending not to care. but fuck, that grin? dangerous. absolutely dangerous. the guy is too good-looking for his own good, and the fact that he’s here, all casual like he’s just dropping by, is making your heart race in a way you’re desperately trying to ignore. and those eyes—yeah, you can feel him looking at you.

you turn, grabbing a water from the fridge to cool down because jesus, he’s looking right through you. you twist the cap and take a long gulp, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks, trying to play it cool.

“you good?” his voice cuts through the silence. casual, like it’s no big deal.

you choke a little on the water and turn around, trying not to look flustered. “yeah, yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”

he raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “dunno, just... you’re kinda tense. cleaning stress?”

you laugh it off, but the sound’s more nervous than you want it to be. “something like that.”

fuck, why is this so hard?

he takes another sip of his red bull, his eyes flicking over your legs again, slower this time. it’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you’re just... standing there, pretending you don’t feel it, but inside, you’re absolutely losing your mind. freaking out.

“you always this... jumpy around me?” he asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.

“shut up,” you toss a dish towel at him, more as a distraction for you than him, but he catches it easily, his grin widening.

“what, can’t take a little teasing? you’ve been dodging my questions all day.”

all day? he’s been here for twenty minutes. still, your stomach flips at the way he’s just standing there, so confident, so sure. it’s unfair how hot he is when he’s like this, leaning against the counter, arms crossed like he’s just waiting for you to crack.

“i’m not dodging anything,” you lie, crossing your arms, even though you know your face is giving you away. “you’re just being annoying.”

“am i?” he steps closer, his voice dropping slightly. “or am i just... distracting you?”

“wonwoo,” you start, your heart’s pounding, your skin tingling. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” he’s closer now, and fuck, he’s standing way too close, his breath brushing your cheek as he leans in. “i’m just talking, y/n.”

just talking, but the way his eyes drop to your lips says otherwise, and you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend this isn’t happening.

you’ve never been this close to him before, and it’s making your pulse race, your head spin. his hand hovers near your hip, like he’s waiting for permission, waiting for you to crack. it’s not fair how good he smells.

“you used to play dolls with my sister, you know,” he mutters, his lips brushing your ear. “now look at you.”

his fingers graze your waist, light at first, but the way his eyes lock on yours? there’s no going back. you shiver, heat pooling in your gut, and his hand slips lower, gripping the curve of your ass like it belongs to him. he laughs softly when you gasp, his other hand trailing up your side, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your top.

“wonwoo, you can’t just—” your words cut off as he cups your tit, thumb running over your nipple through your shirt, the sensation making your knees go weak. it’s so subtle, but you feel everything—his breath on your neck, the rough texture of his palm, the way his body presses against yours like he can’t stand the distance anymore.

“what? can’t just what?” his voice is low, mocking, as he leans down, his lips inches from yours. “you’ve been staring at me like that for years, y/n. you think i didn’t notice?”

your brain short-circuits as he presses his mouth to yours, starting slow, teasing, like he’s waiting for you to snap. and when you kiss him back—hard, desperate, craving more—he groans against your lips, his tongue immediately slipping past them. he sucks on your tongue like he’s savoring the taste, his hand squeezing your ass, pulling you closer as you try to remember how to breathe. it’s wet, sloppy, and so fucking messy, the sound of your lips meeting, tongues sliding against each other, filling the small kitchen.

you moan into his mouth, gripping his shirt, trying to keep up with the way he devours you, his other hand now fully under your shirt, palming your bare tit. it’s so much—too much, and you arch into his touch, losing yourself in the heat of it all.

and then you hear it.

keys, fumbling at the front door. shit.

you push him away so fast he stumbles back, eyes wide, lips shiny and swollen from your kiss. his fingers are still brushing his bottom lip, eyes flicking to the door in disbelief as the knob turns.

“fuck,” you whisper, trying to catch your breath, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, but you can’t stop shaking. you dart back to the sink, pretending to scrub some nonexistent spot, heart racing a mile a minute.

the door flies open, and your best friend bursts in, barely even noticing the two of you. “i forgot this fucking book,” she mutters, rummaging through her stuff on the couch. her back is to you both, and wonwoo’s standing there, hands in his pockets, trying his best to look casual.

he smirks at you, and you glare back, your mind racing, heart pounding. does she know? she can’t know.

“you two good?” she asks, barely glancing your way as she grabs her stuff. “i’ll be back in like, fifteen minutes. sorry. tutor’s gonna kill me if i don’t bring this. see you in a sec.” and just like that, she’s gone again, the door slamming shut behind her.

the second the door clicks, wonwoo bursts out laughing, dragging a hand through his hair, and your face is burning.

“did you just shove me away?” he teases, stepping closer again, his hands now resting on the counter behind you, trapping you. “scared of getting caught, huh?”

you shove at his chest, but you’re laughing too. “you’re insane. she could’ve seen us, you idiot.”

“what, and ruin the fun?” he grins, biting his bottom lip, and your stomach flips at the sight. “you should’ve just let her. i think she’d approve.”

you roll your eyes, but before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours again—rougher this time, more desperate. it’s like he’s making up for lost time, kissing you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted, hands roaming over your body like he’s been dying to touch you. you’re pressed back against the counter, trapped between him and the hard surface, and it feels so fucking good.

“wonwoo, the couch,” you murmur between kisses, pushing at his chest just enough to make him move. he gets the hint, pulling you toward the couch, his hand never leaving your waist, never giving you a chance to breathe.

the second your back hits the cushions, he’s on you again, kissing you so hard it leaves you dizzy, his hands wandering everywhere—your thighs, your waist, your tits. he’s fucking everywhere, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, all you can feel is him, everywhere.

his fingers slide under the waistband of your shorts, teasing the edge, but you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “not yet,” you whisper, eyes locked on his. “let me…”

you trail off, sliding off the couch, sinking to your knees between his legs. wonwoo’s eyes widen, the teasing smirk on his face replaced with pure shock. “wait—”

“shh,” you murmur, already tugging at his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. your mouth waters at the sight of him, long, hard and already dripping. you can’t help but smirk up at him before leaning in, taking him into your mouth in all in once, in the most greedy way.

wonwoo groans, his head falling back against the couch, his fingers threading through your hair as you start to move. you take him like your favorite popsicle, hollowing your cheeks, loving the way his hips buck up into your mouth, the way he can’t control the sounds he’s making.

he pants, his voice strained, and it only spurs you on, sucking harder, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him all the way down again. the sound of your mouth, wet and sloppy, fills the room, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

he tightens his grip in your hair, guiding you as he thrusts into your mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as he moans your name again, louder this time. you can feel him getting close, his thrusts making you gag slighty, his hips jerking up more urgently.

“fuck, i’m—” he chokes out, but before he can finish, his hips stutter, and he comes with a loud groan, spilling into your mouth. you swallow every drop, not slowing down until he’s completely spent.

you pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning up at him.

his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back on his lap. “c’mere,” he mutters. and before you know it, his lips are on yours again, urgent, like he needs to taste you all over again. the mix of your spit and his cum lingers, and when his tongue swipes along the side of your mouth, to catch more of the taste of him.

his hands slide down to your shorts, fingers curling around the waistband like they’ve been itching to take them off from the second he walked in. you flinch when he pulls them off, showing your panties. his fingers brush against it, and then pulling to the side, and you’re already losing it, but then he spits.

right on your pussy.

you tense when two fingers slide inside you rough, curling just the way you like—coincidentally. you clench around him, moaning, but it’s not enough. you need more, and he knows it.

“so fucking wet for me,” he groans, his other hand pushing your legs open wider. “you’ve wanted this for how long, huh? wanted me to fuck you like this?”

you can’t even answer, your brain is mush, overwhelmed by the way his fingers pump in and out of you, quick and dirty, making you arch into his touch. and then—without warning—he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up, slipping inside you so easily, you gasp.

he’s still sensitive, you can tell by the way his breath catches, how his hips jerk forward a little too fast, but the way his dick stretches you out? it’s perfect. too perfect. your eyes roll back, a shaky moan leaving your lips as he starts thrusting, slow at first, like he’s trying to control himself, but that doesn’t last long.

you’re in his lap, legs spread, every little reaction of his face right there in front of you—the way his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth falling open, all the little groans and curses spilling from him as he fucks into you. it’s like he can’t hold back anymore, can’t resist, but still needs to fuck you, to please you.

he lays you, grabs your knees, pulls them up to your chest, bending you in half so he can get even deeper. the angle’s brutal, his cock hitting that sweet spot with every rough thrust, and the room’s filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, his low grunts, your breathless moans.

you’re a wreck under him, fingers clutching at the couch cushions, barely able to keep up with the way he’s pounding into you. his thrusts are rough, fast, almost desperate, like he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach, and every time he slams into you, your whole body shakes.

“wonwoo—fuck, i’m—” you try to warn him, but the words don’t come out right. everything’s too much—the way his hands hold you down, the way he’s fucking you so deep, the pressure building low in your belly until you’re falling apart. you clench around him, your orgasm ripping through you hard, your back arching off the couch as you moan his name.

he watches you, watching that smile on your face, that one that you have when you win a prize, how satisfied you look by being fucked—especially by him, how your eyes roll in ecstasy, nd how you spasm around his cock. is enough for him.

and then it’s over. you’re both panting, bodies spent. he pulls out slowly, leaving you feeling empty. you’re barely conscious as he reaches over, grabbing the nearest blanket and draping it over you, his touch surprisingly gentle for how hard he just fucked you.

“don’t move,” he mutters, smirking at you as he gets up, still zipping up his jeans. “you look good like this.”

you’re too tired to respond, sinking deeper into the couch, eyes half-closed. the door opens again—shit—and your best friend barges in, completely unaware of what just happened.

“ugh finally,” she mutters, tossing it onto the table. “you two good?”

he just grins, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb as he leans against the counter, casual as hell. “just keeping y/n company, we were waiting for you” he says, winking at you when your best friend isn’t looking.

you’re still sprawled out on the couch, barely able to move, trying to act normal, like you weren’t just fucked within an inch of your life, like you weren't just fucked with jeon wonwoo. your best friend glances between the two of you, raising an eyebrow, but she doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re completely knocked out.

“whatever,” she mutters, grabbing her stuff. “i’m going to take a bath.”

the door of the bathroom slams shut, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. wonwoo walks back over to you, chuckling softly as he sits down beside you, leaning in to kiss your forehead, the teasing smirk never leaving his face.

“you should’ve seen your face when she walked in,” he murmurs, his voice low. “but don’t worry. you looked so innocent.”

[lionwitch]

Ok, hear me out. An AU where Janet Drake is best friends with Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen.

They met in school, and she's a high society girl, not expected or allowed to be much more than a pretty face, but there's this trio of smart idiots (they did all sorts of stupid stuff at school, but they are overall very, very smart), and they're in all sorts of cool classes and extracurriculars, and she wants to learn

So, she snakes her way into the group with well-timed looks and blushes. They eventually include her in all their activities, and so she learns all sort of stuff that she usually wouldn't be allowed to learn, because they help her keep it in the down low. No, she's not taking classes with them, she's being a proper lady and cheering her smart friends on through the oh-so-hard classes.

At some point or another, they all develop a crush on her, fleeting as it may be (they're hormonal teens and they're required to flirt, it was bound to happen)

They flirt publicly, as it keeps the media from pressuring them into relationships— or so they thought. It backfires when they're adults, the media is demanding Janet settle down and stops leading all three of them on. But there would be a scandal if she picked any of them, so she picks Jack, someone who doesn't love her or she loves, but someone desperate enough to climb the social ladder to care if he loves his wife.

When he's not allowed to flirt anymore, that's where Bruce realizes that he actually liked her.

When Tim comes along, and Janet has to go on trips, she leaves him with her trusted friends. So, Tim learns a lot from his Uncle Lex, learns to shoot a bow from his Uncle Ollie, and loves staying with his Uncle Bruce and his children. He figures him out far too easily and does become Robin when Jason figures he's ready to pass on the mantle to his little brother (because they're brothers. Tim spends a lot of time in their house)

Bruce adores Tim, he really does. It just kinda hurts, that he's Janet's kid, but not his.

Eventually, Janet divorces Jack, and she gets to spend a lot more time in Gotham. But by now Tim is as much Bruce's as he is Janet's, so they co-parent the gremlin that is her son, which leads to a lot of time with Bruce.

Bruce treats her better than Jack ever did, and she trusts him far more. They have the memories of years together. Eventually, Bruce tells her the truth— that he never truly moved on from his best friend.

When they marry, sure it's a media circus, but also not a surprise.

She's also a good mom, to Tim as much as to Dick or Jason.

When Jason finds out Catherine is not his mom, sure he gets curious, but he has a mom already, he's happy. He does want to meet his bio mom, but he agrees to do so safely, not go alone. Fine, B, you can come with.

Joker never happens. Jason is disappointed when he finds his mom is not at all what he expected, and he has a much better one at home.

Eventually, when Damian comes into the picture, he's snappy with Janet. "you will never be my mother, you harlot!" but Janet simply puts a hand on his shoulder and speaks calmly, yet sharp as the blade he threatens her with

"You will not speak to me like that, boy. No, I am not your mother. But I am married to your father, and I hold the authority as such, so you will go up to your room, you will cool down, and you will never threaten or insult me again, or you will be grounded."

"You can't do that!"

"She can. She has my full permission to discipline my kids, Damian. In this house, she holds as much authority as I do." Bruce interjects

Damian, begrudgingly, learns to respect Janet, and eventually he does see her as a second mom

The amount of times Oliver or Lex visit the Wayne-Drake household is absurd, but sue them, they like their friends. This leads to a lot of chaos, because every time Oliver visits so does Roy, and Roy hangs out with Dick and Jason, while Damian sticks to glaring at everyone.

Meanwhile, they dote on Tim, because they sure as hell have a favourite nephew, and it's the one they watched grow inside the belly of one of their best friends, the one they all changed the diapers of, the one they've taught a lot of skills to, the one they helped raise in a way they never helped raise any of the other Wayne boys. They don't even try to hide their preference. Now, of course they like all their nephews, but it's always hilarious because when Tim is around his uncle Lex, he's ten times the evil mastermind he generally is, and Oliver encourages it, simply for the chaos, and so does Janet, while Bruce is downright terrified of the idea of Tim as a villain (everyone is)

[stormyfog]

classroom obsession 📘

yandere jake x fem!reader

content: college au, yandere behavior, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, manipulation, smut later on

chapter 1

you were a freshman at evergreen university, having just turned 18 a month before moving into your dorm. though a bit nervous about starting university, you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling within you. you’d attended all the mandatory orientations before the semester began, trying to ease into campus life. your dorm, maple hall, was on the second floor in room 113. since your roommate hadn’t arrived yet, you had your pick of either side of the room. you chose the right side, appreciating the extra bit of space it offered. just as you started unpacking, your roommate walked in. after a quick round of introductions, you exchanged phone numbers, beginning the first steps of sharing your new space.

once you and your roommate, winter, finished unpacking, you both joined your resident assistant, giselle, and the other dorm residents for a required event. giselle led everyone on a ten-minute walk to juniper stadium, one of the main campus buildings, which was bustling with cheers and excitement as you arrived. she guided your group to a section about four rows from the stage, where the college president soon appeared, warmly welcoming everyone and sharing what to expect for the upcoming semester. after the speech, the crowd moved outside to tents giving away free supplies—everything from notebooks and pens to t-shirts. finally, after what felt like an eternity, you and winter returned to your dorm, ready to relax after a packed first day.

classes started the following week, and i spent some time organizing my planner to make sure my schedule was in order. as a biology major, i had a few extra classes to fit in. i double-checked everything: three classes on monday and tuesday, none on wednesday, two on thursday, and just one on friday. i was relieved not to have anything on wednesdays, giving me a bit of a break. when the first week of classes finally arrived, i was ready. in each class, we were asked to introduce ourselves to the person sitting next to us and exchange phone numbers for homework and projects. in my bio 101 class, a boy sat next to me. he had wavy black hair and glasses, and for some reason, he looked familiar, though i couldn't place where i’d seen him before.

as the teacher asked us to introduce ourselves to the person next to us, i turned to the boy beside me. he introduced himself as jake, and that's when the sense of familiarity hit me. "wait, didn’t you go to elm high school?" i asked. "i’m y/n, by the way." jake’s face lit up when he heard my name. "oh yeah, i remember you! i used to ask you for the homework answers in history class." he sounded surprised, but there was something off about the way he said it. it was as if he hadn't been watching me for years, ever since we first started talking back in high school. why was jake like this? well, he was a bit of a loner—no one really talked to him. one day, i noticed he hadn’t finished his homework, which was due by the end of class. i decided to help him out of kindness, never imagining it would lead to anything more. after months of helping him with homework and quizzes, something shifted in jake. this was the beginning of his obsession.

we continued talking like old friends, even though we’d only known each other for about two years. i learned that jake was a year older than me and had opted to stay at a cabin about an hour away from campus, rather than living in the dorms. curious, i asked why he’d choose to stay so far from the university. “oh, well... i enjoy long drives, and the woods are really pretty in the fall,” he explained. i couldn’t argue with that; the fall season was beautiful, after all. but underneath his calm demeanor, i couldn’t shake the feeling that jake wasn’t exactly the innocent, puppy-like person he appeared to be. he acted as though he wasn’t the one who had pictures of me on his phone, the one who had stalked my every move. he’d dug deep to figure out which university i was applying to, then tailored his classes to match mine. he was playing the part of a sweet, harmless guy, and it was working—too well. i had to admit, a small part of me had harbored a crush on jake since high school, but i never had the courage to ask him out. now, i wasn’t sure if my feelings were real—or if he had just manipulated them.

jake had always adored you from afar, never going so far as to act on his feelings, but now it was time to make his plan a reality. back in high school, he’d become jealous whenever anyone spoke to you, especially a group of four boys who liked to tease and nag you relentlessly, pushing you to the point of tears in the bathroom. jake couldn’t stand it, and he knew something had to be done. the next day, when you walked into class, you were surprised to find that the boys weren’t there. as you took your seat, you overheard your classmates gossiping about a horrific accident. apparently, one of the boys had invited the others to his lake house, but only one had returned—he claimed to have found the others dead. they said it was a murder-suicide, the boy stabbing the others with a knife before ending his own life. as you walked toward your desk, you noticed a letter waiting for you, and without thinking, you picked it up and opened it. across the room, jake watched you with quiet intensity. as you read the letter, your eyes widened in shock. the message inside read: “princess, those boys won’t bother you again. i knew how harsh they were to you, so i made them disappear. don’t worry, i’ll always protect you. ♡”

the bell rang, signaling the end of bio class, and i said my goodbyes to jake before heading out of the classroom. what i didn’t realize was that jake was following me, quietly memorizing my schedule. as the day went on, i made my way to the dining hall, which was only a minute’s walk from my dorm. i sat down, about to dig into my food, when i felt a tap on my shoulder. i turned around, startled, and found jake standing there, a casual smile on his face. "oh hey, what a coincidence!" he said, his tone light, as if he hadn’t been trailing me all day. "oh, hi!" i replied, forcing a smile, though something in my gut told me this wasn’t as random as he was pretending.

we chatted for a while, talking about the classes we had in common, and it didn’t take long to realize that we had every single class together. at first, i thought it was a coincidence, but the feeling of unease crept in. i brushed it off as paranoia. it was getting late, and i needed to head back to my dorm to freshen up. when i stood up to leave, jake offered to walk me back. "it’s okay, jake," i said, trying to downplay it. "my dorm is only a minute away. i can walk by myself." but jake insisted, his smile widening. "you never know what danger lurks in the darkness," he said, his voice too calm. reluctantly, i gave in and accepted his offer. he walked me all the way to my dorm, and when we reached the door, i said goodbye. what i didn’t realize was that this was all part of jake’s plan—he now knew the exact hall, floor, and room where i lived.

as i stepped into my dorm room, the door clicking shut behind me, a strange feeling settled in my chest. i couldn’t shake the image of jake’s eyes, still lingering on me from across the dining hall. it felt like he was watching, even though he was gone. i glanced at my phone, but there were no new messages. everything seemed normal, yet a heavy silence hung in the air, like something was about to break. i shook the feeling off, telling myself i was being paranoid, but deep down, i knew something wasn’t right. it was as if jake had somehow wormed his way into my life without me even realizing it—and that thought made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

chapter 2

a couple of months had passed, and you and jake had grown a bit closer. it wasn’t just his cute, puppy-like face that drew you in, but also his promise to protect you after someone started sending you creepy letters—letters that, unbeknownst to you, were from him. you were completely oblivious to it—or at least, that’s what jake thought. lately, though, a sense of unease had begun to creep in whenever you were around him. there was something off, a subtle strangeness in the air whenever you talked to him, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. at first, you didn’t mind when he insisted on walking you everywhere; it was nice to have someone look out for you. but over time, it started to feel less like protection and more like surveillance. the more he followed you, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that jake was everywhere you went, and it was starting to get unsettling.

things started to go downhill when jake saw you talking to another boy. you were just chatting, nothing serious—he had simply asked for the notes he missed in class. but before you knew it, jake appeared behind you, his grip firm as he wrapped his arm around your waist. he shot the boy a cold, stern look, and with a chilling calmness, he said, "she's mine." the boy, clearly startled, turned and walked away without another word. "jake, what was that for?" you asked, confused and a little angry. "he was just asking for notes." jake's expression hardened. "i don’t care. i don’t like it when other boys talk to you." the tension in the air grew thick, and you felt your frustration bubbling over. "okay, this is getting out of hand. i’m not yours, okay? we’re just friends." without waiting for his response, you turned and walked away, heart pounding in your chest. from behind you, you heard jake’s quiet murmur, "you’ll regret saying that…"

just a week later, news spread that the boy who had asked you for notes was missing. the police had received a report from his roommate, claiming that he had hanged himself in his dorm room. a suicide note was found beside him. of course, jake was behind it all—he had forced the boy to write that note, to twist his mind until the poor guy believed there was no way out. sitting in class, my eyes kept drifting to the empty seat where the boy used to sit. then, jake walked into view, pulling me from my thoughts. “hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice too calm, too sweet. my heart raced as i looked up at him. “did you do this, jake?” i asked, unable to stop the words from spilling out. my voice shook with the weight of the question, but i couldn’t bring myself to regret asking. he tilted his head, the puppy eyes appearing, as if he were offended. “why would you ask me that?” he said, pouting as though it were the most ridiculous thing. “i was with you when it happened, remember? we were planning to meet in the dining hall.” i faltered, guilt creeping up. “right... sorry. i don’t know why i asked that.” “that’s fine!” jake chirped, his smile far too wide, far too innocent.

that night, i couldn’t stop tossing and turning in bed, my mind racing. how did jake know about when that boy died? the question gnawed at me, pulling me deeper into unease. but eventually, exhaustion took over, and i fell into an uneasy sleep. when i woke up the next morning, the sight that greeted me was more horrifying than anything i could have imagined—my roommate, winter, lying lifeless in her bed, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. i screamed, my body trembling as i scrambled to call 911. who could have done this? and why so soon? the police arrived, ushering me out of the room as they began their investigation. as they retrieved winter’s body, one of the officers found a letter tucked under her pillow—my name scrawled on the front. he walked out and handed it to me. my hands shook as i opened it, the words sending a chill down my spine. “hi sweetheart, i know you’re sad that you lost your friend, but she wasn’t as kind as you thought.” my heart dropped as i read on. “she kept talking behind your back, spreading false rumors about you. but don’t worry, i got rid of her. remember, i’ll always protect you. ♡”

my eyes widened in shock as i read the last sentence. it was the same as the letter i received in high school. this couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? my mind raced, the connection too horrifying to ignore. as the day dragged on, i couldn’t stop thinking about the letter and the brutal death of my roommate. i felt a pang of betrayal—winter, someone i had considered a friend, had been talking behind my back. but that thought quickly faded as the terror crept in. how far would jake go? when i returned to my dorm, giselle, the resident assistant, told me that i could go home if i wanted to, to get away from everything. i hesitated but ultimately declined; my parents lived only half an hour from the university, and i didn’t want to trouble them. little did i know, that would be the biggest mistake i’d ever make. walking into my dorm, my gaze fell on the pile of letters stacked on my desk. another month of them, each one more unsettling than the last. when would it all stop?

as night fell, i began getting ready for bed, the weight of the day still heavy on my mind. just as i was about to settle in, a notification popped up on my phone. it was from jake. the message read: “hey, are you okay? i heard that your roommate died.” my heart skipped a beat. that was strange—no one had released any information about winter’s death, and the police had specifically told everyone not to post anything on social media while they were investigating. “how did you know?” i replied, my fingers trembling. his response came quickly: “oh, i don’t know, someone told me earlier today.” my suspicion deepened. “the police didn’t release any info, so how’d you know?” i texted back, my gut tightening. his reply came just as swiftly, as though he was waiting for me to ask: “are you being suspicious of me?” my breath caught in my throat. “sorry, i’ve just been on high alert.” “that’s fine, i understand how you feel,” jake responded, his tone casual, almost too calm. but something about it made my skin crawl.

later that night, jake knew it was time to set his plan into motion. this was the moment he had been waiting for—the moment when everything would finally fall into place. since he had learned which room i was in, he’d stolen a keycard from the main office to gain access to the dorm building. as he walked up to my room, he slid the keycard against the sensor lock, which let out a small beep before the door unlocked. quietly, he slipped inside. the room was dark, save for the faint glow of the moon, casting long shadows. he spotted me lying on the bed, sleeping peacefully. a sinister smile crept across his face. he moved closer, leaning down until his face was mere inches from mine. then, without warning, he pressed a light kiss to my lips. the unexpected sensation jolted me awake, and my eyes snapped open in confusion and shock. my heart raced as i realized someone had broken into my dorm. before i could scream, jake swiftly climbed over me, his hand covering my mouth. “shh, darling. it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice low and calm, almost soothing. “i’m going to take you somewhere safe, away from all these people.” i froze. his voice. it was jake.

as i struggled to break free from his grip, tears began to stream down my face. my mind raced—what was jake going to do to me? his sweet, innocent puppy eyes were gone, replaced by something darker, something filled with an unsettling desire. “aw, baby, there’s no need to cry,” he cooed, his voice eerily calm. “i promised i’ll always protect you.” the words hit me like a ton of bricks. the truth slammed into me—the letters, the strange behavior, the way he’d always been there... jake had been stalking me all along. he had sent those letters. before i could scream or make another move, jake shoved a rag soaked in some chemical against my face. my breath caught, and i struggled to breathe, panic rising in my chest. but the world around me began to blur, my body growing heavier, until everything went dark.

as i drifted into unconsciousness, a strange, heavy calm settled over me. my body felt limp, my mind slipping further away from reality. the last thing i heard was jake’s low, comforting voice in my ear, as though everything he was doing was for my own good. “don’t worry, darling. i’ll keep you safe... forever.” his words echoed in my mind as the darkness consumed me, leaving me with nothing but a chilling sense of helplessness. and with that, i was lost to the void, unaware of what awaited me next.

chapter 3

i woke up in a daze, my head spinning as i tried to take in my surroundings. the air was damp, the room dark and suffocating. it looked like a basement—no windows, just the faint glow of a small floor lamp that barely illuminated the space. a mattress lay on the cold, concrete floor, worn and dirty, but i couldn’t focus on that. my mind raced with one thought: i have to get out of here. as i attempted to move, i felt the cold metal bite into my leg. a cuff was strapped tightly around my ankle, chained to the wall. panic surged through me as i tried to pull away, but the chain was unforgiving. then, the door creaked open. “hi, sweetheart, you’re finally awake,” jake’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with a sinister sweetness. he stepped closer, a twisted smile curling on his lips. and just like that, my memory flooded back—the terror, the rag, the darkness. he had kidnapped me.

i backed against the wall, my body trembling as jake knelt down in front of me. tears welled in my eyes, my voice breaking. “p-please don’t hurt me…” i pleaded, desperate for any sign of mercy. “don’t worry, doll, i won’t hurt you,” jake said softly, but there was a chilling edge to his words. he reached to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but i flinched, pulling away. jake paused, then slowly withdrew his hand. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this,” he said, his voice low and dark. “for you to be mine... forever.” my heart raced, the fear almost suffocating me. “why, jake...?” i asked, barely able to speak through my sobs. his eyes softened, but there was an unsettling intensity behind them. “you wanna know why? you were the only one who was ever kind to me... since high school. you always helped me, always looked out for me, and i wanted to return that. i wanted you to feel the same way about me.” “not like this, jake,” i whispered, shaking my head. “this isn’t how you show love to someone.” he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my face. “but i had to do what i had to do,” he said, almost pleading. “i couldn’t stand it when another guy looked at you, when they even spoke to you. you’re mine, and i’ll do anything to keep it that way.” my chest tightened as i begged him, “jake, please... just let me go. i won’t tell anyone, i swear.” his face hardened, and with a finality that made my blood run cold, he said, “no. you’re not going anywhere.”

a month had passed, and jake had finally let me out of the basement, allowing me to stay in his bedroom. but with that came a restriction on everything—my freedom, my choices. he wouldn’t let me leave on my own, took away my phone, and insisted that i kiss him every time he came home. i knew better than to try and call for help; the consequences were severe. i hated myself for feeling this way, but i couldn’t deny that a part of me still cared for him. one day, we went out to a restaurant for a meal. we sat down at a table near the front door. when the waitress brought over the menus, i noticed someone from across the room. it was giselle. she locked eyes with me for a moment, and i saw her face drop in shock. i’d been missing for over a month now. jake saw it too. giselle hesitated for a moment before walking up to our table. “y/n! are you okay? you’ve been gone for a while now!”

i glanced at jake, who shot me a stern look before i turned back to giselle. “y-yeah, i’m fine…” i muttered. jake immediately spoke up, his tone sharp and annoyed. “may i help you?” giselle’s gaze shifted to him, her eyes narrowing as she sized up his cold expression. after a moment, she spoke slowly, her voice tinged with concern. “i’m sorry... it’s just... we were all so worried. you disappeared without a word, and we couldn’t get in touch with you. are you sure everything’s okay?”

i glanced nervously at jake, who was gripping his glass a little too tightly, then forced a smile toward giselle. “yeah, i just… needed some time away. it was… unexpected.” giselle didn’t seem convinced. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “if you ever need anything, you know where to find me,” she said, her eyes flicking cautiously between jake and me. “i’m just glad to see you’re alright.” jake’s jaw clenched, his hand subtly squeezing my knee under the table. i held my breath, nodding at giselle as she walked away. as soon as she was out of earshot, jake leaned in, his voice low and icy. “you’d better not forget who you belong to,” he muttered. the restaurant buzzed around us, but his words hung in the air, a chilling reminder of my fragile position.

as giselle turned to leave, i mustered every ounce of courage i had and, when jake wasn’t looking, flashed her the discreet hand sign for help. her eyes widened in alarm, and i could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure out what to do. but jake noticed. in an instant, his hand clamped around my wrist, halting my movement. a chilling smile spread across his face as he looked at giselle. “oh, don’t worry about that,” he said with a light, mocking laugh, though his tone was anything but friendly. “y/n has such a quirky sense of humor. just a little prank between us!” giselle’s eyes darted between the two of us, uncertainty written all over her face. she opened her mouth, but seemed unable to say anything, and i could see the moment she gave in. her lips curled into a forced smile before she nodded hesitantly. “right… well, okay then,” she mumbled, stealing one last glance at me before heading back to her table.

jake leaned in, his fingers tightening around my wrist as he hissed, “i’ll deal with you later.” his voice was a low, menacing murmur, a threat meant only for me. we barely made it out of the restaurant and into the car before he tightened his grip, his jaw clenched with barely contained rage. “you thought you were clever, didn’t you?” he spat, starting the engine. “well, i’ll make sure you never try something like that again. you’re overdue for a punishment.” i stared out the window, the restaurant disappearing in the distance, and with it, any flicker of hope i had left.

jake’s anger simmered beneath the surface, and i felt the familiar fear creeping up. i had seen glimpses of his collection—the ‘toys’ he kept hidden in the back of his room, things that weren’t meant for anyone else’s eyes. he didn’t want to hurt me, not really. he wanted to keep me, but in his own twisted way. the promise of punishment hung in the air as we drove home, and i felt my pulse quicken. jake wanted to own me, keep me by his side, and maybe—just maybe—he thought he could make me love him in the process.

chapter 4 (smut)

when we finally arrived back at jake’s house, he dragged me inside with a firm grip on my arm, not giving me a chance to even think about escaping. without a word, he shoved me into the basement, the same cold, dimly lit room i had grown all too familiar with. he attached the chain around my ankle once again, the clinking sound of metal echoing through the silence. as he stepped back to survey his work, his eyes glinted with a dark satisfaction, like he was relishing in the control he had over me. i couldn’t help but feel trapped all over again, my heart sinking with the realization that there was no getting away from him now.

jake stood in the doorway, his gaze dark and unyielding as he watched me struggle against the chains. “you should’ve listened to me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and smooth, as if savoring the moment. he took a step closer, his smirk growing with each word. “i told you not to make me angry, and now… well, i’m going to have to think of something to teach you a lesson.” his eyes twinkled with dark amusement, and there was a hint of something almost predatory in his smile. "you’ll learn to appreciate the way i show you just how much i care," he added, and my stomach churned with both fear and a strange, unwanted anticipation.

jake, with a methodical calmness, retrieves a length of rope from the corner of the room, his movements slow and deliberate. his eyes lock onto you as he removes your clothes, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. he begins measuring the rope, ensuring it's long enough to secure you properly. his hands move with unsettling precision as he wraps the rope around your wrists, binding them tightly behind your back. the ropes press against your skin, each knot pulled with firm intent. he never breaks eye contact, making sure you understand that every movement is calculated, every knot a reminder of his control. the ropes are tight, restrictive, leaving you unable to move, your body now positioned to heighten your vulnerability. jake steps back, taking a moment to admire his work, then turns his gaze back to you with a dark smirk playing on his lips.

jake steps toward the corner, retrieving the box of ‘toys’ he had kept hidden, setting it beside the mattress with a soft thud. his eyes gleam with a mix of anticipation and possessiveness as he turns back to you, his gaze unwavering. jake sits down on the mattress, patting his thighs in a silent command. “come here,” he says, his voice calm but firm, his eyes watching you intently. you don’t dare hesitate, moving toward him with reluctance. with a swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him. your back presses against his chest, your hands bound tightly behind you, the ropes restricting any movement. his arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place as the ropes dig into your skin. you can’t escape his hold, your body pinned against him, and you feel the weight of his control in every inch of your restraint. his breath grazes your neck as his presence consumes you, a constant reminder that you're entirely at his mercy.

jake’s lips press against your neck, soft at first, but quickly becoming more insistent. he kisses and nips at your skin, leaving a trail of fiery marks that make your body tense. his hands roam over your exposed skin, feeling the heat radiating off of you as he traces every curve. the ropes around your wrists pull, restricting you further as his touch grows bolder, more possessive. he lifts you slightly, adjusting your position as his fingers slide across your skin, exploring, marking you as his. you can’t escape, not when his grip tightens around you, not when the sensation of his lips and hands drown out everything else. it’s suffocating, but the deeper you sink into his embrace, the more you feel the undeniable pull of his control over you.

Jake’s hand slowly traveled downward, his fingers tracing along your sensitive clit, making you whimper at the unfamiliar touch. Instinctively, your back arched, a reaction he seemed to savor. He slipped one finger in, then another, moving with a slow, steady rhythm that drew soft moans from your lips. Despite the conflict brewing inside, you couldn’t deny the way your body responded, the heat building steadily. The knot in your stomach tightened, desperate for release. “J-Jake… I’m c-close!” you managed to gasp. A smirk crossed his face. “Go on, come all over my fingers.” And with those words, the tension inside you unraveled, leaving you breathless.

jake reached over to the box nearby, a glint in his eyes as he pulled out a few ‘toys’ that made your heart race. slowly, he revealed each one, giving you just enough time to take in what was coming next. he started with a teasing touch, his movements deliberate, experimenting with the new sensations against your skin. each press and vibration left you breathless, your senses overwhelmed as he skillfully alternated between each toy, drawing out every reaction from you. the intensity only grew, leaving you on the edge, unable to think about anything except the mounting pleasure that jake controlled entirely.

after a moment, you felt the wave of release wash over you, leaving you breathless and dazed. jake chuckled softly and guided you to lie back on the mattress, positioning himself over you. your gaze drifted to the unmistakable bulge in his pants, and you quickly looked away, flustered. catching this, jake smirked, unbuttoning his pants and lowering his boxers, letting his length spring free. your eyes widened, and doubt crept in as you took in his size, unsure if it could even fit. "like what you see?" he teased with a quiet laugh. he aligned himself at your entrance, ready to press forward when you stammered, "w-wait! i don’t think it’ll… fit…" jake’s only response was a reassuring smile as he murmured, “i’ll make it fit,” before slowly entering, inch by inch, filling you gradually.

you were a trembling mess as jake finally filled you completely, tears slipping down your cheeks from the unfamiliar stretch. he leaned close, his voice a soft murmur. "shh, it's okay. you can handle it," he cooed, his tone equal parts soothing and possessive. he began moving in slow, steady thrusts, gradually building his pace until he was driving into you with relentless speed. his hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you closer as he leaned down to capture your lips in a messy, breath-stealing kiss. the intensity left you reeling, barely able to process the pace he was setting.

“j-jake! i’m so close!” you gasped, arching your back as the pleasure reached its peak. “go ahead,” he murmured, “i want to feel you tighten around me.” moments later, you came undone, waves of ecstasy washing over you as you struggled to catch your breath. you felt jake’s movements grow uneven, his grip tightening as he groaned, “such a good doll, taking me so well…” with one final thrust, he shuddered, releasing inside you, and as he pulled out, you could feel his warmth begin to drip down. the overwhelming sensations left you lightheaded, and you drifted into unconsciousness. jake noticed, chuckling softly as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. carefully, he untied you, lifted you up, and carried you to his bedroom. he dressed you in his t-shirt and boxers, then lay beside you, holding you close. “you’re mine, and you know it,” he whispered.

[unicornjoking1111]

I just realised my mom has manifested her life!! (Beauty, popularity and wealth)

A short bio of my mom’s childhood!!

She is brought up in a village area and kind of in the state of poor to middle class but mostly poor since it’s not what you call a normal living cause my grandparents have farm house with goose,horses and everything you would expect there and my grandparents have four children’s and the last one is my mom! (All are girls) so it’s hard during in that century cause having a girl child Is “hard” and having a “man” will be helpful for my grandparents which is a stupid mentality but it is what it is… so my mom is one of the most beautiful I mean I am serious she looked like a doll yk skinny, small head and everything just like Korean idols but Indian eyes (iykyk) and she told me once saying how everyone see her and get jealous of her and all the college boys glancing and admiring! She also mentioned she wanted to do modelling and did modelling once in college! She mentioned that she would save money and buy clothes for herself and show off herself and everything! And she would accessories herself! This is what assumption is!! And she loved buying new clothes and everything she has like more clothes I can’t imagine like three cupboard of cloths like my god and she won’t even use it 😂

She literally manifested this shit!! This also includes money since she showed off in the sense she pretended to be a rich girl and showed off with dresses which made it looked rich (since there is no social media or anything that time or no background of the cloths when a dress looks beautiful is what is considered rich that time) so that’s why she has more wealth now and a millionaire.

Btw she is a housewife and a very lazy one (I am still proud of her) she manifested not to work and still be a millionaire by marrying my dad! But my dad also didn’t have money but they gradually evolved and became millionaires so now they are high middle class. She also created a dream house for us with gardens and it’s so beautiful!! And she takes care of other business like renting something to get income.

(Sorry for my english)

I hope this motivates yall cause I just realised I have so many people I know manifested so much things!

I also have a success story! Basically I embodied being a trillionaire, I ordered food and the delivery guy asked for tips which they never ask and I gave a little more, and Amazon delivery guy told he doesn’t have extra cash to give me and I just left it, I had enough money to buy two clothes and a bag which is so good!! Today me and my family went to a restaurant and the guy who works there opened the door for me the moment he saw me (I mean it’s his job but it was also like my first time someone opened the door for me so I would consider it a success)

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes. 

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York. 

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly. 

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?” 

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order. 

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you. 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you. 

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output. 

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years. 

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming. 

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor. 

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom. 

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on. 

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer. 

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space. 

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him. 

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips? 

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail. 

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks. 

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.” 

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis. 

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks. 

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins. 

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box. 

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm. 

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you. 

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom. 

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies. 

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp. 

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel. 

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body. 

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast. 

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls. 

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.” 

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded. 

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

[grahstumhurts]

The stars aligned for us

Synopsis- Y/n had always had a crush on Sophia. this being Y/n's senior year, she had to make it count. Sophia, a untouchable goddess, in Y/ns eyes. Will it happen?

A/N - YES I KNOW ITS A CHEESY TITLE AND FIC, ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR TUMBLR OKAY. SUE ME IF I WANTED SOME CHEESY ROMANTIC SOPHIA CONTENT. This was not proof read so yeah

 Lara always complains about how I stare at her in the halls when she passes by with her flock. “Dude, its honestly sad how much time you spend a day staring at her and or thinking about her, when in all brutal truth, she probably doesn't give you a single thought.” Lara sighs, rubbing her forehead in frustration as she watches me get out my books for my AP biology class. “Its not that bad, okay. Trust me i've been worse.” I try defending myself, “Listen, Y/N At this point you might as well confess since it's almost the end of the year. Whats the worst that could happen? You get embarrassed, yes, But you won't ever see her again until the highschool reunion.” Lara tries to convince me for the Nth time this year. Senior year was supposed to be the year where I let loose. By the time senior spring had come and college applications were through, there had been one thing I had yet to do. I’ve known her for years. I mean everyone knows her at our school. She's everyone's dream girl, Untouchable you could say. Sophia Laforteza. I sigh, almost giving in this time, “No, I won't do it. Like i've said multiple times, she's an untouchable painting that, Good lord, I want to touch so bad” I close my locker, leaning against it, facing towards Lara. She gives me an unimpressed look. “You have AP Bio with her next right? So why not ask her to study sometime? I mean you are basically failing that class,girl.” I pause, I consider it, My brain algorithm approves. The bell rings for the next period. “why are you actually kinda smart, Lara.” I walk past her “Hey, woah what do you mean kinda, I legit just gave you the best idea ever” she yells at my passing figure as i jog off to mr bennetts classroom. “For the sake of my mental health I pray to Beyonce that this works.” Lara mumbles under her breath as she walks off to her class. 

Now you would think that the universe would be on my side. And you would be right. The stars have aligned as Lara would say, God forbid that girl ever not talk about stars and astrology the moment the conversation dies down. “Alright class, today i'm announcing your semester-long project for this class. This project will be starting today and will be ending by the end of the semester, so right around April we will present. Now this is a partner project” The class groans in disbelief, “Settle down. Now, I will be picking the partners-” The class erupts in boisterous anger at Mr bennett. “Calm down, Jesus, I'm retiring after this year. This project is going to be about whatever you want it to be. as long as it relates to biology.” He opens his laptop. “Now the partners will be…” he pauses reading the screen “Chloe and Marquise, Nickolas and Wendy, Y/N and Sophia” I note down these partnerships in my head just for reference, Wait. Are you fucking kidding me, its me and sophia? Now in hindsight you would think that maybe this is a class prank on me. I swear to fucking god i was about ready to explode, yean no not that kind of explode, the one where im the most anxious person on the god damn planet that we call fucking earth. Out of the 24 students in this class, other than me, there is a one in fucking 24 chance that i would be placed with her. Which i find is fucking ridiculous. “And thats it for partners, now if you could start planning your projects that would be great” Everyone shuffles around the room, trying to find their partner. I scramble to pick up my things when I drop my pencil case. I notice a manicured hand pick it up, i connect the hand to the arm, the arm to the body. Like the gorgeous goddess she is, she hands me my pencil case, Stupid fucking fish pencil case. “I like your pencil case, its pretty creative and unique” She comments, placing the fish on the table “thanks, my grandma got it for me so i've just been using it ever since.” I laugh uncomfortably. “What do you wanna do the project on?” I meekly ask her, I avoid all eye contact possible. She ponders for a moment, “I've always been kinda interested in how the weather contributes to moods, would that be something your okay with doing?”  “imokaywithdoingwhateveryouwant” I spit out, at possibly the pace of a marathon runner. She laughs to herself at my reaction “you're cute.” She mumbles. “Are you free this week to start the project or…” She drags off the end of the word to insinuate for me to answer, “i'm good for this week, maybe tomorrow? After school” “We can go over to your house? My siblings can be quite loud so i dont think that’ll be the best “study spot”” She physically puts those two words in quotations. Which wakes me up to the reality that i will be spending the rest of the semester with her, creating a project. “Sure, Im down.” I say a little too excited, I clear my throat. “Cool, cant wait” she says casually as she walks off to her desk to pack up. 

The first week went surprisingly well. I actually kept my cool and had a normal conversation with her. As the weeks grow, my feelings never really cut off for her. Instead, like a tumour, it grows. And so does my guilt. The project builds up a good amount of research, by the time its almost the end of the semester, March to be exact. The guilt, it flourishes inside me like a mouldy banana in the bottom of your bag. For all I know she could be straight. 

I hear the doorbell ring, I know its her. My mom answers the door, as per usual. lets her in, then she comes up the stairs and up to my room where the door is already open for her to come in. “Hey” she greets me “almost the end huh? I bought some snacks on the way here, I remember last week you mentioned sour skittles to me so I figured I could try them with you.” “you remembered?” “Yeah, why wouldn't i? We are friends right? I mean with all the time we have spent on this project, i assumed we are friends” she looks confused, almost hurt? “Are we not friends” “we are, yeah” I flusteredly responded, panicking at the seemingly wounded look. She cracks a smile “i'm just messing with you,” she knocks my shoulder against hers as she sits down on my bed. “I think there's a storm coming soon actually” she says opening the shopping bag with the seemingly endless amount of snacks in it. “Kinda ironic don't you think?” I say to her, We get to work for the next couple of hours, sprinkling in some goofy moments between the two of us. She ends up having to stay over, The storm inhibiting her ability to go home. I look out the window, the rain looks as if it will never end. “You ever danced in the rain?” She sits next to me, resting her head on my shoulder, observing the perspiration. “I did it once with an ex boyfriend of mine,” she adds to her previous comment. For some reason that last bit stung a little, like a scratch from a cat. “You had a boyfriend?” I ask genuinely curious. “I ended things with him since I figured out that i liked girls” “oh, i didnt know you liked girls.” I looked at her, Her hazel eyes looking back. “Do you like girls?” she questioned me. “Yeah, always have” I answered meekly. An idea came to me when she looked back out the window, I stood up. “Lets go out into the rain” I drag her closely behind me as we walk out the front door to my house, running out into the wet sky. I laugh at her standing confused in the doorway. “Dude come on” I actively try to convince her “you were the one that started talking about dancing in the rain” I open my mouth and let the almost salty droplets hit my tongue. “Eugh, dude, dont you know how disgusting rain water is” She runs out into the rain, fully embracing the uncomfortable wetness covering her body. I curtsy to her “Mi’ Lady would you care for a dance?” I say in a faux british accent. She giggles “Of course Mi’ Lady, a dance would be appreciated.” I bring her in, her waist in one hand and her own hand in the other. “Is this okay?” I yell over the sound of the water droplets hitting the ground. She nods, resting her head on my shoulder as we sway in the middle of the driveway. She looks up at me, searching my face for something. Looking down at my lips, then my eyes, then back at my lips again. “What?” I asked her “do i have something on my face?” She cups my cheeks, her warm thumb stroking my cheekbones. Before I can say another thing, she leans in, and kisses me. The Ivy that is guilt covering my heart slowly withers away, her hands leave my cheeks and caress the hair on the back of my neck. I pull her in closer, wrapping my arms around her body. A lightning crack makes us pull apart. “You seriously dont know how long ive been dreaming of this happening” I tuck my face into her soaking collar, she kisses my forehead. “How long?” she giggles, “1st grade, When i first moved here. And it trailed all the way here.” “damn i wasn't expecting that.” I blush. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” I call out over the rain. “Of course dumbass” She leans back in, coating my whole body in a warm honey feeling, The stars aligned for us to be.

[t1oui]

going to school and being friends with percy jackson would be REALLY WEIRD so let's discuss it rq

he gets dropped off every day in his stepfather's car, which inexplicably has hoof prints on the hood?

the panic attacks... there's a lot of them, and nobody can even tell what's triggering them at this point

the old counselor disappears about a week into his first year at AHS (here's some cotg lore for yall) and is replaced by a weird lady who finds a way to bring percy up to every. single. student. who visits her office.

randomly disappears multiple times throughout the year

very very sea green eyes and a gray streak in his hair

once got out of the pool after swim practice and was completely dry (he insists it was a trick of the light)

the blue food obsession ofc

talks about his girlfriend annabeth all the time... even his friends are convinced it's a "my canadian girlfriend" situation bc he never calls her. he doesn't even have a PHONE

always carries around a pen in his pocket and even though it's just a shitty old ballpoint, NOBODY IS ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT. also he never uses it. ever.

every teacher has sent an email with their concerns about him to the counselor and when that doesn't work to his parents. the responses are always very awkward and vague

talks about his bio dad a lot... never explicitly negative but bro clearly has daddy issues lol

will sometimes randomly mention camp/war/gods and then brush it off like it never happened

absolutely vibrated in his seat the entirety of the greek mythology unit... told the teacher "a demigod named perseus fought ares once" and the teacher just assumes he means the og (aka the one he's named after)

that one upbeat popular guy everybody knows absolutely nothing about, his friends included

they probably have a spreadsheet with all the info they actually DO know about him

finds a way to brag about his mom in every conversation no matter how irrelevant... his friends are used to it atp

everyone's so used to seeing him smiling and laughing that when, say, he catches a younger kid being bullied, it's actually terrifying to see how angry he gets. everybody in that hallway gets chills

there's something off about him and nobody can tell what. that's just how he is

sometimes weird people in weird outfits are hanging around the school and they're ALWAYS looking for him.

every time someone asks what college he's going to he gives a different answer or straight up avoids answering so nobody actually knows

(if he says a school and someone is like "omg me too" he changes his answer right then and there lol... he's like "oh nvm i forgot i'm actually going here my bad" and the person is so confused)

nobody ever sees him working on college applications but he complains about having to do them all the time... bro is like "yeah i had to go through a sewer system but at least my girlfriend and my best friend were there" and his friends are like yo HUH

never explains anything he says

presentation night presentation = all the shittiest things my family has done and he's laughing about it but wdym your aunt kidnapped you and gave you amnesia???

sometimes he's getting fed up with a teacher or another student and a pipe randomly bursts in the school. like it's weird how often his anger ends in a plumber being called when he's nowhere near the problem

where everyone else is excited to watch a movie and chill in class, percy complains through the entirety of hercules - not just "oh this movie sucks", more like "god hercules is such a dick, idk why they made him chill in this movie"

the weirdest part is how, when percy complains about zeus being a good dad in the movie, it starts thundering outside

nobody can keep track of how many schools he's been to at this point... there's a whole section of the spreadsheet for this

when percy's friends finally meet annabeth they are SHOOK bc they truly did not think this girl was real

alright i can't think of anything else but if i DO i will add on later

[hyuneskkami]

01 ✦ ‘cops and robbers’ chase each other full of energy ! ༄.°

𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : i’m going crazyyyyy. I needed to put down—into words—an irl situation, and decided to call it a fanfic for my bias and post it 😭 anywayy it’s my first non-pjo or non-anime fic so I hope it turned out okay 😩 also here’s some fanart I found of the same vlive as the icons above (it’s so cute) ! <3 and as always!! anything I write about the idols is not a representation of them irl ! also possibly part ii coming as soon as I have the patience to write it bc I love the current flow 😋

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : day 1 , best friend!hyunjin , non-idol au , high school au , f!reader , best friends who do more-than-best-friends things , hinted bio students attending prep school together: hyune and reader , skz ot8 are in a highschool band together w reader , fluff , hyunjin’s a cutie patootie , smart!hyune x smart!reader , cutesy hand holding , hinting at stress (reader) , reader has glasses (which is unrelated to everything but still) , banter , teasing , ot8 appear a lot , nicknames (n/n, jagiya) , mother chan , jeongin is a menace , swearing a few times ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 0.8k

DAY #01 . . .

“you’re staring,” hyunjin said, continuing to flex his arm’s muscles.

“nope. i’m revising anatomy before class starts. I was looking at the humerus, articulated through the glenoid cavity to the scapula,” I said, smiling.

“oh, sure.” he rolled his eyes. “since you’re staring so hard, wanna kiss ‘em?”

I made a face at him, and stuck my tongue out. “you wish!”

he laughed.

“I have them too, okay?” I said, trying to one-up him, as always.

“what?”

“muscles—”

“want me to kiss them?”

I shoved his shoulder away. “we’re late, walk faster!”

“you’re the one with tiny legs, i’m being considerate— OW! don’t stamp on my shoes!”

“shut up!”

“I won’t!”

we made faces at each other and parted ways in front of my classroom since his was the one next to mine.

I spent the next five hours surviving lectures on enzyme activity, literary analysis of dostoyevsky’s works, thermodynamics, and more boring stuff, alongside minho, felix, and jeongin (who fell asleep around five minutes into the first class).

during the break, our group—chris, minho, felix, jeongin, seungmin, han, changbin, hyunjin and I—met up outside our classrooms.

“here’s your blueberry milk, n/n and felix, my favourite children,” chris said, handing us two cans he bought from the vending machine. we smirked at the others, popped the tin open and started downing our drinks in unison. “and here’s your strawberry milk, min. jeongin, your banana milk.”

the others were in the same class as chris, so they got their drinks on their way out. after collecting our drinks from our rightful mother, we headed up to the roof.

“are there any new songs you guys are working on?” hyunjin asked chris, han and changbin—the songwriters of our band—while falling into step beside me.

our hands brushed once, so he held it anyway, and we continued walking together hand-in-hand.

han was talking about a new song they were composing for the band to play at the next music festival, which required a duet.

“we can do it,” I said, raising my free hand, meaning hyunjin and I. everyone else nodded in approval, and continued talking about their classes.

changbin pushed open the door to the roof, and we quickly followed him in pairs, shutting the door behind us.

we took our spots on the fluffy blanket minho got and laid down, hyunjin’s head resting on my lap. minho sat down with his legs on han’s, while jeongin did the same with chris, and seungmin copied them to lay his legs on changbin’s lap.

we continued chatting about the upcoming music festival and tried to figure out a name for our band before then, while my fingers threaded through hyunjin’s soft hair.

after the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch break (during which none of us actually ate our lunches), we returned to our classes for one last hour, after which, we met up outside the school’s main gate to walk home together.

I ran towards hyunjin while his back was facing me, and placed my cold palm against the back of his neck. he jumped suddenly, and shrieked. he threw his jacket onto my face.

“bitch!” I yelled, grabbing the jacket.

“put it on, jagiya, because your hands are cold as fuck! or you’ll die of the cold and then i’ll have to explain to your mother why i’m carrying her only child’s dead body home.”

“joke’s on you, I don’t think she’d mind. ha! and anyway, i’m a normal temperatured human being, for your information, you’re the warm one!” I complained, slipping his jacket on.

“okay, n/n, we all know you’re wrong on that one,” jeongin said. “give up the fight before it gets too embarrassing—”

“you’re all so mean to me, the best member of our group, and for what?” I rolled my eyes, sighing.

felix and chris stepped in front of me dramatically, and said together, “we’ll protect you from these ghouls, y/n!”

everyone burst out laughing, including them and me.

along the walk home, minho, han, changbin, and seungmin went a different way from the rest of us.

we waved our goodbyes, reminding each other to think of a name for our band.

“when’s our next test, hyune?” I asked suddenly.

“at prep school? I think it’s this friday,” he said.

“ugh, you both are such smartypants, you’re always studying or talking about it,” jeongin complained, accurately playing his role as the youngest child and menace of the group.

“and yet it’s not enough,” I muttered to myself, not realising hyunjin heard my words.

my mind divided its attention between worrying about the syllabus I was yet to cover for the test, and listening to the boys’ conversation.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when jeongin, chris and felix parted ways with us.

hyunjin and I walked a bit further to my house, where he dropped me off.

“see you at prep school!” he said, and jogged a block further to reach his house.

prev < m.list > next

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[hoshifighting]

i love your college fling writings sm aaaa (*≧∀≦*)!! begging on hands and knees for college fling jun 🙏 esp if he’s a bit more on the dom side

college fling!jun

WARNINGS: smut, bio!genius jun, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), cock riding, a little dom!jun, non-established relationship.

it’s a thursday afternoon, the sort of day where the mood smells like cheap cafeteria food and half-assed desperation, ‘cause exams are coming and no one knows shit. you’re slouched over your bio notes in the library, chewing the end of your pen like it owes you some kind of lamp genie, and then boom—in struts college fling!jun.

college fling!jun, who hates the college lockers so much he straight-up just carries all his books around like some kind of over-prepared, slightly chaotic mule. deadass, his backpack looks ready to burst, and you’re already side-eyeing it, wondering how many goddamn textbooks one man could possibly need.

“you okay there?” he plops down across from you, hair slightly messy, and there’s this little grin playing at his lips. why’s he gotta look so cute when you’re on the brink of a mental breakdown?

“nah, i’m actually about to file for emotional bankruptcy,” you mutter, flipping through your notes like the answers are gonna manifest themselves through sheer panic. “you done with the bio assignment?”

college fling!jun, shy-but-funny, lowkey-genius college fling!jun, tilts his head and smirks. “you need help?”

you blink. “you know bio?”

“do i know bio?” he scoffs, dragging your notebook closer like you personally insulted him. “sit back, y/n.”

next thing you know, he’s rattling off answers about cell division and DNA replication like he’s reading straight outta the textbook, except better, ‘cause he’s throwing in jokes about mitochondria being the “bad bitch” of the cell world. who even is this man?

college fling!jun, who spent half the semester cracking dumb jokes about your prof’s comb-over, suddenly explaining concepts better than the professor himself? unreal.

“wait, wait,” you interrupt, pointing at a diagram. “so, like, the nucleus is just… chilling in the middle, bossing everyone around?”

he grins, leaning in closer, and damn, his perfume smells too good for a guy who looks like he only owns three hoodies. “exactly. it’s like me at a group project—doesn’t do much, but still gets credit.”

“i hate you,” you snort, but you’re laughing anyway, and somehow your brain is actually clicking with the material.

college fling!jun, who makes studying feel like less of a slow, painful death.

later, as you’re packing up, he scratches the back of his neck, looking all shy again, and it’s such a whiplash from confident bio-genius jun that you almost laugh. “uh, so… you wanna grab coffee or something? you know, as a reward for surviving bio?”

you raise an eyebrow. “this isn’t you trying to weasel into my project group again, is it?”

“what? no,” he says, but he’s grinning, and you already know he’s lying.

college fling!jun, who probably would try to scam his way into your group, but makes it so damn endearing you’d let him anyway.

it’s late—like, stupid late. the kinda late where your brain feels like it’s melting into a puddle of useless mush. you and jun are on the floor of your dorm, the carpet rough under your knees, surrounded by markers, cut-out letters, and one very sad excuse for a poster board. everyone else dipped like two hours ago, muttering something about “early classes” and “not wanting to lose brain cells”—like, rude much? but jun stayed.

college fling!jun, who’s now sitting cross-legged with his sleeves pushed up, forearms all veiny as he’s meticulously lining up the title letters.

“you’re actually kinda good at this,” you say, crawling closer on your knees, one hand pushing your hair back as it flops into your face. you’re half-joking, but also… not? like, his focus is insane.

he glances up, smirking. “you doubted me?”

“uh, yeah?” you deadpan, sitting back on your heels. “you’re the guy who brought a backpack full of biology books to a history lecture. forgive me for not immediately trusting your poster skills.”

he snorts, shaking his head as he smooths down a corner of the title. “at least I came prepared.”

“prepared for what? a different class?”

“y/n,” he says, tone mock-serious as he leans back on his hands, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

that shuts you up for a second. the compliment—casual, like he didn’t just drop it in the middle of a roast session—has you blinking. you recover quick, though, because if college fling!jun is good at anything, it’s teasing, and you’re not about to let him have the upper hand.

“yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him off as you grab a marker and doodle a little star in the corner of the poster. “you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen you make a move yet. scared?”

his eyes flick to yours, and there’s this little glint in them that makes your stomach flip. “scared? of you?”

“yes, actually.”

he laughs, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s considering something, weighing it. you’re close—closer than you realized, kneeling in front of him while he’s still sitting, one hand resting casually on his thigh.

“come here,” he says.

you tilt your head. “why?”

he leans forward, just a little, until you’re close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. “because I said so.”

there’s a challenge in his tone, and you’re not one to back down. so, you shuffle closer, knees brushing against his as you sit back on your heels again. “happy now?”

he hums, eyes flicking over your face like he’s trying to memorize every detail. “getting there.”

“jun,” you start joking, half-something-else-entirely, but before you can finish, his hand slides up to cup your jaw, fingers warm against your skin as he leans in and kisses you.

he’s waiting for you to push him away. but you don’t. instead, you kiss him back, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you.

and then… well, the guy’s got skills. his lips move against yours with this easy credit, and when his tongue flicks out to trace the seam of your mouth, you can’t help the little noise that escapes you. he takes that as encouragement, deepening the kiss until you’re dizzy, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to keep up.

college fling!jun, who’s apparently really, really good with his mouth.

you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his as you both try to steady yourselves. “okay,” you say, voice a little breathless, “so you’re not scared.”

he laughs, low and soft, his hand still cradling your jaw. “nope. but you might be.”

before you can ask what he means, he’s kissing you again, harder this time, and then his hands are on your hips, pulling you into his lap like it’s nothing easier than that. you go willingly, settling against him as your hands find their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

you’re both a little frantic now, hands wandering as the kiss turns messy, desperate. his fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, skimming over your skin and leaving a trail of heat in their wake. you shiver, pressing closer, and he takes the opportunity to mouth at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“jun,” you moan, and it’s enough to make him pause, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“umm... so do you…”

you nod before he can even finish the question, your hands tugging at his shirt in answer. he grins, and then he’s helping you pull it off, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.

college fling!jun, who’s skinny but stupidly cut, all lean muscle and sharp lines that you can’t help but trace with your fingers as he kisses you again.

“your turn,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. you lift your arms, letting him pull it off.

“you’re so…” he starts, but then he shakes his head, like words aren’t enough. instead, he leans in, kissing you again as his hands explore, mapping out your chest, by pinching your nipples

things blur after that—when he finally settles between your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, you think you might actually lose your marbles.

college fling!jun, who’s apparently a goddamn expert when it comes to going down on you. his tongue swinging your clit to the sides just to suck it all right after. your fingers are tangled in his hair, and you even feel pity about his scalp. he doesn’t stop until you’re cumming inside his mouth—you last minutes by the way—, your back arching off the floor as you cry out, your other hand holding a highlighter that you've found on the floor and decided that would be your stress ball.

and then he’s kissing his way back up your body, touching your hand to release the poor highlighter before it explodes in your hand. as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “still think I’m scared?” he teases and you don’t even have the energy to come up with a clever reply.

college fling!jun, who’s cocky as hell but more than backs it up.

you pull him down for another kiss, your hands fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants as you shift your hips, sinking down onto his lap. the stretch is dizzying. u hear your blood flow through your ears with the immediate sink, making your head spin as he grips your hips,.

college fling!jun who twitches every time you circle your clit as you ride him. the little gasps he lets out are addictive, this stuttered rhythm of groans and whines that have you clenching around him just to see how he’ll react.

“uhm—hands to yourself.” he chokes out, his head tilting back, exposing the long line of his neck, his adam apple bobbing up and down. you take advantage, leaning forward to press kisses there, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat against your lips. his hands tighten on your waist, his thighs flexing under you as he buck his hips up into you as a warning.

“j-jun,” you stammer, breath hitching as you shift, grinding down, making wet shots reach his ears, his head snaps up, eyes dark and glassy as they lock onto yours.

“you like that?” he rasps, his chest heaving as he fights to keep himself together. “‘cause i… i love watching you like this, pretty.”

college fling!jun, who moans loud enough to embarrass himself but is too lost in the feeling of you to care. his grip on you tightens as you find a rhythm. his noises grow louder, needier, every time you roll your hips, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer, he always punishing you a little for teasing him, a pinch on your clit, a bite on your neck, a slap on your ass.

“y/n,” he groans, his voice shaking, and you’re right there with him, your own climax building as you reach down between your bodies, your fingers brushing against your clit again. the added sensation has you gasping, and he twitches inside you, his hands pulling you down hard against him as he lets out a broken moan.

“you’re so… gorgeous, fuck!” he mutters, his words slurred, and that’s all it takes for you to cum, your body fluttering as you cry out his name. the sound of it seems to tip him over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he follows, his body shaking beneath you as he spills inside you.

college fling!jun who collapses back onto the carpet, dragging you down with him, his arms wrapping around your ass, letting his hands lazily squeeze the meat there.

it’s like nothing happened when you two go to the college hallways to finish the project. when actually, everything happened all at once. jun’s sitting at the edge of your desk, eating one of your granola bars like he didn’t have you trembling in his lap just hours ago. you’re pretending to focus on your laptop, but your mind’s stuck on how his hair’s still a little messy and his shirt’s on inside out—your fault, obviously.

“what’s with the face?” he asks, mouth half-full, grinning like he knows exactly what’s with the face.

“you didn’t even ask before raiding my snacks,” you say, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere near flustered.

“c’mon, you owe me,” he teases, leaning closer. “all that… effort? you’re lucky i’m still standing.”

you glare at him, but your face burns. “junhui, shut up.”

college fling!jun, who bites his lip to stop himself from laughing but ends up chuckling anyway, stupidly cute as he swings his legs. you’re about to throw a pen at him when he leans over and kisses your temple.

and that’s how it is now. he’s still jun—still the guy who hoards biology notes and carries all his books like the lockers are his mortal enemy—but there’s this… nerves now, this implicit thing hanging between you. like, when he’s explaining something in class, leaning over your desk, his voice low in your ear, and you’re trying not to think about how those same lips were on your pussy just a few nights ago. or when he slides into the seat next to you during study group, his knee brushing yours, and you glance at him, only to catch him already looking at you with that knowing smirk.

college fling!jun, who’s casual as hell in public but pulls you into empty classrooms when no one’s around, his hands already under your shirt as he kisses you like he’s been dying to all day.

it’s worse at night, though. he texts you at random hours, shit like, “you awake?” and “missed you today” with a dick pic coming right after, hard and dripping for you—like always. like he’s not gonna be in your bed an hour later, his hands sliding over your skin as he whispers your name.

“we’re so bad at this,” you tell him one night, lying tangled in his sheets, his arm thrown over your waist as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder.

“bad at what?” he murmurs sleepy.

“keeping it casual,” you say, glancing back at him. “you’re always here, jun.”

he shrugs, pulling you closer. “maybe i like being here.”

college fling!jun, who’s starting to feel like more than a fling, but neither of you’s ready to say it out loud just yet. instead, you let it keep happening—the late-night visits, the stolen kisses between classes, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

and maybe you’re not ready to say it, but you’re definitely feeling it. especially when he shows up at your door with takeout and that stupid grin, saying, “figured you’d be hungry,” like he hasn’t already fed you twice today.

college fling!jun, who’s not so casual after all.

[papurgaatika]

Keep A Leftover Light Burning

Pairing: joel miller x Ceramicist! reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORKS PLEASE !!

A/N: howdy howdy and welcome all now this is a very special fic for @burntheedges for the @pedrostories secret santa event!! I hope you like it and find it as fun as i did. I think this isnt a trope that we see very often, but after a healthy dose of tiktoks (and watching the scene from ghost again) this came into being. As always thank you to my beloveeeeeeed @carlynkurin for beta reading, and peace and love on the planet earth from me, xoxo Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! tags: Ceramicist reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), publicish sex, strangers to lovers, lots of wet clay, joels arms require their own tag Word count: 3.4k Summary: Sarah forces joel to go take a day to himself, pushing him in the direction of your pottery studio. Despite calling yourself professional and priding yourself on your morals, you can’t help but… fantasize about the man in front of you. 

Joel needs to take time for himself. He’s always on, always ready to go at the flip of a switch,  never taking time to sit and breathe. Everyone knows how hard he works, and despite what he says, Sarah knows that he needs to do something calming. Something that doesn’t involve carving wood or going to the shooting range with Tommy on the off chance that both of them are free for long enough. So being the perfect daughter that she is, she enrolls him in a ceramics workshop that she had gone to once. It was a small studio, tucked away next to the Palace Theatre in downtown Georgetown, soft and quaint in the suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Sarah managed to get a hold of you over the phone and explain the situation, a smile threatening to creep onto your cheeks at the sheer amount of care she had for her father. You tell her not to worry about the price and that you would stay open for an extra hour next weekend just to get him in, a squeal on the other side is all the confirmation you need as you pencil it into your schedule. 

Sunday rolls around and Joel… Well, he was being Joel. Stubborn and groaning as Sarah essentially pushes him out the door to make the drive up IH-35, complaining about “I build things for a living,” and “it’ll be a waste of time.” but Sarah is hearing none of it and one look from her has Joel slipping on his boots. In any other circumstance, he would have praised her for holding her ground, but right now he just sighs and gets into his truck realizing just how much of his stubbornness had rubbed off on her. 

He ends up at the studio just before 5, the sun starting to dip under the horizon, casting beautiful pinks and oranges around the sky. He’s still bitching and moaning as he makes his way to the building, taking a deep breath as he steps inside. You barely even hear the jingle of the little bell above your door, too busy fighting with your sink: now clogged with clay from your last class with 3 kids under ten who didn't understand that when you told them not to dump clay inside the sink. You had meant it. “Fucking thing!” you groan, poking a paintbrush into the drain, hoping to get enough clay out of it so that it would run again. 

Joel stares at you, half confused and half amused with the scene in front of him; your hair a mess, your apron covered in clay and paint, hacking into your sink in ways that he knows won't do you any good. He clears his throat after watching you struggle for about 30 seconds, stifling a smirk when you jump and look back at him. “Need some help? I’m s’possed to have a class now- my daughter-” he shakes his head at the idea of sharing the whole story again “Did I get the wrong time?” 

You look absolutely mortified, dropping the paintbrush in the basin and giving the man in front of you a weak smile “No! No, I just got a little... occupied… you’re on time” You wipe your hands on the front of your apron, not even bothering to attempt to fix your hair, before walking over to greet him. Properly this time. “You must be Joel. Your daughter was very persuasive on the phone.” 

Joel’s smirk shifts into a full-blown smile at the mention of Sarah, the pride he has for the girl shining through. “Yeah, she’s a good one.” he praises. Despite his reluctance to listen to her advice, he knows just how good her heart is, and how much she cares about him. I “Ain't sure what she told ya, and to be honest she hasn't told me what I'm s’possed to be doing here either”

You can't help but smile at his words, the pure adoration for his daughter combined with the slight nervousness in his voice was endearing in ways you weren’t sure how to describe. “No worries, I promise it isn’t anything scary.” You glance around the studio. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, the soft lighting of the different lamps inside the building casting the both of you in a warm glow. The glaze on the ceramics you had on display was a wide assortment of colors: intricately painted motifs, bright splashes of colors, silly cartoons, almost anything you could think of. You pick up a faded apron and hand it to him, watching him stretch as he puts it on. A brief flicker of guilt passes through you as you ogle him, but then you see the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt and the guilt gives way to something primitive. 

He turns back around and you look away with a cough, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks when he raises his brows at you. “Right um-” you stumble over your words, more unrefined than you would have liked to be “Sorry, sorry. We’ll start with choosing what you’ll want to make. I always recommend something easy, like a bowl or a spoon rest..” you pick up a pencil cup that had been painted to look like a pencil and a spoon rest that was a simple blue color, to show him “I already have the clay prepped so we can get started straight on th-” 

Joel cuts you off as he glances around the studio, pointing at a lidded cookie jar “That one.” His words leave no room for argument but certainly bring questions up to the surface. “I'm gonna do that one.” You had been making ceramics for years, starting with air-dry clay in school, continuing to use the wheel throughout university, and eventually quitting your day job to start the studio. You knew the skill level it took to make a jar, the precision and technique to keep it balanced, and it just wasn’t a beginner project. 

“I'm sorry, the cookie jar?” You try not to let your voice betray your disbelief. It wasn't that you lacked faith in the man in front of you, you made sure to be confident in all of your clients, it was simply an issue of skill. “I don't know if that’s the one for you to start out with, it’s a little advanced-” 

But Joel was having none of it. If he was going to be forced to sit here and make something to “calm him down” then damn it it was going to be something that takes skill and effort. Something that he could bring home to Sarah and brag about slightly. Was it a little strange that he wanted to one-up his daughter and prove that he didn't need to be here? Maybe a little bit, but he didn't dwell on it. “Yes ma'am.” His voice is set in the decision. “I'm sure it can't be that bad, let me at it.” 

Never one to truly tell people no, you simply nod and get the prepared clay out. It was soft and slippery, staining your hands a taupe color as you brought it to the wheel, plopping it down on the wheel, and pressing down on the sides to make sure it stuck. “Alright, so with the jar..” you gesture for him to take a seat in front of the wheel, moving to stand behind him “It’ll be a little bit more involved than something simple, but you're in good hands I promise.” Your words are soft, and frankly, you were excited. You didn't throw fun projects with clients as much as you’d like to anymore, focusing more on teaching the basics, so this was honestly a welcomed surprise. “We’ll just start with getting the basic shape of it, you’ll take your hands like this, and we’ll work it up.” 

You sit on your stool behind him, usually, you’d be able to reach around and help with hand placement but good god was he broad. You adjust and readjust your position a few times, finding it oddly difficult to find the right mix between comfort and functionality, eventually ending up with your legs spread a little bit past their comfort level, so that you could lean over his shoulder and help him with the shaping. You squeeze some water onto his hands, moving them to cup the base of the clay and pop the wheel to life. His hands were big under your smaller ones, the roughness contrasting both the soft clay and your skin. You can't help but feel a twinge of something stirring inside you as you help him bring the clay up and down, your hands guiding his. Joel’s brows were knit together in concentration, both endearing and attractive as you watched him focus on the clay. The movements of his hands under yours were careful, almost hesitant, his eyes peeking back at you every so often for assurance. 

Once the clay was at an appropriate size you moved your hands off of his, the wheel slowing to a stop. You swear that you see his hands twitch to stay under yours, but your mind might be playing tricks on you. “Now call me unartistic but this ain't really lookin’ like a cookie jar yet.” Joel raises his brows, a slight hint of teasing hidden in his southern drawl, and you can’t help but snort at the comment.

“I will not call you unartistic, it isn't supposed to look like a jar yet.” You hum and wipe your hands on your apron “We’ll do the lid to it later, but you have to actually make it into a bowl first.” your thumbs gently press down onto the center of the clay to form a soft dent. The wheel starts back up again slowly and you start to open the center up a little bit. “Right so now you just gotta take your thumbs like I did and- perfect!” Joel manages to press his fingers slowly against the clay, working it open, and god you wished that was you more than anything at that moment. You press on the sponge, the water dripping down his hand and onto the clay, almost sensually. Your eyes are locked on the way his thumb dips into the clay, the way the clay comes up onto his skin. Your mouth is dry, and you cough as you stand up, needing to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. 

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel's voice rings out from behind you as you move to take a drink of water, and you swear if his voice was just a tinge deeper, you would have choked right then and there. In the rush of getting up, your brain had ceased to realize that moving off the pedal would stop the wheel from turning.

You feel like an idiot. A stupid, hormonal, completely unprofessional idiot. You take a moment to scold yourself mentally before turning around to face him again. “Yeah, yes. Sorry I just realized how thirsty I was, I just needed water.” You move back to your stool behind him, halfway composed, and move to start the next step. If you'd been in front of him for one more second, you would have seen the knowing smile on his face. There was no denying the attraction between the two of you. Pressed up against each other, hands touching, dim light surrounding you both, it was inevitable. You move your hand to show him the right finger position “so you’ll want to take your middle and ring finger-” You press the two of yours inside of the bowl to give him an example and you swear he laughs a little bit. 

“Oh, believe me, darlin” his voice rings out, big fingers expertly finding their way into the exact position. “I know all about this one.” You watch his fingers glide up and down the inside of the bowl, your hand on top of his, steadying his wrist. You bite at your lip, fingers shaking slightly on top of his. Your chest was pressed against his back and you could feel your nipples hardening. You were annoyingly turned on. This wasn’t normal for you, this wasn't something you do, get the hots for a client, but here you were. And with the way Joel's fingers were methodically moving over yours, you were begging that he felt the same way. “Wouldn’t mind showin’ ya all I know about it.” The want in his voice makes you clench subconsciously, your breath faltering for a second. 

You hold your breath for a moment as if trying to make sure you hadn’t imagined his words in a haze of horniness, only to be broken out of that haze when he shifts and pushes his stool back, and turns around to face you. Both of your hands were covered in wet clay and your aprons were messy, neither of which stopped you from pressing your lips against his. You sigh against his mouth as your hand's fist in the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric with readily drying clay. “I don't usually do this,” you murmur when you pull away for air, your lips swollen and red. 

Joel just grins at your words “S’alright, honey,” his lips find their way to your jaw and move down to your neck, his nose nudging at the fabric of your shirt. “Don't gotta explain anything to me.” His voice is like molasses, smooth and syrupy, keeping you stuck on his every word. You let him move you around, the small wooden stools were less than ideal for either of you. In the mess of standing up and finding a table to bend over your shirt comes off and he groans at the sight of you, his hands grabbing at your waist, staining your skin with water. “Good god… sight for sore eyes…” You can't help but flush slightly at his comment, feeling more exposed while you stare at his fully clothed figure.

 Joel picks up on it, his hands moving from your waist to his shirt and apron, a frustrated noise leaving his mouth when the knotted strings keep him from taking it off. “Let me,” you whisper, reaching around to undo the strings, the fabric of the apron sagging and then getting tossed to some other corner of the room. You stare at him. You couldn't not stare at him. At the hair covering his chest leading down to his belt, the soft yet strong features of his body, at his hand undoing his belt. Your own shorts had been removed, your hands moving to reach into his jeans until he stopped you, a pout and protest forming on your lips. 

Joel just shakes his head at you, picking you up and setting you on a relatively clean table, his body wedged between your legs. “My momma raised me to be a gentleman,” he hums against your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts, nudging your nipples with his nose before giving each of them their own kisses “I didn't take ya to dinner, at least let me get my fill yeah?” Your back fully arched into his mouth as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles were white. The feeling of his tongue flicking against the hardened bud had you moaning out in ways you had never imagined you would, and you swear you could feel him smirk even as he licked a stripe down the soft skin of your tummy. 

His knees crack as he settles between your legs and the sight of him is so sinful you can't help but moan softly. He raises his brows at you, a warm chuckle leaving his mouth at the sound, his lips pressing against the inside of one of your thighs “Look that good?” His voice is laced with a gentle mocking as he presses another kiss, a hair's breadth away from your aching cunt “think I got the better view though.” You don't even have the time, nor the brainpower, to reply before his lips press against you, a groan vibrating against your skin as he tastes you. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had… could get damn addicted.” 

Your lips are parted as his tongue swirls around your clit, your whines and moans spurring him on even further. “F-fuck joel-” you manage at some point, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread apart, despite how much they’d like to clamp around him. He was good at this and he knows that, moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, the words giving him a newfound energy. You feel his warm palms against your thighs keeping you spread open for him, and you almost whine when his tongue leaves your clit, only to cry out in ecstasy when his tongue prods at your pulsing hole. His nose is pressed up against your clit, giving you just the right amount of friction as he gathers your slick on his tongue, cycling between fucking it into you and laying it flat over your cunt. “Joel- joel oh fuck-” Your moans are frantic as he continues to send you closer and closer to that edge, his motions only getting faster as your hand fists in his hair. “Oh my god- fuck fuck fuuuuck-” your legs shake around his head, his hands keeping them apart as he works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you were spent and hazy, laying back on the table with shuddering breaths. 

Your eyes were pressed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of your orgasm, only to peek open when you hear the clink of his belt. His mouth was covered in the sheen of your orgasm, a hungry look in his eyes as he spits into his hand and pulls his cock out. “Tasted like a damn dream,” he groans while he strokes himself. “Gonna remember this forever…” Your eyes are locked on the motions of his wrist, the steady pace, the pearly precum that was leaking from his tip. “Fuckin’ perfect… makin’ me feel like a damn teenager again.” You wait with bated breath as he continues to stroke himself, wiggling your hips in order to entice him. 

 “Joel,” your voice is soft, but so heavily full of need it was almost painful “Please… I want you.” If you were being honest, you thought that it would take more convincing, that you would have to ask more, but Joel was desperate, maybe more so than you were and so when he sinks his cock into your dripping cunt it was ecstasy for both of you. Your eyes fall shut again at the feel of him, the stretch so much but so good. “Oh my god…” you whine, pushing yourself onto him further, your breathing stuttering when one of his hands palms at your breast, the other one gripping your hip with so much strength you think it would leave a mark. 

“That’s it…” he groans, slipping into you all the way. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy, like she was made for me.” His words are punctuated with shallow thrusts that fill you up again and again. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. The feeling of his hips pressing against yours is something you would never be able to get out of your memory. 

You both lay there, bodies pressed against each other, his hips rocking into you slow and steadily, the dim lighting of the studio casting an ethereal glow over the scene. His hips move at a steady pace, keeping you full of him as the coarse hairs around him press against your clit with the right amount of friction. It doesn't take much time until he's panting on top of you, your lips pressed against each other's in a heated kiss as you feel him spill inside you. 

“That was…” you were breathless, his chest still against yours, the rhythm of your hearts syncing up. 

“Yeah…” He grins, pressing a kiss against your forehead gently. “I know I told ya I was a gentleman but, I really would like to see you again… of course no pressure if you don't want to or anything-” 

You cut him off with a small laugh before he can keep going, nudging your head against his. “I want to, Joel.” You smile gently at him “Plus, you didn't finish the jar.” You grin, looking in the direction of the unfinished work of art he had started. “And then I have to fire it, then glaze it, then fire it again, then… well you get the point, I think I’ll be seeing you quite a few more times, Joel.”

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE;  HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley doesn't hear from you after the first game, he thinks that's it. But you got his heart pounding and made him smile, and he wants to see you again. The realization that maybe something that perfect should be left as a one night stand hits him hard, but he wants to know if there could be more.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst and smut (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was laying in bed on Saturday morning with the New York times app open on his phone, scrolling to find your article. When his eyes settled on your name below the title, he tapped on it. The app took him to your full biography and a picture of you in front of Wrigley Field. 

You even looked beautiful in your stock photo image. He was tempted to save it to his photo gallery, but instead he skimmed your bio. You'd lived all over the country and played every sport imaginable as a child. You had graduated first in your class from Syracuse University, and you were undefeated at sports trivia.

The smile on his lips grew as he read the article that you must have submitted before your deadline last night. Your writing style was fun and entertaining, and you had even mentioned the comment he made about the catcher for the Angels. Bradley groaned and tossed his phone aside. He wanted to see you again.

But as he got out of bed and headed for his bathroom, he reminded himself that last night had one night stand written all over it. You were in California for work. You both said that hooking up like that wasn't something you normally did. He was sure you just did it for a bit of fun. Bradley was an idiot for catching feelings after a few hours with you, but it felt like he already knew you. Talking to you in person felt like reading your articles, because your writing matched your personality so well. Witty, intelligent, funny and charming.

"Chill the fuck out," Bradley told himself in the bathroom mirror. "It's done."

Then he spent the day trying to think about anything that wasn't sports related. He even took a ten mile run up along the beach to kill some time. And when Nat asked him if he was going to the Hard Deck, he decided that would help. 

But everyone there was wearing Padres gear and talking about that game one victory. And Bradley swallowed hard when he saw that Shannon was working behind the bar. He hadn't thought about her much recently, and she definitely hadn't crossed his mind at all when he'd been with you. But nevertheless, Bradley smiled when she greeted him.

"Hey, Rooster," she said with that grin that he was so used to. And she poured him a beer before he even asked for one. "You think you'll stick around for last call?" 

He watched her hand as she slid the beer across the bartop. "I'll let you know?" he asked, barely able to meet her eyes. 

"Sounds good. I'll start a tab for you."

He just nodded and turned to find the other aviators. Sleeping with Shannon tonight might help Bradley get you off his mind. But did he want to? He kind of liked the way warm thoughts of your voice and your smile kept bubbling to the surface. He could hear you asking him if he'd write back to a text from you. Honestly, he had been low key hoping you'd contact him today, and then he could have proven that he'd write back immediately, just like he promised. 

But he'd heard nothing. No text. No call. You hadn't done anything with his phone number. 

"What's your problem?" Nat asked, pinching his arm until he snapped out of it. "I asked you three times if you wanted to play pool with me."

"I'm not in the mood," he groaned, rubbing his arm as the TV screen caught his attention. They were playing World Series highlights and talking about tomorrow night's game. 

"Why are you pouting?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nat, I'm not pouting."

"You are. Is this because Bagman is flirting with Shannon?"

Bradley glanced over his shoulder and saw that Nat was correct. Jake was leaning on the bar, trying his hardest to get Shannon to smile. "Nah. I told you, that's just casual. Doesn't mean anything." He sipped his beer.

"Well whatever is bothering you, either tell me about it or get over it, because I want to beat Javy and Reuben at pool for once."

Bradley closed his eyes and told her, "I met someone at the game last night."

"No!" she gasped. "Tell me everything."

After he hesitated for a beat, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your name in the NYT app before handing it to her. He watched Nat as she skimmed the screen and examined your photo.

"Oh! You met her? Oh, shit....you hooked up with her!"

"Yeah," he grunted, glad that his best friend didn't need much help to figure out exactly what was going on with him. She never did. 

"You like her! Why can I so easily picture you happily married to a sports writer? You could have six kids, and each one would play a different sport. One would play softball, one would be a kickass hockey player, one would play soccer, you'd probably have a ballerina-"

"Nat," he said, cutting her off with a laugh. "I'm not going to see her again. I gave her my number, but I haven't heard from her." He turned back to the bar to find that Shannon was alone again. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he stayed until last call.

"Bradley. She's probably covering game two! You could go back to Petco Park tomorrow."

"Yeah," he grunted. "She's definitely covering game two. She told me she was. Right after I gave her my number which she hasn't used. It was just a hookup, Nat."

"I'll buy you a ticket," she said, fishing out her own phone. "An early Christmas present."

"Don't you dare. The resale price is up to almost a thousand bucks for the nosebleed seats."

She sighed and said, "Fine. But you should still think about going."

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

After you spent most of your weekend in your hotel room doing research and writing, you decided to take a few hours off on Sunday afternoon. And it was during this time, when you went for a walk through Balboa Park, that you let yourself accept the fact that you'd been working like a maniac all weekend to try to keep your mind off of Bradley.  

Your hotel room smelled like his cologne or aftershave or maybe his laundry detergent. It was nice. Kind of comforting. You wanted to lay in bed with him until you smelled like it, too. But on Saturday morning, when you had thrown away the rogue condom wrapper, you decided it was better to throw away his phone number, too. You tried to rip that sheet out of your notebook since you no longer needed those stats, but you couldn't do it. Instead it was tucked away with your other work items, and you hoped you wouldn't cave and contact him.

After you took a shower, you grabbed your bag and your media pass and headed out early so you would have time to get some food when you got there. You liked that the ballparks usually served up local treats, and you'd get there in time to actually enjoy some fish tacos or a poke bowl tonight. You even thought about grabbing a local beer and drinking it on the main concourse before heading up to the box. You decided to go up and set down your computer and then find the beer cart.

But when you approached the narrow stairs that would take you up to the press box, you froze.

"Ace."

He was standing there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, an earnest look on his handsome face.

"Bradley," you gasped as your heart thudded with excitement. "What are you doing here? Did you win another contest?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I bought a ticket."

You knew the tickets were reselling at a premium price, and as he pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms to his sides, you asked, "Really? You're that much of a Padres fan?"

He shrugged and kind of shook his head, but your breath caught in your throat when he said, "You never texted me, Ace. I haven't stopped thinking about you for a single second, but you didn't text or call me."

He was close enough now that you could smell him, and you almost whimpered as your eyes fluttered closed. "You really wanted me to use your number?" you asked, meeting his eyes once again.

"Of course. That's why I wrote it down," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Shit, I shouldn't have come here to see you." He was blushing profusely and looking at the floor. "You wanted that to be a one time thing, didn't you?" he asked, glancing up at your eyes with a slight grimace on his face. 

Well now you weren't so sure. You thought he had just written his number down as a tactic. It wouldn't have been the first time you had a guy see how far he could get you to go while making you feel like you had some sort of safety net. Making you think he was really into you. But maybe Bradley actually was?  

"Bradley, I-"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "In an effort to not completely ruin the perfection of Friday night in my mind, I'm gonna go."

You watched him turn, and he made it about ten steps before you ran to him, reaching for his bicep. "Bradley, wait." When he stopped, you bumped into him, but he steadied you. You swallowed hard. He was so attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him all weekend. Inviting him back to your hotel room again had been a fun fantasy you'd indulged in since late Friday night. "Do you want to sit with me again? In the box?"

He looked surprised now. "Yeah."

"Okay." You linked your fingers with his and led him back to the stairs. He still looked a little tentative as you added, "Let's go."

When you used your card to open the door, you made it halfway up the stairs before you paused and turned to look at him. He was one step below you, and your height just about matched up with his. He still looked a little surprised, but there was a soft smile on his lips now, and you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around his.

"To be clear, did you buy a one thousand dollar ticket so you could stand at the bottom of these stairs and try to see me again tonight?"

"Yes," he said clearly and without hesitation. You shook your fingers free from his and wrapped both of your hands around the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. Your nose brushed along the side of his as you felt the prickle of his mustache against your skin. And then his hands were on your waist as he welcomed you into his arms. He parted his lips for you as you dragged your fingers up into his hair. Then he broke the kiss long enough to rasp, "I like you, Ace."

You kissed his lips once more before running your lips along his mustache. He squeezed your waist a little tighter as the door opened behind him. When you saw that it was Raya, another sports writer, you took Bradley by the hand again and led him all the way into the box.

"Don't get into any trouble today," you whispered, pushing him down into the same stool he had occupied on Friday night. "I got you in with my pass."

"I'll be so good," he promised, looking up at you with eyes far too innocent for the rest of his smirking face. And somehow you doubted it.

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

Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you worked. He kept finding ways to trace little circles along your back. The pace of game two seemed to be a lot faster as the Angels got into a better groove against the Padres, and you were frantically keeping your stats as you typed away. 

"You want something else to eat?" he asked you between innings as you scribbled out some notes that he supposed must have made sense to you.

"Yes, please," you said, turning to smile at him. You watched Bradley stand, and he headed to the table lined with food. You seemed surprised that he had been sincere when he said he wanted you to text him. Yeah, he'd been joking around a little bit when he wrote his number down in your notebook, but he was kind of crushed when he hadn't heard from you. 

When Bradley turned to take the food back to that little spot you and he were sharing in the last row, he saw the reporter in front of you turn around and start giving you a hard time.

"You gonna bring your boyfriend to each game, New York?"

Bradley wanted to punch this asshole in the face, because who even made comments like that? But instead he watched you sigh dramatically and say, "At least I can get laid, Quincy. You're such a hater. Now turn around, I'm busy."

But Bradley did shoot Quincy a glare for good measure, and he didn't take his eyes off him until he had turned around. "More food," Bradley told you, setting the plate down where you could reach it without it being in your way. Then he settled onto his stool and draped his arm across the back of yours while you picked at the food. 

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thanks," just as the Padres hit a home run. Bradley desperately wanted to cheer, but nobody cheered in the press box, apparently. So he sat quietly while you updated your stat sheet and ate a taco. 

"Which team do you cheer for, Ace?" he asked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. "You know, when you're not working and allowed to cheer."

Your lips parted in silence before you pressed them together, and then you said, "I never tell anyone my favorite teams."

Bradley examined your face for a beat. "You want to tell me, don't you?"

"Oh my god," you moaned, head tipped back. "Yeah, I actually do."

As Bradley shook from the laughter he was trying to hold in, you leaned in close to him. "You can tell me," he said, grinning. "I'll keep your secret."

You let your palm come to rest on his abs before sliding it along to his waist as you pressed your lips to his ear. "You can't tell anyone. Ever."

The feel of your lips on him, about to divulge something so important to your career had him pulling you closer. You laughed softly as your lips bumped his ear, and Bradley stifled a moan. 

"I won't say a word about it," he promised.

"My favorite team is the Toronto Blue Jays."

That was about to become Bradley's favorite team, too. Maybe he could go to a game with you when you were allowed to cheer. 

"Do you know what their mascot is named?" you asked as you eased yourself back into your seat. When he shook his head, you picked up your pencil and wrote in the margin of your stat sheet.

Ace.

Bradley laughed again. You had him smiling or laughing nonstop right now, and he couldn't believe it was already the eighth inning. It was getting late in the game now, but you were still writing. 

Do you want to come back to my hotel with me again?

And then he realized that this was the first time he'd thought about fucking you all day. 

Bradley leaned in close and kissed your neck a few times before he said, "Only if you save my number in your phone." Because as much as he'd been thinking yesterday about how good it felt to have sex with you, he wanted to hear from you when it wasn't a game day. He wanted to keep talking to you.

During the break at the end of the inning, you pulled your phone out and made a show of flipping to the previous page in your notebook and entering his phone number into your contacts list. Then you turned your phone screen away from him and typed something out, and he just waited to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he did, he looked at his messages and saw that you had sent him a photo of you with the Toronto Blue Jays mascot. And you captioned it with: Be honest, which Ace do you think is cuter?

He typed out to you, I'm not sure if you knew this, but I'm wildly attracted to blue feathers.

When you looked at your phone again, your laughter was loud enough to have Quincy turning around and earning another glare from Bradley. And just as the ninth inning started, you texted Bradley one more time. I hope you replaced your wallet condom, Boy Scout Bradley. 

Truthfully, he had not. Getting lucky hadn't been his primary thought when he was just wanting to see you again. He muttered, "We're gonna need more than one, Ace."

And as your hand came to rest on his thigh, you tapped your lips with your pencil eraser. "I saw them for sale in the hotel lobby."

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

You couldn't remember feeling this way ever before. At least not with someone you barely knew. Bradley had your bag on his shoulder and he was practically carrying you across the parking lot as you laughed. You liked him a lot. He came back to see you again today. He was so funny and sweet, and you should have texted him on Saturday. 

"You seem very eager," you whispered against his cheek as you kissed him at the crosswalk. You were running your hands all over his shoulders and dipping your hands inside his Padres jersey. 

He picked you up to carry you across the street with the crowd of other pedestrians. "I'm hoping you'll show me your blue feathers tonight," he rasped, making you laugh even more. 

"I knew you liked the other Ace better!"

He kissed your neck, and once he had you inside the hotel lobby, he said, "No, you're my favorite."

"Condoms," you whispered, pointing toward the small convenience shop next to the front desk. Bradley set you down and grabbed up all ten double packs of condoms and dumped them in front of the young guy who was working at the front desk.

"Is that all you needed, sir?"

Bradley pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, looking at you while he said, "Well no, that's not all I need." His gaze was openly needy as he looked at your face, lingering on your lips. You felt warm all over, and when Bradley had all twenty condoms in his hands again, you hooked your fingers though the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him toward the elevators. 

"Let's go, Boy Scout."

Bradley groaned as the elevator door opened and you pulled him inside. He stood before you with your computer bag, so many packs of condoms and an erection that you could plainly see behind his zipper. You giggled and ran your thumbnail up and down his zipper as you said, "You're adorable."

He swallowed hard as you led him out on the top floor and down the corridor toward your room. "Ace? Baby?"

"Yeah?" you asked, unlocking the door as he stood behind you and let you feel him pressed to your lower back.

"Maybe you should finish writing your article first? I don't want you to get too close to your deadline again."

You opened the door and backed into the room, pulling him in with you. "No," you whispered before you kissed him hard. "I want you right now."

You grabbed one of the double packs of condoms from his hands, and he let the rest of them fall to the floor. The smile that you and he shared had your tummy doing somersaults as he gently set down your computer bag. You continued to back up slowly to the bed as he followed you. When you toed off your shoes, you watched him pause to pull his off as well. And then you were holding up the condoms and walking backwards across the bed on your knees until you reached the middle. 

Bradley was frozen, just staring at you with a crooked smile on his face and his hands on his zipper. "I'm waiting," you whispered. And then you weren't waiting anymore at all, because Bradley was on top of you, wrapping his arms around you as his weight pushed you down into the bedding.

You moaned into his kisses as you ran your fingers through his hair. He already felt, smelled and sounded familiar to you. He tugged on your shirt until he was kissing you through your bra.

"You don't taste like beer today," he murmured against your skin, teasing you with his mustache. 

"No, you managed not to spill," you replied, pulling your own shirt off as he unhooked your bra. His mouth was all over your breasts once he tossed your bra on the floor, and you were arching your back up against him. "You feel good."

He groaned into your skin while you felt him grind against your core through way too much fabric. "Ace." His hands were cupping your breasts as he let his lips drift down your belly until he was kissing along the top of your jeans. You unbuttoned and unzipped your pants and let him pull them down your legs. And then he was still fully clothed, giving you head just like two nights ago.

He was good at it, too. But when you started to touch your own breasts, he got distracted, lips grazing your clit as he watched you. When he lazily brought the pad of his thumb up along your slit and started teasing you, the sounds you made were so needy. You thought he could probably get you off like this if you wanted him to. 

But you sat up and made quick work of his jersey buttons while he slipped his index finger inside you. "Bradley," you moaned softly as he kissed your neck and finger fucked you. He just seemed to want to make you feel good, and your hands stalled as you pushed his jersey down off both of his shoulders. Your palms came to rest on his warm biceps, and you could feel his arm muscles working as he fingered you. 

"Tell me what you want, Ace," he grunted, stroking your clit with his thumb. He'd said that on Friday as well. 

"I want you naked and inside me."

He let you undress him then, and you took his cock in both of your hands. You watched him roll onto his back as you teased him with your fingers, running your nails down along his thighs. The veins in his neck were strained, and his cheeks were flushed as his eyes darted from your face down to your hands and back up. He was glorious. Huge everywhere. Tan and muscular and perfect. So hard and eager to please. 

When you straddled his hips and planted your hands on his shoulders, he pulled you to him, kissing your lips until you were laying flat on him. His length was gliding through your soaked pussy, and you moaned at the feel of him rubbing slowly against your clit. You mumbled his name, but he just kissed your lips harder, wrapping those big hands around your hips. 

With each little movement of your hips grinding against him, you were closer to fucking him, so you gasped, "Condom." 

"Mmhmm," he hummed, one big hand at the middle of your back while he reached blindly around the bedding in search of the small package. His lips were still soft and perfect on yours, unhurried as he handed you the condoms. You pressed your forehead to his as you fumbled trying to open one of them, and then you were sitting up between his legs, rolling it down his length, ready to go.

You guided yourself down around his cock, and he felt incredible, just like before. "Oh god," you whined softly, taking every inch of him while he grasped your thighs hard. 

"So pretty," he whispered, watching you fucking him. Soon you were riding him fast and rough, bracing your hands on his abs. You couldn't even talk or formulate words as you whimpered, because he was hitting that sweet spot inside you. With every movement you were getting closer, and Bradley looked like he was struggling to keep it together. 

You took his right hand, and brought it up to your mouth, sucking on his index and middle fingers to get them wet. "Baby, it feels too good," he groaned, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Then you guided his hand down to your clit, and you started cumming almost instantly. You held onto his wrist, rubbing your clit against his fingers with each stroke of your pussy along his cock.

Loud, incoherent noises filled the room as you came, riding him without finesse, head tipped back. And then Bradley was sitting up, right arm wrapped around your waist while he braced himself with his left palm on the bed. He whispered praise against your skin, pausing to kiss you as he thrust his hips up to fuck you as you came down from your high. "You're so hot. So good."

He sucked on your neck before his movements became jerky, and then he was chanting Ace! as he came too. He collapsed back against the bed with you held tightly to his chest, and you ran your fingers along his sweaty neck and up to stroke his jaw.

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

Bradley had nearly fallen asleep with your warm body draped over his and his soft cock still buried inside you. And then your phone alarm went off, and you were instantly scrambling to find your jeans amongst the pile of clothing on the floor.

"Shit," you muttered, glancing at him as you silenced your phone and checked the time. "I need to finish writing and submit my piece."

Bradley nodded and rolled onto his side and reached for a tissue to take care of the used condom. The last thing he wanted to do was go home now, but you had work to do, and he needed to be on base in the morning. He stood as you scooped his jersey up off the floor, but instead of handing it to him, you slipped it on. It fit you like a cute, little dress. 

"My article is almost done," you murmured, retrieving your bag from near the door where he had set it down earlier. He smiled as you stepped around all the other packs of condoms. "I just need to add in my stats and proofread everything."

"Okay," he whispered, unwilling to break the spell that he felt like he was under when he was in your presence. "I can head out." He started to reach for his undershirt and boxer briefs, figuring you could just keep his jersey if you wanted to wear it. 

But Bradley found himself wanting to ask if he could see you again. You saved his phone number this time, and while you were going up to Los Angeles for game three, he was hoping you'd be back in San Diego again. He was almost pissed now that the Padres were up two games to none in the World Series, because the more games that these two teams played, the longer you'd be in California. And LA was a hell of a lot closer to San Diego than New York City was.

As he held his clothes in his hand, you bit your lip and looked at him while your computer booted up. "You can stay. If you want?"

He froze, trying to process what you meant. "Stay?"

"Yeah," you whispered, taking him by the hand. "While I write."

He instantly dropped everything back to the floor as you pulled him to the desk chair. He sat down and then you sat on his naked thigh, entering your impressively long password and pulling up your mostly completed article. You flipped through your notebook to your stats sheet, and Bradley let his hand come to rest on your leg. 

"You wanna help me?" you asked, typing away. "Tell me when Soto was on third."

Bradley skimmed the sheet and found the information. "Bottom of the sixth inning. Right before Grisham hit a double." He leaned in and kissed your neck as you murmured thanks. 

"And when did Hill replace Darvish?"

Bradley read your sloppy notes and smiled. "Halfway through the seventh inning."

"Perfect," you whispered, and Bradley held you quietly as you scrolled to the top of your article and read it out loud. Your voice was captivating, and you somehow made the game he had seen in person even more interesting. He chuckled at the part where you mentioned how the Angels' coach had tripped coming out of the bullpen, and you smiled at him over your shoulder before you finished reading. 

"Damn, Ace," he muttered as you saved it one last time and logged in to submit the article. "That was brilliant." Bradley was getting hard again. Some sort of combination of what you said and how you said it turned him on. 

You closed your computer and laughed softly, nudging his erection with your knee as you turned in his arms. You glanced down at his cock, standing at attention for you, and Bradley could feel himself blushing. "Oh," you gasped, running your fingernails along his length as you grinned. "Eager again."

Bradley groaned and let his head tip back as you kissed his neck. "I think I'm always going to be eager for you. Talking about sports and wearing my Padres jersey are certainly helping."

Your laughter was his undoing as your lips met his warm cheek, and then Bradley watched your face as your pussy cradled his cock so that he was gently throbbing against your clit. "How many more condoms do we have?" you asked, fingers in his chest hair. 

"Nineteen," he replied, voice deep and raspy with need. 

"I'll be right back," you promised, kissing his lips before you stood and grabbed the unused condom from the bed. His jersey was open, offering him a peek here and there of your tits and belly as you moved. Then you were rolling this condom into place and straddling his hips on the chair.

Bradley pulled the jersey open wider so he could watch you sink around his cock. You felt like perfection, and the way your body looked as you took him was making him dizzy.

"You know," you sighed as he bottomed out inside you, "if the Angels start a different pitcher for game three, it could really throw off the Padres plans."

"Yeah?" he asked, stroking the soft skin of your waist as you rolled your hips. "Tell me more."

"Mmm, well, they've been following the same plan the whole season, right?" you asked, your lips grazing his as you spoke. 

"Yeah, they have," Bradley agreed, already ridiculously close as you fed him this brand of dirty talk.

"I think they should try something new and start Hermans instead," you whined, kissing him hard as you rode him.

"Are you trying to turn me on right now, Ace?"

"Yeah," you gasped as you fucked him harder. "Is it working?"

"You know it is, Baby," he groaned, grinding his hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you already know how to make me wild."

Then you were gasping out pitching stats, your voice breaking as you rode him so well. Bradley was barely keeping it together, and then your fingers were in his hair, tugging at the roots. He knew what to do now; he licked his fingers and brought them to your tight clit, and your eyes went wide. 

"Yes!" you gasped, seemingly surprised that he had you cumming almost instantly. And the sight of your tits bouncing in his face was the last thing he saw before he sucked on your nipples and came hard.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as his breathing evened out. He was trying to focus on your words, because they sounded very important. "If the Padres sweep the Angels, then I won't be back in San Diego. But if they go to a game six scenario, maybe we can see each other again?"

Yes, your words were very, very important. He wanted you to come back to San Diego, but he was determined to see you even if you didn't. "I could come up to LA. Get a ticket for game three. If you want."

You pulled away from him, and then Bradley was looking up into your surprised eyes. "Yeah?" you asked softly. 

"Sure, Ace," he mumbled, running his knuckles along the soft valley between your breasts. "I'd love to. But it's up to you."

Your voice was soft. "Okay."

Then Bradley kissed your lips and said what was on his mind. "We should keep doing this. Me and you. Until the World Series ends. Until you have to leave California."

He could feel your pussy squeeze his soft cock as you started kissing him and running your fingers through his hair. And a few minutes later, he had you in your hotel room bed, snuggling up with your back pressed to the front of his body as you both fell asleep. 

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

Bradley is out there dropping a cool grand just to try to verify if that was actually a one night stand or not. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

[glowettee]

HIIII. i literally love your blog to death. it's so cute. and it's so informative.

Do you have any tips for making friends? i struggle soooo much with making friends! thank you mindy!

hi angel! 🌸 thank you for your sweet message about my blog! making friends can be super challenging, especially when you're focused on big dreams like med school and business like me. (trust me, i totally get it). let me share my detailed guide on making meaningful connections !

a guide to making friends (for ambitious sweethearts) ♡

understanding the basics of friendship: friendship is like a dance between two souls. it requires patience, understanding, and genuine interest in others. as someone who loves psychology, i've noticed that the strongest friendships are built on:

mutual understanding

shared values

consistent communication

emotional safety

reciprocal support

where to find friends (places i've had success):

academic settings

honors/ap classes (found my study buddy in ap bio!)

study groups (perfect for combining socializing and academics)

library study sessions

academic clubs (pre-med society changed my life)

business club meetings

extracurricular activities

volunteer work at local hospitals, clinics, animal shelters

business competitions

leadership workshops

student government

entrepreneurship clubs

psychology-backed friendship tips: (combining my psych knowledge with real experience)

first impressions

maintain soft eye contact

practice open body language

speak clearly but softly

show genuine interest

remember names (psychology trick: repeat it 3 times mentally)

conversation skills

ask open-ended questions

practice active listening

share relevant personal experiences

validate others' feelings

use "yes, and" technique to build on topics

maintaining friendships

schedule regular study dates (if you're a student)

create shared goals

celebrate each other's achievements

offer emotional support

respect boundaries

balancing friendships with ambition: as someone pursuing both medicine and business, i understand time management is crucial. here's how i maintain friendships while staying focused:

study together

share academic resources

create accountability partnerships

schedule friendship time like meetings

combine social time with productive activities

common friendship challenges and solutions:

feeling too busy solution: integrate friends into your routine (study sessions, lunch breaks)

social anxiety solution: start with one-on-one interactions in comfortable settings

fear of rejection solution: remember that everyone feels this way sometimes

maintaining boundaries solution: be clear about your time constraints and priorities

different interests solution: find common ground in shared goals and ambitions

red flags to watch for: (important)

friends who don't respect your academic goals, career goals, life goals etc..

people who make you feel bad about your ambitions

toxic competition

inconsistent support

emotional drainage

green flags to look for: (important)

mutual encouragement

respect for boundaries

genuine interest in your success

emotional availability

consistent communication

note:

quality over quantity always

true friends support your dreams

it's okay to be selective

friendship takes time to develop

your academic goals matter too

personal note: i've found my closest friends through shared interests in medicine and business. we study together, support each other's goals, and understand when we need to focus on academics. these friendships are extra special because they align with our future paths.

i'm naturally an introvert and i tend to isolate myself a lot, but the friends i have are super understanding and support me, and i couldn't ask for better friends <3

sending you the sweetest vibes and hoping you find your perfect friend group! remember, the right friends will celebrate your ambitions, not dim your shine. ✨

love always, mindy

p.s. feel free to message me anytime for more specific advice! we're all in this together. 🤍