#the greek class has nothing on me

[losergirlsoap]

i just started reading the great gatsby and i already feel like richard papen

[squidiosyncrasies]

I think it's pretty common actually that, after learning enough about any subject, it gets harder for that person to realize what is and is not more common knowledge about that subject.

It also goes in the other direction. For example, one of my in-laws, after learning that I'm not familiar with Star Trek, assumed I had never even heard of (the very famous) George Takei and kept trying to tell me things I already knew about him.

I think the most unintentionally pretentious part of me is I genuinely forget that most people do not have a near-encyclopedic knowledge of mythology and folklore. I literally just assume most people know at least the name of every Greek god. My mom and I were watching the Banshees of Inisherin and at the start, she asked "Do you know what a banshee is?" and I was so stunned because it would never occur to me to ask that question because I would never assume the average person doesn't know what a banshee is. The average person knows what a banshee is right. You know what a banshee is right. You know the names of the greek gods right. You know that norse myth where loki fucked the horse right. Right. RIGHT

[barnbridges]

some academic smarter than me wrote fhat augustus is basically the first documented high masking autistic and i think a LOT about how that's bunny's idol. like what the fuck is wrong with him.

[attapullman]

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head. 

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action. 

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?" 

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester. 

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed. 

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg. 

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse. 

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily. 

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester. 

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!” 

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch. 

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house. 

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare? 

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face. 

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest. 

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe. 

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?” 

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them. 

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself. 

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher. 

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder. 

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.” 

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you. 

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent. 

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good. 

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind. 

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right. 

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands. 

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses. 

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out. 

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light. 

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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[justaaveragereader]

Slashtober🔪|| Jennifer’s Body!Yeosang

Pairing: Yeosang x Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: DARK THEME, Dub Con, CNC Manipulative Yeosang, Mean Yeosang, Mentions of Death, Yeosang Is A Killer😬, Choking, Reader Is Put Into A Headlock🤪, Spitting, Name Calling, Humiliation, Dollification, Raw Sex, Degradation, Rough Sex, Oral, This Is Slashtober..You Know What You’re Getting Yourself Into🤪If I Missed Something..Lemme Know👀👀..

A/N: Yall it’s finally time for Slashtober AHHHHH! Im just going to apologize ahead of time for the person I was when I wrote all the fics for Slashtober this year😔, they are all 5.5k+, believe it or not I cut a lot out of this fic otherwise it was going to be a 9.8k+ fic, with that being said let’s have an amazing Slashtober this year👏🏼🖤! Onto slasher Yeosang!

Slashtober 24’ Masterlist

NSFW UNDER CUT MDNI!!!🔞

“Yeosang come on.” You groan out, pulling his wrist. His shyness always killed you, the man was sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves yet Yeosang hid inside his shell constantly.

“This is our first day of college.” You groan, attempting to pull him further on campus. Trying to move him was next to impossible, convinced his feet here one with the concrete.

“What if someone talks to me?” He says nervously, while looking around the campus. Multiple people pass by him chattering amongst each other. Well immersed in college life. This was the lifestyle for you, not for him.

Over the past couple of months it was hard to convince Yeosang to go out, he had originally planned to take a year off after highschool, not even wanting to bother with any type of academics anymore. His parents had burnt him out, the social setting fried him up, and your constant nagging on attending the same school is what grounded him. Highschool had been quite a ride for you both, you both had always stuck to each other. Being the outsiders amongst all odds, none of that mattered as long as he had you, and vice versa. You were born practically attached at the hip, and nothing would change the connection you both had.

Letting out a loud sigh he begins to move his feet, dreading the life he signed up for all because you didn’t want to “be alone” in this chapter of your life. As his feet begin to move your eyes light up. Gripping his wrist you swiftly move towards the buildings dodging all the moving bodies, while you continue to yap his ear off about what classes you both got, Yeosang soaks in his surroundings, a shiver runs down his spine, just as his body breaks out in goosebumps a shoulder bumps Yeosang sending him slightly tumbling back into another body, your hand that was holding him was knocked away.

Your eyes immediately try to find the culprit of the contact you whiz your body around. Vocals warming up to cuss out whoever knocked into you both.

“Way to go San.” A small man says with annoyance underlying his tone, his hands placed on Yeosangs shoulders to help steady his balance.

“You alright man?” San says quickly panicking, hands flying in multiple directions, glancing over Yeosang to make sure he has no injuries. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, gripping Yeosangs shoulders tighter, pulling him closer to his body. His warm breath tickling Yeosangs ear.

“I think he’s fine, after all I did catch him.” Wooyoung says with a hint of teasing underlying his tone. Lightly shoving Wooyoung back, San steps in front of you, broad back facing you while he scans over Yeosang, lightly grasping him like he’s made of the most precious glass. His warm hands brushing his hair out of his face, exposing the birthmark by his eye. Sans jaw drops slightly, his eyes grow in size.

“How cool!” He says bringing his face closer to Yeosangs birthmark, wanting to inspect it further. San never knew the meaning of personal space. You slightly shove San to the best of your abilities away from your best friend, barely moving, he looks in your direction. Being shell shocked at the fact you put your hands on him.

“Who the hell do you think you are?! Get your hands away from him! You don’t go around touching people you don’t know. On top of that how rude of you bump into us. You got eyes, do they work though?!” You shout, as you shove off Wooyoungs hands from Yeosangs shoulders.

“And you!” You shout even louder, pointing a finger in Woos face, as you grip Yeosangs wrist snatching him out of his grasp.

“Who in the entire fuck are you?! You caught him my ass, your big boulder shoulder friend here knocked him into you. You didn’t catch him.” You shout in his face, his hands still in the air where Yeosangs shoulders were just seconds ago. You smack his hands down to his sides.

All San could do was watch with admiration in his eyes, never had he seen someone as fiery as Hongjoong in quite a while. His eyes followed your every moment, all the yelling you were doing was being drowned out, the twinkle in his eyes lighting with every finger you pointed in Wooyoungs direction. You poking his chest brought him back to reality.

“And you, all in my bestfriends personal space! What you got rocks for brains up there?!” Cracking a smile he grips your finger in his hand, warm palms engulfing it. He shakes your finger poking his chest. A radiant smile breaks out on his face, warming your hearts lightly. Face still stone cold you look at him with daggers in your eyes..

“Hello I’m San.” He says full of glee. Like you hadn’t been cursing him and his flirtatious friend out for the past five minutes. Snatching your hand back, you wipe your palms on your pants. Side eyeing his friend who was clearly looking at Yeosang like he was a hunger deprived animal. You step back, guarding Yeosangs frame. San beams his smile, stepping to the side, he waves his hand once more.

“Hi! I’m San! Nice to meet you!” He speaks to Yeosang, Yeosang gives him a tight lip smile, raising his hand quickly, barely waving before dropping it.

“And this here..” San says pulling Wooyoung in a bone crushing side hug.

“Is Wooyoung!” He says while patting Woos shoulders knocking him slightly forward.

“Jung Wooyoung at your service.” He says winking at Yeosang reaching his hand out, attempting to shake Yeosangs hand. Slapping his hand away, you push Yeo back slightly, not wanting him to get any closer to Yeosang.

“Listen here San, take you and your flirty feral friend over here out of my sight.” You grit out.

“Heading into the main building?” San questions with hearts in his eyes, your snappy tone fell on his deaf ears. All he heard was you say his name and his heart practically imploded on itself

“If so, that's where we are heading! We could walk as a group!” San crushes your side while Woo crushes Yeosangs side. Forming one line, San grabs your wrist pulling you and Yeo towards the main entrance. As you all fall into an assembly line of movement, Wooyoung blows lightly on Yeosangs ear, startling him, grabbing Yeosangs sweaty hand, he leans into his ear once more.

“You’re pretty and skittish, I like that in a person.” He whispers, blowing on his ear once more. A small squeak leading into a laugh fills Yeosangs ear. Your hand grips Yeosangs wrist tighter, pulling him closer to your body. As San continues to lead you all into the main entrance never does he stop talking, with each step joy fills his tone. A warmth spreads through your body at his actions, still on the fence you let him lead, hesitantly following him through the doors. Only if you had known then that the friendship that would bloom between you all would end up to their demise.

-

“How are you feeling?” You ask Yeosang, your palm covers his forehead, face sunken in, sweat covering his whole body. He shivers with each breath he takes. Letting out a wet cough he looks up at you, lips cracked, dehydration and lack of sleep warps him into a quivering mess.

“I think I’m going to die.” Yeosang whispers out, deep voice cracking in pain. Letting out a small groan he tries to cave in further on himself, pushing himself further in the fetal position.

“Should we take him to go see someone?” You ask distressed, your eyes shoot all over Yeosang. You had never seen him this sick before. Your stomach doubles over in worry, uneasiness filling your veins as you stand up grabbing his jacket and shoes. San grabs your arm, stopping your frantic actions.

“He will be fine, he probably has the flu.” San says, a small smile creeping on his face. His effort to reassure you falls short. As you both had grown closer the underlying jealousy Yeo and San felt for each other was hard not to notice. The tension between the two could suffocate anyone within a 50 mile radius.

“The flu? Look at him San, I’ve never seen him this bad before.” You reply, clearly on edge. Hushing you San brings you into a small hug.

“If he’s like this tomorrow, I say we take him to the doctor, as for right now I think we should at least give it 24 hours, his sickness came out of nowhere.”

Cracking a dry lipped smile, letting out a small whistle which breaks into a coughing fit.

“It’s almost like that’s how sickness works San.”

Rolling his eyes, San gets ready to rebuttal back to Yeo but is stopped by you placing your hand on his chest.

“I’ll call Wooyoung, and he can come babysit you.” San says, tone laced with sarcasm. Before Yeosang can respond his stomach lets out a loud growl, doubling over in pain, biting his lip he lets out a small groan. Before you can shoot to his side, San grabs your wrist holding you back. His lips graze your ear..

“He will be fine…Woo will be here shortly so he can take care of him.” Biting your lip you look over Yeo once more, grabbing him some more pain meds, placing them down beside his water. You brush your hands through his damp hair.

“Will you be alright..?” You whisper kindly to him.

“Of course. These could be growing pains.” He says with a chuckle, letting out a small laugh, brushing your hands through his hair once more you place a kiss on his forehead. Sans nostrils flare, one thing no one would ever break is your and Yeosangs bond. Two flames in the night, even though one always burned brighter than the other. You place your hand on his forehead once more, gathering your things along with San, you make way to head out before looking over your shoulder once more, against your better judgment you leave, letting the aching sound of the door close behind you. San nudges your shoulder lightly with his own, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hey…” he says in a small voice, giving your hand a squeeze.

“He will be okay, Woo will be over shortly.” Biting your lip, you try your best to gather a smile to send him, nerves of sickly Yeosang still cloud your mind. Nodding you both make your way to the library, Yeosang will be fine right..? Right. If only you had known that Yeo wasn’t the one in danger.

~

“Hey Yeo! I’m here!” Wooyoung gleefully announces. Taking his shoes off at the entryway of the room. Holding his backpack strap with a big smile on his face.

“San told me you weren’t feeling well. Don't worry, I made some soup. Guaranteed to heal you!” Looking up from the floor with the bowl in his hand. He looks around, the lights are off, the tv casts a shadow on the wall, such little light barely illuminating the small dark room. Taking a step forward he calls out for Yeosang again, with no response. Taking his phone out, he rereads Sans text messages, making sure that Yeosang was left at his dorm. Just as he’s beginning to message San, he feels a heavy presence in the room. It's like boulders have fallen on his chest, his knees slightly buckle. Dropping the bowl of soup, the liquid pours all over the floor, dampening the area around Woo, falling completely to the floor, gasping for air. His eyes fill with tears, struggling to breath, he attempts to crawl back out the door. Through blurry vision he sees an object blocking the door. Reaching his hands up he grasps Yeosangs pants, twisting them tightly, with pleading eyes he looks up, face turning a purple and blue hue.

“Look at you…” Yeosang coos through a sultry tone. Bending down so he’s eye to eye level with Woo, he traces the features of his face softly before grabbing a fistful of his hair. Fear pulsing through Wooyoungs veins, his choked sobs ring out though the room, the tv buzz adding onto the leery tension.

“Pretty and helpless.” Yeosang groans out, bringing his soft lips to Wooyoungs ear.

“I like that in a person.” He grits, a choked sob leaves Woos throat once more, his drowned out scream was all that was heard behind the dorm room labeled 1117 before silence took over.

~

“Have you heard from Woo?” You say into the phone stuffing your bag full of papers, running around like a chicken with your head cut off. Cramming as much as you can into your bag. With finals right around the corner, Yeosangs sickly experience, and Sans clinginess. Your plate was overloading with stress.

“Nope, not at all. He never even came the night you said he would.” He says with a frown on his face, you let out a small defeated sign. Rubbing your temples. Yeosang lets out a small gasp startling you.

“What's wrong?!” You practically yell through the phone, heart dropping to your stomach.”

“I’m a literal God!” Yeosang says in the most nonchalant tone you’ve ever heard. You let out a small hum, clearly annoyed at Yeosangs sudden change in behavior. Wooyoung was possibly missing, no one had heard from him in a couple of days. Yet here was Yeosang parading around like he was hot shit. A full one eighty from his normal demeanor.

“Yeo can we not do this right now?” You say with the phone held up by your shoulder, stuffing what felt like endless amounts of notes into your backpack.

“No I don’t think you understand, I am literally a God, you should see it.” He says through a breathless voice, almost in a moan.

“Yeo I’m a bit busy right now, where the fuck did I put those papers!” You slightly shout.

“Plans?”

“Yes, I have a study date with San..” you trail off at the end of your sentence, checking your bag once over again making sure you had everything you needed.

“Date? You have a date with San.”

“Are you asking me..or telling me..?” You say while your fingers pinch the area above your eyebrows. With a billion things on your plate, Yeosangs new attitude was adding onto it.

“Well I guess have a good time…” trailing off, the awkwardness in the conversation was so thick it felt almost taboo, forbidden.

“Umm..okay. I still have to go.” You huff out, trying not to let the annoyance seep through your words. Cutting the phone conversation short, you hang up. It just seemed like everything changed with Yeosang. He was this quiet, overly shy boy you had grown up with, attached at the hip with, and now? It feels like you barely know who he is.

Opening the lighter he had taken from Hongjoong pockets the night he caught him in the art room alone, flicking it open the flame ignited. The blue base of the flame catches his eye. Sticking his tongue out he lets the heat engulf the tip of his tongue, no ounce of pain in sight. Letting out a small squeal of excitement he closes the top to the lighter. The new found power goes immediately to his head. Deciding to go pay San a visit before you two could have your meetup.

~

You look down at your phone, San thumbs up your message when you let him know you are close to being at the pool house. On Tuesdays he had swim meet, deciding to stay behind to get some extra practice. You both decided to meet up and head to the library from there together.

“Hey San..I’m here!” You announce stepping into the pool area, clutching your bag strap with extra pep in your step as you walk closer before coming to a complete stop. The pool was a crimson color, the smell of chlorine, and iron filled your nose. Your body does a noticeable shiver, before you can step forward a gnawing feeling in your stomach stops you.

“San!” You call out, refusing to move from your spot. Your feet move before your body can comprehend what’s going on. Your back brushes the knob of the door, fully turning around to book it out of there. You frantically pull out your phone, dialing San when you hear his phone go off in the room you are in. Deciding to leave you hear a soft splash. Your hand frozen on the knob of the door, your brain is fighting your heart. Your brain is telling you to leave, be logical, that your fight or flight isn’t kicking in for nothing, while your heart tells you to turn around that it could be your San swimming in the pool playing a joke on you.

“Go on…turn around.” A timber voice whispers in your ear. Your body freezes in place, your eyes fill with tears. Your mascara smudging slightly, you turn your head to the side, watching as Sans phone floats at the top of the water, the small waves carrying the phone around the top. You feel a cold breath on your neck. Pushing the door you book it out of the building, your feet fuel your body, taking you the one place you always feel safe. Yeosangs dorm.

~

Your hands fly to your keys grabbing the spare key he had given you, with trembling hands, and eyes filled with tears you go to unlock his door, just as the door flies open you fall forward into his chest. Clutching the material of his damp shirt, you let out a choked sob. His cool hands come to hold the back of your shirt, removing the bag off of your arm, letting it smack the floor with a loud thud.

“Yeo-Yeo…San he wasn’t in the swimming pool bu-but..” you are cut off by Yeosang shushing you, grabbing you tighter. Your head on his chest, usually it was so warm but his chest is freezing cold, the damp material aiding in the temperate. You listen closely, as his heartbeat sounded like an angel playing the harp, it always has such a steady rhythm to it, like it was tuned by God himself but you heard nothing. It was almost like he was hollowed out. The same goosebumps you felt in the pool area, the uneasiness is the same feeling you have now. Your stomach is in a knot, biting your lip you don’t dare to look up at the man before you. Wanting to put space between both of you, you push him back slightly, eyes glued to the ground. The wet spot around Yeosangs feet make you wanna hurl.

“You're not my Yeosang are you?” You whisper quietly, the security you once had felt with him was slowly dying. Letting out a loud laugh he pulls a lighter from his pocket, pulling a cigarette from thin air, he lights it huffing in the smoke. Letting the smoke invade his lungs, letting out the smoke, blowing it from his nostrils. Pink moist tongue flickering over his bottom lip, a smile graced his face. The devil truly dressed as an angel.

“Now what gave you that idea?” He says matter of factly. Taking the lit cigarette and putting it out on his tongue. An even deeper smile gracing his face, a smile that could fool any man or woman. Your eyes grow large at the sight in front of you. Your hands come up to slap the cigarette out of his hand, the burn mark on his tongue glowing with redness.

“What is wrong with you?!” You shout.

His eyes that once shone with such light, dimmed to a dark room. This was not your Yeosang, nor who you knew at all.

“You know..” he says, taking small, slow steps towards you. Caging you in like you were a helpless animal who got caught in a weevable web. His slow but precise movements reminded you of a predator. Cold fingers coming out to dance along your jaw.

“I can count on my hands how many times you saying my name has brought me much joy..” he groans out, letting a smile creep on his face.

“I also could probably count on Hongjoongs hands, Wooyoungs hands, and Sans hands as well.”

Your heart falls into your stomach. Hongjoong the art major that had suddenly vanished out of thin air, assuming he had dropped out. As he steps closer you get closer to the door, with a flick of his wrist it locks. The temperature in the room changes drastically, it feels like winter has blown through the room. Skin breaking out in goosebumps, your eyes remain locked on Yeosangs dead eyes.

“What did you do to Woo? What did you to do San?” You semi shout, immediately shushing you he steps closer. His cold body radiating as much coolness as it can.

“Use that pretty head of yours.” He whispers into your ear, sounding like the voice in the swim area. Your eyes refuse to look at him locking on to the bag that belonged to San sitting alone in the corner of Yeosangs dorm, right next to Wooyoungs wallet.

Your eyes begin to swell with tears, shaky hands come up to lightly push Yeosang, barely moving an inch his cold hands come to rest on your waist. Your hands ball into fist pushing him harder than before. With his feet cemented in the ground he barely moves once again. Your tears pour over, streaming down your face a small choked sobbed leaves your throat.

“I hate you…I promise I do.” You say through shedded tears. Your heart breaks with each shove you give him. Knowing this isn’t your Yeosang, that this…this…thing was responsible for the disappearance of Hongjoong, Woo, and San.

“Get away from me.” You sob, trying to shove him harder, his hands steady at your waist while continuing to sob and break down. Your sorrow fills the air, and fueling Yeosangs need for you.

“Hey hey hey…” he whispers, pulling your body close to his, palming your head so you would place it across his chest.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers while kissing the top of your head. Arms wrapping around your body, so easily you fall victim to his siren-like voice. Your head immediately falls against his chest, arms tired of shoving and pushing him.

“You could have anyone you want Yeosang, why them? Why me? How could you do this to me.?” You say above a whisper. Head flat against his cold, beatless chest. His hand comes to brush your lower back, providing you comfort before he cocks his head back, head butting you with ease. Your body knocking out instanously, slumping against the floor. Letting out a small groan of satisfaction, he grabs you from the floor placing you onto his mattress.

Cracking his neck before he walks over to his bathroom to grab some supplies to clean you up. An empty face with each movement, yet on the inside he’s beaming with excitement. He can’t wait to dress you up, after all you are his doll.

~

“Yeo-Yeosang you don’t ha-.” Your sentence gets cut off by quickly wrapping a hand around your throat, the pressure making you let out a small gasp. He moved with such precision you didn’t even have time to process what kind of predicament you were exactly in.

“Good dolls don’t talk, they just act and do as they are told. Okay?” He says almost mockingly. All common sense leaves your mind, you are on the equivalent of being brain dead. Nodding your head slowly, your movements are restricted as his hand still sits on your throat. Removing his hand, you notice his veins are bulging, practically ripping from under his smooth skin.

“Look at you..” he coos, taking a step back to admire the work he has done. Your skin flawlessly smooth due to the foundation, eyes wide and doe like. His eyes twinkle with amazement, your dress that poofs at your mid section, cinching off your waist. Your breathing picks up pace, he’s studying your every move, you are trapped in a lion's den during feeding time.

Your eyes are locked into his face, refusing to look elsewhere. Hands nearly folded in your lap, back stiff, and sitting up right, just the way he wants his perfect doll. Placing the makeup brushes down, his empty eyes study you. Every breath you take, he watches as your chest rises and falls. Each time you blink he watches as your long eyelashes brush against your eyelids, the dried mascara not smudging on the skin. Biting his lip he can’t help but contain his smile. Your obedience fed his hunger.

“Look at my beautiful doll…” he answers to himself, eyes void of any light yet they speak more words than his mouth ever could. Coming close he tugs on one of the small bows on the shoulders of the dress, rubbing the soft material between his fingers. The chill that wafts off his body smacks you in the face full force.

Squishing your cheeks together, you look up at him with big eyes. The lovable and caring Yeosang was no more. His eyes twinkled with a dark lust. How could one not get lost in his eyes, the man you once knew was completely gone.

Lowering his head, nose brushing against your pulse. The soft fabric of the dress tickles his nose. He lets out a small groan. His hand that was still currently squishing your cheeks trembles slightly, grip faltering only for a second.

“You smell..” he takes another deep whiff of your scent in..

“So delicious, almost like I could eat you up.” He finishes his sentence off with a low growl. Sharp nails continue to pinch into your skin. Your eyes never leave the side of his face that’s currently being occupied by your neck.

“Wanna know a little secret?” He says, ending with a snicker.

“This pretty dress…” running his hands softly over the fabric that layered with ruffles.

“San actually bought you this dress.” Your heart comes to a screeching halt, tears swelling in your eyes. A small laugh leaves his mouth, face shriveled up in anger you pucker your lips and spit at him, the salvia hitting the side of his face. Your eyes grow big, your hand slowly coming up to cover your mouth in shock, smudging the lipstick as so. Not believing you just spit at him. Letting out a loud, breathy moan. He grabs his hard on that’s straining through his pants.

Wiping the spit off he puts some of it on his thumb sucking the warm liquid.

“Should’ve seen his face he cried out for you, ya know? His last thoughts were of you.” Ending his sentence with a snarl, his hand shooting out to grab your face. The veins are practically popping out of his skin, the red birthmark by his eye is glowing red. Yeosang is seething with the need to put you in your place once more.

“You know I don’t know why you let him come between us..” he whispers, face getting closer to yours. His eyes bore into yours snatching your soul and holding it within the palm of his hands. You were dancing in a circle with the devil. A heat rushes to your core, with every word he speaks it's almost as if you are diving head first into temptation.

“Then in the same breath I can almost say I see why he cried out for you..a sweet thing like you? Oh my…” his hands rested on your knees, the cool sensation of his skin mixing with your warmth made you break out into goosebumps.

“The jealousy he must’ve felt seeing how close we are…I wonder how many times he had your pretty ass bent over for him.” Voice like velvet yet the filthy words that were leaving his mouth were anything but silky.

“Always made me wonder if you liked it rough or soft…or maybe in between?” Bringing his face closer to yours his cool hands begin to hike under your dress. Your eye makeup creases as your eyes grow bigger with size, a heat spreads across your chest clearly embarrassed by how turned on you were by him mocking you and San. That guilty feeling you once had flees your body.

“Did you spit on his cock the way you spit on me?” He whispers against your lips, the cool plushness brushing against your lipstick, making your breath hitch. A small whimper leaves your throat. Refusing to break eye contact with him you continue to stare off into the empty pools of his eyes, doing laps in them.

“I’m not going to lie…I was almost a bit jealous, I can’t imagine having this wet of a cunt wrapped around anyone else’s cock but my own.” Cold fingers dance along the outside of your tights, pushing his fingers into the material he can feel the wetness of your cunt soak through the multiple layers of clothing you're wearing. Rubbing his thumb over your wet lips pussy lips, letting his thumb soak with your slick arousal, pushing further into the fabric letting the material get caught between your lips, his cool thumb brushes your clit, making your eyes slightly flutter.

“If you say pretty please, I might just give your little cunt some attention.” Yeosang coos at you, slapping your clothed cunt over, and over. Working your body up til it was on edge, his eyes never lost sight of you, watching your body twitch and move with each slap, letting his sharp nail cut the fabric of your tights so he had full access to your pussy. He pushes a thumb right against your throbbing clit, your skin heated with each slap making the skin on your cunt slightly swell.

Biting your lip you divert your eyes to the floor, not wanting to look at him as you beg for him to give you what you want. Standing back he rids himself of every piece of clothing, making his way slowly towards your fully dressed body. Pulling your dress down so your breast pops out. Letting out a breathy sigh, lowering himself he nips at the tender skin on your chest. Letting out a small mewl you can’t help but fist the sheets below you. Trying to remain as perfectly still you can’t help but stir in pleasure. His heavy cock brushing your thighs comes to a slow hault. Engulfing his hands with your left breast, he kneads it, letting his finger tips glaze over your perked up nipple. You bite your inner cheek at the sensation, more of your arousal leaves your body. Your white tights sticking heavily to your wet lips. Flipping your dress up he thumbs at your pulsating clit.

The small amount of attention on it has you letting out a breathy moan, legs twitching in need squishing his fingers together and slowly pulling them apart to watch your arousal spread before popping them in his mouth.

“Fuckkk” he sighs out at the taste of you, pushing your body back, flipping your dress up so your covered lower half was to his sight, stretching the hole he had made into your tights a bit bigger. Gripping his cock he slides it between your pussy lips, coating it in your warm juices before sliding in slowly, with each inch he gives you, the air is being knocked out of your lungs. Your cunt stretches to accommodate his size. His strokes start out slow, and deep. Letting you feel each vein that danced along his cock, choking on your saliva, your hands fist the sheets below you. Trying to grip onto reality as swiftly as possible, it’s almost like he has you underneath his own spell.

“Should’ve seen the way he was begging.” He said through a moan, continuing to deep stroke into your cunt. Your juices spread between your thighs as your back arches off of the bed.

“It was so pathetic.” He grits out.

“Now look, his girl is crying on my cock. Am I fucking your good baby?” Biting his lip, he brings his hips back, slamming them into you again. Your nails scratching down his bare chest.

“Sh-shut up.” You say in a breathless moan. With each stroke of his hips you feel the wind being knocked out of you. Your eyes filled with warm tears that are streaming down your face, you feel so dirty, so disgusting like this was all wrong but if sin was so bad, why does it feel so right?

“Or what?” He questions before letting your throat go. Thumb hooked in your mouth, soft lips wrapping around his cold thumb. Your immediate obedience sets him off. Pulling his thumb from your mouth he flips you over. Pulling your hips so your ass is arched in the air. The ruffles from the baby doll dress hike up, leaving the hole in your tights exposing your wet cunt to him. Snaking an arm under your left breast he grips your throat from the underside. Pushing his throbbing cock back into you, immediately hitting your spongy spot with the new position. Letting out a loud gasp your head begins to fall forward, squeezing your neck he pulls out before slamming you back on his cock. A loud cry leaving your throat, eyes immediately rolling back.

“Fuc-fuck! Yeosang please.” You cry out, letting his body weight on top of you, he continues to rag doll you up and down his cock. Your hands fly to his strong hand around your throat. Mouth agape as he continues to slide in between your warm, wet sticky walls.

“Tell me you love this dick.” He groans into your ear, with a big smile right across his lips. His other hand comes down to crack the meat of your ass watching it jiggle with each movement. Letting out a loud sob, you begin to drool on his arm, his thick cool cock contrasting your warm wet walls was so blissful, repeatedly he kept pushing your spot, which each hike up the bed your hands squeezed tighter around his arm. Fully wrapping you in a headlock, he drops even more of his body weight on top of you. Practically laying flat against your back.

“I love it Yeosang!” You cry out, drool running down his cool forearm. The speed in his hips picks up, his wet pelvis slamming against the meat of your ass, hiking your body up the bed with each stroke. The headboard of the bed slamming against the wall leaving indentations on it.

“You love this dick?”

“Yes!”

“Say it.” Locking his arm around your neck tighter, he begins to cut off some of the air flow. Your head begins to buzz with delight, toes curling as you are on the brink of an orgasm.

“I fucking love your dick Yeosang.” You practically scream out.

Putting you in a full head lock, he snatches you off the bed pushing your body against the door. Nipples coming into contact with the cool surface causing them to pebble up. Putting his arm back around your throat placing you in a headlock once more. His weight crushes you against the door, his other hand aids in pumping you up and down his cock. Your nails leave crescent like marks in his skin, small red marks litter random areas all over him.

“Yeaaa you love this dick. I know you do.” He grunts into your ear. Letting his arm loosen up, he wraps a hand around your throat, tilting your head back so he can kiss you. Both of your tongues dance in a heated session. Your drool is getting all over his chin. Teeth clink against each other as the fight for dominance is at an all time high. His hips pick up speed making you drop your jaw and let out a breathy moan into his mouth. Your lipstick smears all over his skin.

“Tell me you love it.” He groans into your mouth, hot breath being exchanged between you both. Your eyes flood with need, with desire, with want.

“I fucking love it Yeosang.” You pant into his mouth, his hand around your throat squeezes a bit tighter. You both lock eyes, the squelching noise from him sliding in and out of your cunt clouds the room. Your toes begin to curl once more.

“You gonna to be a good doll and take it?” His empty eyes continue to set a flame to yours. As your own orgasm is on the brink your toes begin to curl even harder. Your eyes begin to flutter, trying your best to remain focused on his gaze. You let out a small squeak when he grabs your throat tighter, practically lifting you off the ground. Pushing you harder against the door both his hands come up to your breast. Using them as an anchor to hike you up and down kiss throbbing member. Your feet are barely on the ground, your hands cover his own that are kneading your breast with each stroke he gives you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You chant religiously like a prayer that Yeosang will answer to. Your foundation leaves streaks against the door due to your face being squished against the cool wood. Your eyes begin to roll back, nails cutting into the material on the door, your jaw unhinges and with one final stroke you are soaking his lower belly with your juices. Squirting so hard it nearly pushes his cock out of you, letting out a soaring scream of Yeosangs name, he continues to plow through your juices letting them soak his skin with the slick fluid. His hips slow in speed making sure to hit into you even deeper. His slow strokes are nearing the edge for him. Hands soon firmly grasped around your breast. Coming down from your high you blink the tears out of your eyes, pressing your head against the wood. He slowly lets you slide down the door til your feet hit the ground. Slowly easing his member out of your swollen pussy, he kneels down, hiking your leg up. Head fully under your dress, running his nose over your swollen and red clit. He flicks his tongue collecting the juices that run down your plush thighs. Letting out a small, satisfying groan at your juices dancing on his tongue. You try to push his head away with your hand, snatching your hand and pinning it to the door, he collects some of your juices again. Standing up, he tilts your head back spitting the liquid on your mouth, while you let the flavor of you both dance on your tongue he pushes his wet cock between your thighs, the head of his member brushing against your clit making you whimper. Grabbing your hand he brings it to his stiff cock, making him groan when you wrap your warm hand around him.

“Be a good girl and make daddy cum. If you do it right, I may just let you live.” He sing songs in your ear. What he says goes in one ear, and out the other. Your post orgasm brain is straight mush. Dropping to your knees you open your mouth, flattening your tongue out for him. Sliding his wet cock onto your warm tongue, coating it in salvia. He pets the top of your head before bending down, back arching outwards.

“Wanna know a secret?” He whispers, pulling you off his cock so he can brush his lips flat against your lips. Your eyes bore up at him, mascara smudged, lipstick all over your face, foundation coming off in patches. Running a thumb over your cheek he hooks two fingers into the bottom of your mouth prying open your jaw.

“This was the same exact sight San saw before I killed him.” He whispers on your lips before breaking out into an eerie smile. Head butting you once more, body immediately thumping to the floor. That eerie smile never leaves his face. Yeosang was ready to have his final meal of the day, you.

Taglist: @mingisprincesss @sanhwalvr @walkingtravesty97 @crazylittlebisexual @sheilogreen @ateezmakesmehappy @miyaluvvsyou @wisejudgedragonhairdo @star-wingz @ririnnie @ihaveaproblem98 @raindropsondragons @hongjoongsprincess @radskaddattle @suzukialice16 @a-tiny-thing @arilevenatz @multistanisms @demonlineswhore @dij-ology @yyaurii @sousydive @itza-meee @ana-stasssiaaa @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @yunyunrin @jjoongstar @kyeos4ng @peach-bearies @bitchwhytho @spooo00oky @hey-im-charisma @tearfulsparks78 @metalheadatiny @apriecotte @aurorajoye @lola-horore-553 @ayoo-bangtan @acetruepunk @tajannah-price1 @seungminsfavoritegirlll

Divider and Gif @justaaveragereader

DO NOT REPOST.

[meelusinee]

CHRISTMAS CUDDLES | S.B X READER

in which you convince sirius to take a break from practice

FICMAS MASTERLIST

pairing: sirius black x reader tags: christmas fluff (kinda? mainly just fluff), comfort word count: 1.3k

author's note: guys i haven't really posted in forever and im so so so so sorryyyy life has just been really difficult (insert sad face bc im on computer typing this) im trying really hard to plan christmas presents, along w my anniversary present as well so its just been a little bittle pickle to try and post all the time, ykwim? also i just have NOT had motivation BUTTT i finally got back to it after like 3 days aren't yawl so proud of me?? ANYWAYS ENJOY A KINDA PART TWO TO SECRET SANTA BUT NOT REALLY?

CHRISTMAS CUDDLES | S.B X READER

Sirius was resting on his broom, gloved hands gripping the handlebar tight. His biceps flexed and strained themselves as he practiced, eyes trained on the Golden Snitch like a dog eyeing a bone.

At least, that’s what you remembered.

You were currently in Hogsmeade during one of Sirius’ training sessions, the snow falling around your body as you shuffled between the people. His sweater was currently wrapped around your arms, the wool rubbing warmly against your skin.

He had been practicing hard for the Quidditch finals season for the past month. Sometimes he would practice so hard he became a hazard, bones and muscles going limp from hundreds of feet high. It’d gotten so bad that even James grew concerned, which was a cause for concern in it itself.

Which is what led you to where you were right now, shopping through Hogsmeade’s shops in order to find some gifts. Nothing too big or extravagant, but enough to initiate a small date so he could rest.

James and Remus both agreed that you were the only person who could calm Sirius down, and you noticed it a lot more once you started dating. It’d only been a few days, granted, along with a long conversation with James. But you already noticed the difference between you and others.

Whenever he was with Remus, James or Peter, he’d be loud to a fault. Energetic and charismatic to a concerning degree, with girls swooning around him like he was a Greek God of sorts. Though around you, he was much more subdued.

Much like a tired golden retriever who had just spent about five hours playing fetch, he would always find his way cuddled on your body somehow. Sometimes it was in bed, before you both fell asleep as he wrapped himself around you. Sometimes he’d transform into Padfoot and waddle his way over into your lap, both of you sitting by the fireplace. Other times he’d sneak into your classes to rest his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with an adorable pout whenever you didn’t give him any attention.

That was another thing you had been missing for this past month. He hadn’t given you many compliments or talked much, mostly just curling on your lap and falling asleep. Sure, you loved it. But it still wasn’t fun to not be able to talk.

Which is what led you here. Standing in front of the closest shop stocked to the brim with hot chocolate and small little snacks. They also had a little TV and some CDs, magically tampered with to teach it resilience to magical interactions. You decided to get that along with some drinks, making your way back to the dorms before James and Sirius did.

The set up was simple. Small Christmas lights hanging from the corners of his bed, blankets wrapped snugly around everywhere, and a lovely arrangement of pillows facing the TV you bought.

All you had to do now was wait.

“Are you coming or what?” James called out, huffing under his breath as he watched Remus trying to drag Sirius up the stairs.

In all fairness, it was rather hard to drag him. Despite the fact that he was short compared to Renus, he had been building a lot more muscle over the past month due to Quidditch practice. That, and the fact he was nearly dead weight in Remus’ arms, made it quite hard to carry him up the dormitory stairs.

“I’m trying.” Remus stated, grunting as he pulled Sirius up the stairs. “He’s not helping out much.”

“How on Earth will Y/N’s plan work if he’s knocked out?” James spat, rushing down to lift Sirius’ legs. At this point, carrying him like a dead body was better than him being dragged.

“The plan is to have him knocked out, James.” Remus reminded him, seeming to have a much easier time carrying him now that he didn’t have to worry about Sirius’ ankles against the stair edges.

“Right.” James mumbled.

Both of them eventually reached the boy’s dormitory, where you had set everything up. James was almost envious in a way, though he wasn’t sure if that envy came from the idea of being treated like that or the fact he hadn’t thought of the idea first. Either way, the feeling of his best friend’s body in his arms quickly dissolved that thought.

“Finally.” you sighed, smiling bittersweetly at the sight of Sirius limp in their arms. “Just, maybe set him down there. The right side, you know?”

“Okay.” Remus said, gripping Sirius by the waist and tossing him down on the bed.

“Remus!” you said, voice in a harsh whisper. You looked at him with a serious expression, throwing a small pillow in James’ direction as you heard him laughing. “Don’t throw him like some sort of cartoon character!”

“Couldn’t help it.” Remus shrugged innocently, a rare half smirk appearing on his face.

“You two have fun.” James said, sighing softly as he caught one last glimpse at Sirius. “Make sure he does actually get rest, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” you mumbled, already formulating a plan in your head. You hadn’t made any hot chocolate, making sure that the TV was off and blankets were pulled to the bottom of the bed just in case Sirius just wanted to sleep.

Which led to your brilliant plan.

“What’s that expression for?” Remus asked, looking at you curiously.

“I’m being mischievous.” you said, taking off your shoes and crawling into the bed before you pulled the blanket over you both.

“This is you being mischievous how, exactly?” James asked confusedly.

“He doesn’t want to take care of himself, but he loves to take care of me.” you said simply, pulling the blankets up snug and scooting closer to Sirius.

“I don’t get it.” James mumbled, looking at Remus.

“If he gets up and notices her sleeping, he’ll rest longer so he doesn’t disturb her.” Remus said calmly, patting James on the shoulder before walking out of the boy’s dorm. James nodded at that, waving goodbye before running off.

There was a roaring cheer running itself rampant through the crowds, the feeling of wind crashing on Sirius’ face as his broom picked up speed. Sweat was building on his forehead the faster he went, and he felt himself growing tired.

He had already caught the snitch, that he knew. But he didn’t know much else, vision blacking out almost as soon as he did.

Sirius’ eyes fluttered open confusedly as he woke up, eyes adjusting to the lighting and scenery change from earlier. It was much softer, both the lights and the feeling of the blankets around him. It was comforting, to say the least, but he still needed to practice for the final Quidditch matches.

His eyes darted down a bit as he felt you, your body plush against his skin. Like the softest teddy bear, one that was a very good cuddler when it was sleeping. Then again, teddy bears weren’t exactly the type of thing that needed sleep.

That’s when your body stirred, thighs rubbing against his body sleepily. “Sirius?”

“Hi baby,” he whispered, kissing your forehead lovingly. His eyes darted to the Christmas lights and hot chocolate again. “What’s all this decor for?”

“Decor?” you asked sleepily, before looking around the room again. “Oh, that was so you could rest.”

“Rest?” he asked.

“You’ve been working so hard.” you yawned sleepily, cuddling close to him. “Y’know, Quidditch and all. So I made this to convince you to sleep. I got you a little movie too.” you mumbled, turning the TV on and playing the movie.

Sirius looked at you like you were the best thing on Earth, an angel sent down just to visit him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you.” you mumbled, pushing him back on the bed. “Now watch Willy Wonka, I’m going back to bed.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank u guys so much for readinggg, it took me forever to get back into writing once i had a little bit of a slump, so this probabblyyyy sucks. but were gonna get thru, we're gonna cope yes sir we will.

AS ALWAYS, please like comment and reblog, all that jazzy jazz stuff. i appreciate all of yawl who do, seriously, it means so much to me and i loaf all of u people yes i do, BUT ANYWAYS HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!

[ponderingmoonlight]

Stitching JJK men up or at least trying to

This gorgeous art is by @bogactivity! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for letting me use it as a cover 🤍

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Warnings: injury (lol), the boys being smooth operators hehe, not proofread I'm honestly glad I even managed to finish a fic with this hell of a week in my back, this is the first free afternoon I'm having y'all

Let me know if you want a Part ll of this! Since it took me forever to write and I spent my only free afternoon of this week to finish that for you guys, I'd be beyond thankful if you show a lil support to your girl 😭

Gojo Satoru

„C’mon man, you can’t be serious about that”, you mutter in sheer annoyance, eyes roaming up and down the blood-covered man in front of you.

He has some nerves, showing up at your doorstep with his reversed technique when there are probably hundreds of injured jujutsu sorcerers and normal human being out there crying for help. God, if it was the first time, if he wouldn’t be the strongest. But something inside you tells you he does this on purpose, something inside you just knows this isn’t a coincidence.

“I’m here to get stitched up”, he announces proudly, making his way into your home as if he’s inviting.

“Don’t bleed on my floor”, you warn him.

Is there a way out of this? You worked for 18 hours today, just returned home since Shoko took over for you. And now? Now he’s here – here to ruin your night.

“I won’t if you help me”, he hums with a sly grin plastered on his face.

A gaping hole in his chest, an injury that would have killed every other being if he wasn’t the strongest. Oh, you know damn well that he healed himself just enough to make it to your place. But even though you want to stand your ground and throw him out in a heartbeat, you simply sign to yourself and roll up your sleeves. After all, it is easier to get rid of him when you’re doing what he wants, right?

“Take that off”, you instruct him, nodding towards his uniform.

“You don’t have to ask me twice back.”

“Don’t call me that”, you mumble while watching as he exposes his firm chest.

Damn, sometimes you tend to forget how trained that man his. With his abs cooked in god’s kitchen and his body toned like a Greek statue, it’s hard to keep your face from blushing. Not even the fact that there’s a gaping hole in his chest can distract you from the stinging fact that Satoru Gojo is too damn hot.

“Enjoying the view, (y/n)?”

You shake yourself, avoiding eye contact as if your life depends on it. Fuck, he really caught you staring. That sleek bastard who thinks the world belongs to him, who is used to women and even men falling to his feet. Get this over before you lose the last bit of class you have left.

But the second you touch his bare skin something changes. No, it’s not you who gets flustered by his sheer presence, it’s not you who stumbles over their words. It’s Satoru Gojo, flinching back the slightest bit with the faintest blush creeping up his face.

Satoru Gojo.

Blushing.

“Are you…blushing?”

His bright blue orbs widen, cheeks getting redder and redder by every passing second. You can’t stop the grin that gets wider and wider, tilting your head to the side like he always does when he’s about to get on your nerves.

“What’s wrong, Satoru? Not used to getting touched by a woman?”

“None of them are you”, he presses out.

Fuck. Now it’s you who reddens in an instant, you who stares at him with wide eyes, your palms feeling sticky against his skin. How? How is it able that he sweeps you off your feet with a few words? Why does he have this power over you when you tell yourself over and over that you don’t care about him, that you are nothing but comrades?

Why does he have to be so…him?

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Cat got your tongue?”

You close your eyes. Just a few seconds more, you’re almost finished. And after that you’ll throw him out, after that you’ll-

“Is it possible that maybe…you’re into me as well?”

“As well!?”, you repeat out of instinct.

“Come on, playing dumb doesn’t suit you. Don’t ya think I’d be able to heal myself?”

“I know you are.”

He tilts his head to the side just the way you hate it.

Hate? Out of instinct, you shake your head ever so slightly. No, you never felt hate when you touched his body, didn’t even feel hate when he smeared his blood all over your couch. No, this is something completely else. This is…

A crush?

“Leave right now”, you breathe out.

Nope, you simply can’t afford to have a crush on that man. With a swift motion, you push him to your door, don’t even give him the chance to fight against you. What a ridiculous idea, why would you even-

“I still need my uniform-“

You smack the door close behind him before breathlessly running up to his uniform and throwing it out of the window onto him.

“Don’t you dare to come here again!”

“Oh, I definitely will (y/n).”

Toji Fushiguro

“Come on (y/n)-“

“I hate that man and you know it”, you argue.

Not even the cigarette Shui Kong gave you will distract you from what he’s asking for. God, how much you hate that man. Toji Fushiguro, walking sex himself.

And the biggest asshole you’ve ever met on top.

“Well, technically it’s your job. But I’d hate to force you into this.”

He crosses his well-dressed legs, gaze meeting yours while puffing on his cigarette. Oh, how much you hate that he’s right. After all, he’s paying you a decent amount of money for saving those stupid men from certain dead.

“Where is he?”

You can’t believe your own ears, that you even consider helping that man after he dumped you. Toji has to suffer for the things he’s done, for leaving you standing in the rain after telling you over and over how fucking special you are to him. No, there’s absolutely no damn reason for you to throw your cigarette away, to follow after Shui.

“Took you quite some time to get here. Lucky for you I’m not that serious injured.”

That deep unpromising voice, that tone you know oh so well. The urge to turn on your heels and run away almost becomes unbearable. God, how stupid was it to even consider heling him? Fuck Shui, fuck your contract. You definitely won’t help him-

“Oh, it’s you.”

Fuck. You want to shoot yourself right on the spot, hide behind the door or get swallowed whole. But instead, that traitor Shui exposes you to Toji’s merciless eyes, shoves you into the tiny apartment before you’re able to protest.

“Absolutely not nice to see you again”, you mutter under your breath.

No, you don’t even dare to look at this force of a man, to give him that power over you ever again. Him with his damn gorgeous eyes, him with these mountains of muscles. Oh, you know damn well how fucking easy it is to fall for him.

“Can I get some help?”

You can’t resist. The urge to take a look at his wounds overpowers your strong will.

And you regret it immediately.

There he sits, shirtless, a bandage poorly wrapped around his enormous biceps while he tucked the end of it between his teeth. Fuck, when you only imagine where his mouth was, that he discovered your body with his mouth more than once.

You swallow hard.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to help. Now excuse me, I need to take that call.”

No, no, no. Your heart falls onto the ground immediately, eyes widen in sheer horror when Shui turns around and threatens to leave.

“You can’t leave me here alone with him”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“You’re a strong girl, aren’t you? You are the only one I trust in when it comes to him.”

And with that he’s gone, leaves you standing in the rain like a lost puppy.

“Don’t stand there and look after him when I’m here, princess.”

“Oh god, please just shut the fuck up”, you grumble.

Do you even have the chance to get out of this? You catch a glimpse of him and his toned body, blood running down his arm. When you’re already here, it wouldn’t be a crime to do your job.

And ask for a ton more money when Shui returns. 

Without saying another word, you sit down next to him. Putting on your gloves, taking a closer look at his wound.

“Got shot, hm?”

Clean, disinfect.

“Yeah.”

Take out your tweezers, search for the bullet.

“So, how you’ve been princess?”

“Don’t call me that”, you warn him.

“Aren’t ya at least a lil excited to see me?”

“Absolutely not”, you reply dryly, digging a little deeper than necessary into his wound.

What is that little part inside of you that makes your heart beat a little faster, lets your palms get sweaty? No, you are definitely not excited to see him again. How he broke your heart the last time, how he played you-

“I hoped he’d call ya. That’s why I let that fucker shoot me.”

Wait…What? Your eyes dart up in an instant, tweezers digging so roughly into his flesh that a groan escapes his delicious lips.

“You lie as always”, you breathe out.

“Bet I don’t.”

With a swift motion of his uninjured arm, he draws you closer, traps you against his broad chest.

“Missed ya”, he mumbles against your hair, takes in your delicious scent.

“You dumped me.”

“Dumped you? Would never do that.”

“You did”, you insist.

A little whimper escapes your lips when his hot breath brushes over your neck just the way you always loved it. Fuck, you’re here to do your job, to stitch that fucker up and leave. Why are you lying in his arms again, why is his arm wrapped around your waist so tightly that you can’t escape anymore?

“Imma show you how much I missed ya-“

“Toji”, you warn him half-heartedly.  

“I-I’m…Just here to do my job.”

“I have a better job for ya.”

Yuta Okkotsu

Gojo doesn’t have to tell you twice. The second you hear his name, hear that he’s injured, your feet sprint down the alleys of Jujutsu High on their own.

Yuta Okkotsu.

The boy who simply swept you off your feet the second you heard his voice. The boy who always stayed up with you until past midnight, watched how you trained your mind and hands to use reversed technique just like Shoko does.

“If I get hurt someday, I want you to take care of me.”

“No way, if you get injured I’ll send Shoko herself. I’m not good enough to help you”, you laughed.

“You are good enough in every way, (y/n).”

And now you’re here, lungs feeling as if they’ll burst any given minute, mouth tasting like fresh blood. You have to be on time. Please let you be on time.

“Gojo-sensei!”

Your voice sounds so strange in your own ears, filled with thick dread. Gojo didn’t even tell you what’s up, didn’t even tell you what exactly happened.

“Yuta is injured, hurry. I’ll send you the location.”

“Easy (y/n). Otherwise you’ll have to use reversed technique on-“

“Where is he?”, you breathe out.

The world around you begins to spin so violently that you feel like fainting for a minute. All you want to see is Yuta being fine, Yuta being only slightly injured. Where is he? Is he fine? Your mouth can’t keep up with the sheer speed of your thoughts anymore.

“Look who’s here to save ya, Yuta!”

Your glossy eyes shoot up, take in the sight in front of you. There he stands with a trail of blood running down his gorgeous face, his gaze locked with yours. He is injured, but alive. A few bruises here and there, but overall fine.

Yuta’s fine.

“(y/n)!”

Like in slow motion your feet start to move again just like his, running and running until you get greeted by his opened arms.

“I was so scared for a second. He told me you’re injured”, you breathe out.

“Oh, don’t worry about that too much. Just a few cuts and bruises and- OUCH, yeah, I think my ribs are broke.”

“Sit down, I’ll take care of this.”

You position your trembling hands on his body, eyes never leaving his sight. These last few hours were like a trip to hell and back.

“I’m sorry (y/n), but you know we aren’t allowed to fight.”

“But what about Yuta and the others? What if they need help?”, you insisted, not even Shoko’s hand placed on your shoulder able to calm down your pounding heart.

“They’ll call us as soon as it’s safe.”

“I didn’t even get the chance to tell him that…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, a wave of tears hunting you down without mercy. Oh, how much you’d give to see him again, to finally tell him how much he really means to you.

“You will, don’t worry about it.”

Shoko was right, after all. Yuta is here with you, the minor bruises on his body healing in an instant while he smiles gently at you.

“Look? I told you you’ll take good care of me”, he comments gently.

“I’m just glad you’re fine. What on earth happened here? Jujutsu High looks like a battlefield. And don’t get me started on Maki and Panda…”

Shivers run down your spine just by thinking of the state they were in when Shoko was called. Just the thought of Yuta still being out there, fighting whoever responsible for these severe injuries...

You swallow hard, hands shaking just like they did when realization hit you. Yuta could have died today. All of them could have died today.

“You’re here. That’s all that matters right now.”

Yuta doesn’t think twice. He intertwines his hand with yours ever so gently, his face radiating nothing but pure affection. Oh, how much these last hours showed him how much you really mean to him. Not a second passed in which he didn’t ponder about whenever you’re doing okay, if you’re safe here at Jujutsu High. And now you’re right where you belong: By his side.

“I love you, (y/n). I think I did all this time.”

Oh.

Your brain needs a few moments to comprehend the words he just said. Yuta…love…YOU?

Yuta loves you.

Yuta. “Finally!”, Gojo screams from afar.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @ @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Fanart used in the cover by @bogactivity - you NEED to check out their artwork!

[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

[strvngeweather]

It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him.  “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag.  “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend.  You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger).  “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

[majosullivan]

Nevermore Dashboard Simulator 2

🔄 many-coloured-grass reblogged

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

I don’t care what any of you are saying, I just think it is weird that people are joking that Lenore and Annabel are secretly into each other when they have shown constant distant for each other?? Go take a walk through the academy grounds

🔮 sorcery-sorcery-sorcery Follow

the fun police right here is trying to put me in gay detenion but Lenore and Annabel are blocking the way because Lenore has pinned Annabel against the wall

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

THE DEVIL HAS A CLAIM ON YOUR SOUL

#WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? #THEY CLEARLY HATE EACH OTHER #WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE SAYING STUFF LIKE THIS?

8,689 notes

🎇 labyrinth-of-light Follow

[snapping out of remembering the horrific details about how I slowly suffocated under a black mass of slurry, not knowing if my siblings were alive or not, all because I smelt the scent of coal coming from the fire in the common room] oh I should have been at the club

13,477 notes

⚰️ were-all-dead-here Follow

906 notes

🔄 ghostlygal reblogged

🕯️ phantomwraith Follow

i can’t deal with this academy anymore! i mean i can, and i will, obviously. but i can't fucking do this anymore!

🖤 ghostlygal Follow

Area Man Who Has "Had Enough" Wakes Up Next Morning at 7:00 AM to Get Ready to Go to Class Again

7,347 notes

🌤️ serenest-skies Follow

I don’t know if it’s just the stress from the announcement that there’s only one new life, but I SWEAR I just saw Lenore drag Annabel Lee into a closet just now

#or I have started to lose my mind #with how today ended #that seems like a much more reasonable conclusion

29 notes

🔄 spookyxskeletons reblogged angelic-oddity

☀️ angelic-oddity Follow

God I wish I was that bell

☀️ angelic-oddity Follow

THIS WAS MEANT TO BE SAVED TO DRAFTS

☀️ angelic-oddity Follow

GUYS PLEASE STOP REBLOGING THIS, ISN’T MY SHAME ENOUGH?

☀️ angelic-oddity Follow

NO YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME

15,074 notes

🔄 fable-silence reblogged

🍁 fable-silence Follow

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I HAVETO GO TO CLASS AGAIN😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰

🍁 fable-silence Follow

my greek chorus ^

4,832 notes

🎊 impishimpulses Follow

My roommate, who just manifested into an six foot tall ochimusha and consistently calls me dearest: All the creatures in this maze seem to desire nothing more than to suck dry any life we have remaining, i just don’t understand this academy

Me [heard “suck dry” and got so hard i got nauseous]: i think i hauve the devil in me

3,496 notes

🔄 ferocious-fiddle reblogged

🧟‍♂️ gutzngore Follow

The Deans are literally Tweedledum & Tweedledee coded because of their sinister symmetry. but whatever

🎻 ferocious-fiddle Follow

OP I know this is a joke, but just remember that if you go knocking on enough doors asking to see the devil, eventually he’ll answer.

6,660 notes

🩸 bloodstained-petals Follow

I’m never going to listen to anyone ever again that tries to give dating advice along the lines of ‘The worst thing that they can say is no :)’, bitch I just witnessed that Ada girl get insulted so throughly in public after she tried to flirt with Prospero that she literally manifested into some screeching rotten hag

#like be real with me right now

706 notes

🔄 spookyxskeletons reblogged

🪸 drenchedkelpie Follow

The whole experience with the rats in yesterday’s lesson felt like having to escape a ficious pack of bloodthirsty hunting dogs, and I was but a simple and unexpecting deer

🪸 drenchedkelpie Follow

WHAT THE SHIT

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

3,969 notes

🔄 floatinghoax reblogged

🌺 etherealdances Follow

Kill them with kindness? WRONG. Spectre attack 👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻

1,002 notes

🔄 deadgirlwalking reblogged namelessghoul

⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow

Call me Wall Street the way I. The way I just crashed onto the floor because of that fucking Hungry Ghost

⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow

Have y’all just. Ignored everything that has happened the past few years or are some of you just fucking with me?

🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow

Is this some kind of wide spread prank that people are doing? Me and my roommate were talking about what memories of our family we had recovered and I mentioned how badly my brother was affected by his conscription during the World War II, and my roommate just looked at me like I was speaking another language and asked me what war I was even talking about

⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow

I’m sorry, world war number

WHAT?

🃏 demonic-betting Follow

I’M SORRY, WORLD WARS???

🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow

🪲 goldbug1843 Follow

@blushedandbloomed you cannot just react like that without any explanation about what on earth you meant by World War II

🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow

I MEANT WORLD WAR II, AS IN THE SECOND WORLD WAR, 1ST SEPTEMBER 1939 - 2ND SEPTEMBER 1945. WHY ARE YOU GUYS REACTING LIKE THIS?

🌻 hyacinth-hair Follow

Unless you are the Oracle of Delphi, why the hell are you stating an end date for a war that’s still going on?

🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow

BECAUSE I’M NOT??? WHAT YEAR DO YOU THINK IT IS?

🌻 hyacinth-hair Follow

1942, WHAT YEAR DO YOU THINK IT IS?

🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow

1950. I WOULD LIKE TO THINK I WOULD KNOW THE YEAR THAT I DIED THANK YOU VERY MUCH

⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow

IT’S LITERALLY 1934???

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

🌃 eveningstar Follow

This is getting out of hand

🪵 premature-burial Follow

I DIED IN 1916, HOW ARE YOU GUYS SAYING THAT YOU WERE ALIVE AROUND TWENTY YEARS AFTER THAT WHEN I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THE WAR THAT TOOK MY LIFE IS EVEN OVER?

💤 sleepyirene Follow

LOVELY ARE YOU TELLING US THAT YOU DIED DURING WORLD WAR I?

🪵 premature-burial Follow

THAT IS WHAT YOU ALL MEAN BY WORLD WAR I???

🐸 hop-frog Follow

🌟 celestialwhispers Follow

I must be having some kind of vivid dream because there is no way this is right. In the most recent memories I currently have, the coronation of Edward VII recently occurred, and now I’m seeing people claiming that they died 1910-1950?

🌬️ loss-of-breath Follow

HOLD ON, QUEEN VICTORIA IS DEAD?!

⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow

🌙 voyage-to-the-moon Follow

I am going to lose my marbles

🪓 namelessghoul Follow

WHAT FECKING YEAR IS IT

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

56,395 notes

[anyarose011]

The Most "Wonderful" Time of the Year {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Despite a nice trip to the art gallery and ice skating rink, sometimes, Andy Williams just gets it wrong.

Part 8 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, description of nudity (on art), suggestive conversations, minor sexual harassment, a father has issues, fighting, Reader has a knife, and ANGST.

Heyyy guys (senior year, once again, has been kicking my ass and I also started a new mini-series that should be done soon). Again, I'm so sorry for how long it took me to upload and write this, and I know this chapter is short, but I swear it's got good shit in it. It's also fitting to have more chapters around Christmas time since, you know, this be a Christmas movie (yes, Alexander Payne, this can be a standalone movie, but you set it during Christmas so....) Anywho, I hope you like it (and that it breaks your heart :)

Word Count: 5.5k

You hated to admit it, but you actually like history museums. Even though your father always dragged you to them from childhood to adulthood, you didn’t really mind them. Your father’s additional commentary only added to the experience as you walked through the Greek section. It didn’t really for Angus.

“Are we almost done?” He asked.

“Quit whining.” You reprimanded him.

“I’m not.”

Your father chuckled. “What’s your hurry? I thought you liked Antiquity?”

He sighed. “In class, maybe. But I never think about it unless I need to.”

Humming, your father pointed to a casing of ceramics behind you. “Here, what do you see?”

You and Angus turned. Of course, he said. “A bunch of pottery.”

“Look at that one.” He pointed.

You certainly weren’t expecting to see a man diving his dick into a woman as she bent over to pick something up on an ancient Grecian artifact, but there you were in the Boston Fine Arts Museum, jaw on the floor.

“Amy look, a Candy Cane!” Angus teased.

“I hate you.” Was all that managed to leave your lips.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. “Children, there’s nothing new in human experience. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man’s every appetite and impulse, from the disgusting to the sublime, is on display right here, all around you.” He gestured around the room filled with art. “So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember that if you truly want to understand the present, or yourself, you must begin in the past. History is not merely the past; it’s an explanation of the present.”

Angus nodded. “See, when you say it that way, and throw in some pornography, it’s a lot easier to understand.”

Mr. Hunham glanced over at you, surprised at your lack of outburst. “You’re not going to comment on that?”

“No,” you shrugged. “porn helping men understanding things checks out.”

Angus snorted, turning back to the teacher. “You should try talking more and yelling less in class. You know, most of the kids pretty much hate you. Teachers, too. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” You glared at him as if to say, ‘Lay off’.

Your father nodded, obviously trying not to show the hurt that was apparent on his face. “Well, I appreciate your frequent candidness, Mr. Tully.”

“Sure…” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

It was then you realized another thing about Angus Tully that reminded you about yourself: You only noticed how horrible your words were as soon as you were done saying them.

The rest of your time at the art museum wasn’t as awkward as that entire scene, thankfully. The sun had completely set by the time you had exited, and the three of you made your way to the park. It almost made you laugh how quick Angus was to the booth to rent ice skates.

“Have you been ice skating before?” He asked as you both sat on the bench, tying up your skates.

“Once when I was eight, I think. You?”

“I played hockey until high school.” He finished tying his and stood. “And I go every chance I get when I’m in the city.”

“So, you should only fall if I push you, right?”

“Right.”

You smiled after double knotting your ice skates and approached the entrance to the rink. “My feet feel weird.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been skating for almost ten years.” He teased, walking past you and standing on the ice with ease.

Sighing, you took a step out and immediately started flailing. Still, the two of you laughed when you retreated back to solid ground. “Nope.”

Angus begged. “Come on.”

“Nuh uh, not going to do it.”

“Your dad paid a good two dollars for us to skate, and you’re going to waste it?” He joked.

“Two dollars doesn’t mean anything to my father if I’m dead!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“But-.”

He said your name with the right amount of sincerity and playfulness. “You can hold onto me. I’ll cushion you if you do fall.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you still held onto the side railing, but stepped out onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, you began walking.

“You don’t want to do that.” Angus skated by your side at your pace.

“I’m alright.” You struggled to say.

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell. Come on.”

You stared down at it as if he had never touched you before. Still, you took it. You expected him to pull you out into the center and leave you there for dead (or try to figure out how to skate on your own), but instead, you stayed by the wall.

“Okay, you’re gonna want to lean forward, and just glide; don’t walk.” He explained, showing you.

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. Just trust me.”

Against what your nervous system was saying, you decided to. Leaning forward, you tried to copy him; and it worked for like a few seconds before you started tripping over your own feet. He caught you, of course.

“Hey, not bad!” He held you up so you could stand.

“I almost died.”

“You’re standing on your own though!” He backed away, and you still were. “That’s a good start.”

You wanted to fire a nasty retort at him, but you could only girlishly giggle. You don’t know how long you spent on that ice skating rink with him. Yes, there would be times when your feet would ache, or you’d be a mix of sweaty from the physical labor of skating and freezing from the cold, Massachusetts air. Yet, as you finally gathered your footing, you felt as if you could compete in the next Olympics.

You couldn’t, of course, but you sure had the confidence to do so.

And it was fun to laugh and talk with Angus. It always was, but it felt as if you were both on an actual date as you skated together. To everyone else on that ice rink, you were. When Angus had completely fallen onto the ice (you didn’t actually push him down, he fell on his own), pulling you down with him, you’d nearly forgotten that your father was chaperoning you two as you laughed.

After leaving the rink and taking your skates back, you walked up a set of stairs with your father and Angus, discussing where to go for dinner when-.

“Paul Hunham, is that you?!” A man and a woman approached the three of you with a gleeful look. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Cavanaugh.”

Your father’s face fell for just a moment before laughing. “Yes! Yes, of course. Wow, Hugh Cavanaugh. Oh, how are you, Hugh?”

“Oh God, what’s it been? Thirty years?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Oh, uh this is my wife, Karen. Honey, this is Paul Hunham; we went to Harvard together.”

She smiled, shaking his hand, then yours, then Angus’. “Hello.”

“Yes,” your dad nodded at Hugh’s comment. “yes we did. Uh, wow; what have you been up to, Hugh? Still in the area?”

“Oh, uh, yes-yes I’m still in Boston. Cambridge.”

“Harvard.” Karen said proudly. “He just got tenure, statistics. He won’t blow his own horn, I have to blow it for him.”

“Okay,” Hugh said to change the subject. “what about you, Paul?”

“Oh, still teaching, we have that in common.” He nodded. “History, ancient history.”

“That’s great, that’s great. Where?”

“Abroad mostly.” Your father lied through his teeth on each word. “On fellowships. Privately funded fellowships. Universities and private academies. Mostly fellowships, you know. I’m currently posted in Antwerp. Just back here for the holidays.”

“So, are these your kids?” He pointed to you and Angus.

“Well-.”

“-I’m his nephew, Laurie.” Angus cut in, then looked at you. “This is my cousin, Amy.”

Karen smiled. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Hugh squinted his eyes as if to see you more clearly. Then, he chuckled. “Paul, do you know who she looks like?”

Your father hummed. “I would hope me.”

It was weird to hear your mother’s full name come out of a stranger’s mouth. He went on. “Do you see it? Same nose, same hair; you are the spitting image of beauty, young lady.”

Snickering, you didn’t even think of thanking him. “I’ve been told I have more of her temper than her looks. Although, our mouths are the same.”

“I have no doubt.” He laughed. “Paul, do you remember that one time freshman year?”

“Oh yes!” Your father pretended to. “When she-it was that one time during Roman history when Nolan-.”

“-Wouldn’t call on her when she was the only one to raise her hand,” Hugh looked back at you as if you didn’t know the story from the set up. “so she fed all the boys in the room the wrong answers for the rest of the class!”

“Yep,” Mr. Hunham nodded. “even I fell victim to it.”

Hugh was the only one who had relatively been amused by the fable. “Never put you and her together.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

The group fell into a strange silence after that. Thank God for Angus Tully.

“He’s writing a book now.” He titled his head toward your father. “Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul.”

“My book.” Your father snickered, then immediately played it off. “It’s not a book, really. Just a monograph. Nothing special.”

You decided to jump in. “Don’t be so modest, dad. It’s about, uh, cameras, right? Ancient cameras?”

Hugh hummed, a quizzical look on his face.

“What she means, of course, is the camera obscura.” Your father explained. “You know, the optical and astronomical tool that dates back to, um, the time of Anaxagoras.

“Tell him the title, Uncle Paul.” Angus went back, and you masked your smile for one of curiosity and not at the misfortune of your father.

“He’s not interested, Laurie.”

Hugh smiled. “Sure, I am.”

Sighing, Paul Hunham said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm and disinterest. “Lights and Magic in the Ancient World.”

Hugh nodded before turning back to his wife, and then to your father, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “Well, Paul, I’m so glad you landed on your feet. You look swell.”

“You too. So, swell.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Amy.” He said to you.

Thinning your lips in a tight smile, you said. “Thanks.”

Him and Karen walked away hand in hand, but he turned over his shoulder. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your book, Paul. Won’t we, honey?”

 She nodded. Of course. Merry Christmas, Paul. Bye, Laurie and Amy.”

You all wished them ‘Merry Christmas’ as you three also left. Angus wasted no time turning to you.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“You’re asking me?!” You matched him. “You sprung into ‘Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul!’, ‘What’s the title, Uncle Paul?’.”

“I had to think of something!”

Your father sighed. “I appreciated your efforts, but I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked. “Can we get dinner now?”

“I need to pick something up from the liquor store first.”

Sighing overdramatically, you and Angus stumbled behind your father. That was when you looked at the boy beside you. “Also, Laurie and Amy? Really?”

“What? They’re like brother and sister. If I said you were Jo, then that would’ve been weird.”

Oh my god, he wasn’t even halfway through the book.

You wish you had a camera solely to capture the look on your father’s face as he turned over and stared at both of you. You wonder if that was when he found out about you and Angus.

Shaking your head, you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff as you said. “Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean ‘unbelievable’?” Angus questioned. “Jo and Laurie get married in the end, right?”

“Unbelievable.” You repeated but smiled this time.

“Right?!”

Your father sighed as you finally made it to the store. “Look, the fact of the matter is, what happened, happened, and we should just pretend it didn’t.”

Angus furrowed his brow as you all walked in. “I thought Barton men don’t lie. Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth.”

He held up his hand, not having it. “What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You’re not to judge me.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation; your daughter and I were there. Besides, he brought her into it.”

“I’m right here.” You announced yourself.

“Why’d he ask if you landed on your feet?”

Your father glanced up from searching through the shelves. “What is this, Nuremberg?”

“You’re the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on about the honor code!”

Looking up at both of you, Paul Hunham sighed. “There was an incident at Harvard with my roommate.”

You gave him a look. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarizing.”

“Well, did you?” Angus asked.

“No! He stole from me.” Your father relented. “But that blue-blooded prick’s family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, so he accused me in order to sanitize his treachery. And they threw me out.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “you got kicked out for cheating?”

“No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him.”

Angus asked. “You hit him? Like punched him out?”

“No, I hit him with a car.”

“You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?!”

“By accident,” he approached the counter, talking to the cashier. “Pint of Jim Beam, please.”

You piped up, still in astonishment. “Mom said you left because your grandma was dying.”

“She was, it was just perfect timing to go and help take care of her.” He shrugged. “But my roommate broke three ribs. Which was technically his fault, because he shouldn’t have been in the road.

“Two dollars, please.” The cashier said.

Your father took his wallet out, continuing his story. “Also, he shat himself; which was the greatest indignity.”

The cashier handed him the wrapped-up bottle. “Here you go, killer.”

You couldn’t help your laughter at the sudden statement. As the three of you left and walked down the darkened, cold roads, Angus said.

“So, Mr. Hunham never even graduated college? Holy shit, you didn’t even finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?”

“Did mom even know about you hitting the guy?” You asked.

Your father nodded. “Of course she knew! She gave me an earful on the phone the first time she called me after I left. It was only Dr. Greene who knew it after that. He’d always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty: zero respect and even less pay, so nobody batted an eye, and I’ve been at the school ever since.”

“Are you ashamed at how things turned out?” Angus questioned.

“Not at all. I’m proud of my work, I love history, I married the smartest and kindest woman on the planet, I helped raise a spitfire of a girl, I love Barton. Barton is my life now. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then why did you lie to that guy?”

“Because I knew he’d relish the fact that I’m a washout and never left my own high school. And he’d probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know. So, I figured he’s not entitled to my story. I am. “

Angus nodded. “Yeah. Fuck that guy.”

“Exactly. Fuck that guy!”

“Fuck him, I hope his car slides on black ice and crashes into a lamp post.” You chimed in.

“Woah,” Angus gasped.

Your father said your name scoldingly.

“What?” You scoffed. “It was weird as hell when he talked to me about my mom like he knew me.”

“I’ll admit it was strange and unnecessary.” Your father tossed his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He looked at both you and Angus. “But you’ll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know.”

“Entre nous, sir.” Angus nodded. “Entre nous.”

Your father nodded then chuckled, poking you. “‘Ancient cameras’. Where’d the hell you come up with that?”

“I tried my best!” You whined. After the men ceased in their laughter, you then said. “Can we please get dinner now?”

“Alright, alright.” Your father snorted. “Where would you like to go for your absolutely atrocious food concoction?”

“South Street.”

“I figured.”

And that is where the three of you went. It shouldn’t have surprised you it was packed the day after Christmas, which was also a Saturday. It had to have been a miracle you managed to get in line only when it was starting to go out the door; a few minutes after you arrived, the line had started to curve around to the nearest streetlight.

The diner was filled with life once you got in; families pushing tables together, friends absolutely drunk off their asses laughing, even half of the staff seemed to be enjoying the sheer joy from others. Of course, a few were understandably stressed and annoyed from the number of customers and their behavior.

The three of you were soon sitting at a booth. When Angus sat close to the window, instead of sliding into the seat across from him, you took the one beside him. Leaving your father alone on the other side. To ordinary people, it perhaps didn’t mean anything; but you still felt as if it was a signal.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Christmas music.” Your father grumbled as The Ronettes sang about a sleigh ride and he slipped off his jacket.

You giggled, copying him. “It was just yesterday.”

“I know, but still.”

“I like this song, thank you very much.”

He held up his menu as if to hide his disgust. You and the boy beside you chucked as Angus said. “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“You don’t know if you have?” You asked.

“It feels familiar. Maybe when I was a kid?”

“We’d always come here when we’d visit Boston.” You looked at your father. “The owner gave me a free banana split when I turned twelve, he knew us so well, right?”

That managed to pull a laugh out of him. “That he did. If he’s here tonight maybe you could get a free dinner for us.”

You and Angus looked down at the menu before you, and soon enough, an exhausted waitress came by to take your drink orders and lay down silverware. Immediately, you asked for French fries and your favorite milkshake.

“There’s no way that’s going to be good.” Angus pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” You scoffed.

“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”

“What you’re speaking of is an opinion, not even a theory. If you ever want to make it in this world, I suggest you learn the different between those two before you can even begin to comprehend what an actual fact is.”

“And what is an actual fact?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked despite the fact you insulted him. You also couldn’t hide your own smile. It was apparent from anyone in that room, it was not a smile of victory; it was one synonymous with the feeling inside of your chest as it felt like your own heart would burst forth like light.

Your father had felt this feeling before, so it was not lost on him.

“You seem awfully happy to have your entire statement dismantled, Mr. Tully.” He said to Angus.

The boy looked up, still with a smile but one not as euphoric. “I mean, I wasn’t that serious about it.”

“Oh, and I didn’t think you were. It just astounds me how close you two became in a matter of a few days.” He said. “Wasn’t it only yesterday you both were at each other’s throats?”

You stepped in. “No, that was the first few days, actually. I mean, we were the only kids at Barton after that, so it’s probably best we figured how to deal with each other. I guess we both liked some of the same things too, so that made it easier.”

“Yeah.” Angus nodded.

Your father straightened his gaze between the two of you, but then smiled, getting up from the booth. “I have to use the facilities; don’t go anywhere.”

“No papa,” you teased. “we’re going to go do a line of cocaine with the homeless man a few blocks away.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe that you’re the bad influence on Mr. Tully and not the other way around.”

With that, he left the two of you by yourselves as he walked to the back of the diner. Once he was gone, you and Angus cackled to yourselves.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked, a hint of concern mixed in with delight.

“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugged, still chuckling. “Is that so bad?”

“I mean…I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” You admitted, smiling shyly.

Even though the rest of the diner was booming with Christmas music and leftover excitement from the holidays, it all fell silent between you two. The boy who was once radiated in the happiness you shared with him, now covered in a shroud of terror.

Well…in reality, he was alarmed, not terrified; yet, that is all you saw.

“Shit I-!” You realized what you had just said. “I didn’t mean-I mean, we don’t have to be together, I just meant that I’ve never had someone like me back when I’ve liked them, and even then, it didn’t happen very often-.”

“-Hey, hey.” He stopped you. “No, I’ve never had that happen either. I mean, I’ve been to all boys’ schools since I was fourteen. I think…yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Really?” You felt the weight from your shoulders loosen as your face brightened.

He nodded, glowing with you. “Really.”

You glanced up at the bathroom door, and when there was no sight of your father, you took his face into your hands, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t as intense as your previous ones, but not as quick as the one you gave him outside the bookstore.

He pulled away first, and before you could say anything about it, you saw the waitress leave from the corner of your eye. She had brought the drinks, including your milkshake and fries. Turning back towards the table, you immediately picked up a fry and dipped it into the milkshake.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.” Angus said with no emotion behind it.

“I know I’m funny, but this I would not joke about.” You talked as you ate. “Try it.”

“No.”

“I’ll kiss you if you do.” You took another fry.

“You’ll kiss me anyway.”

“I’ll kiss you like how the French do.”

“You already do that.”

 “I’ll do something different.”

His eyes grew, and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “‘Something different’?”

“Yeah.” You dipped a third fry. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

 “Not that you have to, but fine I’ll try it.” Angus reached for a fry, then dipped it into your milkshake and ate it.

Angus’ face went through more arrays of emotions in a short time since you met him. You grinned from ear to ear. “Well?”

“Fuck off.” He tried to hide his smile as he took another fry.

“I’m sorry, what?” You taunted.

“It’s not the best-.”

“-I’m sorry, what?!” You repeated louder, and you both were talking over each other. “It sounds like-!”

“You don’t have to be so-!”

“It sounds like you actually like it!”

“You’re so loud.”

You finished with laughter, and then kissed his cheek. You returned to your milkshake and fries as Angus talked about something funny that happened back in the fall. You can’t remember what he said to this day, because a familiar voice entered your ears as it entered the diner.

Angus kept talking to you, but it was in one ear and out the other as you tried your best not to show your discomfort at the man who laughed a little louder than the rest of the people in the diner. When you thought Angus wasn’t paying attention, you glanced over your shoulder at the entrance.

There he stood; a man around the same age as your father with a woman perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than him, holding a baby on her hip, and clutching her seven-year-old daughter’s hand.

Despite what Andy Williams was singing from the jukebox, this was not the most wonderful time of the year.

Angus tapped your shoulder, and you drew your eyes away to look at him.

“Hey, I hate this song, I’m gonna go change it.” He said. You got out of the booth for him to stand, and once he did you sat back down. Only for him to then say. “Okay, scoot over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Scoot over.”

“You didn’t even change the song.”

“I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.”

He was bullshitting you, but you scooted over anyway, and he sat beside you. “What’s going on?”

You scoffed. “You’re the one that got up and sat down again.”

“Is that guy Daniel?”

“Angus-.”

“-Tell me.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Both you and Angus looked and saw the man from the entrance stand before you with his hands in his pockets. You dropped your gaze.

“No, he’s not.”

You had no idea what you hated more that night: hearing a man you never met say your mother’s name, or hearing a man you knew too well say yours.

“If he is, just say the word and-.”

“-He’s not bothering me.” You hissed.

Angus slipped his hand into yours as you kept your eyes down, but he kept his trained on the man standing in front of him.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

You didn’t say anything, so Angus did.

“Could you go? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ignored him, still angling on you. “Look, sweetie, you don’t have to, and I get it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you came and meet them. They’re all right here now; Carol, Maria, and Frankie. He just turned one last week-.”

“-Can you just fuck off?” You finally looked at him.

He tilted his head and raised his brows before looking at Angus. “Young man, could you give her and I some privacy-?”

“-No.”

The man looked at you, scoffing. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do to make him so fucking head over heels for you? Was that the issue just now between you two? Under the table action?”

Angus stood. “Fuck you, what’s your problem?”

You pulled on his sleeve, hissing his name and kneeling on top of your seat to try and get him to sit back down. The man continued to taunt him.

“My problem is that you don’t know what’s going on boy, and you’re being a little prick about all of this.”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll…”

“‘You’ll-you’ll what?’” He looked over at you. “I can’t tell if you picked the bravest or the stupidest kid to fool around with, Eurydice.”

You were always a strange child growing up. Perhaps it was that there are times in your life you picture music whenever a certain emotion arose within you.

As you heard him say that name, a name that you heard last when your mother was dying in her bed, a name that was only for her to use and her alone…You heard Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.

You don’t even remember grabbing the stupid butter knife from your silverware, just raising it up above you and believing it would cause any harm. As Angus held you back, the man reached over you to grab your hair.

Chaos ensued for a moment in the diner as you cried out when he pulled the ribbon out of your hair, and both him and Angus engaged in a battle of expletives. Most of the diners held back and watched in shock, while only two of them came up. A man stood between him and Angus, and the wife of the yelling man pulled him away.

“Daniel, what the hell is going on?!” She hissed.

“Yes, Daniel,” all eyes fell onto Paul Hunham, who was behind Daniel. “what is the meaning of this?”

You shrunk back in the booth, Angus hugging you tightly against him as if to hide you from Daniel. Both of you stared at the scene before you.

“Paul…” Daniel nodded, standing taller and holding his wife’s hand.

Mr. Hunham nodded back. “Your Christmas went well I take it?”

“It was fine; yours?”

“Just peachy.” He gave a tight smile, looking around at everyone else. “Family matters everyone, I sincerely apologize.”

Hesitantly, the crowd went back to their own business; or they were at least good at pretending to as they eavesdropped. Mr. Hunham continued.

“Why’re you here exactly?”

“The same as you.” Daniel explained. “Dinner with my family.”

He hummed. “And you thought it wise to inform the child in the scenario but not me?”

“Now wait a minute-.”

“-I assume your wife also didn’t know about this or the letters and money you sent?”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s wife scowled. “Danny, what’s he talking about?”

He shook his head. “Hunham, you should just mind your own-.”

“-Well now you see, I can’t do that, because her mother trusted me to provide and care for her.”

It was only then did Angus Tully understand what exactly had been going on. As the adults fought, he looked down at you in his arms. It was as if it were the first time he had seen you, and it was the first time he noticed that he could not find a trace of Mr. Hunham.

The eyes he thought you had gotten from your mother stared up at him with dread, and when Angus looked back at the man seething with unspoken rage, he saw them there too.

“Look,” Paul sighed. “I don’t want to cause another scene, so let us handle this like men. You will not make contact with her again, and we can walk away.”

He took a heaving breath before responding. “Fine by me. Come on, Carrie.”

Daniel began to lead her away from your booth, but Paul stopped them. “I believe you have something of my daughter’s.”

His eyes trailed down to the ribbon in his hand. He let go of his wife to walk back to Paul who held his hand out. Instead of giving it to him, he turned to Angus, smiling. He handed it to him.

“Keep her on a short leash, boy. She’s got her mother’s mouth.”

With that, he and his wife and children left the South Street Diner. You only pulled away from Angus when he did from you. No tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but that didn’t mean they weren’t stinging your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay.

You took the ribbon from Angus only for it to hang loosely at your side. Paul softened his gaze as he began to put on his jacket.

“I think we should just settle on room service tonight.” He said gently. “I can get them to bag up the fries and let you take the milkshake glass?”

You could only nod, not wanting to look at either of the men with you. You all put on your coats in silence, and Angus, though not hugging you, hovered as Mr. Hunham spoke with the staff; both about not wanting to report the incident, and also on paying extra for you to take the glass.

It was so cold out, and everyone was so tired from not just the events of the night, but the entire day, that Paul splurged on a cab for the three of you back to the hotel.

Angus also didn’t feel shame in trying to hold you hand in front of your father; or…stepfather. You limply held his hand back, but you leaned against him as you sat in the cab, staring at the Boston Christmas lights as the city passed by you.

When the cab made it to the hotel, you led the way in a tired haze to the elevators. It wasn’t just the three of you in the elevator; there was a somewhat large family that piled in, all merry and jolly and reeking of chlorine from the pool they had just swum in.

It was as if God himself was rubbing salt into the wounds, tempting you to lick them.

When you made it onto your floor, you also led the way back to your connecting rooms. There was no ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Can we stay up just a little longer?’ to your companions; you simply opened your door and shut it in their faces.

Setting the milkshake down, you tossed off your jacket and pulled your shoes off. Collapsing on the bed, you looked down at the ribbon still in your hand…and you cried.

[moony-2001]

The real-world impact of Lore Olympus

i.e. do your research Rachel

Trigger warning: racism, fetishization, appropriation, mentions of SA

Long post ahead

A while ago, someone told me that Lore Olympus was just a silly little comic written out of boredom. That it was made to be "funny". They told me that "[I] can't hope [for] an extremely [well-written] story when it was just made with the intention to make something goofy" and that if Rachel actually wanted to make something serious like I had, she would write a book and not a comic.

At the time of this exchange, it was past 1 a.m. and I was exhausted. I did not want to argue with this person and it simply wasn't worth my time or energy in the moment.

But looking back at that (mostly one-sided) interaction, I can't help but think that there is so much wrong with that point of view. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinion about Lore Olympus, whether good or bad. But Lore Olympus isn't just some silly little nothing comic about nothing important. It is a comic that actively appropriates and erases Greek Culture. It is a comic that has no respect for the actual stories that have been passed down over thousands of years whether by word of mouth or written text. It is a comic that perpetuates a false narrative and harmful stereotypes about characters or certain groups of people. So, no, it's not just a silly little comic.

Incorrect information

Here’s an example of what I mean:

When I was doing research for my post about the 10 year time skip, I looked up Leuce to reconfirm the little information I knew about her. Wanna guess the first thing that popped up about her?

A Lore Olympus Wiki article.

Okay. How about Minthe? Hundreds of pictures of her from Lore Olympus and a LO Wiki article as one of the top 3 results. Both character are horribly represented in LO and unfortunately there isn’t really any documented stories or records that can refute how LO paints them. Because of this, other characters in Greek Mythology like Leuce and Minthe, whose stories have little to no documentation, stand to suffer the most harm from deliberate misrepresentation on Rachel’s part.

Of course well-known and better documented figures in Greek mythology face slander as well. What about Thetis or Leto? How about Apollo? All of their portrayals in LO are HORRIBLE. I have seen people online absolutely drag them to filth not because they're upset about how the character is portrayed compared to their mythological counterpart, but because they have no knowledge of how they are actually portrayed outside of LO. They just assume that's how the characters are. Similarly, people who have either very little or no prior knowledge of Greek Mythology and Culture would look at the comic and go "Yep, sounds legit. It must be true." and go about thinking that what is portrayed in LO is accurate to what was transcribed thousands of years ago.

Creative interpretations and racism/fetishization within LO

Don’t get me wrong. Creative interpretations and artistic liberties can be great. When they’re done tastefully. I personally think if done correctly, a Greek myth spun in a modern way has the potential be very good. But that's not what we were given.

Characters like Minthe, Leuce, and Thetis (all nymphs btw) are portrayed as trashy tramps who put out and are used as a foil sabotage Persephone and/or her relationship with Hades. Compare that to Greek Mythology where in the Iliad, Thetis is very well-respected by the gods, particularly Hera. Unfortunately, other similar characters like satrys (and basically any character that isn’t a god) are usually portrayed as a low-class POC that can be easily exploited, manipulated, or used as a temporary villain/lover/pawn to “get back” at Persephone, our white-coded protagonist who can do no wrong.

Additionally, there is a clear race/class bias against characters like nymphs in LO. We see many cases scattered throughout the comic of gods like Hera or Aphrodite referring to nymphs as "trash" or "low class" or the idea that nymphs do not belong with gods being heavily implied if not outright said. I cannot tell you how often I've seen Minthe be called some variant of "cheap" by the readers of LO. Even Persephone (who created the flower nymphs) treats them with such disrespect. She frequently calls them some variant of "stupid" or "simple" like saying how they're not the sharpest crayons in the box even though she's the one WHO MADE THEM. However, it's so odd not really to note that nymphs like Echo, Amphitrite, or Psyche (who was previously disguised as a nymph) are not discriminated against. This is because they are liked or trusted by the gods they are around and ergo are often portrayed as the "good ones", which is a disgusting mindset to have.

We also see the fetishization of nymphs in the comic that is disturbingly similar to the fetishization of women who are Black, Asian, or Latina. It is a known fact that Hades has a flower nymph fetish. Not only is this implied in the comic, but Rachel stated it outright in an old Patreon post. Nymphs are also generally treated as sex-symbols, disposable, and as a lesser-than. Zeus frequently displays this behavior by abandoning nymphs he knocked up in the mortal realm.

For example, when Persephone finds out Apollo is dating Daphne, she isn't upset he's dating her friend. She's upset he's dating a flower nymph, beings that are generally considered to be "rare", "dumb", and objects of sexual desire. Ew.

Even on the Lore Olympus website (loreolympians.com) nymphs are regarded as "beautiful", "desirable", and "very exotic". And when they're not described in a sexual manner they're say it with me now regarded as "low class" or "workers" for some kind of god/goddess.

Final thoughts

So not only is the characterization of characters like Minthe or Thetis harmful to Greek culture and the stories that are so ingrained in their society, but it is also perpetuating harmful stereotypes about people of color and women who are confident in their sexuality.

Of course, the characters within Greek Mythology had their own issues. Zeus was a serial rapist, many of the goddesses deemed to be "feminist" by today's standards were actually horribly misogynistic looking at you Athena. But 1. that's just how things were back then (but that does not make it right) and 2. all of the good, the bad, and the ugly is still there in Greek Mythology. They're not denying how fucked up it is, but they're also not changing their history to better fit their own narrative or the narrative of the modern world. It exists, it happened, but now it is studied and called out by historians.

Rachel, on the other hand, is doing exactly that. She is actively changing the Greek's cultural history to better fit her fic's narrative. She is constantly sweeping things under the rug or going "No this is how it ACTUALLY happened". Lore Olympus is marketed as a "feminist retelling" yet somehow, it takes allllll the ugly parts from Greek Mythology (rape, incest, problematic age gaps, dubious consent, etc.), mixes it with a majority of the issues we have in the modern world (white feminism, rape-apologists/rape culture, grooming, fetishization of certain minority groups, etc.) and then amplifies the concoction to 20. Lore Olympus cannot be a "progressive, feminist, retelling" and also have characters that are morally apprehensive/come straight from the ancient myths. It does not work. In fact, IMO it makes all the problems from both eras worse.

News flash: actual cultures that are still thriving today are not your toys. They are not "made up". They matter. Do better.

[honeydoor]

ೀ⠀video games | leehan

ওㅤkeep playing your stupid game

smut (mdni), gamer (kinda nerdy?) and sub!leehan x femreader, stabilized relationship, metion of taesan and riwoo, masturbation (m. receiving), some petnames (?), cum eating, exhibitionism (?)

a/n: im a freak

When you started dating Kim Donghyun, you knew you would have to be very patient with him. Maybe his silly attitude made you fall in love even more, or maybe it was his bright eyes and thick-rimmed glasses. but from the beginning you knew you had to be careful with him.

Leehan — as he preferred to be called — is every girl's dream, but most of them wouldn't even look at him because of his shy and quiet way. The fact that he was a nerd in the field he studied didn't really help him build a reputation of "respect", in the end he was always going to be the "marine biology nerd who's a bit weird".

His luck is that you've always had a soft spot for losers, and now he's dating you, a hot girl.When you left your last class, he was already waiting for you outside your room. The headphones said something about one of the fish he liked and the cell phone in his hand showed videos of someone taking care of these fish. You try to get his attention, and he quickly turns off his cell phone and puts the headphones in his pocket.

– My house today? I planned to play LoL with Riwoo and Taesan. – You look at him with the best abandoned puppy face you could make, you're too spoiled and didn't want to share your boyfriend on the night you had to go home from work.

– Are you going to abandon me? Oh my God, Hyun, right on my day off? – Baby, please, I had already planned to go play before I even knew you had time off. Forgive me this time? – He clasps his hands together, apologizing and deep down, he really feels guilty.

– Give me a kiss and I’ll think about whether to forgive you or not.

When you arrive at the slightly messy apartment, he offers to find a comfortable shirt for you to wear. He knows how much you love stealing his shirts, so much so that there must be more in your house than in his own closet, but he doesn't care, whatever his princess wants, he'll give it to you. You are really spoiled by him. When you get out of the shower, he's already at the computer desk, the game's opening screen appears on the monitor and he adjusts the headphones on his head.

– Taesan hyung, can you hear me? – He murmurs. You can't hear the answer on the other end of the line, but your boyfriend nods his head indicating "yes."

You sit on Kim's bed, combing your hair delicately while watching your boyfriend move his fingers quickly on the keyboard, aaaah, how those fingers would do damage to you...It's inevitable not to have that kind of thought when you date a greek god who is your Donghyun, the bright eyes, the beautiful nose, the mouth so kissable, the long hair. And him with glasses looks so much sexier. You're a pervert for having these kinds of thoughts, and he loves the fact that you're a pervert.

– What do you think so much, love? – You look at him after staring at his hands for so long, you smile at him, how can a stupid boy be so hot?

– Nothing, baby, just thinking about how much I wish you were in bed right now with me, you know, cuddles, a good movie and popcorn. – He looks at you suspiciously, he knows the type of girlfriend he has and it’s definitely not the cute type.

– You have five minutes to tell me what you truly want. You look at his hands again, get up from the bed and go to the boy. When you sit on Donghyun's lap he even gets a little scared, but he was so used to that because he's scared, right? It turns out that he's still the sensitive little boy you met years ago, he can't handle your touches and caresses for so long without getting hard.

- May I stay here? At least I can stay close to you here. Oh, your lap is so warm. – You laugh, as if you were making fun of his face, and maybe you really were.

– Do you want help with your problem, dear? But what problem? Oh shit! He was so entertained by you that he didn't notice when he got hard.

– U-um, yeah? If possible, love, do it. – His heart skips a beat when he feels your fingers sneak under his shirt, he knew he was fucked.

– What do you want me to do, love? Do you want me to touch you? He nods, his eyes wide open, attentive to your every movement. For him, you were like a cat, or a fox, naughty in everything you do, especially when it's to get him off track. He feels your hand stop at the waistband of his shorts, you play with the elastic before pulling them down. His blood runs cold when he sees that another match was already starting, he looks at you from above, scared of the possibility of his friends hearing you, since he will have to turn on the microphone to communicate during the match.

You signal for him to continue, and the moment Kim unmutes his own microphone you finish pulling down his shorts. You looks at your boyfriend, smiles and says "no underwear prince? Were you expecting that?" when you see his hard member jumping out and hitting his own belly, he closes his eyes when he feels you playing with the tip but then opens them when he hears Taesan complaining to him about taking damage.

You lick the entire length, it's so big and thick that you even get lost in what to do. You start by kissing the head, then like a greedy girl, you swallow everything. Your head was moving up and down deliciously, Leehan's hands were sweating more than anything and what you couldn't reach with your mouth you masturbated with your hands.

He was trying not to come too soon, but when he looks at you there, on your knees with your eyes wide open, waiting for him to spurt his cum on your pretty face, he couldn't help it.

— Ya, Donghyun! You're not paying attention to the game, are you? — Riwoo shouts on the other end of the line, but Kim was focused on the delicious feeling of the orgasm and how your hands milked his cock.

— Leehan!? — He seems to snap out of his trance when Taesan calls out to him. — Are you fucking your girlfriend and playing games at the same time? Pervert, he didn't even care if we heard or not. Donghyun hears his friends laugh at him but all he can think about is you.

— And you love? You get up from the floor, your knees are sore but you can only think that it was worth it as soon as you collect his cum with your fingers and taste it.

— Keep playing your stupid game, baby, we'll sort it out later.

[honouredsatoru]

Mine, said They.

— author's note. finally got the courage to write something for yan!satosugu because @nkogneatho hyped me up and i just wanted to give something for disappearing for over a year. not proofread as usual (atp. "not proofread as usual" finna be the way yall recognize my work.) art cr. iku_ju on twt

— warnings. nsfw under "keep reading" tab. yanderes. body worship, dubcon if you squint hard enough. implied subtle psychological break and captivity.

— characters. geto suguru, gojo satoru

— taglist. @noritoshiikamo @sassooda @afortoru @booksweet @laudthingcat @lazy10ieiri @ekaterinatepes @tojisi @tohokuu @peachsayshi @shadowarchon @dearestgojo @starlitheaven @tojisveryown @sixeyesgojo

yandere gojo and yandere geto who

— loves you so so much. who worships the grounds that touches your feet. no. you do not walk for the earth. the earth is for YOU to walk on.

— loves the shape of your body, their lips never leaving your skin. they praise you so much, from the way your hair shapes your face structure to the way that anklet of yours compliments your skin tone. whenever you let them know of your insecurities, they'd pull you into a tight hug and filled you with nothing but words of reassurance.

"our sweet, beauteous doll! your body is what inspired those in ancient greek and rome to carves their marbles out of. your body is what resembles warmth, love, and what strength is. it is what helped you survive, so don't let those tainted thoughts get to you." said they.

— who gets worried sick when you fall sick, making sure your body doesn't get too hot or gets too cold, making sure that you take your medicines and meals on time, checking up on you whenever you are resting. space? what is that? what if something bad happens to you if they leave your side even for a split second?

— convinced you that staying at home is much better, that you have them to do all the tasks you need. that a gentle angel like you don't need the sun to ruin your skin, you don't need the harsh air to ruin your hair, making it rough. no. their doll mustn't be tainted.

— laughs at your antics when you sulk because you miss the outdoor breeze, the shady skies and the warm sun. okay. maybe once a month would do. there's no harm to that, right?

— adorned their doll with a rose gold necklace set with their birthstones as its pendant, two rings connected your birthstone attached on it, a pair of rose gold earrings, custom made with white pearls. only the best for their darling.

— who fantasizes about you getting pregnant. the thought of your belly swollen as the months pass by, the way you'll whine, cling and depend on them. they fantasized kissing your belly, their fingers tracing hearts over the stretch marks that formed onto your skin, they fantasized you going to lamaze classes, with them taking turns to go with you. oh their darling.

— convinces you that if it wasn't for them, how could you ever learn what love is? you never received attention or any sort of affection growing up so let them warm your heart out with their love. your family? they're your family now. your friends? you've got two best friends. just surrender to them.

NSFW

yandere gojo and yandere geto who

— has a sadistic streak to them. cocks, lube, vibrators, dildos, soft pink hand cuffs, ball gags, whipped cream, ice cubes, honey, chocolate syrup, whips, melted candle wax, neck ties and ropes, whips, all of that to see just how well your body responds to their method of loving you.

— coerced you into filming your sinful deeds knowing you've a fear of being filmed but hey, nobody's gonna watch them, well... it's just for their eyes. so don't you let your pretty little head worry too much, m'kay?

— licked your tear stained cheeks as you cried, begging for them to stop when it gets too much for you. your chest is filled with bite and love marks, your thighs are shaking too hard for you that it's going to not make you walk straight for the new few days, your cheeks slightly red because they like to slap you and tug your hair when you're being an absolute brat.

yandere geto who

— fucked you stupid while gojo watches, panting salaciously as he admires the view of his bestfriend's cock penetrating that tight, abused hole of yours while you're restrained with an adult door swing.

"god, she looks divine when she can't go nowhere." gojo whispers to himself, with geto's eyes rolling up in pleasure, cursing under his breath about how tight you are, just how well you're taking him in. your thighs and wrists will be slightly bruised but... it's worth it, no?

all writing belongs to honouredsatoru.

reblogs and interactions are appreciated. ♡

[urfavoritedcwhore]

dinner at the lake house//henry winter x !fem!reader

smut, minors DNI!!!

warnings: swearing, over stimulation, unprotected sex, degradation, “rope” play, mention of safe word (it’s not used), let me know if i left anything out please

not proof read

lowercase intended

henry and i have had a secret romance for about five months now. it started when i stayed by his side for two straight nights, trying my best to nurse him out of one of his migraines. i had gone to the pharmacy for him, picked up his medication, hung blackout curtains on his windows, and brought him scotch and soup in efforts to get him to eat something. of course, we didn’t talk much those two days. however, in a strange way we became closer after. henry who had once been so stoned faced and reserved, invited me over for dinners three nights a week after those two rough days. over a course of a couple weeks i began to see a softer side of henry. a side that would remember my favorite tea, and be sure to pick it up for me when he was at the market. a side that patiently helped me with my greek assignments, occasionally even laughing with me when i would drink too much at dinner and switch between speaking french and english without noticing. he had pursued me. however, that’s not to say that we didn’t love eachother the same amount. it was a deep love. a love we had both had in our hearts from the moment we saw each other in greek class. a love that had finally been spoken of aloud after those few weeks of diners at his house. however, the past few days have been difficult due to minor agruments between henry and i. nothing big really. he tends to get snappy with me if i bother him while he works, which causes me to get snappy with him. this morning, francis had rang henry and told him we all were going down to the lake house at four pm, after our classes. when i awoke, henry told me the plan. i agreed, and went back to my dormitory so it wouldn’t seem as if we were walking to class together. i’m sure everyone has they’re suspicions about us, but neither of us really want to come right out and admit our relationship. due to the constant ridicule im sure bunny would put us under for no reason, we both have decided it’s just better to keep our private life private. after greek class i go back to henry’s apartment to pack a small bag to take with me to the lake house. most of my clothes live there now, after he insisted it would be easier to bring them over instead of running back and forth from his house to my dormitory. when i arrive i find him studying his books at the kitchen table, his trousers lose with no belt, his button up halfway undone, and the jacket of his suit draped along the back of the chair. i quietly walk to his room and pack my bag, along with a small one for him. i hear the telephone ring and quickly run to the living room to answer it before it could disturb henry. i want today to be a good day for us, a day where no one’s in a bad mood. i pick up the phone, “hello?”, i say softly into the receiver. “y/n? i thought i rang henry.”, i hear charles’ voice say confused. i quickly make something up, “no no, you did. i’m over at henry’s. he’s helping me with the greek assignment julian gave us today. he’s just in the washroom. what would you like me to tell him when he gets out?”, i ask kindly. “well actually i was going to ring you after i spoke to henry and tell you that francis, camila, and i are about to leave to go to pick up henry, then come to campus to collect you, bunny, and richard. i suppose we can just collect you at henry’s though? do you have your bag with you?”, he spoke with a soft friendly voice, i’ve aways loved that about charles. “actually, yes i do. i figured that you may come for henry while i was over here and brought it with me.”, i tell him. “perfect. we should be there in about fifteen minutes.”, he says. “alright, thank you charles. i’ll let henry know when he comes out.”, i tell him glancing over at henry, who’s still engulfed in his book.

charles and i say our goodbyes and i hang up the phone. i turn to henry and walk over behind the chair he’s sitting in, lightly placing my hands on his shoulder. “the twins and francis are coming to collect us.”, i say softly as i gently rub my hands up and down his shoulders. “hm? oh, one moment darling, i must finish this translation.”, he says back to me in a low, mumbling voice. i wonder if i should leave him be, but i know that most likely none of the words i’ve said to him have actually been heard by him. when he’s in his studying mode, he rarely hears anything anyone is saying to him. “love, they’ll be here soon.”, i say trying to get my point across to him. “i heard you the first time, i wish you wouldn’t bother my whilst i work. i’ve told you this many times.”, he says in a agitated voice. “fine. don’t be upset with me when they show up and you’re not dressed. i’m just trying to help.”, i say annoyed at his tone, releasing my hands from his shoulders. i walk over the couch, grabbing my book and begin to read. “you can be irritated with me, i’m only telling you what i’ve told you a million times.”, i hear henry get up from his chair and the slight ruffle of fabric, which i assume is him buttoning up his shirt. i don’t turn around to look at him, “i was simply trying to help.”, i say annoyed, my eyes not leaving my book. i hear him chuckle quietly, “you get incredibly frustrated over these things for no good reason dear.”, he says in a cocky tone. i decide that if i respond it will only escalate the situation. i silently continue reading my book. after about five more minutes of reading, there’s a knock on henry’s door. “coming!”, i say as i go into henry’s room to get my bag. i see henry in his room putting on a belt, and walk right past him. i pick up my bag, “give me a kiss darling. i know you’re frustrated with me, but i won’t be able to kiss you again until i come to your room late tonight.”, henry says catching my arm when i begin to walk out of the bedroom. even though i in fact am still frustrated, i look up at him and stand on the tips of my toes, placing a small kiss on his lips. he smiles as i drop down to the flats of my feet. “let’s go.”, i tell him walking out of the room. i answer the door and follow francis to his car, henry trailing behind us. we get in the car and say hello to our friends before driving to campus to retrieve edmund and richard. the drive is long and particularly difficult due to the fact that bunny is constantly talking about random subjects to which he knows nothing about. we arrive at the lake house at 7:15pm. the weekends are almost always spent at the lake house. richard on the boat with francis, the twins playing croquet with bunny, henry drinking a glass of scotch while studying on the porch, and me reading my book in the small hammock that hang between two trees in the front yard. since we arrive at dinner time i decide to go into the kitchen and make us all dinner. henry follows, sitting at the dining table, opening his book back up and reading. the twins, along with bunny and richard, go into the library. this leaves francis in the kitchen with me, helping me prepare dinner. we make a roast and vegetables from the supplies the housekeepers stocked the fridge for us with. dinner take about two hours, which is no problem since we all are accustomed to eating late. when francis and i finish making dinner, he leaves the kitchen to get the others. still slightly annoyed at our small argument from early, i look over to henry at the table. “dinner is ready…or should i not disturb you with that information.” , i say over the counter to him nonchalantly. he looks up from his book. as he opens his mouth to say something, everyone piles into the kitchen. he gives me an agitated glance and closes his book as i bring the food to the table. everyone takes their seats and begins to put food on their plates as i i sit in the seat across from henry.

“pourquoi continuez-vous à vous comporter comme un enfant.”, henry asks me, knowing no one will understand what he’s saying since we’re the only ones who speak fluent French. “je ne sais pas de quoi tu parles.”, i say back to him, not looking up from the peice of roast on my plate i’m cutting. “as-tu besoin d'être baisé ou quelque chose comme ça”, he asks me with shaking his head with a low cocky chuckle. i look up, shocked at his words, and realize everyone is looking at us confused. “henry’s helping me with my french. he says it will help to speak it randomly.”, i lie to them. “ohhh okay.”, camila says with a smile, and continues her conversation with richard, as everyone else resumes their own conversations. “je ne sais pas, est-ce que je”, i shoot back to him in a calm voice, to not draw attention from the others. “je pense que tu en as besoin”, he says raising his eyebrows at me. camila nearly chokes on her water, henry and i turn to her simultaneously. “Camila tu parles français ?”, i say to her suspiciously. she laughs softly, “je parle assez pour savoir ce que vous dites”, she says shifting her eyes between us with a grin. henry and i look at each other shocked. “ne t'inquiète pas, je ne le dirai pas aux autres”, she says in a genuine tone. bunny chimes in, “what are you three weirdos talking about?”, he asks with a mouthful of food. camila and i let out a small laugh. “we’re just talking about our days bun, i promise your not missing anything interesting.”, camila says to him with a sweet smile. i look back at henry, “nous pourrons en parler après le dîner”, i say with a cocky smile. camila giggled, “non, s'il te plaît, parle-en maintenant, je suis intrigué”, she says looking at me with big smirk. henry turns towards me, “nous pouvons en discuter dans votre chambre ce soir.”, he says before looking back down at his plate with a red face. “es-tu gêné ?”, i ask him with a laugh. “non, mais si je continue à parler, tu pourrais l'être”, he warns me looking up and lifting his eyebrows at me. “try me.”, i say in English to him, smiling and rolling my eyes. “continue d'agir de cette façon et je te baiserai si fort que toute la maison t'entendra pleurer mon nom.”, he says with a slight irritated smile while shaking his head. camila looks at me with wide eyes, “i think im going to get a bottle of scotch, you two continue the conversation without me.”, she tells us leaving the table and walking into the kitchen. i look back at henry, taunting him, “chérie, je ne crois pas que tu le feras vraiment, je pense que tu seras simplement le gentleman que tu es toujours. trop peur de me baiser comme un vrai homme.”, i say to him with a disbelieving laugh. he looked at me almost offended by my words before he leans back in his chair, “i suppose we’ll see won’t we.”, he returns with a shrug. he pulls out a cigarette from the pack he kept in his jacket pocket and sticks one in his mouth, lighting it as he did so. camila walks back to the table holding a bottle of scotch, “i suggest we all have a drink and go off to bed.”, she says to everyone, giving me a small wink. “i suppose i am quite exhausted.”, richard says as he lets camila fill up his glass. everyone fills up their glasses, drinks their scotch, and departs the table one by one. camila, henry, and i are left by ourselves at the table. camila looked around to make sure no one was lurking behind us before she spoke, “everyone assumes you two are together, but i always figured it was just gossip. how long have you two been seeing eachother?”, she asks curiously. henry speaks up before i can, “about five months.”, he says sipping his scotch. i pour another glass for myself as camila begins to speak, “you hide it quite well. i think the others are only a bit suspicious because of the looks you give to each other in julian’s class. although, francis swears up and down he came to your apartment one day to grab a book, and saw a brassiere.”, she says looking at henry.

i look up at henry and laugh, “i told you giving him a key was a mistake.”, i say shaking my head before taking a long sip of my drink. “ we’re luckily it was him and not bunny, i suppose. he would’ve told the whole school.”, henry says shaking his head. “don’t worry, francis didn’t tell anyone but me. even if he did i highly doubt they would believe him.”, camila says to me with a small giggle. she yawns and glances at her watch, “i should get to bed. i told francis i would share a room with him tonight. he gets quite frightened sleeping alone in this house. he swears that he’ll breathe in too much dust and choke while he’s sleeping. a bit ridiculous but well, you know how he is.”, she says standing up. “goodnight camila.”, henry and i tell her as she walks away up the stairs. “goodnight!”, she calls back as she continues to walk. henry looks at me, “go to your room, strip to your undergarments, and wait for me while i finish my scotch.”, he says in a quiet voice. “if you insist.”, i say downing the rest of my my drink, swallowing it with a gulp. “i do.”, he tells me tracing his finger around the edge of his glass while he stares into my eyes. i get up and walk to my room, glancing behind me to see henry watching me as he sips his scotch.

i arrive to my room, closing my door behind me and stripping to my undergarments as he told me to do. i wait for five minutes before deciding to grab my book and read while i wait for him. i’m finishing the chapter of the book i’m reading when i hear my door open with a quiet click. i look up and see henry smoking a cigarette and standing in front of my door. he takes a long drag and exhales the smoke before speaking. “did you enjoy acting like a brat today y/n?”, he asks as he slowly takes off his the jacket of his suit and putting the cigarette out on the ashtray that sits atop my dresser. “did you enjoy acting like a dick today henry?”, i ask with a small annoyed laugh. he walks over to my bed, pushing my hair behind my ears and holding my face. he brings his face close to mine, smiling, as if he’s going to kiss me, but passes my lips at the last moment to whisper in my ear. “don’t swear darling, it’s not attractive.”, he says before moving his head down to my neck, planting small kisses on it. normally i would shoot back a remark about how his arrogance isn’t attractive, but his lips on my neck melt me into a state of bliss. i hum softly as he disconnects from my neck and stands up straight, to look at me from above. “now what am i to do about that nasty attitude of yours?”, he asks smirking at me almost evilly. i open my mouth to respond but before i can he speaks again, “that was a rhetorical question dear, i know exactly how i’m going to handle it.”, he says bringing cupping my face in his hand and rubbing my check with his thumb. “take off my belt.”, henry says to me in a commanding voice. i decide to do what im told and remove his belt. as soon as its free from the last loop of his trousers he snatches it from my hands. “now place your wrists together.”, he tells me as he continues to look down on me. “why?”, i ask innocently, although i know exactly why he wants me to do this. he looks at me and chuckles to himself before grabbing both my wrists in one hand and pressing them together. he quickly loops the belt around my wrists, pulling it tight with his free hand. i look up at him half amused and half startled, “that’s awfully tight, i can’t imagine why you choose to tie my hands together.”, i say teasing him. he doesn’t respond, he simply pushes me flat against the bed, walks to the end of the mattress, and places himself on it crawling towards me slowly. once he reaches my legs he grabs them forcefully, spreading the open. i let out a soft gasp from how tight his grip on my thighs are. he trails his left hand up and down my inner thigh, keeping his right hand firmly gripping my other thigh. he stops right before reaching my underwear, trailing his fingers back down my thigh. “i’m trying to decide if i want to not let you cum at all, or make you cum multiple times.”, he says staring at my clothed pussy. “do you deserve to cum tonight?”, he says shifting his eyes to me. my core is so neglected from his teasing that i drop any ounce of brattiness left in my body, and begin to nod my head frantically as i prop myself up on my elbows to look down at him. he laughs, “you were so full of words at dinner tonight, can you not speak anymore darling?”, he says before straightening his face and using a more serious deep tone, “lay back down.”. i release myself from my elbows and fall back against the mattress. “now answer me with words, do you deserve to cum?”,. he repeats before pressing soft kisses up and down my thighs. “yes”, i say practically moaning. “are we going to continue to be bratty?”, he asks disconnecting his lips from my thighs, and stroking his index finger up and down my clothed slit. my thoughts jumble as i try to answer. henry has never acted this way before, he usually is such a gentleman when you two sleep together. “no”, i say as my breath hitches. “good answer darling, now, je veux que tu me surveilles.”, he says standing up from the bed and removing his trousers along with his button up . i do what im told and prop myself up against the head board, using my elbows to wiggle my way up.

henry laughs at my struggle as he climbs back on the the bed, reaching over and unclipping my bra, throwing it to the ground. “lift your hips.”, he says as he hovers above me, his knees on either side of mine. i lift my hips and he pulls down my underwear in one swift motion, “open.”, he says nodding to my mouth. confused, i open my mouth suspiciously. before i can even realize what’s going on, my balled up underwear are in my mouth as a gag. he smiles looking down at me, still straddling me without our body’s touching. my exposed pussy lays on the bed begging for touch. i watch him as he slowly begins to pull his hardened cock out of the slit of his boxers. i grow excited waiting for him to penetrate me, but instead he quickly swipes one hand up my slit, collecting my wetness. his hand moves so fast i wouldn’t have even known he touched me if i wasn’t looking so intensely at him. he takes the hand he used to collect my slick with, and begins rubbing himself up and down with it. i moan into my underwear at the sight of this glorious man. he looks as if he is a stone cut out of a greek god. his muscles prominent, he’s forehead glowing with sweat, and his eyes hungry with desire. i struggle trying to buck my hips up to catch friction with him. “oh no baby, not yet, your gonna have to wait like a good girl.”, he says raising himself up higher and leaving my hips only connected with the air. he laughs when he sees the pained look on my face, “are you mad your getting consequences to your actions darling? would you rather me fuck you like a gentleman?”, he asks still stroking himself as he looks down at me. i desperately reach down to my core to touch myself but he grabs my arms restraining them back against my chest, “you do that again duchess, and you’ll sleep with those fucking restraints on.”, he spits at me his teeth clenched. my face turns a bright red, i feel as if im a student being scolded at school. i think this might be the only time i’ve ever heard henry swear in English. i leave my hands against my chest as i continue to moan into my underwear while he strokes himself. the aching in my untouched core is so strong i feel as if i might cry. “if i take these out of your mouth,”, he motions to the underwear, “i don’t want to hear whining. all i want to hear are begs for me, understand?”, he says with a raised eyebrow. i nod frantically as he reaches and pulls the bundle up panties from my mouth. i look at him with awe for a moment as he parts his lips to let out a groan from the feeling of his hand rubbing his dick. “are you going to start begging or should i put these back in your mouth?”, he says holding up the underwear when he notices my silence. my mouth moves faster than my brain and my words form into one gigantic word, “please henry i’m so sorry for being bratty today, please let me feel you, please touch me, please let me touch you, please give me anything.”, i beg as his face glimmer with a cocky smile. “if you say so.”, he shrugs his shoulders and pushes his entire length into me without warning. my face contorts as i moan in all but a scream. he leaves himself buried inside of me as he pulls my legs down, making my body drop flat to the mattress, his following mine down. “fuck!”, i moan as i feel his length stretching me. he stays unmoving inside of me, “no no, i only want to hear pretty words come out of that pretty mouth, okay?”, he says looking into my eyes. “henry please move, please move.”, i beg as my body craves the motion he’s restricting me from. “i want you to say, ‘yes sir henry, only pretty words will come out of my pretty slutty mouth.’ first.”, he tells me turning his head sideways and smirking at my pain. “yes sir henry, only pretty words will come out of my pretty slutty mouth.”, i whimper before connecting my lips with his neck ,frantically trying to make him move. “ok darling, i hear you.”, he says before pounding in and out of me as fast as humanly possible.

i moan as i feel his dick hitting the sweet spot inside of me, “it’s so good henry”, i say as he groans. he brings his hand up to my clit, rubbing small circles around it.“i want you to count out loud how many times you cum.”, he says as he continues pounding into me. the looks of his beautiful face, along with his words and the pleasure he’s making me feel, bring me to the edge. he sees my face start to contort as he continues rubbing me and hitting my g-spot. “count it.”, he tells me. the bottom of my stomach releases its knot and i feel a wave of pleasure run over my body. “one”, i moan, dragging out the word as i ride out my high. henry doesn’t even slow down. he continues ramming inside of me, the slaps of our skin echoing in my room. i feel slight pain mixed with my pleasure as my pussy throbs with sensitivity. “henry i-”, he cuts me off, “no. if you really need me to stop say red. i’m not stopping until i hear that word or until i cum.”, he spits at me fiercely. through these words and the pleasure of my last high still wearing down, i feel the knot in my stomach tightening again. “your so pretty when your getting the brattiness fucked out of you y/n.”, he says as he grips my left breast, lightly pinching my nipple. the knot in my stomach releases again and my back arches as i feel the second wave of pleasure roll over my body. “two!”, i practically scream in pleasure. i feel henry’s thrusts getting sloppy and ignore the over stimulation in my pussy as i clench around him. “Putain!”, he moans in french before grabbing my face with his hand. “i want you to look at me while i cum. better yet, i want you to cum with me one last time.”, he says smirking at me as groans. i concentrate on his face and the thoughts of all the things he’s said to me tonight. and before i can even tell that i’m about to cum, he says sharply, “now.”, i feel him spill into me as my body contorts with pleasure, my legs shaking and my fists clenching. we both moan loudly as he rides out his high inside of me. after a few more seconds inside of me, he pulls out and collapses beside me. “is your attitude gone?”, he asks sitting up and grabbing my pack of cigarettes from the bedside table. i nod in a loss of words for what i just experienced. he chuckles at my response, “good darling. now come here.”, he says holding his arms open, a cigarette hanging between his teeth. i sit up and immediately collapse back down into his arms and onto his chest. “remember that next time you want to act like a brat, i’m not gonna allow you to cum at all. tonight was your one free pass”, he whispers as he lights the cigarette.

A/N: WOOO SHES DONEEE. ok so if yall fw this i will certainly do more henry winter smuts

[literarydesire]

The Secret History really makes Greek professors out to be mysterious and high-class but my professor is called Dorothy, wears socks in sandals, knits during class, knows 14 languages (including Sanskrit and Proto-Indo-European) and has asked me questions like; “If you were a kitchen cabinet, what kind of cabinet would you be?” during break. Nothing mysterious about that woman but she’s so very talented and so much fun to be around.