#the only think that would disappoint me is if they don’t do Anything at all and make him Just Another Guy

[steddieas-shegoes]

i love him on purpose

for @steddielovemonth using red, white, and royal blue for inspiration

rated t | 1385 words | cw: forced coming out | tags: established relationship, secret relationship, royal steve harrington, wayne munson is the president (god i wish)

🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵

The news broke in the middle of the night, long after Eddie had fallen asleep, and just before Steve’s alarm woke him up.

PRINCE STEVEN CAUGHT HOOKING UP WITH FIRST SON EDDIE, ROYAL FAMILY INSISTS ON SECRECY

Every headline is some variation of Steve and Eddie being caught, but there’s no photos. Most articles point to the royal family not wanting to allow it, but they didn’t even know about it.

Steve’s been so careful, much more careful than Eddie. Eddie’s told his best friends and Wayne, who deserves to know when his nephew turned son is getting into things. Especially when the thing he’s getting into is the Prince of England.

Steve doesn’t really have many friends. He has Robin, who is more like a sister to him, and an entire advisory team, publicists, security…

He won’t answer his phone, which means all of those people have probably informed him he is to have no contact with the outside world until they figure out what to do. Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

They talked about hypotheticals, as any young adults in the public eye are wont to do. How they’d handle the press when they come out. How they would handle Steve’s family when they come out.

All under the assumption that they would have control over their coming out.

How naive.

“Ed. I have to give some kind of message here,” Wayne says softly, gently like he knows that Eddie is gonna beg him not to say anything until he hears from Steve. “Silence ain’t gonna win us any favors.”

“I promised he wouldn’t have to do this alone,” Eddie says. “If we make a statement now, I’m just throwing him to the wolves.”

“Not necessarily. Plenty of options with what to say. As long as we acknowledge we’ve seen it, they don’t have to have any other information,” Wayne says. “I’ll follow your lead, kid.”

“I don’t know what the right thing is.”

Wayne pulls him into a hug. This isn’t the first time they’ve had a PR nightmare on their hands, and probably won’t be the last. Wayne’s always been good at handling things just fine.

But this is something Eddie needs to handle. He accepts the comforting hug, then he decides to be brave.

****

“Forcing anyone to come out is disgusting, and the media has done it time and time again. In this case, they took something that should have been up to me, and up to Prince Steve, and made it world news based on a false report of someone seeing us together at an event. Whether we are together romantically or not isn’t up for speculation. We are what we are. We choose how to define that to ourselves, to our loved ones, and maybe someday, to everyone.” Eddie takes a deep breath and looks into the many cameras facing him, trying his best to ignore the reporters anxiously waiting to be able to ask questions. He’s not letting them, but they don’t know that yet. “Respect goes both ways. Pops has always taught me that respect is earned, not freely given. No one in this press room has earned my respect. Until you do, the only news story you can break about me is that I’m disappointed in the way the media has handled this news story. Thanks for your time.”

Eddie leaves the room.

Wayne is waiting for him in his office.

“Proud of ya, son.”

“Thanks.”

“Your boy will be here in four hours.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. “He called?”

“He did more than call. He caused a scene with every secretary in the building. He insisted he needed to speak to me.”

“He could’ve called me,” Eddie is pacing.

“You left your phone in here earlier, remember? He was desperate.”

“Is he okay? Have they made a statement yet?”

“They haven’t. They wanted to see what we’d do first.” Wayne holds Eddie’s phone out to him. “But I think he could stand to hear from ya.”

Eddie steps in to take the phone from him, but Wayne clasps his hand between his, holding tight.

“I can’t protect you from the media forever, but I’ll always stick up for you and your happiness. You know that?”

“Of course I do,” Eddie answers.

“That goes for your Prince, too,” Wayne smirks. “His family’s on thin ice, though.”

****

Eddie talks to Steve on the phone for a few minutes, but Steve’s not alone, and Eddie’s trying not to hide away entirely from everyone who cares about him. It’s a short conversation, but it’s enough to get them through until Steve arrives.

He sounds like he’s being stoic.

Eddie knows he’s struggling.

It takes nearly two hours of security for Steve to actually get to Eddie’s suite.

“Baby,” Eddie says as he pulls Steve into his chest, feeling whole for the first time since he woke up. “It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

“They’re making a statement any minute now,” Steve says miserably.

“I’m guessing it’s not what you wanted.” Steve shakes his head in response. “That’s okay. We can work with whatever we need to.”

“They wouldn’t let me do it,” Steve explains. “I wanted to do something like what you did. They said I was too emotional.”

“I think you’re just emotional enough. God forbid you show signs of being a human.”

Steve laughs. Eddie smiles.

“Have you eaten? Do you wanna get cleaned up? I know you hate how airplanes make you feel,” Eddie offers.

Steve tightens his grip around Eddie. That’s answer enough.

****

“We sincerely hope the media will understand that making accusations of this nature about a member of the royal family will not go unpunished. Whether it is true or not, we will be handling this discussion internally. We have contacted the President’s office to have a discussion with their team. Eddie’s statement today was not discussed with us beforehand, nor did it go through any of our approval, and should not be seen as our official statement.”

“Does your grandfather always look like someone pissed directly in his eye?” Eddie asks Steve as they watch the official statement from his room.

“It depends on which of us has displeased him,” Steve laughs. “If it’s my mother, his lip curls up over his teeth.”

Eddie pulls Steve into his side on the couch, turning off the television so they can have some peace. They sit in the silence for a couple of minutes, something neither of them get to do very often.

“Wayne offered us the house in Indiana for a bit. Said it might be nice for us to just be away from the chaos,” Eddie runs his fingers up and down Steve’s arm, smiling to himself when Steve shivers against him. “At least for a few days. Let the media move on and give time for your family to get the sticks surgically removed from their asses.”

“That sounds nice,” Steve agrees, leaning his head back to kiss Eddie’s lips. “I wanna do something first, though.”

Steve pulls away so he can get his phone from the coffee table. It’s been on silent and face down since he arrived. He types for a minute, and Eddie waits.

Steve sets his phone down and turns back to Eddie with a grin.

“Okay, ready to go.”

Eddie’s phone goes off in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks down at where he’s been tagged on Instagram in Steve’s post.

It’s a picture from the trip they took with Wayne to Indiana last month, the two of them by a fire with melted marshmallow all over their lips. They’re both happy.

The caption makes tears pool in Eddie’s eyes and a semi-hysterical laugh burst from his throat.

Doesn’t matter who pissed in his eye, as long as I’ve got you. Let’s go off the grid, baby

“You’re gonna be in so much fuckin’ trouble, baby,” Eddie laughs with disbelief.

“I don’t care. They know better than to cause a bigger scene.” Steve kisses the corner of his mouth. “Can we go to that diner when we get there? The one with the burger that have cheese inside the meat?”

“How American of you,” Eddie teases. “I’ll make sure Wayne calls Benny ahead of time so he knows we’re on our way.”

[suzukiblu]

Day three of February’s first weekly WIP behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he’s FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. So uh, you know, just Kon’s … entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Nothing even happened to him. Nobody touched him or anything, he just–he didn’t do anything he didn’t decide to do or want to do or–or–

He didn’t want Robin to yank his hair. Or to lie to him about the stupid condoms. 

. . . he didn’t really even wanna suck him off, really, but Robin had refused to settle for a handjob and, like, it wasn’t like they’d had the time to argue about it, so . . . so that’d been . . . 

Nobody touched him, though. Or, like–made him do . . . anything. He, like–it was his stupid idea to get Robin off and try to work on the puzzle with his TTK at the same time and, like . . . and . . . 

Tana’s nice to him. She likes him. She–and doesn’t Superman fucking know how few people have actually, like–have actually ever, like– 

People don’t just like him. Especially not–especially not just for being him. 

And definitely not enough to just be fucking nice to him. 

Robin sure as fuck wasn’t nice to him, drugged off his fucking rocker or not. Not like Tana is. So she’s not like that. He knows she’s not like that. She likes him. Just ‘cuz sometimes they have problems, that’s not–everybody’s relationship has problems! Who the hell’s relationship doesn’t have problems? Fuck, Superman is literally screwing Lois Lane behind her literal husband’s back and everyone in the whole goddamn world knows it except said husband, apparently, so like–so why does Superman get to judge who he messes around with? At least Tana’s not fucking married or whatever! 

She’ll take him back again, and he’ll be better, and he won’t disappoint her or piss her off anymore, and–and it’ll be better. It’ll work this time; work for good this time. 

She’s good to him. So he can–he can be good for her. He knows he can. 

He has to be, because she's–because she's the only one who ever even would be nice to him. 

And fucking Superman still won't even let go of his fucking arm. 

“Kid, just–please just talk to me,” Superman says. Superboy has literally never cared less about talking to anyone in his life. He pries apart the computer monitor and pulls all the fiddly little bits of it apart and strips the walls of all their gear in just–just a wave, and less an instant, all-over thing. Taking it apart piece by piece is–better. Just–better. 

He doesn't really know why he's thinking that, just . . . 

“We do need to talk, yes,” Batman says in that same bullshit neutral trap-voice, and Superboy doesn't even look at him; just twists the interior locking mechanisms of his stupid utility belt into a knot. Let the asshole have to cut it off later. He picks a bunch of random other locks in the cave and knots them up just as bad. A couple alarms go off. He really doesn't give a fuck. 

It's stupid. Something–something a kid would do. 

Well, they're the assholes trying to treat him like one, so that's on fucking them, isn't it. And they’re the assholes who aren’t actually talking to him, so why the fuck would he stick around to talk to them? It’s not talking, when all they’re goddamn doing is deciding they know more about his life than he does. He barely even sees Superman most of the time, and he definitely never sees fucking Batman. Neither of them know anything about HIS FUCKING LIFE! 

Superman doesn’t even bother remembering any of the shit he says to him anyway, apparently.

[azaharinflames]

Hello! I apologize for any awkward expressions, as I'm not American and not very proficient in English.

I wasn't part of the 9-1-1 fandom and watched it whenever I had time. It was a light show for me, but while watching 9-1-1, I hoped that Buck would find a partner to settle down with and be happy. (And I never felt even 1% of romantic feelings between Buck and Eddie.) When Buck broke up with Taylor, I understood the reason but felt regretful. After that, Tommy appeared as a meaningful LI. I sincerely cheered for Buck, seeing him happy.

I had high expectations for S8, but in 801, Tommy appeared briefly, and until 804, no one mentioned Tommy, which I found strange. Then I watched 805 and thought Henren's story was forced, but I liked Buck and Tommy's story. Then I watched 806, and... Buck and Tommy can break up. If it had been for a convincing reason like with Buck and Taylor, I would have been sad but understood. However, I couldn't understand the story in 806 at all, and the characters felt unfamiliar, as if they weren't the characters I knew. And the interviews with Tim and OS gave me trauma after enjoying watching 9-1-1 all this time.

Only Lou understood and empathized with me. I didn't know Lou and didn't remember Tommy from S2. I supported Buck and Tommy solely because Buck was happy... Especially OS's interview made me feel like Buck and Tommy were ignored as if they didn't exist. I don't usually have expectations for actors, but I was really disappointed. So, even though I subscribed to Disney+ annually because of 9-1-1, I no longer watch 9-1-1. I know that my not watching won't change anything. And I know that Tim doesn't have the ability to create good, creative stories. Knowing that Buck will just keep running in the same hamster wheel, I really lost expectations for Buck. Of course, knowing that other 9-1-1 characters besides Buck will also run in slightly different hamster wheels without development, I lost interest in the show itself.

Furthermore, I was honestly disappointed with the production team and the broadcasting company for not thinking of protecting the actor who was insulted and attacked in all sorts of ways just because they were Buck's LI. In the country where I live, if such a situation occurred, there would have been an official message from the broadcasting company and production team to stop the attacks and hatred.

I'm sorry for sending such a negative and pessimistic message. I wanted to confide in someone. Even if Tommy doesn't appear again, I plan to continue enjoying BuckTommy content on Tumblr and AO3, but I really miss the time when I was looking forward to and waiting for S8.

Hi, Nonnie! Sorry for taking a bit, physical therapy is kicking my ass rn lmao (kids do not tear your meniscus)

Okay by points. First of all - your English was perfect, don’t sweat it. English is my third language so Iunderstand where you come from, but you’re good!! Now:

you🤝me with this whole post. You were on my mind fr because I do share all of your thoughts.

Perhaps confession time: I liked Taylor! I ultimately understood why it wouldn’t work between Buck and her, but I liked her and I thought they were really cute. I was sad to see her go (although I’m glad by leaving we were able to eventually get Tommy)

Season 8 is the perfect illustration of something I’ve been thinking about 911 for a while - it is the land of missed potential. I’ve gone about it a few times so I won’t go over it again, but Season 8 is the perfect example of having lots they could do yet refusing to attempt to do it.

Your point on the break up is 100%. I would’ve actually understood and accepted it if it made sense in a larger scale, or if we had been introduced to it better. As it is, you do understand Tommy’s motives, but only if you look at the episode. Meaning: everyone acted so out of character during 806, it seemed like a different show. Therefore the break up (to me) does not make sense in a broader, more general view.

Your point on interviews: yeah I get it, sadly. The interviews left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth, because it did seem like Lou was the only one who truly cared for the couple and its fans. And for everyone who had been harassed for months for liking them, the nonchalant attitude of nearly everyone felt cruel and hurtful. It’s more than normal that many people felt like stop watching the show after it (me included). It does seem like OS has started to realize how big Bucktommy actually was and how liked they still are. So, progress? But it feels too little too late. Idk.

I also understand it does feel bad to see how they’ve ignored the bad treatment LFJr has received. Ofc we lack a lot of context (meaning: perhaps Lou himself asked them to ignore it, perhaps he did have a lot of support BTS), but the fact is that they let a group of deranged ‘fans’ bully and threaten an actor, and did nothing. No, instead it very much felt like those fans were being rewarded. It’s normal for us to not want to support that. I know I feel uncomfy with the idea of doing so.

We are lucky (infinitely lucky) that the Bucktommy fandom is filled with truly lovely and amazing people - people that are lovely to read, discuss with, and enjoy their art from!! If 911 doesn’t got my back, I know the BT fandom does ♥️

I hope you can continue to enjoy fandom life, anon! Ultimately they cannot take away what we enjoy!

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, giving opinions and confessions! And if you do not want them publish, please say so in your message 🥰 it’s cool with me, but I do need to know!

Take care <3

[guardian-of-da-gay]

"Love you!"

Read on Ao3

For @year-of-the-echidna's Prompt 4: Love

tw for language barriers, accidental voyeurism

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, love you.”

Sonic’s Donut Lord said it when he left that first morning.  The hedgehog’s home had been badly damaged by Robotnik’s giant robot and the Lord of Donuts, as one of the protectors of this realm, was needed to defend the traffic detours left in the wake of destruction.

Knuckles understood all that.  Or… most of it anyway.  But he was less sure of the human’s words.  He knew better than to ask though.  In his experience, when people knew you didn’t fully understand their language, they would take advantage.  He did not know these Wachowskis very well yet, he would keep his confusion to himself.

For now, ‘love you’ was a form of ‘goodbye’.

His suspicion was confirmed later that day when the ‘pretzel’ woman was called to her duty as a healer of animals.

“I’ll be back in a couple hours.  I love you.”

Sonic had ducked and glanced at Knuckles and the fox.  Knuckles did not understand the meaning of this look.  He observed closely as Sonic looked to the matron of clan Wachowski and said a quick: “Yeah… love you, too.”

Definitely a form of farewell, but just in case he was wrong, Knuckles would not use it himself.

*

The next time Knuckles heard the word he felt a little more comfortable with this strange new tribe.  The hedgehog was eager to explain things and share parts of his world with both Knuckles and the fox.  They even taught him to play their pointless game ‘base of ball’, which Knuckles won, of course.  Afterward, they introduced him to an Earth delicacy: ice cream with sprinkles.

“I love mint!”  Tails exclaimed.

Hm.  That wasn’t how you used that word.

The Pretzel Woman smiled at the Lord of Donuts while he rolled his eyes.  “I love mint too!”  She said.

Ah.  Perhaps that was how you used that word.  It was… some sort of preference?  Was it just a similar sounding word to the ‘goodbye’ word?

“Tom thinks it tastes like toothpaste,” the Pretzel Woman said in a whisper far too loud for the Donut Lord not to hear.

Tooth paste?

“Hey, to each their own,” the Lord of Donuts shrugged his shoulders.  “You guys enjoy your toothpaste ice cream.  It leaves more moose tracks for me and Sonic!”

Moose tracks?

“What kind do you want, Knuckles?”  The Pretzel Woman asked.  “We have plain vanilla too if you want.”

Knuckles hesitated.  ‘Moose tracks’ did not sound appetizing, even if there were these magical ‘sprinkles’ involved.  The pasted teeth ice cream sounded equally baffling and unappealing.  If only there were a grape kind!  But Sonic had already told him that ice cream did not have grapes in it.

“I will have the ‘plain vanilla’,” he said.  “With sprinkles.”

‘Plain vanilla’ was not so bad, but he was disappointed to find that sprinkles tasted like nothing but crunchiness.  Grapes would have been far better.

*

“Trust me, Knuckles, I get it,” Sonic said.  “I used to love watching people.  Tails too.  But you don’t watch people in the shower.”

So ‘love’ meant ‘enjoy’ too?  It seemed to be quite a versatile word.  Unless there was some subtle nuance in pronunciation that Knuckles was missing.  It wouldn't be the first time.  Regardless: “I wasn’t watching anyone!”  Knuckles said, thoroughly confused.  “You told me to retrieve the Pretzel Woman’s permission.”

“Yeah, but she was in the shower.  Like… not wearing anything?  That’s private.”

Knuckles disagreed.  His people had always bathed communally, but even if that weren’t the case… “Sonic,” Knuckles looked at him, deeply unimpressed.  “I don’t wear anything.  You don’t wear anything.”

“Okay, fair!  But humans are different.  They need clothes to hide their… business.”

“Business?  What business?”

“It’s an expression!  Nevermind!  The point is you don’t go into the bathroom without knocking and if you hear the shower running, just turn around and wait.”

“I was waiting.”

“Outside.”

Knuckles sighed.  Humans certainly had plenty of nuance to their culture.  Why should their language be any different?

*

“Mads, could you get my car started so I won’t freeze when it’s time to go?”  The Lord of Donuts reclined on the couch with the Wachowski’s golden wolf.

The Pretzel Woman poked her head in the room, her arms full of their dirtied breakfast plates.  “You want me to start your car so you can be warm on the way to your job?”

“I can’t.  I’m trapped.”  The Donut Lord pointed to where the wolf’s head lay in his lap.  Knuckles knew from experience that the wolf was not that heavy, the Donut Lord should have been able to free himself.

The Pretzel Woman rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.  She set down the plates and made for the back door.

“I love you,” the Donut Lord called after her.

“I know!”  She called back.

Knuckles was doubly confused.  That made it sound like ‘love’ was a term of gratitude.  This language was so tricky!

But he had no time to dwell on it.  The weakling Lord of Donuts needed rescuing from the wolf.

*

“Oh my God!”  Sonic nearly collapsed with laughter.

Knuckles tried not to bristle in anger.  He didn’t know what was so funny.  The fox had merely spoken the truth and yet Sonic was laughing so hard at him!  Knuckles clenched his fists.  He felt a strange urge to defend the Tails’ honor.

“Man, Tails, I love you!  Never change.”

Knuckles frowned.  Sonic was laughing, but ‘never change’ seemed to be a compliment.  And he’d said ‘I love you', which either meant ‘goodbye’, ‘prefer’, or ‘thank you’.  Tails, at least, didn’t seem offended.  He beamed with pleasure, his tails twitching.

Knuckles was no closer to uncovering what ‘love’ meant.  But it seemed at least to be a good thing.

*

Tom looked very pale lying on his hospital bed.  They’d been reassured that he would survive his wounds, but it had still taken a long time for Sonic and Tails to fall asleep.  They lay curled together on a chair against the wall.

Maddie was in the hallway, speaking on the phone with Tom’s mother.  It seemed when one of the tribe was injured, many people had to be informed.  The concept was foreign to Knuckles.  In the echidna tribe, information never needed a far reach; there simply weren’t enough of them.  Everyone was usually there when an injury occurred.  But Maddie had called Tom’s mother and her own sister.  Then she’d been called by Tom’s brothers, one by one.  She’d pulled Sonic aside to speak with him, then Tails.  Everyone had spoken with her but Knuckles, so he wasn’t surprised when she finally called him out of the quiet hospital room.

Knuckles could not see them, but he knew there were G.U.N. agents guarding the doors at the end of the hall.  They would be escorted back to Green Hills once Tom was well enough to travel.  For now, at least, the hallway was empty except for a few chairs set against the walls and some scattered plastic plants.

Maddie sat in one of the hallway chairs, looking very tired.  “Hey honey,” she started.  “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet.”

Knuckles stood at attention before her.  “What did you wish to speak of?”  He asked.  Was she thinking, as he was, of their tribe’s security?  About the Master Emerald?  Who would lead the tribe now that the Lord of Donuts had been struck low?  How their wolf was coping without them back in Green Hills?

“Sonic told me about what happened,” Maddie said.

Knuckles’ shoulders slumped.  Oh.  That was none of those things.

“I just wanted to say I think you handled yourself really well.  I know it must have been hard, everything with Sonic…”  She trailed off, an expression crossing her face and then vanishing just as quickly.  She shook her head slightly before refocusing on Knuckles.  “Tails said you were really mature and looked after him.  I’m just really happy with how much you’ve grown.  You’re a good big brother and… I’m really proud of you.”

“Oh.”  Well, Knuckles really didn’t know what to say to that.  He toyed with the cuff of his gloves.

Maddie slid off the chair, reaching for him.  Her hugs were not quick things like Sonic’s.  Knuckles always knew when a Pretzel Woman hug was coming.  He knew that if he backed away or tensed, her arms would drop and she would change the subject, but he did neither.  He let her long arms wrap around him.  Knuckles was an echidna warrior, but Maddie’s arms made him feel so small.  Like he was a child again.

Her cheek pressed against his head.  Knuckles honored this bold display of trust by holding still.  The wrong move could prick her thin skin.

“I love you,” she said, carefully stroking the back of his head.

“You’re welcome,” Knuckles replied.  Hugs made him feel… unbalanced.  In a way that was very nice but almost overwhelming.  Just before it felt like too much, she pulled away.

She had a soft smile on her face.  “‘You’re welcome’?”  She asked.

Knuckles was still reeling from the hug, so he answered honestly, even if it made him look silly.  “‘I love you’ is an expression of gratitude.”

“What?”

Her tone was amused, but she managed to make it sound like she wasn’t laughing at him, so he continued:  “When Tom started the car for you, you said ‘I love you’.  It is a form of ‘thanks’, isn’t it?”

A shadow flickered across Maddie’s expression.  “No… Do you really not know what ‘I love you’ means?”

Knuckles’ shoulders tensed slightly.  Had he mis-stepped?  “That word gets used a lot.  I’m not familiar with it.”

“Oh.”  Maddie had that look on her face that she got sometimes when Knuckles told her things about his past.  He didn’t like it.  He thought he would rather not say anything than have her make that face.

“Love is like…”  Her eyes flit around, searching for inspiration.  “It can mean something that you like a lot.  Like: I love cake.  I just like cake a lot.  But it can also mean something beyond like.  It’s a feeling.  Like how married people feel toward each other?  Or how parents feel towards their kids and their kids toward them?  You know?  I love you and that means I want you to be happy and safe and always a part of my life.”

“So it is like… a deep affection?”

“Yes!”  She smiled warmly.

“Like… “  Knuckles sought for an example, and said the first that came to mind: “A mother and son?”

“Yes!  So… I feel love for Tom and Tom loves me and we feel love for you and Sonic and Tails.”

Knuckles nodded.  “I understand!”  He thought over all the times he had heard the word and found that, yes, it made sense that they were expressing affection for each other.  Or for pasted teeth ice cream.  Tails did really like that tooth paste flavor.

Maddie was watching him with a strange expression.

“What?”

“It’s… It’s nothing,” she said casually.  “Just… didn’t you hear that word before?  You know… like from your tribe?  Or… your father?”

What a strange question!  But perhaps Knuckles had done too good a job with his English.  “My people did not speak the same language as you,” he said.  Judging by the surprise that crossed her expression, he was correct.  He’d successfully fooled at least one of the Wachowskis into thinking their language was his first.  The thought didn’t leave him as glad as it once might have.  Instead, he felt the need to elaborate:  “Father used different words.  I have not heard ‘love’ before coming here.”

“Oh.”  Now a series of expressions crossed Maddie’s face.  Relief and sorrow and pity and resolve.  She shook her head minutely.  “What did your dad say?”

Knuckles tipped his head in confusion.  His father said many things.

“I mean, what words did he use to express affection?”

“The echidna words?”  No one had ever asked him for echidna words.  None had even asked for his echidna name.

But here Maddie was, a soft smile growing on her face.  “Yeah.  How do you say ‘I love you’ in echidna?”

It had been so long since Knuckles had heard or spoken his native language aloud, a part of him feared his tongue would forget how to form the words.  But when he opened his mouth, the words came back to him, old and familiar like a long-lost friend:  “T’onga ahau tekoe.”

He saw something almost like fear enter Maddie’s eyes, but she bravely took on the challenge: “Ton-guh ah-how tay-kway?”  She smiled like she was apologizing.  Which was appropriate.

“You just said ‘You are a mouldy pouch’.”

Maddie burst out laughing, then clapped her hands over her mouth.  Her eyes flicked to the open door, beyond which, the rest of their tribe lay sleeping.  “Sorry,” she said in a softer voice.  “Tell me again, I’ll get it.”

Knuckles repeated it for her and she tried again.  Again, she fumbled the words.  She insisted Knuckles help her to say it.  Knuckles obliged in large part because it was sort of amusing listening to all the nonsense she said while she stumbled over the words.  Eventually she was able to say it, albeit in a very stilted robotic tone with a powerful accent, but she said it:

“T’onga ahau tekoe, Knuckles.”

Knuckles smiled, his face warm beneath his fur.  “T’onga ahau tekoena, matem,” he replied.

“Wha-wha-what!”  Maddie held up a finger.  “What was that last part?  You didn’t teach me that last part!”

Knuckles looked away.  It was easier to say things in his own language.  He was too embarrassed to repeat it in English.  Instead he waved a hand.  “A lesson for another day.”

Maddie seemed unsatisfied, but she let it slide.  Curious, but not forceful.  She’d let him open up in his own time.  That was something Knuckles loved about his new matem.

[danikamariewrites]

Hey! Would you be willing to write a fic or head cannon on how Ruhn would react to being mated to someone who is the complete opposite of him? Like maybe she is introverted and enjoys reading on the weekends instead of partying or something? If not that's okay! Hope you have a great day!

Opposites Attract

Ruhn x reader

Notes: I am 100% the opposite of Ruhn and will always be the friend that picks staying home over going out. Books over bars am i right guys

Warnings: none

The two of you met by chance. You hadn’t been paying attention while walking to work and bumped into Ruhn

He caught you when you tripped over your feet and then you apologized a million times. The moment your eyes locked the bond was instant. “I thought it was a myth.” Ruhn whispered. From there you took things slow even though the two of you fell hard for each other

You liked hanging out at your place better than Ruhn’s

It’s not that you didn’t like the frat house, you were just more comfortable in your own space

You liked staying home anyway. Everything you need is there

Ruhn didn’t mind staying at your place. He would cook you dinner, cuddle and watch movies without interruption

As your relationship progressed Ruhn was happy he could feel your comfort and happiness down the bond

It wasn’t like people didn’t know about you. You hadn’t been on double dates with Hunt and Bryce. Been to dinner with his friends and all that

But there was a part of Ruhn that felt like he was disappointing you

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out tonight?” Ruhn asked while you cuddled on your couch. “Yeah,” your eyes never leaving the TV. “If you want to go out please, don’t let me stop you.” Tilting your head back you smile at your mate

Ruhn turned off the TV, sitting up to face you. “Y/n be honest with me. Do you not like being with me?” The sadness in his voice broke your heart. Cupping his cheeks you shake your head. “Not at all baby, no. Ruhn how could you think that?” Ruhn lets out a shaky breath. “You never want to go out. And we never go to my place, why?” You hug him tight. “It has never been because of you. I just get anxious in new spaces and I don’t like partying. I’d much rather be here with you.”

After that conversation Ruhn became more understanding with you liking your space

Ruhn is a tad bit clingy but you love it

He’s always torn between going out and staying with you. How could he possible leave his beautiful mate at home?!

While he goes out you like your alone time. You chat with your friends, read, or watch TV

The first time Ruhn came home from a boys night he stumbled into your house very, very drunk

It was kinda cute because he was so happy to see you

“My love! My mate, the light of my life, I missed you!” He flops on the bed next to you, staring at you with big eyes. “My friends aren’t as fun as you,” he whispered, making you giggle. Ruhn pulls you to his chest letting out a hum. “I feel much better now. My heart hurt without you.”

You started going more places with Ruhn, trying to get comfortable with the attention that came with being the crown prince’s mate

When you didn’t like a place Ruhn was very understanding about it

You weren’t a huge fan of bars or anything like that. It’s not that you didn’t see the appeal, it just isn’t for you

You eventually grew to being comfortable at Ruhn’s place, even staying the night

Staying for parties at the frat house was also something you grew to be comfortable with. Especially when Ruhn made it clear that his bedroom was your room too

He absolutely did not give 2 shits about how clean his room was until he met you

The first time you came over to spend the night at his place Ruhn was running around like a mad man to make it look like grown-ups lived here

Ruhn was def shoving all loose items in his closet (the only neat thing being his made bed) until Dec came to check on him

“Heyyy buddy, you good?” “NO! PLEASE help me, i have too much shit.”

Whenever you’re feeling tired or just done with the party you always sneak away to Ruhn’s room

He’s never far behind you

You get about 10 min of alone time before Ruhn comes in ready to cuddle

When he comes up drunk he’s adorable

“Bbaayyyybbyyyyyy, i missed you.” He flops on the bed, pulling his clothes off and snuggles into you before falling asleep

You def read while holding him

Drunk Ruhn can fall asleep with the lights on for sure

When he comes up not drunk he just dotes on you

If the music and crowd were too much he’s very gentle with you, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your forehead while whispering sweet nothings

[loquaciousquark]

you have been my #1 favorite fanfic author of all time for like 7-8 years now for your fenhawke and ive always thought "god i would give anything for quark to write solavellan" but i respected that it wasnt your thing. so imagine the pure unbridled euphoria of checking in on your blog this week to see that he finally got to you. i actually screamed. whatever you come up with i know it is going to absolutely change my life and i am so excited <3

i’m so. sad. i'm SO sad. i was so happy for a decade just being mildly annoyed every time he crossed my dash and now i am having feelings and opinions and i don’t WANT THEM and the only way to get rid of them is to write them out of me, this is why i don’t love fenris or astarion at all anymore obviously

and like, I still don’t love Solas! I still think some things he does and some goals he has are really, really stupid! but this character I created to love him really loves him, and I really love her and want her to be happy even though she lives only inside my head, and that means I need to lay down some structure around her romance to get the shape of it, to build something I can make sense of. I may not love him, but I like him much more than I did, and I certainly understand him better than I did the first time around.

And to be honest, there’s a part of me glad I’m coming to it as late as I have. I don’t think I’ve ever read a single Solavellan fic in my life (I actually had to pause here to check the spelling). I have NO idea what tropes are popular with him or what interpretations are the biggest. I have a lot of opinions on how his personality and identity work in a romance with this particular character I’ve created, but because I’ve been so siloed I have no idea if I’m bucking the grain or not, which is fine by me.

Plus, it helps I’m not going to have ten years to build up a lot of personal headcanons and jossable thoughts before playing the new game. I’m not someone who easily ignores canon when it clashes with my imagination for the major things, so I think this will (hopefully) keep me from major disappointments.

It's kinda funny; earlier today I was going back through my DAI tag and reminding myself of all my impressions from the first time I played the game. Some of them I definitely still stand by; others have completely changed. I even said twice that a Lavellan/Solas romance would be my next playthrough, which was true if ten years late.

But it's things like: apparently the first time through I loved Solas and Sera, both of which certainly were not true going into this replay. (I barely even have a memory of Solas and Priory ever being in the party together, though the historical records say I took him to Adamant.) I apparently had a lot of hopes Gideon Emery would be voicing Fenris. I originally thought Priory was going to romance Bull, which is very ?????? after all this time. (I did still, even then, know Here Lies the Abyss completely broke her as a character, and ten years on I never could fix her for good.)

I really did not expect to change my mind on Solas going into this replay, I guess is the point. I replayed because knowing the story of DAI and Solas, I felt it was a story most personalized to elves and specifically a Solas-romancing Lavellan, and that was the worldstate I wanted to take into the new game. I played it out because that's the kind of person I am (I can't just invent characters wholesale in my head) but I really thought it was going to be a perfunctory playthrough as a stepping stone to a different game and a different PC and (presumably) a different romance. I didn't expect to love this character as much as I do, and even if I don't have ten years to write her out the way I did Hawke, I feel like I still owe it to her & her doomed romance to give her a little time in the spotlight. Lucky girl!

[realdramalove69]

Commission: Not So Empty Nest Part 1

The day finally came when Nick had to say goodbye to his mother. He had dreaded this day, but was also excited to be finally heading off to college. They had spent all day yesterday loading up his car and making sure he had everything he needed before doing the four hour drive to his new dorm.

As long as he can remember it had always just been him and Maria. His mom had had him when she was young, 18 and just out of high school, but she made sure he never wanted for anything. They had shared small apartments, late nights working on homework, and now she was getting ready to say goodbye to her only child.

The night before as they ate pizza and watched movies Nick looked at his mom, admiring how beautiful and youthful she still was. Long silky black hair, a curvy body and olive toned skin. They had the same dark brown eyes but Nick was paler and more lanky than his mother. He had gotten his height from his father’s side (according to her) and stood 8 inches taller than his mother’s 5’4” stature.

Nick set down his plate on the coffee table and turned to his mom, his heart pounding and his nerves building in anticipation of him leaving. He had been rehearsing this conversation in his head all day and knew if he didn’t say it now he would never be able to.

“Mom?” Nick started, his voice sounding childlike.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Maria replied, looking at her son and smiling.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Since I got accepted into college really. But I wanted to ask you if you were maybe going to start dating again once I’m gone?”

Maria looked down at her hands and picked at her pizza. “Sweetie you don’t need to worry about me–”

“I know. You’ve told me my whole life. But now you’re going to be alone and I don’t want you here alone without someone here to love you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Maria didn’t know what to say. She had put off dating these last 18 years, focusing solely on her son and her job as a hairdresser. “I promise, Nick, that I will be fine. Of course I will miss having you around but I don’t need to get married or anything like that.”

Nick tried to hide his disappointment. He had tried this once before when he was younger, begging his mom for more siblings and a dad, but she had shooed him off saying she didn’t have time.

“It’s just something to think about, mom,” Nick replied. “In case you get lonely.”

Maria scooted on the couch closer to her son and hugged him, ruffling his hair and kissing the top of his head. “I appreciate you looking out for me, honey. I’ll think about entering the dating scene again. I promise.”

Nick looked up at her and smiled. “Thanks. I’d feel better about going to school knowing you won’t be bored and alone.”

“Oh, Nicky, I’m not going to be bored. I’ll find some new hobbies to try or something.” She kissed his head and went back to eating the pizza.

The next morning Maria waved her son goodbye as he drove off, tears in her eyes as she watched her baby boy heading off to become the chemist and doctor he had always dreamed of. She sighed and crossed her arms, hugging herself as she felt the impending boredom and loneliness that comes with being an empty nester. She hated to admit that her son was right; she was nervous about being left here alone without him. Maybe she should download a dating app?

Maria chuckled and shook her head. Don’t be hasty, Maria. It’s only been five minutes.

To distract herself, Maria decided to head to the gym. She had always loved working out and keeping in shape, her toned body proved it. She hadn’t ever lost the bit of chub on her thighs and belly from pregnancy, but no one could deny she was absolutely gorgeous.

Dressed in a tight light blue yoga pants and bra set, Maria put in her headphones and started her run on the treadmill. She had been running for about twenty minutes when a man around her age hopped on the one next to her. She smiled politely at him, feeling a warmth in her cheeks when she noticed how attractive he was. Tall and tan with salt and pepper hair and kind tawny eyes. He had some stubble but didn’t look unkempt. Pushing her shoulders back a little, Maria continued her pace trying not to think about the man next to her.

He started his run, his pace about the same as hers. They ran together in silence for another fifteen minutes before Maria slowed down to a walk, hands on her head as she caught her breath. The man slowed down as well, obviously not as avid a runner as Maria. He clutched his side and said something to her.

“Sorry I couldn’t hear you,” Maria responded, taking her headphones out. “What did you say?”

“I said, you’re a really great runner,” the man gasped, smiling big and trying to catch his breath. “I admittedly only came over here to talk to you but you were so in the zone I didn’t want to bug you.”

Maria’s cheeks grew redder. “Oh, well your form looked good anyways!”

The man extended a hand. “John.”

Maria shook it. “Maria. Nice to meet you. Are you new to this gym? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Just moved to town about two weeks ago.” John sighed. “Sorry if I’m being too forward. I don’t normally walk up to women like this…”

“No, no it’s okay!” The words of her son from the night before echoed in her head as she stared at this handsome man in front of her. “Do you want to grab a smoothie? There’s a great place a couple doors down.”

John smiled. “I’d love that.”

The two walked out of the gym and to the smoothie cafe. They grabbed their drinks and sat across from each other, drinking and chatting.

“What made you move here?” Maria asked. She took a long sip from her drink and looked him in the eyes.

“Work. I got promoted and they wanted me to head up the lab out here.”

“Lab? Like a research lab?”

“Yeah, I’m an endocrinologist and chemist studying hormonal therapies and stuff like that. Boring stuff.”

“No! My son actually just left today for college. He’s studying chemistry and biology. In high school he had all this really hard homework. I barely understood any of it but he’s so smart.”

“You have a son?” The man looked surprised. Maria mentally slapped herself, not thinking about if the man even wanted or liked kids.

“Uh, yeah. My son Nick. He’s all grown up now.” Maria drank her smoothie nervously. “Do you have any kids?”

The man smiled and shook his head. “No, I never got around to it I guess. I’ve always wanted a big family though. Lots of babies and kids to take care of. A big pregnant wife to greet me when I get home everyday.”

Maria sighed in relief, seeing John look her up and down even more. “Nick always bugged me for younger siblings but, you know, single mom. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I couldn’t afford another baby.”

“You’re still young, Maria. You could definitely still give your son younger siblings.” John gently grabbed her hand and held it. Maria blushed and smiled, smitten by this man she had met barely an hour ago. “I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. If you’re free.”

Maria nodded eagerly. “I’d like that a lot.”

After the first date Maria knew he was the one. He was charming, handsome, tall, funny and kind. Everything her old boyfriends would never be. She eagerly called her son that night after she got home, not realizing how late it was when he answered.

“Mom? Is everything ok?” Nick asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Maria looked at the clock. “Oh shoot, honey sorry I didn’t realize the time. Did you get settled in okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. My roommate is really nice.” Nick kept his voice quiet. “Orientation is tomorrow and I got my class schedule so I’ll be pretty busy.”

“That’s good. I’m so proud of you, Nicky. And I don’t want you to worry about me…I met someone today at the gym.”

Nick smiled wide. “Wow! Mom, I'm so glad. What’s his name?”

“John. He’s an endocrinologist and studies fertility and other science stuff. I think you two will get along.”

“He sounds great. I hope it goes well, mom.” Nick yawned.

“I’ll let you go, sweetheart. Call me and text me when you can. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Nick hung up and laid back down, smiling and sighing in relief. Thank god she’s putting herself back out there.

John didn’t come inside that first night, despite Maria wanting him too. In fact, he didn’t come inside her home until date number 3. They spent the last few days together going on little adventures around the city and now Maria finally had him on her couch.

Maria poured them some red wine, handing a glass to John who took it nervously. She noticed his hand shaking a bit and scooted closer, grabbing his arm and leaning on his shoulder.

“Nervous?” Maria purred. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

“Maria,” John started, a tremble in his voice. “I need to confess something to you.”

Maria looked at him confused, leaning up a bit and holding his hand. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong, it's just that…I’ve fallen for you. Hard. I know it sounds crazy and we barely met but–” John pulled a ring out of his pocket and got on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

Maria felt tears in her eyes, her hands going to her mouth as she smiled and nodded. “Yes! Oh my god this is crazy but yes! I love you too.”

John put the ring on her finger and kissed her, his hands around her waist as she held his face.

“I didn’t ever think I’d fall in love but I just knew from the moment I saw you,” John gasped between kisses. “You’re so beautiful and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Maria smiled wider. “Let’s get married tonight. I have a friend at the courthouse. We can get it done in an hour.”

John nodded and kissed her again. “Go put on your prettiest dress!”

Maria wore her only white dress: a short spaghetti strap dress that hugged her curves and held her perky tits perfectly. John grabbed a button down and the two of them headed to the courthouse and were wedded within the hour. John drove them to a nice hotel and got the honeymoon suite, carrying his new bride through the door and popping bottles of champagne.

“Cheers!” John clinked his glass against hers. “To Mrs. Grant.”

Maria kissed him and took a sip. “Mm thank you, Mr. Grant.”

Maria looked her new husband up and down, grabbing him by the collar and kissing him deeply. She pulled back for a moment and chugged the rest of her drink, setting her glass down before ripping his shirt off of him and running her hands up and down his torso. John grunted as she unbuckled his pants, pulling them down and revealing his hard cock.

“Wow, so big already for your new wife?” Maria got on her knees and licked his shaft up and down. “It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone.” She licked his tip before taking him in her mouth, feeling his cock in the back of her throat as she moaned.

John groaned and held her head against his dick. “Ohhh fuck baby you’re so good to me.” He pulled her off him. “But I wanna cum in your pussy.”

Maria looked up at her new husband. “Did you bring a condom? I’m not on the pill…”

John shook his head. “My wife should have babies in her belly, don’t you think?”

Maria hesitated. She hadn’t considered having more kids so soon. “I don’t know, John…” He shoved his cock back in her mouth and down her throat.

“You’ll look so good with a big belly, Maria. Waddling around with my babies inside you. Don’t you want that? For me?”

Maria sucked on his tip before gasping for air again. “You want babies with me?” She stood and jumped in his arms. “I’ll have your babies, John.”

John smiled wider, kissing her and taking her to the bed, laying her down on her back. “I’m going to make you a mommy again!” In a quick thrust he was inside her, filling her tight pusy for the first time. Maria gasped at the sensation, her hands holding her flopping tits as she arched her back, cumming instantly.

“Oh god yes! Don’t stop until I’m pregnant!” Maria squealed and gasped, John grabbing her hips and lifting her against him, getting deeper into her.

“I’m going to put so many babies in you, Maria!” With another thrust, John shot his load deep into her, filling her womb with his seed. He collapsed on top of her, the two of them breahting heavily.

“You really did it,” Maria muttered in her orgasmic daze. “I’m going to be a mommy again.”

John kissed her neck and nibbled her ear. “I’m going to keep breeding you all night long.”

They spent that night and the next few nights fucking non-stop. John moved her into his large house in the suburbs and bent her over whenever he could, fucking another load into her fertile pussy. It didn’t take long to know she was pregnant; the morning sickness hit first only two weeks after their wedding, the sound of her hurling making John smile wide. A week later she took a pregnancy test and sure enough it was positive. She cried in John’s arms, smiling and kissing him as he rubbed her belly excitedly.

As they ate dinner that night, John noticed Maria’s somber expression. “Is something wrong, sweetie?”

Maria looked up at him. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about Nick. I know he thinks I’m crazy for marrying you so fast and now I’m pregnant and I just…don’t know what to say to him.”

John grabbed her hand gently. “It’s probably best to tell him in person. And you don’t want to interfere with his first semester when he’s still getting used to everything. Besides, you won’t be showing that much in just a few months.”

Maria squeezed his hand and smiled. “You’re right. I know he’s excited to meet you and he’ll be even more excited to have a baby sibling.”

A few more weeks passed and so did the morning sickness. They had their first ultrasound scheduled for 9 weeks, the doctor a friend of John’s. The morning of the appointment Maria stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror, noticing the small pudge in her belly. She cupped it, feeling her soft skin bulging in a familiar way. Her hands moved up to her breasts, noticing how much more sensitive they felt as she massaged them. Even her ass was starting to look a little bigger, her hips already wide but getting prepared for her next pregnancy.

With a smirk, Maria walked naked out of the bathroom and posed in front of the bed, pushing her belly out more and giggling as John looked up from his phone. “Baby look how big I am already,” she pouted teasingly. “I’ve got a little belly already.”

John stood, a smile and shock mixing on his face as he cupped the gentle swell and felt the firm belly under her soft skin. “Wow, you’re growing already! This is amazing.”

“It’s not so amazing for my wardrobe. I didn’t think I’d be showing this fast.”

“Maybe it’s more than one?” John kept rubbing the firm bump, mesmerized by it. “My babies are in here.”

“Baby. Just one. I can’t imagine having more than one at a time.” Maria placed her hands on his and kissed him. “Now get dressed, our appointment is soon.”

Maria struggled to get any of her jeans to fit and instead put on yoga pants and a large t-shirt, hiding her bump. She groaned and winced as the tight bra dug into her sensitive breasts. I’ll need to go shopping this week, she thought to herself.

They got in the car and were soon at the clinic. Maria sat in the waiting room holding her husband’s hand. Looking around the room and seeing the other couples there, women in various stages of pregnancy, babies in strollers, she couldn’t help but get teary eyed. John squeezed her hand, noticing the tears.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

Maria shook her head. “Yeah, sorry it just hit me that we’re gonna have a baby.” John smiled and kissed her. “I’m so excited to see them.”

A nurse came out of the office door and called for them. “Maria? Maria Grant?”

John helped her up and the two followed her to a small exam room where she sat on a table, leaning back slightly.

“Alright, I’m going to take a few intake questions and then the doctor will be in shortly to do an ultrasound. We’ll also need to get some bloodwork done before you leave today.”

Maria nodded along, answering the intake questions and holding John’s hand as he stood beside her. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, the idea of multiples playing in the back of her head as the nurse left and John pulled her shirt back over the noticeable bump.

“Wow baby, I can’t believe how round you are already,” John kissed her belly.

“John, I’m going to get so fat with this baby I can just tell,” Maria pouted. John kissed her again and chuckled.

“You’ll look so beautiful full term and round with my child. I promise.”

Before Maria could respond the door opened and a short man walked in with the same nurse from before.

“Good morning Mrs. Grant,” the short man chirped. “Always a pleasure to see you, Dr. Grant. My name is Dr. Sheen. I see we are here for our 9 week ultrasound. Now, just relax and we will see what’s going on in there.” He put on gloves and squirted the gel on Maria’s belly, making the woman shiver. “Some light pressure as I try to get a clear picture.”

Maria squeezed John’s hand tighter as she held her breath, staring at the gray screen and trying to decipher the blobs. “Is that the baby?” she asked hesitantly.

The doctor smiled. “That is one of your babies yes.”

Maria’s heart skipped a beat and John stiffened beside her. “One?” he muttered, a smile growing on his face. “There’s more than one?”

“You mean, like twins?” Maria asked, looking between the two men.

“Oh I think it’s more than twins. I count…six fetuses,” the doctor circled them on the screen, labeling them A through F. “Sextuplets are rare but you seem to have a strong uterus. I’m curious to see what your blood tests show.”

“Sorry, did you say six?” Maria gasped. “John! I can’t carry six babies!” Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared between her husband and her growing belly. “I’m going to get too big and the babies what if they’re too small and come early–”

John held her and tried to get her to calm down. “Hey, hey,” he half whispered to her. “I’m going to be there with you every step of the way, don't worry. You’re going to carry them just fine. Me and Dr. Sheen will make sure of it.”

Maria calmed down slightly, holding John and her belly. “I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to take in.”

The doctor smiled and explained to her what she would need to do in order to carry six babies. Vitamins, supplements, upping her calorie intake. John assured the doctor that he would take care of her and make sure she and the babies were safe and sound.

The couple walked out of the office, Maria still in shock, and back to the car. John hugged her tightly before helping her sit in the passenger side. “Everything is going to be just fine, I promise.”

Maria nodded, rubbing her belly and taking his hand as he started the car. “Nick is for sure getting his wish for siblings,” she giggled.

Christmas break came faster than Maria anticipated. In the weeks since finding out she was having sextuplets her body grew faster, clothes ripping daily it seemed now as she refused to buy bigger ones.

“I’m growing so fast I’ll just outgrow anything else I buy” she complained one evening to her husband, the two of them sitting in bed and rubbing her bulging belly.

At 23 weeks with sextuplets Maria felt gigantic. She looked bigger than most women did with twins and she had still so long to go. Her skin was stretched tight, covered in stretch marks and the bumps from her babies kicking. John couldn’t get enough of her growing body, constantly rubbing her belly or breasts, marveling at how wide her hips were growing.

“Nick will be home tomorrow. I’m so scared of his reaction to this,” Maria groaned. “What if he’s upset we didn’t tell him sooner?”

John kissed her. “Don’t worry, he’s going to be so happy for you. I promise.”

Maria smiled and snuggled up to her baby daddy, her belly resting between them. “I know you’re right but I’m allowed to be nervous.”

The next morning Maria waddled around the house cleaning and making sure everything was in order for Nick’s arrival. She had moved into John’s house after they got married, making sure Nick still had his own room set up the same way it was in their apartment.

John came up behind her in the kitchen, lifting her belly and kissing her neck as she tried to finish the cookies she was making. “You need to go sit and rest,” he said with a smile.

“I will after I finish these. I want everything to be perfect.” Maria kissed him and put the cookies in the oven. “He’ll be here any minute.”

John rubbed her belly more, seeing his babies kicking. “I’ll finish the cookies. You go sit and rest. Doctor’s orders.” He chuckled and lightly spanked her ass.

Maria sighed but agreed, gratefully waddling to the living room and sitting on the couch, putting her swollen feet on the coffee table. She texted Nick to see how far he was, nervous he would get lost on his way to their new home.

Nick was getting nervous himself. He was happy his mom had found a new guy but getting married so fast made him worry. John sounded great and Nick couldn’t help but picture his new dad helping him with his college medical work. He drove through the fancy suburb, noticing the large houses and perfect lawns.

The lights outside turned on as Nick turned his car off, the sun setting earlier now that it was December. He was excited to see his mom for the first time in months. Their FaceTimes had gotten more brief the last month and her responses more vague. With a deep sigh he knocked on the door.

Maria heard the knock and John waved at her to stay seated, heading to answer it. She didn’t listen, standing awkwardly as her husband let her son into the house.

“Hey!” John opened the door wide with a smile. “You must be Nick. Come on in. I’m John.” John extended a hand and Nick shook it before coming inside.

Nick looked his new dad up and down, noticing his bright eyes and salt and pepper hair. He was taller than Nick but a couple inches, his shoulders broader too. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Your moms in the living room. Come on.”

John took Nick down the short hallway and into the living room where Maria stokd waiting, her belly huge in her hands as she stood before her son. “Nicky! I’m so happy you’re home!” She waddled over and tried to hug him, her belly pressing into him awkwardly.

Nick's jaw dropped at the sight of her, panic and a tingly feeling mixing in his stomach at the sight of her stretched belly. “M-mom? You’re…you’re pregnant! But how…? How are you so big already?” He stuttered, gingerly touching her bare belly as though he didn’t believe it was real.

“Nick, I wanted to tell you so badly but we felt it was best to tell you in person,” Maria said. “John and I didn’t anticipate me growing so fast but I’m pregnant with sextuplets—-”

“Sextuplets!” Nick blurted.

“Honey, I know it’s a lot to take in but I promise I’m healthy and your baby brothers and sisters are healthy and kicking.” Maria placed her son's hand on her belly so he could feel them. Nick could see the tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner I know I should have.”

Nick smiled and rubbed her belly before hugging her. “It’s okay mom. I’m just happy you’re happy.” Maria kissed his cheek and hugged him again. “Plus now I get to have those younger siblings I always wanted.”

Maria and John laughed. “It’s five more babies that I anticipated but I couldn't be happier to be with such a wonderful woman,” John said.

Something stirred inside Nick as he rubbed his mothers belly. “How far along are you?”

“24 weeks tomorrow. Still have a long way to go,” Maria smiled. “But come on let me show you your room.”

It took Maria more time to get up the stairs these days but her husband and son helped her and soon she was showing Nick to his new room. “I tried to make it like your other room was,” she panted, every movement harder with the weight in front of her.

Nick set his bag down in the bed. “It looks great, mom. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Even with all these new babies coming you’ll always be my first baby.” Maria wiped a tear from her eye. “Sorry, hormones. Dinner will be ready soon so come down in a bit.”

When Nick was alone he locked the door and groaned, feeling his dick hard in his jeans. It wasn’t that his mom turned him on, but god that belly and those tits. She was a fertility goddess. And six! Six babies in her belly. This was the kind of science he wanted to study. Ideas came to him as he rubbed his cock up and down, ways to increase her fertility even more. He saw the way John looked at her too and imagined he wouldn’t be too mad with having even more babies for him.

Nick came with a grunt at the thought of his mom carrying a hundred babies. “Ooh fuck I need to make it happen,” he groaned.

The next day Nick went downstairs and found John making breakfast in the kitchen. He was busy flipping pancakes and cooking bacon, not noticing Nick until he poured a mug of coffee.

“Morning,” John said. “Your mom is still asleep but I know she’s going to be hungry when she wakes up.”

Nick smiled, noticing just how much food his step-dad was making. “Well she’s got a lot of babies to feed.” Nick chuckled softly. “Need any help?”

“A lot of big healthy babies to feed. And can you grab the syrup and butter from the fridge?”

Nick opened the well-stocked fridge and grabbed the two items, noticing the weight gain shakes in there as well. “Are you excited to have kids?” Nick could feel his heart pounding, trying to tread the topic carefully.

John nodded enthusiastically. “Couldn’t be happier. I’ve always wanted a big family. It’s one of the reasons I got into fertility medicine.”

“Same. Kind of. Mom had lots of friends who had trouble having kids and I always wanted to try and find ways to fix that. I never expected my own mom to be so fertile.”

“She is something else, isn’t she?” John looked at his new stepson and knew what he was trying to get at. “I didn’t give her any fertility meds if that’s what you're implying.”

Nick shook his head. “No! No… That’s what makes it so amazing.” Nick took a nervous sip of the coffee, scrunching his face at the bitter taste. He held tight on the mug, not wanting John to see his shaking hands. “Since her pregnancy is natural… I think it’s worth studying. Don’t you? Seeing how far her fertility goes?”

John set the plates of pancakes, eggs, bacon, orange juice, and muffins on a large tray. I like this kid, he thought to himself with a smile. He wants to see his mom blow up with babies, huh?

“Sorry if that’s weird I just figure with your work–”

“How would you like to intern at my office?” John asked. “I could use help on a project like this and it would look good on your resume.”

Nick was taken aback. Maybe it was their shared love of pregnancy that brought them together so quickly, neither of them needing to say out loud what their real goals were. “Deal.” Nick extended a hand and John shook it.

“Great! Let’s get her through this pregnancy first and then we can talk about the next one.”

With a wink, John grabbed the tray of food and hauled it to his sleeping wife upstairs. Nick sat at the kitchen table, dumbfounded and excited to see what they could accomplish.

After the break, Nick reluctantly went back to school. His mom hugged him tight and John shook his hand again, telling him he’d be in contact about the internship. Nick made his mom promise to send updates on the babies and pictures of her bump. He wanted to be a part of the experience as much as possible even from a distance. Maria thought it was sweet her son was so excited to be a big brother.

Maria waddled behind John into the doctor’s office for her 32 week checkup. She was growing faster now that she was in the third trimester, her belly round and heavy on her pelvis, reaching past her knees now when she sits. Her hips are almost too wide for most doorways now, John need to help her squeeze through on occasion.

With John and a nurse's help Maria gets onto the table, leaning back and groaning as she feels the babies in her belly moving and kicking. Laying on her back isn’t much of an option anymore, the weight of the babies and of her expanding chest making it hard to breathe.

Dr. Sheen walked in as John was soothing the kicking at her belly button. “How’re we doing?” the doctor asked as he squirted a generous amount of gel on her belly.

“Sore. Huge. I swear there’s more than six in there sometimes.” Maria rubbed her belly, her face scrunched in pain. “And they move so much now.”

“I can see very active babies,” the doctor said, pressing the wand into her belly and showing the large infants on the screen. “Oh my…you may be right about there being more than six…”

“What?” John said with a smile. “Really?”

“Oh, John please, it's already too much!” Maria cried.

“I can see eight babies in here. My apologies for missing them before but they must have been hiding behind their brothers. You’re up to five boys, three girls, Mrs. Grant.”

Maria didn’t know what to say. She was already struggling with the thought of having six babies but now it was eight?! What would her son say?

John could only smile and kiss her, rubbing her belly excitedly, his cock hard in his pants. The doctor left the two of them alone and he immediately started making out with her, grabbing her tits as she moaned in his arms.

“God you’re so fertile it’s amazing,” John gasped. “I love how big you’re getting, Maria. You’ve never looked sexier.” He kissed her neck, gripping her tits harder as milk seeped into his hands.

“Ohhh god, John you’ve really blown me up! I’m not going to be able to walk soon.”

“Fine by me.” John took a step back and took out his phone, snapping a pic of Maria looking huge and pregnant laying on her back. He texted the photo to a group chat of him, Nick, and Maria with the caption “guess who found two more babies in their belly”

Nick texted back immediately “OMG that's amazing congrats mom!”

Showing his wife the message, John smiled wider. “See? Everyone’s so excited for more babies.”

John pulled his wife to her feet and waddled her back to the car, helping her squeeze into the front seat. He drove them home quickly, his cock throbbing harder as he watched Maria moan and rub her belly the whole drive home. Once parked he pulled her out of the car and into the living room, pulling her dress off of her and unhooking the too tight bra.

“John!” Maria gasped, holding her belly as she felt her husband latching on to her leaking tit. “Ohh fuck baby I’m so pregnant it’s making me so full of milk!”

Without letting go of her, John eased Maria onto the couch, holding her belly, rubbing his hand down further until he found her wet pussy, fingering her sensitive clit.

Maria cried out in ecstasy as she felt her husband teasing her. “John, I need you! I need you inside me!”

Not one to deny a pregnant woman, John undid his pants and gripped her hips, pulling her up and lining his cock with her hole, rubbing her lips with his tip before plunging deep inside her. He groaned low as he felt her warm insides envelope him, so wet and ready for more of his potent seed.

Maria’s eyes crossed as she felt John thrust into her, her whole body shaking as he pounded against her sensitive cervix. She gripped her tits in her hands, milk dripping onto her belly as they slapped against her tight orb. “John I’m gonna cum!” she squealed, feeling her clit pulsate as she screamed through her orgasm, her pussy clenching tighter around John’s cock.

“Oh fuck, Maria you’re the best baby factory!” John came inside her, shooting hot ropes into her already overfilled womb. He collapsed onto her belly, feeling the rising and falling of her breathing as he kissed and sucked on her belly button.

The rest of her pregnancy was much the same. Growing, eating, fucking. John ordered her on a bed rest two months after they found the two extra babies, her belly so heavy on her once tiny frame that she couldn’t walk without John’s help now.

Maria spent the last few weeks of her pregnancy moaning and miserable in bed, laying on her side and rubbing her belly as the babies inside assaulted her. She could feel each of them moving and kicking, fighting for more space inside her cramped womb. Making it to 40 weeks was unprecedented but having both John and Nick home to help her made it a little easier.

Nick’s first year of school had finished and he was eager to move back home for the summer, especially since Maria hadn’t given birth yet. She was close, John kept saying, yet she kept growing and the babies seemed content inside her.

At 41 weeks Maria felt gigantic. Her belly was bigger than her, large enough John could have curled inside it. Nick sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed lotion into her tight and red skin, trying to soothe the miserable woman groaning on the bed.

“Please come soon,” Maria whined. “Oh god, Nick, I can’t do this much longer.”

John walked in with a tray of sandwiches and chips for lunch, the two of them helping Maria sit up so she could eat. “Don’t worry, baby. They’re getting lower and your contractions are getting more frequent. I’m sure it’ll be any day now.”

Maria nodded, her eyes bulging as she felt her babies fighting against her belly button again. John gave Nick a look and the young man nodded, leaving the two of them alone, his mom eating quickly through the stack of sandwiches as Nick peeked through the door at his stepfather caressing his mother’s huge belly.

John smiled at his gravid wife, rubbing her belly and pressing against the strong and overdue babies fighting inside her. He loved having her so big, hearing her moan through every bite of food and kick from a baby. She was utterly huge and miserable and he had never been more attracted to her.

”You’re contractions are getting more productive,” John commented, feeling her womb tighten under his hands as she groaned and grunted. “I think it's time we break your water, baby girl.”

Maria rubbed her belly nervously but eagerly. “I’m…ready…I need them out of me!”

John grabbed the empty tray and set it aside, rolling Maria onto her side again, her belly flopping onto the mattress and trembling as the overdue babies kick and fight against the movement. Her groans and whines only served to make him harder, his hands gripping her fat thighs as he got in position behind her.

”Are you ready? Are you ready to become a mom all over again?” John grunted. He gently caressed her wet pussy, feeling her throbbing and ready for him.

”Yes!” Maria squeaked. “God yes fuck me into labor! I want to have these babies for you!”

John didn’t need to be told twice. In one quick motion he was inside his pregnant wife, feeling her tight folds envelope him and smiling in satisfaction at her lusty moans and cries. “God you’re so tight still. You're an amazing baby mama!”

Maria gripped her tits tightly, the swollen orbs bouncing into her face with every thrust from her beast of a husband. She felt her back and belly tighten again as the babies fought against the movement, not happy that their already cramped home was being invaded.

”Oh god I’m so big! Please break my water! I want to give birth so badly!” Maria cried and moaned as John hit her g-spot over and over again, his hands roaming her body and feeling every inch of what he had done to her. “Please get them out of me!”

Nick was hard as a rock watching between the crack in the door, seeing his overdue and overgrown mother getting railed by his stepfather was a sight to behold, her belly so huge in his hands and him still able to make her beg and moan for him despite being too big to even walk.

John smacked her fat ass, gripping her thigh as he held it up for her and thrust harder into her folds. “I’m…gonna…fuck you…into labor!”

Maria came hard, John plunging himself deeper inside of her as she convulsed around him, her pussy tighter from the combination of orgasm and contraction. Before he could hold back he was unleashing a load into her fertile pussy, watching his wife devolve into a slurry of moans and cries as a gush of fluid squired around his cock.

”Baby! Oh fuck they’re coming!” Maria gasped and grabbed her belly as she felt the first one getting ready to crown. “They’re coming fast, John!”

John smiled and smacked her ass again, pulling out of her and putting his shorts back on as he called for Nick to get the supplies ready. Red-faced and ready, the younger man entered the bedroom carrying towels and blankets as John helped Maria through another contraction, the two of them rolling her onto her back and spreading her legs more.

”Nick, check her dilation while I get some hot water,” John instructed his step-son.

Nick blushed even more as he took a gloved hand and felt inside his mother, hearing her groan in pain as the babies shifted more. “Nearly there, mom. about 8 centimeters.”

”I have to push,” Maria gasped. “Please let me push.”

Nick kept his hand inside her as she bore down, preventing the baby's bulging head from tearing her. “Mom, stop! You’re not ready yet!”

John went and stroked her hair, breathing with her and letting the contraction pass without more pushing.

“Babe,” Maria moaned. “Oh god I can’t there’s too many…”

John kissed her deeply and rubbed her belly. “You’ve got this, mama. You’re the best wife and mom in the world, no one but you can handle this.”

Maria smiled and nodded, tears running down her cheeks as another contraction gripped her. Nick checked her again, feeling her stretch wider.

“You’ve got this mom! It’s almost time to push. On the next one you can I promise,” Nick said as he massaged her under belly.

“Alright, baby mama,” John smiled. “Let’s have our babies.”

A few minutes passed before Nick checked her dilation again, trying to ignore how hard he was for his own mother giving birth. He stroked her pussy again, listening to her moan as he inserted his fingers into her.

“Ten centimeters,” he stuttered. “You can push in the next contraction, mom.”

Maria groaned and held onto her belly, the babies kicking harder as her womb tightened and a scream and groan echoed throughout the room. With a hard push the first baby bulged, her pussy stretching wider for the large head.

“I see the first head!” Nick exclaimed, looking over his moms belly to John who smiled and nodded.

“He’s coming! Catch him!” Maria whined as she pushed again, the baby crowning and popping free.

“The first heads out,” John said, moving to Nick's spot as the younger man grew more pale and nervous. “Go comfort your mother, I got this.”

Nick nodded and quickly moved to sit behind Maria, holding her tight as she pushed again, the first baby coming out quickly, crying and weighing almost ten pounds. John felt the tears in his eyes as he held his first son, quickly moving to set the infant on Maria’s engorged chest.

“Oh he’s beautiful!” Maria cried, holding her new baby and helping him latch on to her nipple. “Mm the next ones coming I can feel them.”

John rubbed Maria’s clit as she pushed, making her moan and her legs squirm as she struggled with the second baby’s larger head. He smiled and rubbed her underbelly, feeling the seven left inside her still kicking hard.

“Almost there, baby,” John smiled, rubbing his fingers around the bulging head and feeling his wife cum as she pushed again, freeing the second infant from her. “Good baby, one more big push.”

Nick held his mom tight as she pushed once more, sitting behind her and letting her head rest against his chest. The second baby, a big 12 lb girl, was soon placed next to her brother on Maria’s chest.

“I…I can’t believe it! There’s still six left,” Maria groaned as contractions came fast, the six still inside her eager to escape their cramped home. “Hooo, John it feels so good having your babies!”

The third one came faster than John could anticipate, his hands barely catching the baby girl as Maria’s pussy stretched around her.

“Slow down,” John cooed. “It’s okay baby girl, you're doing so good. Just breathe.”

Maria moaned and leaned against Nick again, shaking her head wildly, her eyes unfocused as she felt the babies fighting to be next to be birthed. “They’re…they’re all coming so fast! I can’t…I have to push!”

Nick squeezed Maria’s hands and whispered to her “You’re doing great. Breathe with me.”

Nick got Maria to do her Lamaze breathing as the fourth baby crowned, John pulling the overgrown boy free from her with another push.

“Halfway there,” John said. He looked over his wife’s belly at his stepson. “Keep her breathing even, these last ones are going to come fast.”

Nick nodded and kept his mothers focus on him, holding her as she struggled to push through the exhaustion after giving birth to four babies.

“You got this mom, only a few left and then you can rest,” Nick said. “In and out…in and out…”

John took over telling her when to push, not wanting her to strain unnecessarily and exhaust herself more than she already was. After six long hours in labor all the babies were finally born, weighing between 9-13 lbs each, five boys and three girls sitting on their mothers chest as her husband and oldest held her.

“I did it,” Maria moaned, leaning against John and closing her eyes. “All our babies are here.”

“You did amazing,” John kissed his wife lovingly, stroking the heads of his babies as they slept in her arms. “I can’t believe we have our eight little ones here.”

“I can’t believe I finally get to be a big brother,” Nick chuckled.He looked at the exhausted woman and her husband, both of them still glowing and happy despite how tired they all were. “I’ll let you two rest. Call me if you need help, mom.”

Maria hugged her oldest son tight, kissing his cheek.

“Thank you, for everything. You’re the best son a mother could ask for.”

When Maria and the babies were all asleep and resting John came back downstairs, finding Nick asleep on the couch. He roused his stepson gently, the younger man sitting up concerned.

“Don’t worry, they’re all asleep and fine,” John whispered. “How are you doing?”

Nick rubbed his eyes and smiled, blushing as he thought about his mom growing even more. “I’m good. Excited. Tired. Are we ready to start the next experiment?”

John nodded. “It’ll take a few weeks for the fertility meds to kick in but once that happens she should get pregnant with double the amount easily. And she’s already proven to be an amazingly fertile woman even without the meds.”

“She’s going to be so big…” Nick mumbled. He shook his head. “What do you need me to do?”

“Any meal she eats I need the drugs to be in. Just ensure that she’s taking them at least three times a day. I’ll take care of the rest.” John winked and clapped him on the shoulder. “She’ll be pregnant again before you start school, I promise.”

[mrs-starkgaryen]

Well, well, well, dissecting time just so I can remind Maggie that I am in her walls (thanks you've passed your illness onto me)

1. "Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado."

A) Even at home, she's dreaming/ thinking about the stars (Hollywood stars)

2. "It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone."

A) Don't worry baby girl, Aegon is gonna make you finish in front of him and I'll you'll love it

3. Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

A) we all are Mason, shut up

4. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

A) well I didn't like that foreshadowing

B) she's gonna get close to Aegon and we know he's a messed up man 😭

C) I'll she'll still love him though

5. “And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies."

A) Or when Aegon dies...

B) Maggie, are you in my walls? This is my family 😭

6. “Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless."

A) mother? What you doing here, loca?

B) how Sunshine is so sunny, idk. I guess you have to have rain to appreciate the sun

C) no wonder she think she needs plastic surgery- not just for Hollywood but she probably feels like she needs to live up to her parents expectations somehow (cuz she feels like she is disappointing them with her choice of job?)

7. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A) Sunshines reminder that social media is fake lmao

B) but this is a mood- it gives crying whilst doing a thumbs up picture 😭👍🤳

Also those dogs? I love dogs but these ones are scary! The family and the dogs seem to hate her?! My God. Are they picking up on the family hostility to her?

If they don't shape up, unlike the bats- I won't mind if Jace steps on one of these.. (jk)

8. A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

A) Aegon ever heard of playing it cool?

B) damn he's down bad

9. You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you."

A) oh an old man, imagine if he meant Aegon-

B) HE DID! Mf ain't old

C) I also squealed like she did when I recognised the shoes 🥰

10. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

A) and if I say 👀

B) foreshadowing...

C) also hello Simon Bassett from Bridgerton?

11. “Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

A) for now Aegon...

B) He will show her the different flavours

C) also could symbolise that she is kinda naive and then as the story progresses- she's not so sweet anymore 😀

13. “It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

A) said every man ever 😉😂

B) ooh will she be in season 56, episode 28?

14. “Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—..... that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

A) did he have to do something to make people (or him) like himself more?

B) omg did his dad make or encourage his siblings/ family to change to become more famous, to carry on his legacy in Hollywood? Did Aemond try and change himself and now he's took a step back into scriptwriting cuz atleast then he can control his own story?

C) she's gonna lose or nearly lose her humanity in this industry, I can see it. It's gonna break her down and then Aegon and her have feel better sex..

15. “Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

A).... need I say more

16. “The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

A) you're killing me

B) she's gonna like riding this horse 😭 (I'll let myself out)

17. His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

A) either becca is crazy

B) or his family are and they'll update becca

C) or both. Like I said before- maybe they set him up wirh becca to calm him down, to make him (the targaryens) look good in the papers

18. “I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

A) a possible other nickname?

B) all her nicknames are cute and sunny, like her until this industry snuffs it out 😀

19. Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

A) This whole thing felt like a summary for the story

B) at first she's whisked away in a world of Hollywood: glitter and glammer. She's "full of blind naive surety"..

C) Then it's she's less so but she still tries to be optimistic? As she realises this is not what she signed up for

D) husband is dead, Aegon is dead? Then she's full of rage

E) under artificial light? The Hollywood spotlight..

F) she starts to give them her body (plastic surgery), her mind (she starts to doubt and panic in fame) and then her soul (Hollywood kills her optimism and dream)

Also- Are the eyeshadows representing things?

A) In the first chapter she had shimmery, pink, warm brown eyeshadow (showing that she is warm, positive and sparkling with a dream, it's all new).

B) when she's with Mason, it's sparkly black. Like she's not 100% with him but that's okay because she still has her dream that she's gonna be able to be an actress and subconsciously be with someone better...

C) in the ice cream shop, she has bright pink- so bright in optimism still and pink meaning flirtatious feelings for Aegon?

Idk, all this is my crazy mind and I love whatever you come out with!

A Curse [Chapter 2: Harbor Gateway]

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome you have given this series!!! I am sick with bronchitis currently so this has been a big bright spot in an otherwise miserable week ���� I can't wait to show you where this story is going, I hope you're ready for it 🥰💜

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent...at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon's right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, a tiny bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, ice cream, judgmental parents, aggressive Akitas, we're literally in Minnesota!!!

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado. On the other side of the glass is inky Minnesota night, a full moon dissolving away, glowing freckles of constellations. You’re staying with your parents and Mason has roommates, so the truck was the expedient choice. It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone.

Mason glances down at the used condom on the floor of his Silverado, hastily discarded, viscerally slick in a way that becomes sickening in the letdown, as the endorphins and the adrenaline slip away and the blood pumps slow and unclouded. He smirks as he asks: “You sure you don’t want to get back on the pill?”

You sigh, drawing another star. You are still naked and sprawled across the back seat, glistening with sweat in the moonlight. “Well I tried three different prescriptions and had three miserable experiences, and I’m really not interested in playing side effect roulette again. And I can’t risk my skin going insane and random bleeding when I’m running around all over L.A. trying to get parts.”

“What about that little sperm assassin T-shaped thing?”

You look at him. “An IUD?”

“Yeah.”

You wince, engraving another star into the steam on the window. “I don’t think I like the idea of having a piece of metal shoved up inside me.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get silicone implants?”

You shrug; you can’t deny the irony. “I don’t need an IUD to be an actress.”

“Look, I’m not complaining about the tits thing,” Mason says, holding up his hands. “Obviously I’d enjoy them too. And you’d still have them when you move home, so it’s not a waste even if the acting thing doesn’t work out.”

You already know he feels this way, and yet still, it hurts. “When I move home?”

He smiles and crawls back on top of you, his Carleton College hoodie whispering against your belly and chest, soft royal blue cotton on damp skin. He had been a Political Science and International Relations major who took Theater Arts 195: Acting Shakespeare for an arts credit. He was beyond terrible and had no appreciation for the field whatsoever, but he was tall and strong and jolly, an earnest corn-fed Midwestern boy, and when one day after class he’d asked if he could take you to Culver’s for a burger and frozen custard, you’d said yes.

Here and now, in the back seat of his Chevy Silverado, Mason kisses your forehead. Then he ghosts his thumb over the ridge of your orbital socket and cheekbone, where your dark glittery eyeshadow has smudged like a spreading bruise: Galaxy by Anastasia Beverly Hills, Elysian by Natasha Denona. “I’m not saying you aren’t good. But how many people on this planet get to be movie stars? It’s just not realistic. And it’s about so much more than talent. It’s about who you know, and luck, and chemistry, and looks, and a bunch of other things that are mostly out of your control. You’re never going to be the type of girl who’s an influencer or winning Miss America, you’re just not. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t very, very pretty. And I loved you anyway.”

Loved, past tense. You and Mason stopped using that word a year ago; now the nostalgia is painting memories like the walls of an old house. His memories, anyway. You sit up and start yanking on your clothes: oversized yellow Santa Monica crewneck, black sweatpants with elastic cuffs at the ankles. “I think I’m going to get the gummy bear implants.”

Mason licks his lips. “Yum.”

“They’re a type of silicone, but they’re supposed to feel more natural and be less dangerous if they rupture.”

“Will you have scars?” he says as if the notion has just occurred to him, troubled, perhaps a little revolted.

“Well yeah, they have to end up under my skin somehow.”

Mason shudders, then he has another thought. “Who’s going to take care of you after surgery when you’re all sore and zonked out on opioids?”

“My roommate Baela said she would. She’s had friends who have gone through it already.”

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want you to be alone out there.” Mason touches the back of your head, a quick fond gesture. He’s the only man you’ve ever been with, and even that took a while, months of trying to envision him undressing you before you were sure you could do it without flinching, without being afraid or shy or bewildered. But in the end it had been easy, always easy, which is why you keep coming back to him like a comet. Your elliptical orbit takes you far away and then close again, and such natural patterns are effortless to keep.

You say, the edges of your lips curling into a furtive smile: “I’m definitely not alone.”

Mason groans. “You’re going to hook up with that new agent guy, aren’t you?”

“What? No! No way, he has a fiancée.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s more amused than annoyed. “Okay, whatever.”

“You know I don’t date anyone.” Which is why each time you’re home visiting, Mason gets a text: Want to get lunch at Culver’s? or Can you drive me to Target? or Pick me up around 9 p.m.?

Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

“I’m just grateful. Someone finally gave me a chance.” You look to the window; the steam and your hand-drawn stars have evaporated away. “And yeah, he’s interesting and he’s cute, and he’s kind of mean but then unexpectedly caring sometimes, and I think he’s one of those people who are really good at what they do but only when they’re inspired…but that doesn’t mean I’m into him romantically.” A pause. “And even if I was, there’s no harm in a super-secret, one-sided crush.”

“Okay. Have fun with all the adulterous sex.”

You chuckle. “Thanks, but that is not the plan.” You slip on your flip-flops, shimmy out of the back seat, and trot around the Silverado to the passenger’s door. Mason climbs into the driver’s seat and turns his key in the ignition. You ask: “What happened to that ballerina girl who was in your Instagram stories for a while?”

“Had to ghost her, she got super clingy and controlling. She was texting me at work all the time and got pissed off when I was putting a ton of hours into that election thing for CNN.” Mason is a political analyst. He turns to you. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

“I think people are wonderful. You just have to find the ones you click with.”

“I should have figured you’d say something like that.” He steers his truck out of the otherwise empty parking lot in Lac Lavon Park. “I’m looking forward to you being home again.”

“I’m not.”

You both laugh, and then Mason drives you to your parents’ house.

At the dining room table, Mom and Clara are researching wedding venues, vast countryside estates and metropolitan historic hotels. Clara got engaged two weeks ago during a vacation to Turks and Caicos. In the living room, Dad and Tripp are watching commentary on the NBA Finals. Tripp’s name isn’t really Tripp; he is the third James in a row, named after your father and grandfather, and Tripp is short for triple. All over the house, there are Akitas lolling in plush dog beds and clicking around on Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors. They have faces like teddy bears, but their dark eyes track you mistrustfully, as if you are an intruder.

No one asks where you have been. They barely acknowledge that you are back. “Hello, dear,” your mother calls distractedly from the dining room, and that’s all. You jog upstairs to the bathroom you share with Clara before anyone can notice your smeared makeup and the unsavory post-car-sex sweat gleaming on your skin. You get into the shower, turn on water so hot it is nearly scalding, and close your eyes. With your back pressed to the jade green tiles, your hand wanders down over your belly and stops between your legs. Your mind cycles through fantasies, but nothing seems to be working.

It’s not real. It can’t hurt anybody.

You imagine that Aegon is the one touching you, and in under a minute it’s over.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I want there to be horses,” Clara says, scrolling through her phone and ignoring the food on her plate: roast chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, green beans sauteed in garlic and olive oil, panzanella salad. Mom prepared it all herself, not because there was no help available—your parents have a housekeeper named Angela who comes by several days per week—but to prove she could. In the living room are shelves heavy with books by Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, Cat Cora, Julia Child, Nigella Lawson. You hear echoes of ambient clicking, Akitas meandering down hallways and staircases.

“Horses?!” Tripp replies with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, gesturing to the sliding glass door. “Don’t you get enough horses in your everyday life? Don’t you have like five right out there?” Your parents’ house sits on ten acres of land, including a barn and several paddocks for Clara’s rescued Thoroughbreds.

“I want beautiful horses,” Clara insists. “Unusual, photogenic, so they can be in the background of all the photos. Maybe Friesians or Haflingers?”

“I’m not sure we can sort the venues by types of horses available, dear,” Mom says. All that’s on her own plate is a heap of green beans and a few pieces of skinless white meat chicken.

Clara moans and drops her face into her hands. “It’s so overwhelming!”

“You’ll find a place you like, Clara Bear,” Dad says mildly, painstakingly slicing meat off a drumstick with his fork and knife.

“And Owen is no help at all. Every time I ask for his opinion he just tells me to do whatever I think is best, but I don’t know what’s best, that’s why I’m asking him!”

Your mother pats Clara’s shoulder reassuringly. “Guys don’t care about weddings,” Tripp says, twisting around in his chair to see the television in the living room. On a rerun of E! News, the hosts are discussing Chris Hemsworth’s rigorous fitness regime and Meghan Trainor’s “mommy makeover.” You peek under the tablecloth. One of the Akitas, Yuki, is glaring as she waits for you to drop something for her to eat.

“You could do something like that,” Mom says to you, and you realize you haven’t been listening to the conversation.

“Sorry, do what?”

“You could be a wedding planner or a real estate agent. Those are actual careers, but there’s more creativity involved, isn’t there? And didn’t you take a design class in college? That would certainly come in handy.”

“Hm,” your father says with a frown, still dissecting his chicken. He would rather you go to law school like Tripp. You would rather lie down in traffic.

“I took a set design class, Mom. Because I was studying how to be an actress. And that’s what I’m doing right now in Los Angeles, trying to be an actress.”

“You could become an architect!” Mom bursts out with sudden enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You titter evasively. “I can’t draw, Mom. Or use the modeling software, or do math.”

“You know, you don’t need any specific degree to get into law school,” Tripp says, and your father gives him a nod of approval. “You could have majored in dance or bagpiping or Egyptology, it doesn’t matter. All they want is a high undergrad GPA and a 168+ LSAT score, and I bet you could get that if you studied. You can even retake the test a few times if you need to.”

“Why do you do that?” Clara snaps at him. You eat your panzanella salad and pretend not to be listening. Beneath the tablecloth, Yuki growls. You toss her a few cubes of Italian bread so she won’t bite you.

Tripp shovels mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Do what?”

“Why are you always wasting your time trying to convince her to grow up and get a real job? If she wants to embarrass herself, let her. I have problems that I’m trying to solve, so how about applying yourself to those instead?”

“Are you serious? You think I should be calling around to wedding venues asking about their selection of exotic draft horses?”

Clara aggressively stabs at her green beans with her fork. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Hey, hey, kids, no swearing,” your mother says. “It’s Father’s Day. Be respectful.”

Dad turns to you. “You could be an entertainment lawyer, how about that? You could work in intellectual property or negotiating contracts.”

You smile warily. “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Clara says to your parents: “Well I hope all the money you’re throwing out the window to support her in California isn’t coming out of my wedding fund.”

You close your eyes and think: I can’t spend my life in a cubical. I can’t spend every minute of every day trying to forget who I am.

“Shh, shh,” your mother pleads, rubbing the back of Clara’s clenched hand. “You will get exactly what we promised you, that amount is still set aside for your wedding. Nothing she does affects you.”

“And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies.

Your father is now asking Tripp about his summer associate position at Latham & Watkins in Chicago. Your mother is advising Clara to get a wedding dress with a corset back so it can be adjusted in the event she gains or loses weight at the last minute. Underneath the table, Yuki is growling again; she noses your knees threateningly.

“I got an agent,” you say, and everyone looks at you.

“Really?” Mom asks, sounding a little perplexed.

“Who is it?” Dad says.

“Aegon Targaryen. He has a small office in Elysian Park.”

“Oh, I think I recognize the last name.”

“His family is in the industry.” You are beaming; you can feel the heat rising in your face. “But Aegon kind of does his own thing and tries to stay out of the limelight. He was an actor when he was my age. And I guess he thinks I can get roles, so that’s really exciting.”

Your mother seems concerned as she nibbles at a shred of white meat. “Is he an older man?”

“Not that much older. He’s thirty-five.”

“Well, be careful, darling,” your father says gravely. “Who knows what his intentions are.”

Clara evidently agrees. “Men can be so creepy. I had this one professor in pharmacy school who cheated on his wife with one student, then cheated on her six months later with a different student. And then he retired to Boca Raton and was never heard from again.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Tripp says to your father. “We read about Clinton v. Jones in torts class, it was wild, I didn’t know he was such a freak even before the Monica Lewinsky thing…”

After dinner, while your father and Tripp are flipping through television channels in the living room and Clara is upstairs on the phone with Owen, you go to the kitchen where your mother is washing dishes in a bubble-filled sink. Again, she doesn’t have to do this; Angela will be here to clean the house tomorrow. But it’s part of being a perfect homemaker, and if she’s not good at this then she’s not good at anything.

She glances over when she hears you come in. “Did you get an appointment with one of the doctors your father recommended?”

“I did, yeah. I have a consultation on Friday.” You lean against the marble countertop and cross your arms so you don’t fidget nervously. From a dog bed on the floor, Mochi glowers at you. “Do you think I should get the surgery?”

She shrugs; you’re not certain if she is more indecisive or apathetic. “Your cousin Madison had a nose job the summer before college. Your old classmate Emma got a blepharoplasty and then met her husband three months later. Practically all of my friends have had breast augmentations, and I’ve certainly never regretted mine. I think if you’re going to get anything fixed, it makes sense to pick that.”

You try again to elicit a strong opinion, whether an endorsement or objection. “I don’t think I’d want to do it if I didn’t feel like it was necessary to be an actress.”

“Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless.”

You stare at Mochi distractedly. The dog huffs, unwelcoming. “What was the recovery like?”

“Oh, hell,” your mother says. “But once you heal up it’s worth it. I can wear square necklines and strapless dresses again.”

“Technically, you could have worn whatever you wanted.”

She gives you an impatient look, a you’re too old for that sort of frustration. “No one wants to see some sad flabby woman.” She is including your father in this statement. You remember being home for Thanksgiving Break during your freshman year at Carleton and inadvertently stumbling upon emails from one of the hospital interns when you used his laptop to buy movie tickets: indecent inuendoes, flirtatious photos, no smoking gun but certainly more than was appropriate between colleagues. You had tried to tell your mother, and she had deflected over and over again until you realized that she didn’t want to know; it was easier to be carried by the currents of momentum than to rock the boat until it sank. “This agent of yours…is he celebrating Father’s Day with his family?”

“No, Aegon lost his dad when he was in college.”

“That must have been difficult,” she says vaguely as she scrubs a pot with a green Scotch-Brite dish wand. Your parents are now at the age when their friends have begun to succumb to strokes and heart disease and cancers, and the lurking specter of mortality both horrifies and fascinates them. “What did he die of?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mom?!” Clara shouts from upstairs. “Osaka is puking in the hallway!”

Your mother sighs and dries her hands on a dish towel, then leaves you alone in the kitchen. You linger there for a while, listening to the faint drone of CNN from the living room television, then leave the house through the sliding glass door in the dining room. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

You laugh and respond: They belong to my sister, I am personally very anti-horse

You hope he’ll continue the conversation. You don’t have to wait long. How’s Minnesota? Aegon asks.

You stop and consider how to answer, then decide not to overshare. Devoid of palm trees…but good!

There is a pause—perhaps thirty seconds—and then Aegon types: How’s the ex-boyfriend?

Is he curious or jealous? You smile. Still not standing in the way of anything :)

Aegon reacts with a heart emoji, then immediately switches it to a thumbs-up. You cannot ignore the wave of warmth and fondness and exhilaration that overwhelms you. Logically, you know he’s engaged to another woman. Emotionally, it doesn’t seem relevant.

You think: It’s just a crush. It can’t hurt anybody.

Then you remember what your mother asked, and as you stand outside in the fading dusk light you Google Aegon’s father Viserys Targaryen. He has his own Wikipedia page. You scroll to the bottom, where it reads in nondescript black letters: On October 27, 2009, Targaryen passed away at his Malibu residence after a long illness.

~~~~~~~~~~

You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you.”

“What?” You look towards the ice cream freezer and there he is, dark jeans, green Nike Killshots, a yellow Hawaiian shirt that’s too big for him. “It’s my agent!” you shout as you rush over to meet him, loud enough that everyone in the shop turns to stare.

“Shh,” Aegon says, but he’s laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask from behind the counter.

“I got some good news, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Cool! Should I make you ice cream first?”

“Um, sure.” Aegon surveys the menu of Signature Creations. He seems overwhelmed; he actually looks a little panicked.

“Are you usually a chocolate or vanilla person? Or peanut butter, or coffee? Or mint?”

“Strawberry,” Aegon says.

“Strawberry,” you echo, surprised. “Okay, I think you’ll like Our Strawberry Blonde.”

“Neat.”

“Because, you know, it has strawberries and you’re blonde.”

“Sounds literally perfect for me,” Aegon says, smiling.

“What size?”

“Uh…” He reads the labels on the cups in the display case. “The big one.”

“No, you have to say the real name.”

He chuckles. His cheeks are pink, his turbulent blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then I’m not making you ice cream!”

He groans. “I want an Our Strawberry Blonde in the size Gotta Have It.”

“Cup, cone, or waffle cone bowl?”

“Stop asking me questions or you’re fired.”

“Waffle cone bowl,” you decide. Aegon studies you as you work, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side: scraping a mound of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer with your metal spatulas, taking it to the cold countertop, and smashing in graham cracker pie crust, caramel, fluffy whipped topping, and fresh strawberries. You use one of the spatulas to expertly scoop the mixture into a waffle cone bowl, not spilling a drop. Then you hand Aegon his ice cream and ring him up at the cash register. He pays in cash.

You ask Josh, the manager on duty, if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. He frowns. “I thought you were going to refill the yellow cake and Oreo cookie mix-ins first.”

“Hey,” Aegon says. He waves a ten-dollar bill in the air to show it to Josh and then dunks it in the tip jar. “Do it yourself.”

“Fine,” Josh mutters to you. “But you don’t get a second over fifteen minutes.”

There’s no time to waste. You hurry to a small table by the window. It’s 8:30 p.m., and outside the world is indigo-dark and threaded with inorganic sparks of headlights, streetlights, kaleidoscopic neon signs. Your eyeshadow is vibrant and pink, because no one cares about that when you work at an ice cream shop: Push by Natasha Denona, Coax by Urban Decay.

Aegon takes his first taste of his ice cream as he sits down in the chair across from you. “You were right, this is delicious. A bop, not a flop.” Then he notices the bruise on your right wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Oh. One of the Akitas bit me. Don’t worry, I can cover it up with concealer.”

Aegon is irritated. “Why is your mother letting her Akitas bite you?”

“It was my fault. I forgot that Oni doesn’t like when people pet his feet.”

Aegon sighs, stirring his Our Strawberry Blonde. “You want some of this?”

“I can’t,” you say reluctantly.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I already had a little cup when I got here this afternoon so I have regrettably hit my ice cream quota for the day.” And then, when Aegon clearly does not approve: “I try not to restrict too much but obviously staying the same size takes effort. That’s not a disorder, it’s just reality.”

Aegon seems to debate arguing, then instead scoops up a heaping spoonful of ice cream and holds it out across the table. “Come on. It doesn’t count if it’s on my spoon.”

You smile sheepishly and open your mouth for him. Your lips close around the plastic spoon: coldness, sweetness, the grit of pulverized graham cracker pie crust, the infinitesimal black seeds of strawberries that catch between your teeth. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

“I am,” you confess. “I know the joke. But I really do always get the vanilla-adjacent flavors. Cookie dough, French vanilla, sweet cream, cheesecake…”

Aegon smirks playfully. “Pathetic.”

“So you’re an enlightened being because you eat strawberry ice cream.”

“Boring people like vanilla. Kids like chocolate. Interesting adults like strawberry.”

“Do you actually have good news for me or did you just come here to be a ghoul?”

“I got you a part.”

“What?!” you squeal, and people are gawking again. This time, Aegon doesn’t tell you to be quiet. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies, grinning like he can’t help it.

“A part in what?”

“It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

You scream; Josh scowls at you from behind the counter. “Oh my God, no way, no way!”

“You’re going to be the wife of a guy the doctors kill with negligence. Three scenes, two are pretty short and unremarkable but then you get to yell at the surgeon in the last one. Gives you the opportunity to show some range and make an impression.”

You can’t believe this is happening. “They aren’t going to make me audition first?”

“Well…it’s very last-minute,” Aegon says. “The actress who was supposed to do it has a drug problem or something, I guess, so she ghosted and they were scrambling for a replacement. And I completely fabricated your credentials.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I typed up a resume and sent it over and they loved it. So try not to talk about your actual experience because none of it will match.”

You shake your head, stunned, amazed. “What if they try to contact one of my alleged former employers?”

“Then they’ll be talking to Aemond, and he will lie and say you were an absolute pleasure to work with.”

Aemond Targaryen: Aegon’s younger brother, a screenwriter, a philanthropist, a well-respected entity in Hollywood, and you know this from the Googling that preceded your first meeting with Aegon last week. “And Aemond doesn’t mind helping you commit fraud?”

“It’s not a favor I call in very often.” Aegon finishes his ice cream, then begins breaking apart the waffle cone bowl and shoving shard-like pieces into his mouth.

“When’s the shoot?”

“Very very early on Thursday, that’s the bad news.” Thursday is two days from now. “So I’ll have to pick you up at your apartment at like 5 a.m.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

He smiles, gnawing on a chunk of his waffle cone bowl. “I figured.”

“You’re going too?” The hope is unmistakable in your voice.

“Of course I’m going.”

“I didn’t think agents usually went to film shoots.”

“Well, fortunately for you, your agent is imminently fleeing Los Angeles and has already parted ways with most of his clients and really has nothing else going on besides hiding in his office and playing a Nintendo 64, so I figured I could make it. And also if I’m going to be enthusiastically recommending you to people, I should probably see you work at some point.”

You wiggle your eyebrows flirtatiously. “Do I get to make out with my fake husband?”

Aegon is amused. “From what I understand, you get to chastely kiss him once. They’re sending the script over to my office first thing in the morning, so you’ll only have a day to learn your lines.”

“That’s enough time. I’ll make it work.”

“Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

Thursday. “Is the shoot just one day?”

“Yeah, they should be able to get everything they need from you on Thursday morning. Why?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday and I was just wondering if I’d have to reschedule it.”

Aegon is immediately vigilant. “What kind of appointment?”

“Uh…” You smirk guiltily. “It’s just a consultation. No slicing yet.”

“And you’re going to cancel that,” Aegon says flatly.

“Seriously?”

“Do you want implants because you want them or because you think other people want you to have them?”

You hesitate. “Both.” That’s probably a lie.

Aegon leans back in his chair and studies you. “Yeah, you’re cancelling that appointment.”

“Why?”

“Because when I agreed to sign you, you told me that you’d do anything I say. And I’m telling you to cancel it.”

“But why don’t you want me to get implants? Everyone gets implants.”

“Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—it’s very difficult to stop. First it’s your tits, then it’s your eyes and your nose, then it’s your chin and your cheeks and your neck and your ass, and it’s just this revolving door of painful, dangerous, unnecessary procedures that are condemning you for being mortal, that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I��ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

You smile, then reply quietly: “You’ve never seen me.”

Aegon grins. “I don’t care if you have twelve nipples under there like a fucking beagle, you don’t need plastic surgery.”

You both laugh, and the tension evaporates, and even if you don’t cancel the appointment—Aegon is one person, the entertainment industry is omnipotent and eternal—you are glad he seems to like you the way you are. Behind the counter, Josh is waving manically to get your attention and summon you to return to work. You pretend not to see him.

Aegon asks: “Why don’t you like horses?”

“They freak me out. They’re all teeth and legs and they’re huge, I’m always scared they’ll step on me.”

“Your dad’s a doctor, right? I thought all rich girls had horses.”

“Where I’m from, a lot of women ride horses to distract themselves from the fact that their husbands are riding their receptionists or interns. I’d rather have no horse and no awful cheating husband.” And Aegon stares at you and turns serious, because perhaps you’ve inadvertently addressed the elephant in the room: he has a fiancée, and neither of you are acting like she exists. You swiftly pivot. “I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

He appears startled. “What?”

“The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Aegon chuckles uneasily and gets up to throw his trash away, then stands under the florescent lights with his hands in his pockets, his blonde hair falling out of its gel and hanging over his forehead. He gazes down at you pensively; you are still seated at the table. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m closing tonight, so I’ll be done around 10:30 or 11.”

“Okay. Can I come back to pick you up and drive you home?”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

He gestures to the inky dark window, incredulous. “Because obviously you shouldn’t be walking alone in Harbor Gateway at midnight? You know there was a shooting a block from here last week. I looked it up.”

“I walk home all the time.”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“You are being very dramatic for a non-actor.”

“Listen, I can’t go to my house and try to fall asleep while I’m wondering if you’re getting mugged or murdered.”

You look at Aegon. He does seem genuinely worried. “You can drive me home.”

“Great. See you in two hours.” He strides away and shoves open the glass door; the little metal bells hanging there jingle.

“Aegon?”

He halts mid-step and turns around. “Yeah?”

“Does Becca know where you are right now?”

His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

And before you can reply, he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday, June 19th, Aegon picks you up in his white Chrysler Sebring convertible while the city is still asleep. The sky is dark, the streetlights passing by overhead, infinite pinpoint supernovas. There are hardly any other cars on the road. Aegon’s hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary; he’s sipping a Starbucks coffee with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other. He is wearing a suit, but he still manages to look unpolished, his white shirt half-untucked and his black tie too skinny. He sets his coffee down in one of the cup holders and passes you something venti-sized and iced.

“I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

“Aw, thanks! Skim milk?”

“Nope,” he says, smiling. You smile back and take a gulp of it, cold and sweet and bracing. “What’s your hype song?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say, embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to terrorize me.”

“Don’t Stop Believing? Don’t Stop Me Now? I Gotta Feeling?”

“Lose Yourself.”

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, his hair flying in the wind. “That’s definitely a fireable offense. I’m ditching you the second we finish this shoot.” But he taps around on his phone and plugs in the aux, and then Eminem is thudding through the speakers as the Sebring sails north and the red-gold dawn rises on the horizon, a celestial message from the East Coast, an omen from the future.

Aegon drives you to Prospect Studios in Los Feliz, just east of Hollywood. Filming will be indoors on a soundstage. You spend what feels like forever in hair and makeup, and the costume designer—who had prepared for a different actress—dresses and redresses you over and over again, frowning at your chest and waist and thighs, and you have a sudden pang of nauseating panic and dread: I don’t belong here. What the fuck was I thinking?

Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

But when it’s over, while you are still standing on the soundstage with the other actors, Aegon puts on his sunglasses and smiles at you from across the room; and you remember what he said outside his office on the day you first met—you are so bright, sunshine—and you know you’ve done a good job.

[kavehayati]

I mean this from a social perspective not a health one : why does everything feel weird right now. Like yes I’m heartbroken about the reality of my position in the lives of my so called friends but now I just feel confused. I don’t understand why I’m not important and why I can’t change to be important to others, nor what makes a person important either.

[rosicheeks]

Unfortunately relatable. I grew up in the church and have a lot of Christian trauma from that. I show up for special occasions for my parents… sometimes. But it’s uncomfortable from the moment I step through the door. Bigoted pastor, the self-righteousness disguising the prejudice, the political comments from the altar. Shots at young people left right and center as if the hell on earth wasn’t caused by the same older generation 90% of the congregation belongs to..

I miss being young in the choir and the youth groups and not struggling with it. It’s wild to look back at the younger version of me who was unshakeable in his faith and honestly just saddening.

I was texting my sister today about it and she said

“I 100% think ALL of us have a ton of religious trauma and everyone else in the family just doesn’t realize it cause they’re still drinking the kool-aid.”

I ran out of tag room and didn’t want to delete any 😭 seriously not lying I could write a book about all my thoughts and experiences

[shivermewhiskerz]

.

//Venting in Tags:: TW Sewerslide and shit like that

[r1elle]

desperate male lead syndrome is making a strong comeback in 2024 and i’m here for it!! so i wrote about this annoying loser (your honour i love him so much)

husband atsumu drabble because this is what the people want ^^ (i’m people)

“baby, don’t go looking at yer’ poor husband like that..” atsumu pouts, poking your cheeks at the sight of your evidently disdained face.

okay. you could go do that. you could also just forget the broken ceramic on the floor, still not cleaned up because atsumu would rather make amends with you first than cleaning up the potential risk that was right infront of you both.

honestly, you couldn’t tell whether you should be glad, or concerned.

“i’m not mad at you,’ you say, the expression on your face clearly betraying your words. “don’t worry about it, atsumu.”

you thought that maybe your words would ease the blonde man’s resolve, however it seemed to have only made it worse for him.

“atsumu?! no baby, no love, no ‘tsumu?!” he stresses, hands going up to his mouth.

you stare at his rather dramatic delivery,—and was that the life in his eyes flying away?? he looks like a modern rendition of casper the ghost.

“i’ll do the dishes for a week, no,—a month! i’ll buy ya’ those heels ya’ told me not to buy at the mall!!” atsumu frantically spouts, saying anything he could think of as he continues to cling onto your figure, his face mushing onto your neck and shoulder area.

you shut your eyes. just.. how could you stay annoyed? look at his pouty face, how his ears seemed to be more red than the rest of his skins current complexion. he practically made it impossible for you to even be the least bit mad, and you would’ve felt as guilty as a convict for even attempting to do so. that’s the kind of effect he had on you.

in response, you merely sigh. but there wasn’t any bark to it. “or, you could clean up the shattered pot on the floor.” you say, making sure to bring your tone to a more gentle and reassuring one.

atsumu turns to at you once again, his blonde locks tickling your skin as he moves.

“yer’ not mad anymore?” he beams. “i mean, we could always make another pot, right? how ‘bout it?” he says, hopeful eyes staring directly to your orbs.

in all realness, you genuinely weren’t mad at him, —(as much as he would sulk and say you definitely were), no. you were just sad at the fact that you and atsumu’s ceramic that you both had worked so hard to sculpt and paint on your first date was now shattered on the floor, all but beyond repair.

“i was never mad at you, promise.” you say. “just a bit disappointed. i liked that pot a lot, you know.” your hand reaches for atsumu’s cheek, pinching it slightly. physical touch always seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

atsumu mentally notes that he should make you breakfast in bed the following morning as he stares at your affirming expression. he plants various of pecks on your face after doing so.

“i’m sorry, princess.” atsumu coo’s, his hand pushing away the little hairs on your forehead as he plants a kiss on it.

“i’ll make it up to ya’, i promise.”

— • —

now, you know that you most definitely shouldn’t be all too surprised, considering that, well, —this was miya atsumu we were talking about,

but seriously….

you stare at the little bundle of fur politely sitting on your lap as you rub your eyes, just having come out of your nights sleep. you also happen to notice the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate coming from the bedside table.

“ ‘tsumu, where—?..no, when did you get this dog?”

“i have my ways.” he proudly grins. “but look, it’s yer’ favourite breed!”

“….yes, i know. but where did you—“

“we have a daughter now, hehe.”

“since when did i agre—“

“so adorable, definitely takes after her mommy and daddy. look at the bow on her head!”

“ ‘tsum-“

“i love you.”

“dont change the subject!”

——————————————————————————

atsumu brainrot is real and clocking me out (kageyama i can explain)

update: TYSM for 1k+ notes omg ??!! thank u all for loving this loserboy with me i feel so heard 😢😢🙏🏽

[starryjake]

teddy bear pajamas pt. 3 | l.h

part 1 part 2

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, car sex, fingering, tasting cum, unprotected sex, cumming inside, finger sucking, spitting (lmk if i missed anything!)

“a little more to the left.”

you huffed impatiently, moving the banner over to the left by just a smidge.

“too far,” jay said. “more to the right.”

you groaned, setting the banner down all together and climbing down from the ladder.

“i can’t believe you’re making me hang decorations for your party,” you guffawed. “what do i even get out of helping you?”

“you get to go to the party, duh,” your brother replied, grabbing the banner and climbing up the ladder himself.

“well i assumed that was a given considering i live here,” you retorted.

“well i’m not afraid to kick you to the curb if you don’t start getting the snacks ready,” jay responded.

rolling your eyes, you opened the refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients for the snack plate you were assigned to make for tonight. once you pulled out all the ingredients, you pulled out your phone, checking for a notification you hadn’t received.

“so,” you started, tucking your phone back away and trying to hide your disappointment, “are all your friends gonna be here tonight? like, all of them?”

jay was focused on stapling the banner in place, his eyebrows furrowed together in concentration.

“yeah, of course,” he responded, only half paying attention to you.

that was the only answer you needed though. it meant heeseung would be at the party tonight. heeseung, who fucked you in your bed the other night and then hadn’t contacted you a single time since.

you’d been glued to your phone, checking nonstop and waiting for him to text you, call you, like your instagram picture, anything. yet he’d been silent, and that crushed you.

seeing him tonight at the party scared you. would he ignore you? would he pretend nothing ever happened between you guys?

you had no idea what to expect, and you were terrified.

-

the party was in full blast. yours and jay’s shared apartment was more packed than you’d ever seen it before.

it was nearing midnight and you’d still yet to see heeseung. in fact, you hadn’t seen him or any of jay’s immediate friend group, which also included jake and sunghoon. you were relieved, but also anxious that he could appear in front of you at any moment.

you were in the kitchen fixing yourself a drink to help calm some of your anxieties when suddenly you heard the front door open, close, and then a loud eruption of cheers and conversation. the loudness and excitement of it all was enough to make your heart start thumping fast in your chest.

then you heard their voices, but it was too late for you to run out of the kitchen because there they were, walking right over to where you were at the drink station.

“hey, y/n,” jake greeted, pulling you into a tight hug.

your face was pressed against his chest, momentarily allowing you to catch your breath. you had to think fast about how you were going to approach heeseung.

“hey,” you replied, forcing a smile once you pulled back.

sunghoon greeted you next, ruffling your hair in a playful manner. you then turned to heeseung, who made eye contact with you, and then turned the other way to grab a drink, not saying a word.

you gulped, looking down at the floor. a wave of sadness overcame you because what he just did was all you needed to see to understand that he did regret what you two did, and now he wanted nothing to do with you.

you walked out of the kitchen and beelined straight for your bedroom. you didn’t want to leave the party, but you just needed a moment to collect yourself.

you little moment of peace ended up taking 30 minutes. it took you a while to muster up the courage to go back out there, but eventually you did.

the party had died down slightly, making it easier for you to walk down the hall and back into the main living space.

you took in your surroundings, first noticing your brother on the couch with an unfamiliar girl in his lap. a few feet away from them, sunghoon was dancing with some girl, and jake was playing beer pong with a group of people. heeseung was nowhere to be found.

your hopes were raised. you thought he must’ve left if he wasn’t around any of his friends.

with a slight hop in your step, you entered the kitchen to nibble on the snack plate you’d made earlier in the day. as you ate, you looked out the kitchen window which had a direct view of the balcony, and there he was.

he was standing outside by himself. his back was turned to you, but you knew it was him. he was leaning over the balcony railing, staring ahead at the city in front of him.

you weren’t sure what came over you. the alcohol, or maybe the rage that came with the fact he had been blatantly ignoring you after what occurred between you two the other night. but suddenly, you were opening the balcony door and joining him outside in the crisp late-fall air.

he turned around upon hearing the door slide open and was visibly surprised to find you standing there. it was unlike you to confront him, to confront anyone, but you were angry. you felt used and you wanted an explanation.

“oh,” he said. “hey.”

for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. you cursed how attractive he was in that moment because it’d rendered you speechless.

“hey,” you responded.

“how are you?” he asked.

“maybe you’d know if you’d bothered to text me,” you snapped.

you were shocked with yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. heeseung looked shocked for a moment as well, but then the guilt set in and took over his face.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he sighed, leaning onto the balcony again. you crossed your arms and waited impatiently for whatever excuse he was going to pull. “i wanted to text you, i just…i got scared.”

“scared?” you repeated. “what’s so scary about me?”

“nothing,” heeseung said, turning his head to look at you. he then smiled a bit and shook his head. “there’s nothing scary at all about you…except the fact that i feel like i betrayed jay by sleeping with you.”

“he doesn’t know,” you assured.

“i know,” he replied, sighing. “that’s the bad part. i’m keeping this huge secret from him and i know he’ll be pissed if he finds out.”

“maybe not,” you shrugged.

heeseung gave you a look, which was deserved because not even you believed yourself. he was right in that jay would be very angry to find out heeseung had sex with you.

“well, you could’ve told me that instead of saying nothing,” you uttered quietly. “it felt like you just used me for what you wanted and then tossed me out when you were done.”

“no no no,” he hurriedly shook his head, planting his hands firmly on your arms and looking directly into your eyes. “that is not what happened, i promise you. i wanted to text you so bad and then when i saw you earlier tonight i just freaked out and didn’t know what to do. i’m so sorry, y/n.”

it was hard not for you to immediately forgive him with the way he was pleading to you and looking into your eyes so thoughtfully. you gulped, forcing your gaze on the ground.

“what now?” you asked.

“what do you mean?” he wondered, his hands still gripping your arms.

“are we ever gonna…” you trailed off, too embarrassed to speak.

“gonna what?” he asked, his thumbs starting to caress your skin. “do it again?”

you nodded shyly.

“do you wanna do it again?” he asked.

“i—i mean—yeah,” you sputtered out.

the corners of his lips turned upwards at that.

“come on, baby, let’s go for a drive.”

-

you weren’t entirely sure how you got in this position, how you ended up shirtless in the back of heeseung’s car dry humping his lap. but there you were, and you were already a moaning mess.

his hands were all over you, stroking and feeling your warm, smooth skin. he kissed your neck while your clothed lower half ground down on him.

he rolled his neck up to look at your face. it was somewhat difficult to see the details of your face in the darkness of the night and the darkness of the random deserted parking lot you were parked in. but he could see your eyes, your starry, glistening eyes.

“how are you this pretty?” he whispered, looking at you in pure awe.

you blushed, hiding your face in his chest. he rubbed your back, his entire body feeling like it was engulfed in flames, and then he really knew for sure that he had a real, genuine crush on his best friend’s sister.

you shifted off his lap, much to his disliking, and planted your hand on his bulge. he bit his lip, watching you stroke his outline over his pants. you smiled, watching the way his breathing got heavier even though you’d hardly touched him yet.

“heeseung,” you said, slowly sliding your hand into his jeans.

“yeah?” he whispered, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“i want you to fuck me in this car,” you told him, biting your lip to hold back your excited smile.

heeseung nearly fainted. you were so not the shy innocent thing he thought you were. you were lewd when you were turned on and he loved it. the more time he spent around you, the more perfect he discovered you were.

“fuck,” he swallowed, nodding. “okay. i’ll fuck you, baby. i’ll fuck my sweet girl as much as she wants.”

he hurriedly unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them down his legs, which was a lot harder than it should’ve been in the tight confines of his car.

eventually, he was left in his boxers. he watched as you pulled your own pants down, and once you were left in your underwear, he pulled you back into his lap. the lesser amount of fabric separating the two of you made it easier to feel his cock, feel how hard and heavy it was.

he leaned forward and attached his lips to your chest, sucking on your collarbones and moving down to your tits. he kissed each of your nipples, smiling against your chest at the way you shuddered and pushed your hips against his crotch, desperate for some friction where you needed it the most.

he lifted your hips up off of his lap momentarily to slide his boxers down his legs, leaving his lower half exposed. his cock, hard and eager as ever, sprang out and stood long, his tip glistening and shiny from spilled pre cum.

if the confines of the car weren’t so restricting, you would’ve leaned down and licked along his tip, getting a taste of his salty precum. instead, you trailed your fingers along his tip, gathering as much of the liquid as you could, and shoved them in your mouth, moaning at his taste.

heeseung grabbed your hips again and laid you down on his car’s leather seats. he positioned one of your legs over the back of the seat and the other one to the floor, spreading your legs the best he could in the limited space you were working with.

with your legs spread, he rubbed your clothed clit with his thumb, feeling the wetness seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear.

he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your trembling, glistening pussy to him. he traced your hole with his middle finger before sliding it in. your hole sucked him in with ease from how aroused you were, how ready and willing you were to take him.

you moaned as loudly as you wanted since he was the only one who’d be able to hear it. you didn’t have to worry about your brother finding you guys since he was too busy hosting a party and probably had no idea that you guys had even left.

heeseung immediately slid in another finger and started massaging his fingers inside you. you let out soft little whimpers as you subtly humped your hips up, trying to fuck yourself down on his fingers. he had to take a breath to calm himself down, to keep himself from busting without even touching himself. you just looked too perfect like this, spread out in the back of his car letting him finger you.

once he felt like you were stretched and prepared enough to take him, heeseung pulled his fingers out of you. they were absolutely drenched in your arousal, so much so that when he spread his fingers apart, strings of your sticky witness webbed between them.

you turned your head to the side in embarrassment, missing it when heeseung used that same, wet hand to jerk himself off for a minute, covering his cock in your arousal, to get himself ready to be inside you.

he held your panties to the side again, about to position his cock with your hole and slide right in before he stopped himself.

“you ready, my baby?” he asked, tilting your face so you were looking at him.

“please,” you begged. “put it in, hee.”

it was what heeseung expected you to say, but he wanted to check anyway.

he chuckled breathily and slid his cock inside you, your hole taking him in so sweetly. it was warm and wet and unbelievably tight, just like he remembered it to be from the other night.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned out as he pushed himself in as deep as he could go, stopping once he bottomed out and your pelvises were pressed together.

you closed your eyes and a dizzy smile appeared on your face. he hadn’t even done a thing yet but you already felt so good, just to have him inside of you again. to have him all the way buried inside of you felt unbelievable.

“what’s that?” he asked, laughing softly. he tickled your cheek, making you open your eyes. “what’re you smiling about?”

“nothing,” you shook your head, refusing to tell him what had you smiling.

“you feelin’ good?” he wondered, rubbing your thigh assuringly.

you nodded. “need you to move.”

heeseung complied immediately, slowly pulling his cock out nearly all the way and pushing it back in. your walls enveloped him, stretching around his length and taking him like you were made for it.

his thrusts picked up quickly. you barely needed time to adjust since you were so wet and so absolutely needy for him. so, when he started fucking you hard enough that the car was shaking, you didn’t complain at all.

in fact, you were practically crying from the pleasure. moan after moan and curse after curse and whine after pleasured whine tumbled past your lips, so fucked out and far gone already.

heeseung held your thighs as he slammed his cock in and out of you, alternating between watching his cock disappear in and out of you and looking up at your pretty face. he opted for your face because your eyes were watery and your nose and cheeks were red, and you were even starting to drool, and it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. he was ruining you.

“f-feels so fucking good, heeseung,” you sobbed.

“yeah?” he said, suddenly pulling out.

you frowned up at him for suddenly putting a stop to your immense pleasure. to just pull out so suddenly like that, you almost got mad.

he took ahold of his cock in his hand and pressed it down against your pussy, grinding his hips back and forth and rubbing it along your slick folds. it felt so heavy on your pussy, so long and hard and perfect for you.

“oh…” you moaned out, watching his cock rub on your pussy.

he leaned down, unable to go a second longer without kissing you. you shoved your tongue into his mouth and he immediately rubbed his against yours, exchanging an excess amount of saliva.

“put your head back,” he commanded.

you tilted your head back, watching in fascination as he let a wad of spit slowly trickle from his mouth and land on your awaiting tongue. you swallowed it with a moan, pressing his warm body down onto yours. you wanted to be as close to him as possible. you wanted to feel his skin on your skin and never let him go.

“you’re so fucking hot,” you said, running your fingers through his fluffy hair.

heeseung left you with a peck on your lips before sitting back up so he could get back into the position of fucking you again.

kneeling, he re-entered you, sighing from how fucking good it felt every time. every time he first slid into you, it felt magical.

he began thrusting even quicker than before, licking his thumb before bringing it down to rub your clit. you moaned pathetically, your legs starting to shake and your toes starting to curl from the added pleasure.

“oh f-fuck, hee,” you cried out. “mmm, don’t stop! please please please!”

he could tell you were getting closer by your gummy walls clenching impossibly tight around him and your desperate words. luckily for you, he had no intention of stopping, only going harder.

he plummeted his cock into you, his tip hitting spots of you that were almost uncomfortably deep, but not quite.

you were shaking and writhing beneath him and he kept going and going, needing to see you cum because he knew it was going to be harder than any other time he’d witnessed before.

“hee,” you sobbed. “i’m gonna fucking cum. please, oh fuck!”

your legs tightened around his waist and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. your mouth opened in a silent scream as you started cumming around his dick and on his thumb, which was still rapidly fingering your clit.

“goddamn,” he growled, feeling the knot in his own stomach hint at unraveling.

you just looked too fucking unreal when you came. a tear trickled out of your eye, drool sliding shamelessly down your chin. you were such a perfect mess, he needed to fuck you full of his cum.

“oh, my sweet baby girl,” he said, still pounding you despite how hard you just came. “i’m gonna fuck you so full of my load, angel. you want that? you wanna feel all full of my—fuck—full of my cum? you wanna be filled, baby?”

“please, hee!” you begged, nails clawing down his back. “cum inside me, please. need it so bad.”

with a few more thrusts, heeseung finally stilled inside you and you could feel his warmth filling you up. streams of his cum overflowed inside you and you felt euphoric as you laid there and took it all for him.

he had his eyes shut tightly as he lightly thrusted his hips, riding out his orgasm and forcing out as much cum as he could. his grip on you was painfully tight, but you wouldn’t dare stop him now, not when he was cumming so beautifully.

he regretfully pulled out of you a moment later, watching in exhaustion and awe as his creamy white cum came spilling out of your used hole. he moved your underwear back to cover your pussy, watching the way his cum seeped through the fabric and spilled out the sides.

“fuck,” he muttered. “so messy ‘n pretty.”

he rubbed his fingers over the wet fabric, sliding them up and down your puffy folds. you moaned out, setting your hand on his wrist to stop him.

“sorry,” he said with a tired smile.

he handed you your clothes and while you got dressed, he dressed himself as well. there was cum all over his leather seats, but he would have to deal with that at another time.

“c’mere,” he urged once you were both finally calmed down.

you let him wrap his arm around you and kiss the top of your head, leaning into his shoulder tiredly.

“you did so good for me,” he told you. “do you want me to take you home? or do you wanna come to my place?”

that answer seemed quite obvious.

“your place,” you said.

“i was hoping you’d say that,” he said.

the two of you moved to the front seats where heeseung began driving in the direction of his apartment, his mind and his heart racing about what the two of you just did and what would happen next.

-

well! anyway…part 4?

thank you for reading!

[5sospenguinqueen]

Going To The Chapel | Arthur Leclerc x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into life with Arthur Leclerc since your engagement. 

Warnings: Fluff. Marriage. Pregnancy. Suggestive comments

Requested: Yes by @1800-love-me . requested newlyweds/new dad arthur

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln i had the most amazing weekend with my girls. thank you for planning such a relaxing time away. only one week left until i marry the love of my life  tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, bestfriend, charlotte2304

1,617 comments 

charles_leclerc i’m still disappointed that i wasn’t invited :( 

→ alexandrasaintmleux you had a bachelor party to go to, mon coeur 

→ charles_leclerc yeah but they didn’t have matching robes

→ arthur_leclerc i offered to wear matching underwear with you? 

bestfriend thank you for not saying “only one week until you marry your best friend” because i would’ve had to kill myself, and then you 

→ yn_ln oh

arthur_leclerc my beautiful girl. i cannot wait to marry you 

→ yn_ln counting down the days until i can call myself your wife 

→ user1 ugh, i need a love like these two 

alexandrasaintmleux you’re going to make the most beautiful bride 

→ yn_ln once i work off the hangover you inflicted on me

→ alexandrasaintmleux you didn’t have to keep drinking the prosecco

→ yn_ln you didn’t have to keep topping my glass up! 

→ bestfriend she was getting you drunk enough that you would agree to run away with her and not marry arthur

→ arthur_leclerc hey! 

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc a day full of tears and joy. i’m so proud of you, little brother. and beautiful yn, you have been part of this family since arthur first brought you home to us but now we can officially call you leclerc 🤍

5,516 comments

user2 love how he posted an individual pic of yn but not his brother 

→ yn_ln i’m the family favourite out of the two of us 

→ arthur_leclerc i would disagree but you are my favourite 

user3 i love how close charles would’ve had to get for that veil pic

→ alexandrasaintmleux we did have to keep dragging him away from them  

→ charles_leclerc i’m just so happy! 

francisca.cgomes the most beautiful bride 

user4 i love that photo of the two of them sat at the table together 

→ charles_leclerc thank you. i had to sneak back to get it but it was just the two of them in their own little world 

→ yn_ln i was telling him how desperate i was to get out of my dress

→ user5 and he was telling you how desperate he was to get you out of your dress?

→ arthur_leclerc yes

lorenzotl i love you both so much. welcome to the family, yn 🩷

user6 oh okay. this has reminded me of how alone i am 

user7 the cutest couple! 

yn_leclerc just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and others

yn_leclerc sand, sea and a new surname 🏖️

2,347 comments

user8 she changed her name! 

charles_leclerc did you do anything other than kiss? geez 

→ pierregasly it’s their honeymoon. i bet they did a lot more than kiss 

→ charles_leclerc ew

user9 look, we all know you spent the honeymoon shagging each other but you didn’t need to post proof

→ user10 and to think these are the photos they thought were acceptable to share liked by yn_leclerc 

arthur_leclerc my favourite place will always be beside you 

→ yn_leclerc i may not let you leave

→ oscarpiastri married arthur is a cheesy arthur 

alexandrasaintmleux i’m loving these photos! 

→ yn_leclerc maybe you should be next 

→ charles_leclerc don’t give her ideas! 

user11 oh a leclerc thirst trap was not what i was expecting 

user12 is this pr approved? 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

arthur_leclerc just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, pierregasly and others

arthur_leclerc coming soon. baby leclerc

3,549 comments

alexandrasaintmleux i’m so excited for baby leclerc to arrive. is it bad that i’ve already bought loads of clothes?

→ charlotte2304 competing for favourite aunty already, i see

→ yn_leclerc favourite aunty will be whichever one of you gets me a drink first when baby is here

user1 the charles leclerc project is happening 

→ scuderiaferrari we are already having a mini f1 car made 

user2 you’ve only been married 6 months

→ user2 oh

→ user3 honeymoon baby 

charles_leclerc i’m so glad you finally told people. the amount of baby ferrari gear i’ve had made that i have wanted to post 

charles_leclerc i am going to make the best uncle

→ lorenzotl *second best uncle

yn_leclerc i didn’t realise having a baby was going to create a leclerc civil war 

landonorris that is more of your wife than i wanted to see 

→ arthur_leclerc just say congrats, mate

oscarpiastri i guess this means our affair is over

user4 somebody enjoyed their honeymoon a little too much 

arthur_leclerc just posted

liked by logansargeant, scuderiaferrari and others

arthur_leclerc our baby girl was born late last night. she is happy and healthy, and yn is doing well

4,478 comments 

yn_leclerc i love you, mon amour. i couldn't have done this without you

→ arthur_leclerc thank you for blessing me with the most amazing family

charles_leclerc can confirm, she also smells so good

alexandrasaintmleux she’s wearing the little booties i bought! please give baby and yn a huge hug from me

→ user5 you don’t get to meet baby?

→ alexandrasaintmleux i’m not currently in monaco but visiting them will be the first thing i do when i’m back

user6 girl dad arthur incoming! 

charlotte2304 missing those baby cuddles already 

→ yn_leclerc we’re home tomorrow so please come over 

→ yn_leclerc you can cuddle baby whilst i have a wash 😂

user7 a baby girl! 

francisca.cgomes you put my giraffe in the bed with her 🥹

→ pierregasly don’t let her meet baby leclerc, please. i’ve only just gotten her a puppy 

→ yn_leclerc oh but how cute would a baby gasly be! 

→ pierregasly no!

→ arthur_leclerc nobody warns you that your wife will be broody again the second she’s had a baby

→ yn_leclerc excuse me, i think you mean no one warns you that your husband will be begging you for a second baby

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yn_leclerc just posted

liked by francisca.cgomes, carlossainz55 and others

yn_leclerc in honour of mon bébé turning 1 yesterday, please enjoy some snippets of this past year. it has been both exhausting and incredible, and i couldn't have done it without my amazing family

2,091 comments

charles_leclerc i can’t believe my niece is one already. she’s growing too fast 

→ arthur_leclerc which is why we should have a second one

→ charles_leclerc yes! that is a great idea

→ yn_ln this is why i don’t leave the two of you alone with her anymore

user8 that pic of arthur and baby leclerc sleeping?! never wanted kids before but now

→ user9 like he was cute before but now he’s a dilf?

→ yn_leclerc i can’t believe i just had to read that 

→ arthur_leclerc you called me a dilf last night?

alexandrasaintmleux being aunty alex this past year has been the best part of my adult life 

→ yn_ln you can take her for the week if you like. she’s teething so…

→ user10 haha this is so real if you’re a mum 

pierregasly who let charles wear that goofy hat 

user11 omg charles and baby leclerc though 

arthur_leclerc why have you never shown me that photo of us sleeping! she’s literally smiling in her sleep from my cuddles! mon coeur! how could you keep this from me

arthur_leclerc what other photos have you been keeping from me

arthur_leclerc i’m not helping you make a second one until you show me all the photos 

→ yn_leclerc does that mean i get a break from you?

→ arthur_leclerc now people are going to think i mount you all the time

→ charles_leclerc ew why did you word it that way liked by yn_leclerc 

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tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

[temptress-writes]

📜Roll Call

A/N: my favourite, moody professor. feral. he's actually such a twat.

Content Warnings: coarse language

Sexual Content: Degradation, spitting, light bondage, spanking, slapping, age gap (10 years)

Word Count: 21.5k

Now, sit straight for Professor Styles.

***

Oxford University, 1992.

“Are you actually going to put the effort into my class or do I have to get you a tutor?”

It wasn’t what she was hoping for after handing in an assignment. She fought back the hot tears that sprung into her eyes and hoped he didn’t see how wet they were. She was exhausted, overworked to the bone trying to balance her studies and a part-time job.

He’d handed back the papers at the end of his class, and not long after escaped to his office down the hall. She’d chased after him, fumbling to keep up with him while her mind was jumbled over the failed grade. She’d done plenty of assignments with him and he’d passed every single one.

“I… I don’t understand. I studied the material—“

“Well, clearly you didn’t study it enough. The years are all mixed up. If you want to be the historian that you say you do, that usually comes with not mixing up dates. I mean,” he held the paper in front of him, reciting the words she’d written. “Julius Caesar was assassinated in March, 43 BC. Incorrect. He was assassinated in March, 44 BC. You should know this, it’s basic stuff.”

“I’m sorry, I swear it was a simple mistake—“

“Simple mistakes will cost you your grade. In fact, it has.”

Her heart dropped. “Is there anything I can do? I can fact-check and write it all over again. Please. I want to pass this paper. I—I need to pass.”

He was always this mean. This… hurtful. He had no leniency towards so much as a falsely placed comma, and she could see her incorrect information pained him deeply. He was right. It was basic stuff, and internally she knew it. However, she’d been slammed with studying and had simply made a mistake.

But he had no patience, no care if anyone in his class was overwhelmed with what he pushed onto them. He’d been given the same load when he himself was studying. In his view, being pushed to the brink was what made him great at what he did. So, he showed his students the same respect as his professors once had.

“What makes you think I have the time to give you special treatment, Violet? I have enough papers to grade as is, adding yours to the pile all because you made a mistake will only set me back.”

“It’s one paper.” She begged, near on in tears again. She eyed the plaque that had his name engraved in the gold, avoiding his eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, he eyed her through his wide-framed glasses. He tapped his fingers against his thighs, clad in soft beige plaid pants. Her eyes fluttered towards his sweater, the striped shirt underneath. She lost herself in the pattern as he mulled in his thoughts.

“I want it on my desk tomorrow morning by nine o’clock.”

She could have jumped at the relief she felt. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just this once. I won’t be so easy on you if it happens again.”

“It won’t happen again.” She grinned, grabbing the paper from his outstretched hand.

"Since you're rewriting it—do you want my honest opinion?"

"Of course." She whispered, always one to accept constructive criticism. She knew he wouldn't hold back and she mentally braced herself.

"I was bored reading your paper."

She gulped, blinking in surprise but he continued, not concerned about hurting her feelings. That wasn’t what he was there for—to teach her.

"I expected more from you, Violet. To be frank, I’m disappointed. There was no depth to it. No excitement. You did the very bare minimum. You gave me a bunch of facts, with some of the dates mixed around. What’s more, is that nothing about this piece made me want to read it. Tell me, what makes history so exciting?"

"Uh, I guess learning about—"

"The stories. The stories make history so exciting. Stories of the people, their daily lives, and the fight for survival and victory. History would be nothing without the stories it tells."

"Yeah, I understand, now. You're right."

"Of course I’m right. Retelling history has to be gripping. Write it again and pull me in."

His eyes scanned over his pager, alerting him that a staff meeting was about to commence. He stretched out his neck, grabbing his folder and eyeing her as he stood.

He hated the way his eyes observed her frame. Soft corduroy pants, a graphic t-shirt of a band he had never heard of. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail, half splayed over her shoulder as she twirled a lock between her fingers.

What he didn’t hate was how she feared him. Her eyes were wide with intimation as she stared at him. She was clearly so desperate to please him, not wanting to disappoint him or let him down.

She wanted to do this paper for him as much as she did for her grades. That’s why his tactic was to be cruel. To keep her at arm’s length, but also to keep his mind at bay from wandering into risky territory.

"Is there anything else?"

"Oh, that's all—"

"Great. I have somewhere to be."

The expectant look he gave her threw her off, but she very quickly gathered his meaning. She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and gave him a soft smile, hoping to lessen his harsh expression, yet all to no avail. His expression remained the same. She turned to leave, barely getting through the threshold before his voice reached out.

“Nine o’clock, Violet.”

“Yes, professor.”

She left his office, winding her way through campus, smiling at her classmates as she passed them. Oxford University. Rich with history and success. Abundant with opportunities fit for her dreams. It knew no bounds of imagination, with its old and infamous buildings and all the tales held within them.

There was something about history that made her feel alive. Reliving the past through depictions, art, studies, and discoveries. It was what drove her.

So when she’d landed her dream Ancient History class, taught by a very highly adored historian, Harry Styles, she knew that she had a lot to prove.

She raced back to her flat after a stop at the supermarket for brainfood and energy drinks. She got stuck in, completely starting again, double and triple-checking her facts to be sure.

Her Walkman kept her company, and she cycled through her favourite CDs. She even went above and beyond, adding small details to her work that weren’t overly relevant but she knew Professor Styles would enjoy reading.

As grumpy as he was, she wouldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for him. For his focused gaze, his deep voice as he stood before the class and taught, and how his dimples flexed when he was talking or hiding his irritation.

Oftentimes, she’d allow herself to admire him. To see him as a simple man. Rich in thought and graceful in the way he so confidently carried himself. He was effortlessly smart and passionate. Young but full of experience, which she found impressive amongst the older faculty.

In his early thirties, it was remarkable how far his career had soared already.

He was gorgeous. Poised and proper, with inklings of something more unhinged that she could sometimes spy through his carefully placed mask.

But then she’d shake her head and chastise herself for thinking such thoughts about someone so above her.

He was known to be a sucker for details and personality. He hated textbook answers, even though his whole career and teachings relied purely on facts. So, she spent extra time being a little more pedantic than usual.

She wanted to impress him. He was one of the most successful historians of his impressively ripe age of thirty-two. She’d never wanted to let him down and she had to prove to him that she had what it took to be in his class and be worthy of his teachings. It was what motivated her to piston through her assignment and perfect it.

She was going over her paper, adding some final flares when her flatmate knocked on her door.

“Vi, you’ve been working on that for hours.”

“I know,” she wrote furiously, so hyper-focused on the spread of papers and books in front of her, “it’s due tomorrow.”

“You need a break, come get a drink with us.”

Violet was that person that worked herself to the bone to maintain her grades. She was a people pleaser, and that trait stretched to her professors. She clung to every word they said and took every assignment seriously.

“Due tomorrow, Alice.” She repeated, barely blinking as she wrote and mouthed the words out to herself.

“Please take a break before you lose your mind.” Alice could sense her friend falling into that mindset where she neglected everything aside from whatever assignment was due.

Violet sighed, pausing her work and turning to face her. “Who’s we?”

She soon found herself dressed in an attire that completely contrasted her university jumper and sweat pants. A tiny green dress, and a little makeup applied to her tired face to make it seem as if she were actually getting any appropriate amount of sleep.

They made their way to the local bar they often frequented, meeting their group of friends who had already started on the drinks. It was then that she realised was extremely overworked and tired.

Her study load was never-ending, piling on top of her until she was suffocating. She had to take some time for herself tonight or she’d go crazy. Her mind was constantly whirring with assignments and tests and studying.

Her paper was mostly done. She’d have a few drinks and then head home to finish it off. It was only nine o’clock, and she figured an hour or two wouldn’t hurt.

By ten o’clock, she was feeling lighter. She stayed true to her word, only having two drinks before cutting herself off. She knew she’d have to leave sooner rather than later, but her friends were renewing the energy she had been lacking. She couldn’t leave the source of such liveliness.

There was one guy in the group who had been pining after her all year. They shared a few classes together, including Ancient History with Professor Styles. He had a bright smile and a sense of humour that she enjoyed.

“Hey, Vi.”

“Hi, Charlie, how are you?”

“I’m good, yourself?”

“Not bad.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled. “Can I get you a drink?”

He made her laugh all night, stuck to her side to enjoy her smile up close. They flirted, sending each other sultry gazes and warm, suggestive touches.

She couldn’t even deny that she wished it was someone else she’d rather be with tonight. A certain professor who wore glasses, sweaters, and displeased frowns. Perhaps that was why she threw herself head first into Charlie, wanting to forget about her sinful desires.

She felt warm and gooey, needing something to focus on other than that damn paper and the professor who was expecting it.

So, when he led her down the hallway, kissing her lips and her neck, she didn’t hesitate to get lost in him.

Too lost to see her professor sitting at the bar watching as she pulled Charlie into a supply closet.

“I have to say, Miss Walters. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

She huffed out a breath at his expression. It was like he was almost smug about it. About her having to rewrite a whole paper, work that would take weeks crammed into one night.

He was being truthful. The paper would have been difficult to complete in one night, he’d known as much when he told her that he wanted it the next morning. It was a test.

He didn’t want to be played around by his students. He was tough on them for a reason, and barely ever handed out second chances as he had done with her.

So, to know that she had been out last night when she should have been at home was an insult. She’d fluttered her eyelashes and taken advantage of the one sliver of good nature he had in him. And here she was, a pleased smile on her face with her paper before his very eyes.

She was wearing makeup as if to hide how tired she was. It wasn't because she had stayed up all night writing his paper, but he already knew that. He looked at the assignment dubiously, doubting its contents.

“Well, I did it. Correct dates and everything.”

“It’s longer.” He said, flipping through the pages and noticing that there were a few additional ones compared to the initial few she had handed in.

She absorbed her surroundings, his office was deep woods and dim lighting. His desk was large and cluttered with books and assignments to grade, and the room was framed with bookshelves, awards, diplomas, and expensive-looking knick

knacks.

“I took your advice and made it more exciting.”

He wanted to reprimand her. Tell her that adding extra fluff didn’t equal excitement or any weight to her assignment. But he swallowed his sour mood and nodded, placing the paper flat on the desk and leaning back in his chair.

His outfit was darker than his usual palette and style of light colours and unique sweaters. Instead, he donned a black shirt, a black suit jacket thrown over the top with charcoal pants. She could tell that he was in a bad mood, somehow even more irate than usual.

“I’ll review it over the weekend.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut. She very clearly wanted to say something and he raised a brow in encouragement.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the second chance. I hope you enjoy it.”

Enjoy it? He’d never had a student wish that he enjoyed something they handed in. They simply wanted to meet the criteria and pass.

She turned to leave, feeling overwhelmed by his scrutinising gaze. She’d handed in the assignment, and had a bit of time to cram in some study before her first class of the day, which just so happened to be with the grumpy professor.

"Violet."

"Yes?"

He tapped his neck, eyeing hers. "I want that covered before you come to my class."

Her cheeks flushed with heat, her hand coming up to cover the hickey on her neck. She thought she'd done a good enough job with her concealer this morning, but apparently not.

She didn't even have the nerve to reply before she left the room, utterly mortified.

He stared after her, wondering if he'd embarrassed her. Probably. He disregarded her feelings, viewing the mark on her neck as inappropriate. He wasn't sure why the hickey bothered him so much.

Perhaps it was because she'd clearly had a late night last night, and it wasn't with the company of his teachings. He watched her take that man into that supply closet and the evidence of that was staring him in the face.

He didn’t want to look at that fucking hickey on her neck because then he knew he’d have to face the reality of the fact that he was jealous.

Jealous of one of his other students putting his hands and mouth on her. His student in that tiny green dress, cheeks flushed with arousal and drink. He imagined it. How she'd taste on his tongue. The sounds she'd make. The way she felt.

He had felt pathetic about the whole thing, sitting at the bar all alone and sulking. He’d polished off his drink at the bar after watching it happen. He’d just as quickly gone to his cold and empty home to wallow with a bottle of tequila and some Aerosmith.

Fuck. He couldn’t think about this. About her soft thighs in her tiny skirt and her bouncy ponytail. Or the way she called him professor. It wasn’t right and he felt sick about it.

He checked his pager, seeing it blank and sighing. He needed something to do so he couldn’t keep thinking about her. And then she’d be staring at him during his class, her eyes wide and wandering.

Almost panicked about the prospect of being near her again, he picked up her paper and began reading it to distract himself.

Following a strenuous battle with her concealer and the sizeable hickey on her neck, Violet entered Professor Styles’ classroom. It was mostly covered, there wasn’t a lot she could do in the way of hiding it completely. However, in the back of her mind, she was perplexed that he found it his place to even say anything.

Surely he just wanted to mortify her. He had been a student once, he knew the means of getting lost in dark hallways with another warm and desperate body.

She spotted Charlie sitting in the center of the seats and he waved her over. She smiled, shaking her head. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him just yet, especially considering he was the cause of her marked neck.

She took her usual spot up front, always wanting to bathe in the professor’s teachings, and found herself lost if she was stuck in the middle of the seats.

Professor Styles wasn’t in class yet, and she took the time to prepare her notes in an organised spread on the desk in front of her. She didn’t even notice him silently enter, setting up at his desk with a look of disinterest.

Her body felt heated. Not the warm embarrassment of him pointing out her hickey, but because his gaze was on hers as he set down his satchel. She held his eyes, right until he looked away to retrieve the folders that held the material he needed for the class.

Decidedly ready, he stood at the center of his territory up front, his suit jacket parting as he slid his hands into his pockets. He eyed the class through his glasses, noting that no one had realised he’d entered the room yet. Except for her.

He sighed, wrinkling his nose before looking down at his oxfords. He cleared his throat, somehow garnering everyone’s attention in a split second. He leaned back against his desk.

“As you’re aware, I’m obligated to drag you on a class trip abroad in the coming weeks. I’ve heard your suggestions as you’ve not so subtly given them to me.” He eyed the mouthy students in question. “However, the board and I have discussed it and we’ve come to a decision.”

Students started chattering loudly, and Violet sent a friendly smile to her friend next to her but otherwise kept her attention on Professor Styles.

“Quiet, or you’ll be staying behind while I go on holiday by myself!”

His demand was heard loud and clear, and everyone became tight-lipped and watched him. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, already dreading the idea of this trip.

The university board had been grilling him about it, and he’d been pressured into making a decision that pleased them with ridiculously limited time to sort it out.

“Pompeii.” He said simply, letting it sink in for his students.

Violet felt a rush of excitement. Pompeii—preserved in Naples, Italy, was rich with history and had been on her bucket list for as long as she could remember.

It was a monumental part of history, and she could not wait to see it in its glory and stand where devastation rocked an ancient city so long ago.

The class talked loudly, bursting and bubbling with enthusiasm. Professor Styles remained unphased by it all, waiting until the chatter had died down before he spoke again.

“We’ll be staying in Naples, however, the focus of our trip will be Pompeii. This will be your final paper and will be half your grade. This isn’t a holiday or a time to slack off. You’re here in this room for a reason, that applies to this trip as well. Think about the history there. The people, the politics, the daily life. The power of nature and the terror that it entices.” He took a slow breath, as if bored or tired. Perhaps both. “It wasn’t my first choice, naturally. But seeing as it is one of the most famous natural disasters in ancient history, the board saw it fit to touch on, considering it differs from any other material we’ve studied so far.”

“Can’t we go to Paris instead, Professor Styles?” One of the girls at the back of the glass giggled. It was clear that the only reason she took this class was for someone nice to look at. “It’s the city of love.”

“Love?” He laughed but it was void of humour. “If you want love, you’re in the wrong place. Maybe if you spent less time daydreaming, and more time paying attention, you wouldn’t be failing my class.”

Violet laughed under her breath, doodling in her notebook. His eyes went to her at the sound, wondering if she found the girl's suggestion funny or his response.

She looked up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulder. He clenched his jaw and looked away, locating the documents that contained everything regarding the trip.

He handed piles to the desks in the front row, telling them to take one and pass it back. He stopped before her, placing the papers in her waiting hands and staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“See me after class.”

“Me?”

His voice was low and deep. “Yes, you.”

She was perplexed. See him after class for what? He said that he’d go over her paper during the weekend, so she doubted it would be about that.

Maybe he wanted to torment her about her neck some more. Really rub in the embarrassment and taunt her for it.

It was hard to focus during the whole class. She jotted down notes every now and again, but her mind was honed in on him. Even more so than usual. The authority in his tone as he told her to cover her neck, his confident stance, and the way his lips caressed words.

He rambled on about the trip, what to expect, and in turn what he was expecting from them. He adjusted his glasses, searching the student's expressions and finding her eyes. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek before looking back at his notes.

By the time class had ended, she had written down things she wasn’t paying attention to. She’d been paying attention to him. Only him. And she couldn’t even fool herself into her fascination with him strictly existing just because of his teachings. It was far past that now.

She gathered her things, the room emptying of students. She stood, her gaze falling to him, stood behind his desk organising his folders.

She approached his desk, standing before it. She noticed that his jaw clenched, looking up at her from the frame of his glasses and raising his brows.

"You wanted to see me?"

“I did.”

She waited as he righted his desk, ensuring everything was in order before he finally regarded her.

“Your paper. I want to talk to you about it.”

Her stomach dropped. “The paper I just handed in?”

What would he have to say about it considering it had only been mere hours since he’d received it? She felt a flash of irritation, wondering if she’d ever be able to please this man.

“I don’t have time this week, so it’ll have to be next Monday. You’re my last class so I’ll be able to give you all of my attention.”

She felt warm at his words. At the promise of having his full attention, her body was alive with need and desire. His eyes were so intense, deep, and thick with thoughts she could see the complexity of.

But as the foggy haze of her absurd fantasies cleared, she frowned. Monday? It was Thursday now. Why didn’t he bring this up closer to the time? Did he just want her to stew in her worry until Monday?

Surely he couldn’t have read her paper already. Maybe he’d read the first paragraph only to crumble it up and lob it into his trashcan.

“Is it that bad?”

He shot her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “Monday, Violet.”

As she left the classroom, completely vexed and anxious, Charlie caught up with her.

“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Who?” She felt like she was barely there as she navigated the old building toward her next class.

“Styles. I mean, that paper we just did, for example. He ignores all of my hard work and focuses on the shit I’m doing wrong.”

Violet shrugged, “I mean, isn’t that what makes him a great professor? He points out what you need to improve on to do better.”

“Whatever. I feel like there’s no winning with him. At least we have this trip. You and I can ditch the group and do our own sightseeing.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes sparkled at his suggestion. And maybe if she wasn’t so hung up on someone she had no business being hung up on, she’d reciprocate Charlie’s enthusiasm.

Monday. She’d be seeing her favourite, constantly disgruntled professor on Monday.

It wasn’t hard to keep herself distracted until then. She attended her classes, her study load growing as each one passed. Her flatmate held a party on Saturday night, in which she’d spent most of it pressed up against Charlie, however avoiding his advances of something more.

He was sweet and funny but he wasn’t what she wanted and she was just a fuck to him. She felt bad that she’d even let that night happen. She’d just needed to feel something, something that wasn’t the ever-pressing crush she had on her professor.

She was wrecked with intolerable thoughts about her assignment. Was he going to fail her again? Tell that she wasn’t cut out for his class that she’d battled so hard to get into?

By the time Monday came around, she was a nervous wreck. She settled herself into a private nook in the library, her Walkman on hand and her collection of her favourite CDs.

She read every single piece about Pompeii that she could find. She wanted to be even more prepared for the trip, and have a better understanding of what it might entail.

And maybe having more knowledge of it would impress her professor.

Her last class on Monday was with him. As she entered and took her usual seat, he was setting up his material, dressed in plaid pants and a cozy looking sweater.

He used the knuckle of his pointer finger to adjust his glasses and flipped a pen in his other hand, staring over his class agenda.

She just loved watching him. There was something in his mannerisms that was so fascinating. He was mesmerising in the way he carried himself. From his large hands, which she always stared at, to his ever-expressive eyes.

The first time she’d spotted the cross tattooed on his hand, she had to go into the bathroom after class and slip her hand between her legs to quell the dampness there.

With a deep sigh, he focused on the class and ran a hand through his curls, though they fell back into the middle parting as always.

He seemed even more put off today. He spent most of his time voicing more details about the trip to Naples and running through multiple checklists before handing them out.

Where he would usually throw her a glance, he didn’t even look at her today. Not once. His seemingly permanent frown was set deeper.

Instead of his usual drabble, he had some poor soul at the front of the class read out the daily lives of those who lived in Pompeii before its demise.

She jotted down notes, but her eyes kept flickering to where he sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as if he were being read a lullaby.

As class came to a close, he stood, telling everyone to start preparing for the trip.

“Please refer to the list I handed out, and if you have any questions…” He twisted his lips, clasping his ringed fingers together. “Don’t.”

Her nerves were running haywire, sending electric currents through every part of her body as she stood with her bag and began to approach his desk. He was busying himself with the sprawl of clutter on the expanse of the aged wood.

She stood before it, and he looked up briefly before gathering a stack of papers and sliding them carefully into his satchel.

"Not here." His voice was so low that she felt it swirl in her ears like a thick, dreamy fog.

She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling intimidated to be alone with him again. Until a student approached the desk and asked for his aid on a project, and all she could do was stand there and wait.

"I just don't know how to make the connection." The student said.

He leaned over, staring at the paper. He nodded and then looked at Violet, "go and wait in my office. I'll only be a moment."

She felt her heart drop to her stomach at the authority in his tone. He looked at her for a second before focusing on the student who needed his help.

She tried to brush off her nerves as she arrived at his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk. She had no idea what was about to happen, but since it was regarding her assignment, she was beside herself with anxiety.

He stepped into his office with a sigh, running his hands along his thighs before taking a seat. He sifted through the drawer in his desk, taking out her assignment and reading over it.

“I’ve read your paper.” His voice was void of any emotion and it made her feel uneasy.

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she picked at the hem of her dress and avoided his eyes. He held up her assignment and stared at it.

“Violet… this is one of the best things a student has ever handed in to me.”

She took in a sharp breath, looking at him with wide eyes. She almost didn’t want to believe him. Or what was more believable was that he’d be jesting and then fail her. This wasn’t like the usual grumpy professor that she knew and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“I—Thank you, professor.”

“I could tell that it had potential when you handed it in. I’ve written some notes for you, but I wanted to go through them with you now.”

This was unheard of. He graded papers, jotted down brief notes behind his reasoning, and moved on. But this… this was beyond anything he’d ever done.

He was known for being insufferably unfair to his students. Yet he’d given her a second chance, and was now praising her work and wanted to express why.

“Okay.” She nodded, adjusting in her seat and trying to calm down her racing heart.

“Overall, it’s a well-thought-out paper. You have complete control of each point made and where your sources come from without sounding too recited. There are facts here, and you’ve shown how the influence that ancient Rome had in its prime is perceived nowadays… impressively. You’ve portrayed its people and politics really well.”

“Thank you.” She was struggling to believe this was actually happening.

“This is why I made you redo it. What you initially handed in was bland. But this is… you. Your authentic self and thoughts.” He gestured to the paper. “You’re passionate, and I can feel that when I read it. You’ve taken every aspect of what makes ancient history so fascinating and made it your own.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now.”

There was a flash of emotion across his face, his dimple appearing ever so slightly with a quirk of his lips. “Take my praise. I don’t give it often.”

“Wow, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His tone was suddenly warm, and his gaze brushed her neck for a second before finding her eyes once more.

“Professional opinion aside,” she toyed with the question on her tongue, feeling overwhelmed, “did you enjoy it?”

There it was again. Her question made his brow furrow in thought. He rarely enjoyed reading his student's work. Oftentimes, he was too preoccupied doing his job to feel any sense of enjoyment.

Why was it so important to her that he enjoyed it? He’d praised her work, and she wanted to know if he relished in reading it.

No one was as surprised as him when he found himself nodding slowly. “I did, actually. I like that it kept me intrigued and that I could sense how deeply you feel for the past.”

She wasn’t in his class for the wrong reasons, like he could see a lot of his students were. Some weren’t interested in anything past staring at him for an hour and then bullshitting their way through every paper they had to write. But she had a reason to be there, a drive to explore the past.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

Her expression was so burning and focused on him that he felt it in his gut. He remembered how she looked in that guy's arms and he swallowed, wondering if she would be just as soft in his.

He cleared his throat, shaking off the fog of her. She crossed one leg over the other and he blinked at the sight of more skin exposed under that sweet little dress she was in.

She released a breath as he stood, relieved that this whole interaction was one of positivity. She was elated that he had enjoyed her work, and moreover was elated that he had praised her as he did.

But as he stood, he rounded his desk and went behind her before he closed the door to his office.

She felt a wave of adrenaline wash over her, being alone with him. She questioned if he was even allowed to close the door, but she didn’t want to stop it from happening.

She watched as he walked in front of her, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed.

“Why history?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, everyone has a reason for their majors. Whether you’re in it for archiving, research, or curating, you’ve got a reason for choosing history. My question is why.”

She straightened under his scrutinising gaze. He adjusted his glasses before his hands rested back on the desk, curling around the lip of it. She stared at his rings, mesmerised.

“I find it fascinating to observe how humanity has changed, to see how we’ve improved and what we still need to work on. I like studying the past, preserving the stories, the art, the structures they left for us to see their legacy.”

He was floored, although his expression remained a trained unreadable one. To meet someone with these values wasn’t uncommon. However, she had a way with words that he adored.

Like every aspect of his own passion was laid out on her tongue and given back to him in a gentle vocal caress.

“So, you’re just as intrigued by their way of life as well as learning from their mistakes?”

“In fewer words, yes.”

“You’re in it for the right reasons.”

“Are there any wrong reasons?” She frowned.

“Greed.” He said simply, not giving any clarification.

“Why do you teach?”

He tilted his head, his hands smoothing down his strong thighs. “I have a lot of experience in the field, as you may know. I wanted to extend that knowledge to people with the kind of drive I admire. The lust for research and preserving history. I’m good at it, and I have a lot to give you so that you can be just as good.”

His choice of words turned her mouth dry. I have a lot to give you. She knew he meant a lot of his wisdom and knowledge, but his eyes were sparkling with something she couldn’t decipher.

“I love your class.”

“Is that so? Is that why you asked if I enjoyed your paper?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “Are you trying to impress me?”

She smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. I like the assignments you give us and the way you teach. It’s informative and exciting at the same time.”

“I like that,” he said, mulling deep in his thoughts, “it’s a nice change. To have someone care about their studies as opposed to struggle through them.”

“Oh, the struggle is still there.” She laughed and she spied a hint of a smile teasing his lips before he could disguise it.

He took a step forward and her eyes followed as he gauged how close he wanted to get. She gripped the arms of the chair as he stood in front of her, a jeweled hand reaching out to brush a few strands of her hair away from her face.

She hoped he couldn’t tell how hard she was shaking. Their eyes didn’t leave one another as his fingers brushed softly down, moving her hair away from her shoulder so he could look at her neck before he retracted all touch completely.

“You covered it.” He mumbled, his voice so low that she thought she imagined it.

“I did.”

“Good gi—“ He cleared his throat loudly. “Good. It’s not professional.”

Her brows raised at his almost slip up. She wondered if he was going to say exactly what she thought he was. And she almost begged him to call her that. Just once. Just so that she could go home and think about it in the shower, alone with nothing but the memory of him.

He leaned against his desk again, his gaze searing. She couldn’t breathe and pressed her thighs together to dull the ache his touch had left.

“Do you want to impress me, Violet?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’m going to give you some extra work to do for me.”

For me. Her eyes fluttered. “You are?”

“I am.” His voice was slow, dreamy. “For my enjoyment, and your benefit.”

This, he thought, is where he should stop. He could feel the vapour of arousal lick at him in warm swirls. The way she was looking at him had him near crumbling. So innocent and intrigued by the prospect of impressing him. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself again. From going too far.

“My benefit?”

“Yes. I’ll reward you, of course.”

“What kind of reward?”

“Whatever the teacher’s pet wants.”

Her entire body became warm and gooey, though her nerves did not settle. Instead, they amplified the longer he simply stared at her, unwavering.

“What does this extra work entail, Professor?”

He didn’t smile—although he wanted to, and straightened. He rounded his desk, producing a small stack of papers, the top one decorated with his sprawl. He walked back over, handing it to her.

He looked her in the eye, his face serious. “Only do what you want to do. Extra work and rewards. Do you understand?”

“Okay.” She said simply, feeling overwhelmed and heated. As if he had read her mind, viewed her deepest, darkest fantasy of being his pet and making it a reality. Her mind was buzzing with what extra work he’d have her doing.

“There are only a few things there.” He nodded to the papers. “Some extra assignments if you can do them as well as this one. Also, some preparation for the class trip if you’re up for it.”

She scanned through the list, seeing the assignment topics from subjects he’d vaguely taught them about. She felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of doing more for him.

“And my reward…?”

His lips twitched like he was amused. “Extra credit, of course.”

She felt a pang of disappointment. But then what else was he meant to offer her? She wasn’t about to turn town extra credit or the chance to impress him. She was already on his radar as someone he could count on. The thought made her all giddy and warm inside.

“I’m very grateful, professor.”

“You have potential. As you finish each one, come and see me.”

“Thank you, I will.” She nodded. She’d try her absolute hardest to complete them, and as he said, only the ones she wanted to. She eyed the list again.

He stepped forward once more, and she braced herself for the contact again. She was still spiraling from when he touched her. Her cheek still tingled from his fingers and she felt desperate to have that feeling renewed.

But then someone knocked on the door once before entering. “Hey, Harry, I—oh. Hello.”

Another faculty member she recognised from the economics department. Her cheeks flushed as he eyed her before looking at the grumpy professor in front of her.

Harry. She’d always known his name, but hearing someone actually call him by his first name made him seem more… real. Less like a history robot and more like the man she fantasised about.

“Forgive me.” He cringed, “I didn’t know you had company.”

“That’s generally why you knock.” Professor Styles grumbled, however checking his watch with a sigh.

“I did—"

“Get started on those, Miss Walters. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”

Blushing, she stood and ducked her head, leaving the room hastily. The list was crumpled in her fist as she made her way home. Alice was ready to ask her about her day, and they quickly got distracted watching reruns of some old sitcom. But the list he’d given her stayed on the forefront of her mind.

And as the week dragged on, she made her way through the few assignments he’d given her. They weren’t full-length assignments and differed heavily from the kind he handed out to the whole class, as he’d stated. She found them quite easy, the basis of them fitted her strengths.

Had he tailored these to her? Had he enjoyed her work so much that he wanted more? It was like he’d hand-picked his favourite topics they’d briefly covered in class and was now asking her to do what she pleased with them.

She spent all of her time between classes in the huge library. It was undoubtedly her favourite section of Oxford, and she spent many hours getting lost in the ornate building, the old books, and the history they shared.

She sat at one of the aged desks, a sprawl of books in front of her as she finished up her second extra assignment. She took on his advice. She double-checked her facts, and added drabble that made the paper more exciting and gripping to the reader. Him.

She’d even gotten a head start on the third assignment he’d given her. Although she knew she’d have to spend more time locating sources for the topic, she figured it would look good if he saw that she’d started it. All she wanted was to impress him. To prove herself. She knew she had the talent, and he was fully appreciating it.

As her day wrapped up, she found herself swirling through the halls towards his office, a completed assignment in hand. Considering their class trip was only in a matter of days, she figured he’d be too busy to see her.

She approached the oak door and knocked, hearing his voice on the other side telling her to come in.

She opened the door, and his eyes fell on her immediately. On her pretty yellow dress and the hem that fell to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was in its usual ponytail held together with a pale blue scrunchie. He liked watching it swish through the air as she walked.

“Hi,” she said softly, while his expression was hard. “I finished another assignment. Do you have time?”

Technically? No. He had a pressing amount of things to grade. But the hope on her face and the way she looked so fucking pretty made it impossible for him to turn her away.

He moved his work aside, clearing his mind so that she was the only thing on it. “Take a seat.”

She took a deep breath and entered the room fully, leaving the door open which was a detail he didn’t miss. She placed the assignment in his hand and he felt the urge to read it immediately. To be wrapped up in her thoughts.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” His voice rolled through her ears like a steady stream tumbling over smooth rocks.

“I felt inspired.”

“By what?” He tilted his head.

“Not what,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Who.”

A sliver of a smile touched his lips before it was gone without a trace. “Okay, then. Who?”

“You.”

“Me.” He parroted as if he didn’t believe her.

“You always have inspired me, but hearing what drives you and how you came to teach made me want to work harder. To give history as much as you’ve given it.”

He felt something warm him. He was almost bashful at her praise, where usually it would inflame his ego. But coming from her, from her earnest and sweet heart. It was different.

“I’m glad you find my teachings useful.”

“They really helped with this paper.”

“How did you find it?”

She mulled over her thoughts. Endearing. Intriguing. Enriching. “The perfect amount of challenging. It made me think but my thoughts came naturally.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips. “I knew you’d apply all that I’ve taught you and pull through.”

“And I hope you enjoy it as much as my last one.”

“I’m sure I will. Come and see me tomorrow after your last class and I’ll give you my notes.”

She liked the idea of hearing his musings on her own work. He saw her potential and her drive. Enjoyed what she handed in and told her how much and why.

“Tomorrow.” She smiled a little, standing and slinging her bag up to her shoulder. “I can’t wait.”

There was something in her tone at the sentiment. The hue of it. A soft, wispy colour as pretty as her dress. He wondered if it was flirtation but quickly threw the idea aside.

He couldn’t wish for such things with his student, no matter what signals she sent him. But she was his little teacher’s pet now, and something about having that claim on her was driving him mad.

After a grueling study session in her well-loved nook of the library, she went home to pack for the trip to Naples. There was a checklist criteria for what to bring and what to leave behind.

She threw some of her favourite summer dresses into her suitcase, a few pairs of shoes, and a few extra outfits of baggy jeans and band t-shirts.

She had class with Professor Styles the next day, in which he’d handed out light material in preparation for the trip. Essential knowledge and ground rules.

It seemed he viewed the whole ordeal as a burden. An annoyance. He was taking twenty students away, with only one other member of the faculty joining to help him out. A teacher, who happened to be from Naples, would be staying with their family between class adventures.

He’d rather be sunbathing in Naples than traipsing around ancient ruins with students he despised. Mostly.

He didn’t acknowledge her for the whole lecture, save an initial glance as she’d taken her usual seat. But he’d almost switch off any form of warmth he had towards her when they were in the class environment.

He was his usual grumpy self, impatient with everyone and snapping at anyone who was talking when he was.

She had a free period to end her day, and she used it to finish up some assignments for her other classes as well as work on one of the extra ones he had given her. It was about half done, but she knew to prioritise her other class papers over this one.

She made her way to his office again, and this time it somehow meant more. She felt the weight of entering his space, and it was because of how he seemed to change around her.

That icy demeanour of him melted just enough for her to see the genuine man that lay beneath it.

She knocked, waiting for him to tell her to enter before opening the door. His outfit palette today was soft browns and beige, his glasses perched on his nose while his eyes gleamed behind them.

He looked at her briefly before nodding to the seat and turning back to his work, his expensive ballpoint pen twirling between his fingers. She stared at the bright yellow pen with a smile, noting how it was the exact opposite of his mood; bright, sunny, and cheerful.

She sat in the chair and realised that she felt less and less nervous with every moment she spent alone with him. She’d never felt uncomfortable around him per se, but his intimidating nature was a constant reminder that she couldn’t want him. Shouldn’t want him. But she did.

His jaw worked on a piece of gum, and he frowned as he adjusted his glasses and continued writing on whatever he was working on.

She decided to get comfortable, settling deeper into the chair, figuring he was deeply enthralled with his work. She eyed the bookshelf to her left and scanned his personal library.

She didn’t even realise that he was trying to get her attention, too focused on his book collection, searching for clues as to who he was. Who he was outside of this office, outside of his profession.

“Violet?”

“Hm?” She turned to face him.

He retrieved her assignment from under a stack of other ones he was grading. “I’m wondering why every assignment you’ve given me hasn’t been as good as these last few.”

Oh. Her brows raised. It was a compliment to her most recent work while putting down everything else she’d given him prior to these. She’d always had the drive and passion, but it was evident that something had changed.

“I guess I just felt more inspired. I’ve enjoyed these topics a lot and felt compelled to do them well.” She frowned. “I thought I’d done well with every other assignment, though.”

“You did—obviously, as I passed you. You clearly didn’t do them as well, however, hence my praise.”

“That’s very nice to hear, especially from you.”

His lips quirked at her sheer and utter adoration for him. She valued what he had to say, looked up to him, and the influence he’d had in the younger demographic of Ancient History.

“Well, you deserve it. You work hard, and you’re driven by your passion. That’s rare to come by.”

She could only imagine what he himself was like as a student however many years ago. Like her, he’d studied at Oxford, and after not too long in the field, had felt the need to come back but as part of the faculty.

“Thank you.” She replied, unsure of what else to say. She felt like she was being pinned to her seat by his searing gaze and she wriggled in it, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Help me with this itinerary for the trip.”

“The itinerary?”

“It’s mostly done. There’s a bunch of books and brochures here, if you see anything you’d particularly like to do, add it to the timesheet and make it work.”

She gawked at him like he’d grown three heads. Her? Help him with the itinerary for the class trip?

“Isn’t this your job?” She felt brave enough to ask. “Like, am I allowed to be doing this?”

“Yes it is, and yes you are.” His tone was so final that she didn’t feel a ribbon of unease lace through her mind.

She scooted forward so that she could use the desk, while he sat at the other side and graded papers. She scanned through the travel brochures and circled things she thought could be educationally beneficial, and eventually started going through the itinerary.

She loved planning and organising, and she wondered if he knew that. Maybe he’d picked up on how pedantic she was about her own class planners and thought this little job would be fun for her. He wasn’t even marginally wrong.

Over her work, she risked quick glances at him. Ones that dared to adventure over his posture, his stern, and concentrated expression. The way he chewed on the tip of his pen, how he would take off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He was so endearing and she found herself watching him more and more, getting lost in how effortlessly beautiful he was.

He was still grouchy and short with her when she asked questions, and she had smiled whenever he’d huff and grumble under his breath at whatever he was grading.

“You seem particularly melancholy today.” She observed softly, and his eyes flashed to hers before he placed his pen down and laced his fingers together, leaning forward on the desk.

“Am I always melancholy?”

“I think so.”

“And you’re always vibrant.”

As bad as his mood appeared, he seemed to enjoy her company.

She mulled over the itinerary that he’d drafted, editing bits here and there. She had a sprawl of books on his desk, scanning through top tourist spots and mapping out the best walking routes.

There was a moment where he took a break, stretching his arms high over his head with a soft groan she almost missed. She hadn’t even realised that she was looking at him, enamoured and intrigued by his display of exhaustion when he always seemed so energised.

“Stop staring.” He stared at her over the frame of his glasses, his head tilted down.

She blushed, looking down at the itinerary. “I’m not.”

“I saw you.”

“Sorry.”

He watched as she focused a little too hard on a not-so-interesting book and he smiled. He’d called her out, as if he hadn’t been staring at her, too.

She hadn’t realised the time, unknowingly lost in her work for almost two hours. His pager beeped and he checked it, flipping his pen between his fingers as he read.

He reached over, grabbing the itinerary, pretty much complete, and nodding as he scanned it. He could see the depth and excitement that she had added to it and he suppressed a smile.

“I’ll go over this tonight.”

“I added a few different things there. Restaurants, as well as some historical sights and important cultural landmarks.”

He nodded, impressed. “Very good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“As for the next assignment, I want that tomorrow.”

“We fly to Naples tomorrow.” She frowned,

“I know.”

His icy and cold guise returned. He was her professor demanding something, and she could hardly turn him down. The paper was half done and lucky for her, it wouldn’t be difficult to complete.

“Okay.” She nodded, standing and gathering her things. “It’ll be all yours tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond, turning back to his work. She’d learned to decipher his cues, and took his silence as her own time to leave. She had a lot to do before their trip and she took one last glance at his solemn expression before leaving.

As she closed the door, his eyes went up to the door. Then to the chair where she’d been sitting. His office now felt like a void of who he wanted to be. Influential, important, inspiring. All things that he rarely felt while he was stuck in an old classroom all day.

But then students like her came along. The ones alight with wonder and fascination that wanted to have his success touch them. They weren’t in his class simply because it was a requirement. They were in his class because they were eager to harbour influence of their own.

She spent all night going over her pack list, finalising her outfits and essentials for a couple of nights away. She dotted back to her paper often, wanting to have it complete. She struggled to wrap up her conclusion, and no later fell asleep on her bed, surrounded by her books and topic materials.

Her alarm went off, shrilling deep in her skull. She groaned, killing the sound and stretching. Checking the time, she noted that she only had a matter of hours until she needed to be at Heathrow airport.

She was in some type of trance as she got herself ready. She showered, ate a light breakfast, and readied her luggage. At the last minute, she grabbed the assignment that needed to be done and shoved it into her purse.

After securing a seat on the train, she got to work on it. Tossing back and forth between an abundance of different conclusions. Why did preservation matter? Why were artifacts archived how they were? How were stories of history pieced together?

All such basic questions to her whirring mind, and yet she struggled to encapsulate her thoughts in the unique way that she knew he loved. With a sigh, she put it away. She’d finish it on the flight.

After she arrived at the airport, she headed towards check-in, her small turquoise suitcase in tow. That's when she saw him, and she stopped dead in the hustle of travelers.

She had never seen him so paired back. He was dressed far more casual than his dress pants and sweaters and suits. But he was no less fashionable. She eyed his black, loose fitted pants, the worn vans on his feet, and yellow-stained sunglasses. As loose as his pants were, his t-shirt was anything but. A graphic white one that hugged him and left little to one's imagination.

And tattoos. Lots of them.

She'd only ever seen the cross on his hand and the inklings of something on his wrist. But she could see that his full arm was covered with them. Smatterings of ink, personal depictions, and dedications.

The ship on his upper arm rippled as his muscles flexed, his designer suitcase in his hand.

He looked grumpy, like always. However, the yellow sunnies over his eyes concealed some of his irritation.

His eyes found hers and he peered at her as she approached. She smiled, shy and suddenly nervous about this trip, and moreover, him.

She noticed that the rest of her class was already present, and Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he greeted her. Professor Styles' mouth twisted at the physical touch between the two before clearing his throat.

No one was paying attention until he stuck his fingers into his mouth and released an ear-piercing whistle, quieting down and facing him.

“Roll call. Be quiet.”

It took some time for every student to settle down, far too excited and chatty to keep quiet enough for him to call out everyone's name to confirm their presence.

As he called out Violet’s name, she raised her hand and watched his expression sour at Charlie's arm still wrapped around her.

Not wanting to be inappropriate, she slowly stepped away from Charlie, who was far too concerned with scoping out the other girls who were around.

They gathered, waiting in line to check in per Professor Styles’ instructions. He handed out the finalised itinerary that they had both worked on, and now everyone had their own copies. She wanted to approach him, but he was busy keeping everyone organised while the other teacher talked at the front desk.

It wasn’t until they were on air side, that he found her in line for coffee and pursed his lips.

“Did you finish the assignment?”

“Almost.”

He raised a brow, his arms crossed and accentuating his muscles and how inked they were. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost.” She affirmed, not missing his look of surprise at her tone, but she continued. “I’ll finish it on the flight.”

“We’ll be in the sky for five hours, Violet. I expect it to be done, so don’t get distracted.”

She almost snorted. What could possibly distract her on a flight? And right on cue, Charlie popped up next to her with a cheeky grin.

“How’s it hangin’, sir?” His grin widened as he stared at their disgruntled professor.

“Fine.” He grumbled, staring Charlie down before looking at Violet. “I want it before we land.”

As he sauntered off, Charlie released a sharp breath. “You’d think he’d crack a smile considering the fact that we’re going on holiday.”

“Of course, you’d see this as a holiday.”

“I heard our hotel has a pool.” He bumped his hip against hers.

She gave him a fake smile, worming out of his hold. “Can’t wait.”

Half way through the flight, she’d found herself polishing off her paper, just how he ordered. The conclusion was strong and unwavering, her skill and passion shining through each word.

She’d managed to avoid sitting next to Charlie, instead, she was next to two girls she enjoyed talking to, although they were a bit quiet during class and outside of it, it was so different. Everyone seemed to busy themselves with studying the itinerary for the trip, bubbling with excitement.

She read over her paper twice, thoroughly proud of it, and she couldn’t wait to have her favourite professor read it. She knew he was a few rows back, and stood, remembering that he wanted it before they landed.

Standing with a stretch, she made her way towards the back, scanning the faces for his, and finding those expressive eyes almost immediately. He was sitting alone in a row of three seats, and she wondered if he’d just gotten lucky or paid for three tickets.

His attention had been on a book before he’d found her eyes. She didn’t get the chance to study the cover of it before he was tucking it away and staring up at her expectably as she came to a halt by his row.

“Yes?”

She held up the completed paper with a look of triumph. “It’s done.”

He felt at odd sensation of pride wash over him. To be fair, he had given her quite a lot to do. And for her to finish it within such a small frame of time, while maintaining the immaculate value of her work, was an incredible feat.

So, he actually smiled. It was small but big enough that his dimples indented his cheeks a little.

“Attagirl. I knew you could do it.”

Her cheeks flushed at his praise and his smile. Two glimmeringly beautiful facets of him that she’d never seen, especially the latter. Fuck, his smile. So soft and serene and dreamy. It was verging on heartbreaking that he didn’t wear it more.

“I hope it’s good.”

“Knowing you… it will be.”

“You’re too kind.” She said bashfully.

He flipped through the assignment, nodding his head with pursed lips. He opened his mouth to say something, gesturing to the empty seat next to him before the sound that accompanied the lighting of the seatbelt signal interrupted him.

He sighed, adjusting his glasses before buckling up. “You better get back to your seat.”

She nodded, unaware that it took everything within him to not invite her to sit on his lap.

They landed in Naples in the early hours of the afternoon, and were shuffled onto a waiting bus towards their first destination of the trip. Professor Styles had done a roll call and had already lost all patience with the loud group he was stuck with.

Their luggage was sent to their hotel, where they’d be turning in after their activities. They were given a tour of the huge city. The driver pointed out landmarks as they passed them.

The expanse of the ocean was pristine cerulean, invitingly crisp, the shore framed with exquisite buildings that crawled up the steep cliffsides. It was bright. Awash with blues and yellows and pinks and reds. Hues that depicted such a lively city so well.

Violet practically had her face pressed up against her window in the bus, admiring how glorious it was. It was densely packed with culture and entertainment and history. She was itching to get out and explore, smell the fresh air and taste the experiences on her tongue.

Their first tourist spot was the National Archaeological Museum. Professor Styles separated his students into two groups, one with him, and one with the other teacher.

To her delight, she was with him, and by the look in his eyes, he was just as happy about it. Maybe he even planned it that way. What he didn’t plan on, however, was Charlie sneaking into his group so that he could be with Violet. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the flash of irritation that almost blinded him.

The museum was phenomenal. Showcasing historical artefacts that had been unearthed by many. There was an abundance of exhibitions, which they were led through by their professor.

She took photos on her disposable camera, one of which had him in the frame, and she wouldn’t realise until she got her film developed.

Following the tour of the largest part of the museum, he turned to face the group. He had noticed Charlie being a nuisance, especially towards Violet and he made a point to ask her about it if he got her alone. He cleared his mind, trying to remain professional but struggling when she was staring at him like she was.

“Archaeologists and historians work together to teach the world about history. About daily lives, historical events, and structures. They excavate the history, and we tell its story. I hope you all feel inspired by what we’ve seen today because I want you to choose a piece and include it in your assignment.”

The group murmured, gathering their notebooks and fluttering around the exhibitions, attempting to find one that could merge in with the topic seamlessly.

Violet found herself on the second floor of the impressive building, completely enamoured with how beautiful it all was. Rich with history and chronicles of the past.

She found a detailed model of what Pompeii had been in its prime. Detailed, intricate and precise. Her eyes wandered the tiny streets where people walked thousands of years ago.

It changed her perspective, seeing it all laid out in front of her gave it so much more weight in her heart. She felt the passion and interest wrap warmly around her like how the Italian sun had kissed her skin; new, inviting, and blissful.

She took a few pictures of it, wanting something to refer back to just in case. As she stared through the lens, she felt a presence behind her. Her professor, stood tall and intimidating, though his expression was composed yet warm.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” He nodded towards the model.

“It’s amazing.” She breathed, sharply aware of him standing next to her.

His shoulder brushed hers and she froze. She wanted his touch. Wanted him to out his hands on her and praise her. She hadn’t stopped thinking about when he reached out and brushed her hair away in his office.

“Is he bothering you?”

It appeared that their minds were in two separate places. Her, desperate for his attention, and him, desperate to keep Charlie’s attention off of her.

“Who—Charlie?”

“Because if he is,” he continued, frowning. “He can do his assignment back home.”

And perhaps knowing that she and Charlie shared a night together, sending him away wouldn’t be strictly for her benefit. He felt protective over her, and yeah, he was jealous. He wanted her and he hated to admit it. But seeing her here, in this city, in this room, felt like the final nail in the coffin.

“It’s fine, I can handle him.”

If only she knew how much he saw the depth in that statement.

“Okay, just let me know.”

“Why?” She was perplexed. His tone was almost… territorial. It was more than a teacher protecting his student.

“Because I want to take care of you.”

Her eyes fluttered as they found his, and she felt a rush of arousal spark between her legs at the sheer hunger on his face and in his tone. Fuck. This couldn’t happen. He was her professor.

This was far from appropriate but the way he was looking at her like he wanted to devour and savour her at the same time was driving her wild.

She didn’t know how to respond, but let him take her hand and lead her towards some shelves in the back of the room. They housed artifacts from Pompeii, preserved from excavation sites.

She barely had a chance to look before he was leading her on towards the Gabinetto Segreto. She frowned, halting.

“What is this?”

“My favourite exhibition.” His eyes told her nothing but mischief, and he made sure the coast was clear before ushering her in.

She was taken aback. His favourite exhibition threw all inhibition out of their minds. Sexually graphic paintings, carvings, molds, and statues. Incredibly erotic and lewd.

He watched her in the room, thankfully empty of any other museum visitors. She approached a particularly sensual painting, framed in deep marble, a woman on top of a man, both in seated positions.

“What do you think?” He asked her, his veins thrumming with life and excitement.

Her cheeks were warm, and she was very aware of his gaze on her in the room full of sexual depictions. “I think… people have always had fascinations about bodies. About sex. It’s humanising to see it depicted so early in human civilisation.”

Was it normal for that to turn him on so much? She was clearly feeling the intensity of the room and yet was in her mind enough to give him an answer that reflected her passion for his class.

“Mm.. and how does it make you feel?” His voice was so low as he came to stand behind her.

“Feel?”

“To be surrounded by ancient erotic art. How does it make you feel?”

She let out a shaky sigh, unsure of how to answer. She felt lightheaded and heated and knew the only way to quell it was to have some attention between her legs.

He picked up on her silence, thinking maybe she couldn’t gauge what kind of response he was wanting. “I’ll start. It makes me feel like recreating every piece of art in here.”

Her eyes widened at his confession, feeling so shocked that he would go in that direction but so pleased that he did. Was he just as deep in lust for her as she was for him?

“Me too.” She breathed out, and he swore lowly.

“These were all excavated from Pompeii and Herculaneum. They were kept in brothels, homes—anywhere, really. They had an appreciation for erotica and displaying it. So they allotted this space in the museum. For a time, they only allowed men to come in here and view it.”

She could listen to him talk for hours, and then she realised that she did. And loved every millisecond of it. How his lips caressed words, how he spoke a few octaves lower than most, but it was still a milky and warm voice that rang through her ears.

“Lucky me.” She smiled. He wondered how she truly felt. Aside from the obvious, she found it almost funny to think that people thousands of years ago were fortifying lands and yet found a common ground in sexual art.

He huffed out a laugh and her heart just about stopped at the noise. “Not as lucky as whoever had this hanging on their wall.”

He pointed to a large painting of a couple embracing, his skin golden against the woman’s fair skin. The preservation was amazing, aside from slight erosion of the colour and some cracks near the bottom.

“It’s very intimate.” She observed. It was—like everything else in the room—sexual. But the strokes of paint were soft, their hold on each other even more so. Love. Care.

He wanted to know if someone had held her like that. So gentle, savouring every inch of skin. Worshiping her like the piece of art that she was.

After a filling dinner at a nearby restaurant, they all found themselves at their hotel. They gathered their room keys, and each partnered up to share a room for the trip. As Violet and her professor were the last two standing in the lobby, they eyed each other awkwardly.

“This has to be a mistake.” He frowned, staring at the concierge. The other teacher was staying close by with family. Harry was sure that he’d requested his own room in the hotel. This couldn’t be happening. “Is there another room available?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He sighed, clenching his jaw. He wanted to hole up in his room and order expensive wine and listen to music. Now he had to face the reality that he’d be sharing a room. With her. Maybe he’d sleep out in the hallway.

Instead of making a scene and taking out his frustration onto the person at reception, he stared at Violet, whose eyes were wide with what appeared to be apprehension.

“I can find another hotel to stay at.” He said lowly to her.

“With the number of people you’re caring for, I would advise against that, Sir. The nearest hotels are also fully booked.”

Harry glared at the concierge. The concept of staying in the same room as one of his students was a harsh pill to swallow. A jarring sensation. He was being faced with one of his deepest fantasies but now all he felt was that he was a creep.

He sighed, and met her eyes. “Come on.”

She blinked away her surprise and followed him. She could see how tense he was as his knuckle jabbed the button to call the elevator. She bit her lip and stared at him.

“Professor—”

“I swear to you I demanded a separate room.”

She frowned, seeing the worry in his eyes. He thought she saw this as something he had planned out. He felt sick about it.

“It’s out of your control. They clearly messed up the bookings, it’s fine.” She assured him, although her nerves were shooting through the roof. She had no idea how the night was going to go, or the rest of this trip, for that matter.

They arrived at their room and he took a deep breath before opening it. It was lavish, thought she expected him to book nothing less. A small seating and kitchen area, and a set of double doors that must have led off to the bedroom.

He located his duffel bag dropped off by the staff and rummaged through it. “I’ll take the couch.”

She stood awkwardly in the room. “Oh, okay.”

He took his toiletry bag, sauntering into the en suite in the bedroom. “Just gonna shower.”

Her eyes followed him, his tense body language putting her on edge. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. Once she heard the shower turn on, she quickly changed into her sleepwear, soft silk pants, and an old t-shirt.

To keep herself busy and keep her anxiety at bay, she began working on her assignment for the class trip. Taking notes and jotting down observations she’d made. She was cozied up on the window seat, overlooking the city with a soaring heart.

He came out, his hair dripping, wetting his white t-shirt. The grey sweats on his bottom half left her speechless. Now, this was the most dressed down she’d ever seen him.

“We should get some sleep.” He said, eyeing the notebook in her hand.

“Yeah, o—of course.”

“And don’t worry I… I’ll see about getting another room tomorrow. Surely they’ll have a free one by then.”

“I don’t mind.” She blurted out, worried that he thought she was seeing him as utterly inappropriate. “It’s not… I mean, it is kinda weird but this whole mix-up is out of our control. We’re adults. We’ll make it work.”

“You’re right.” He huffed out a breath, seemingly relaxed at that. They could make it work. It was going to be a mission to shelf his attraction to her, but he kept putting on his professional hat, even though her wandering gaze was warming him up inside.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She breezed past him, and he could smell her sweet scent.

“Good night, Violet.”

She paused at the door, about to close them when she turned back to look at him with a sultry expression that made his dick hard.

“Sweet dreams, professor.”

Suffice it to say, his dreams were anything but.

“Listen up! I’m not in the mood to repeat myself.”

It had been an eventful morning and they hadn’t even left the hotel yet. They were piled into a bus, and Charlie was sitting next to Violet, chatting her ear off.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off her professor's disgruntled expression. How she’d seen more of him than any student had before.

How he’d hidden his smile when she offered to make him coffee that morning, how his voice was far deeper after sleep.

How he’d effortlessly slipped back into his cold and disheartening demeanour after he’d gotten dressed. A pair of grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt. She tried to brush it off and pretend it didn’t bother her, but she wanted his warmth and all he gave her was soft glimpses of it before he shut her out again.

“Remember what we are here for. Keep your minds open and explore this unique opportunity. I won’t be supplying material when we return to class, so gather everything you need today. Is that understood?”

The students nodded, hearing him loud and clear. Violet checked that she had her notebook and disposable camera on hand, feeling inspired to make this assignment her best one yet.

Pompeii was everything she had dreamt of and everything she never knew she could experience. It was a phenomenal sight to see. To really walk the streets which had been wandered down before. Where lives had fled as Mount Vesuvius unleashed its wrath, coughing up poisonous ash and spewing deadly lava.

She trudged through the fallen streets, imagining what it must have been like. Danger looming. Harrowing screams. Grasping for valuables as they fled.

Her disposable camera seldom left her hands, and the click of her taking shots set off Charlie’s impatient streak in him.

“Let me give you a personal tour.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“I really want to focus on this.”

“Come on, Violet. You’ll have way more fun with me.”

She sighed as he attempted to take the camera from her hands. “Charlie, please. It was one night and it won’t happen again. Let it go.”

“Why the sudden switch up?” He frowned.

“I just… I want to focus on passing this assignment, okay?” And she was bored of him. Another, far more intriguing man has eclipsed her every thought.

“Fine by me. I’ll show someone else around.” He sauntered off and she glared at his back.

She rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the task at hand. At being in such a beautiful place, struck by such a disaster.

The class had all spread out by that point, and she fought to stay by herself. She worked best that way, alone with her thoughts. No pressure to fake her interest in anything aside from the historical site before her.

She sat at the edge of a small field, framed by stone arches and fallen buildings, crumbling walls. She began to sketch out the scene before her, listening to music on her Walkman, lost in her work as Duran Duran blessed her ears.

She felt the presence of someone sitting next to her, and she looked up, surprised to see her grumpy professor. His mouth moved as it formed words and she frowned, pulling her headphones off.

“I’m sorry?”

He looked amused, albeit annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “I said, I didn’t know that you could draw.”

She smiled sheepishly, staring down at her drawing. “It’s just a rough sketch. I’m a visual learner, so it helps, gives me something to refer back to if I need it.”

“It’s pretty good. You could incorporate it into the assignment.” He seemed impressed.

“That’s allowed?”

“Only because I said so.”

She bit her lip to hide her smile, although he saw her cheeks become a stunning shade of pink that he associated only with her. Like saturated carnations or his favourite ice cream, boysenberry with strawberry swirls.

She was worming her way into his brain like a rotten apple and he could only sit and watch the decay.

“I just called the hotel. They’re still fully booked—”

“Last night wasn’t horrible.” She said. “We both kept to ourselves and slept well. Unless you want a turn in the bed tonight.”

It was his turn to blush now, and she didn’t miss it.

“The couch is fine.” He grumbled, embarrassed.

She wanted to tease him. To tug that soft side of him out. But a large part of her knew he’d reprimand her for it. Use his authority on her. Not that she’d mind, but it wasn’t a way to get through to him in the slightest.

“What’s on the itinerary, then?”

He shot her a look. “You should know, considering you did it.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like what I chose. If I remember correctly, I put us down for an afternoon of relaxing at the beach and self-appointed activities.”

“I never did ask what self-appointed entails.”

“Well, it could entail a number of things. Exploring the city, working on papers, grading papers,” she leaned in towards him. “Anything, it’s just downtime.”

“Downtime.” He parroted.

“That’s a completely foreign concept for you, isn’t it?”

He stifled a laugh and nodded. “Any and all free time I have is spent on you,” he cleared his throat, “my classes, I mean.”

“Maybe take some time to relax today, then. Even if just for a few hours before dinner.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed, staring down at her Walkman. “You always carry that thing around.”

He was a lot more observant of her than he was ever going to admit. And they both picked up on it. He stared at her red and white sundress for a time, wondering if she’d worn it just for him to agonise over. He had been all fucking morning. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

As she opened her mouth to respond, he stood with a gruff, “I need to check in with everyone else. Keep working.”

She did, the sun browning her skin, her tiny sundress the only thing he could think about as he talked with other students and showed them around.

She ventured Pompeii some more, taking pictures, penciling quick sketches, and let her eyes wander over to him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. But he always was, and they both looked away quickly.

Charlie seemed to forget all about the rejection she’d given him by the time they were at the beach and lounging on sunbeds. Violet had taken a dip, but was mostly into reclining in her little yellow bikini.

She slipped her shades up onto her head as she took in the scene before her. Most of the students had joined them, a few had ventured into the city.

But it was a rarity any of them got to see the sun and sand like this, so they practically melted in the experience, vowing to never leave.

She let her eyes scan the beach, her book tucked into her side on a dog-eared page. She enjoyed people-watching. Seeing her fellow students thrive under the golden sun, and seeing families make memories.

And Professor Styles. Stretched out on a sunbed far from everyone else. Yellow swimming shorts, bronzed skin, decorated in tattoos, both arms flexed as he stretched them above his head.

Her mouth dried at the sight. How toned and prominent he was. She could easily imagine herself sitting on top of him, mapping out each tattoo, licking, kissing, biting. Admiring.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, he looked up, a lone finger sliding his shades down to look at her. And lip quirked up on one side in a subtle smirk that made her toes curl. So, he got especially cocky when he was half-naked.

She tried to turn her attention back onto her book, but it was an effort to think of anything else other than him. She craved his touch, even though all he had given her was a whisp of it in his office.

They were dangling themselves in front of each other, temptation and lust awry, waiting for who would take the plunge first.

Following a game of cat and mouse, trying to catch each other’s eyes, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner at a local restaurant.

She beat him to the room, grabbing a quick shower, almost ready by the time he entered the room.

He could smell her sweet perfume as he entered the room, the air humid from a long shower. She was sitting at the vanity in the bedroom, swiping mascara on her wispy lashes.

Her eyes met his in the mirror, disappointed to find him dressed in a t-shirt, those same yellow shorts allowing her to see his tattooed thigh.

“How was your downtime?” She asked him.

He came up behind her, still watching each other in the mirror. “It was good. Although, a girl was gawking at me the whole time. Didn’t think my body was that atrocious.”

He was teasing her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, and so she played along.

“I’m sure atrocious was the last thing on her mind.”

“You think so?”

“Maybe you should have asked her.”

“I thought about it.”

She held her breath. “Did you?”

“Mm. Thought about inviting her over to my sunbed… asking her what had captured her attention. I knew what she was thinking but I just wanted to hear her say it.”

“Say what?” She breathed out. His eyes were so intense. Molten and demanding, holding hers with such a ferocity that she felt it between her legs.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now Violet, when have I ever given you the answers to a test?”

She released a shaky sigh, tilting her head away from him, allowing him access to her neck.

He smirked at her eagerness. “You’re a bad girl. Finish getting ready.”

“Then stop distracting me.”

He growled deep in his chest, taking a step away from her. “Don’t talk back, Violet. Ever.”

He sauntered into the bathroom, locking the door with a click. She fanned herself with her hand, quickly slipping on a white summer dress and heading downstairs to hang with her classmates.

Everyone was unaware of the fact that she and their professor were sharing a room, and she cringed to think about how they’d react if they found out.

The attraction they had for each other was undeniable, but she saw it as harmless flirting. Until… he touched her. Until he took her into that erotic room. Until he told her not to talk back. She was fucked.

He led them to the restaurant, pointing out architectural phenomena, and different historical sites for them to make note of. He looked so pretty that it hurt. Light pink dress pants and a matching blazer, a white singlet underneath. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his curls falling down on his forehead messily.

She lagged behind, and he noticed, subtly falling back, She was stopping to take pictures of different buildings, in awe of the structures and local ways of life.

He slowed his pace, keeping close to her just in case. She wasn’t overly warm towards anyone else in the class, and it made him feel glad in the sense that she focused on his class, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she had many friends outside of class.

Perhaps that’s why he was so protective over her. How territorial and irrational he became towards her. How enamoured by her he was. Buy her words and her confidence, whether in corduroy pants or little sun dresses.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear relaxed, but he was crawling out of his fucking skin. He needed her. Wanted her. Had to have her. He just didn’t know how to do so. He sucked at talking to women, but he knew how to fuck.

Just getting them on their backs was the hardest part for him. He had never struggled with men, but women terrified him for some reason. Especially women like her.

He kept watching her like she’d drop a clue behind a step on the cobbled street.

And when he noticed that one of her sneakers had become untied, he felt his heart begin to race.

The group was further ahead, and he fell into step beside her, grabbing her hand to garner her attention.

She turned to look at him with wide eyes, her camera clicked, and as she spun around, his face fell perfectly into the frame. But the two of them were too focused on his touch to notice.

“Your lace is untied.” He explained simply, his touch gone.

She looked down, “oh.”

“Let me,” he knelt down on the ground, lifting her foot up onto his raised knee. She gasped at the feel of his fingers wrapped around her ankle. How they softly caressed her skin before they got to work tying her lace.

His ringed fingers were a wonder to watch. So precise and nimble. She felt her cheeks tinge pink as she stared down at him on his knee for her. And when he looked up, it was almost as if he was in awe. Worshipping.

His hand slid up her ankle, cupping her calf and sliding higher. And then he dropped his touch, realising how inappropriate he was being.

“Thank you, professor.”

His jaw clenched slightly before he stood, adjusting his suit jacket. “We should catch up with the others.”

They were the last to enter the restaurant, and the universe pushed them together once again with two remaining seats. Next to each other.

Her leg was still burning from his touch and she wanted to experience it over every inch of skin on her body.

It was a wonder she could even focus on eating. He was so powerful in his presence. Even when she wasn’t looking at him she could feel him. This tar-thick sensation next to her, begging to be pulled in, begging to have her attention.

He ate his meal in silence, drinking a cider, offering bits to the conversation here and there.

She was a nervous wreck. She could smell his cologne. How it was sweet and spicy and sultry all at once.

At some point, restless and on edge, she crossed her leg, her foot accidentally nudging his ankle. He shot her a look through the corner of his eye, his mouth on his drink.

She blushed, apologising to him under her breath. But he moved his leg towards hers a little before retracting. Intrigued, she extended her foot out again, letting it trace up his leg.

“Careful.” He warned lowly.

She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Or what?”

“You don’t want to start trouble with your professor, do you?”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe I do.”

“I pegged you for a good student, Violet. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“I’m a good girl where it counts, professor.”

“Then be a good girl and go settle the bill. We need to get an early night.”

He handed her his card, watching as she stood and went to pay. He eyed her thighs at the hem of her dress, remembering how soft she’d felt as he tied her shoelace. How lulled her expression became when she was teasing him under the table.

He thought about how it felt to be kneeling before her. How if he leaned forward just a little, he’d be able to see up her dress. See the colour of her panties. Flick his tongue out and get a long-awaited taste.

He skipped the dessert menu because he knew nothing would satisfy the sweet tooth he had. Only she could quell the craving.

Fuck. He couldn’t share a room with her tonight. Not unless he wanted to fuck her against every surface of it.

The walk back to the hotel was tense for the two of them. They tried to avoid each other, she tried to spark conversation with other students, while he conversed with the other professor who was probably triple his age and insufferable to talk to.

He felt especially creepy when he realised the most interesting conversations he’d ever held had been with a student of his. One who was ten years his junior.

The other professor split off, heading to his family home while Harry was in charge of leading everyone back to the hotel.

He was back to his short and curt self, subdued by his own thoughts. She eyed him, wondering if he regretted getting so comfortable with her. Because she sure as hell didn’t regret anything.

Everyone parted ways, heading to their designated rooms, while she lagged behind, completely on edge.

Their eyes met as they leaned on opposite walls in the hallway. Waiting. Gauging.

“I should find somewhere else to stay tonight.” His voice broke through the tension.

Her heart dropped and she started to panic at the prospect of him leaving her. “You don’t need to do that.”

He sighed, torn. “Violet…”

“I promise I’ll behave. You won’t even know I’m here.”

He watched her, internally debating. Could he behave? And would she stay true to her word? It was later in the evening now, and he hardly felt like trudging around the city until he found an available room.

He sighed again and nodded, entering the room wordlessly. She followed after him, watching as he stripped off his jacket and ran his hands through his hair.

She slipped into the bedroom, and as she went to close the door, decided to leave it slightly ajar. An invitation.

He sat on the couch, spreading his arms along the back. His mind was a jumbled mess, the only clarity were liquified swirls of violet skies that gave him a sense of constant.

His eyes found movement in the gap of the bedroom door and his mouth went dry. Violet pulled her tiny white dress over her head, her matching white bra and panties revealed to his hungry stare.

She pulled her hair free from its ponytail, the yellow ribbon falling to the ground in a tiny silk puddle.

She bent over, unlacing her sneakers before pulling them off. He knew he had to look away. But he couldn’t. He was staring directly between her legs. The softness of her hips and her thighs. His stomach clenched.

Reaching back, still facing away, she unclasped her bra and let that fall to the floor carelessly. He internally begged her to turn around. But he knew that if he saw her bare tits it would be game over. He already felt like he was going to finish in his pants.

And then she stepped out of view, appearing moments later in a white silk camisole and matching shorts. He looked away quickly as she exited the bedroom, trying to hide the fact that she’d put on that show just for him.

“Can you please help me?” her sweet voice caressed his ears.

He still didn’t look at her. “With?”

“My necklace.” She came to stand in front of him. “It’s tangled.”

He eyed the dainty jewelry around her neck and wondered how his hand would look in its place.

“Do you ever take yours off?” She nodded to the cross pendant dangling from his neck.

“No. It stays on. Always.”

“Even when you—”

“Turn around, Violet.”

She giggled and turned while he stood, his body shaking with desire. She scooped up her hair out of the way, a few strands tangled in the clasp of her necklace.

“You like doing that, don’t you?”

“Doing what?”

“Teasing me and acting oblivious to it.” His fingers began to unwork the tangles of her necklace.

“How do I tease you?”

“Well, the little show you just put on is a great place to start.”

She smirked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He growled and brought his hand around, cupping her throat and encouraging her to lean fully against him.

“Don’t make me out to be a fucking pervert, Violet. Prance around in your tiny little shorts all you want, just as long as you know that you’re doing so for me.”

“We’re not in the classroom anymore, professor. No need to boss me around.”

“Brat.” He said through his teeth. “I’m always the boss.”

She gasped out in the authority in his tone, at the sureness in his actions. His hand around her throat just like she’d imagined a million times while he taught a class.

“I know you daydream about me.” He whispered in her ear. “I can see your mind wander when you’re sitting at the front of my class. You think about all the things you want me to do to you.”

“That’s a bold assumption.” She continued to tease him.

“Mmm.” He rumbled in her ear. “And I bet you’re wet right now.”

“You’re wrong.” She whimpered.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

She stepped away, staring up at him. “H—How?”

He feigned a bored expression, shoving his hands into his pockets with a sigh. “You’re a smart girl, Violet. Figure it out.”

All confidence she had was shredded away by his condescending tone and she released a shaky breath. Prove it? She sat down on the couch, finding his eyes willingly.

Fuck. This was everything the both of them had been daydreaming about. Releasing the tension that had been building between them ever since she started his class.

He would have stopped her if she didn’t want this. And she wouldn’t have given him a show if she didn’t’ want it. She slipped a hand down her shorts, her eyes lulling while his widened at the scene.

Her fingers found her core, throbbing and wet already. She whimpered, trying to look unfazed but he could see how much her legs were shaking.

“That’s a good girl. Let me see.”

She retracted her hand from the silk of her shorts and displayed her fingers, glistening with her excitement.

He grabbed her wrist, investigating the wetness. He tutted. “Now, what are we going to do about this, hm?” His eyes met hers and she melted.

“I don’t know.”

His gaze hardened on hers. “Part of your studies have been based on problem-solving, Violet. I know I’ve been doing my job right. The question is: have you been a good student?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shaking.

“Is that so? Then tell me how we solve this problem that you have.”

“Problem…?”

“You’re sitting in front of your professor, dripping for him. Tell me how we can fix it before you make a mess.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Touch me.”

“Raise your voice when you’re speaking to me.”

She cleared her throat, mildly embarrassed. “Touch me.”

“Touch you? I could fail you for this behaviour that you’re displaying. I can’t think of one reason not to.”

“Please,” she whispered, “please, touch me.”

He sat on the coffee table opposite her. “I can’t risk it… we can’t—”

“Please. Just once, it’s all I will ever ask of you.”

He stared at her, his expression disgruntled. Like she was causing him actual annoyance by asking him such a thing.

“Fuck it.”

He took her fingers past his lips, saturated with her wetness, and sucked on them. Cleaning them and tasting her. Heavenly and sinful.

She gasped as he did so, unable to even wrap her head around what was happening before his lips met hers, his hand on the nape of her neck.

“Kiss me.” He ordered against her and she obliged, whimpering as his tongue found hers.

He stood and leaned over her, pushing her back into the couch. He pulled away momentarily, as much as it pained him.

“You want this?”

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him but he shook his head.

“Words, Violet. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you.” She assured him, glad to finally have the words leave her mouth.

“Show me,” he breathed out. “Show me how much you want me.”

He sat back on the table again, leaving her panting and shaking while he slipped his glasses from his face. She bit her lip, finding every ounce of courage that she had before slowly slipping her shorts down her legs.

His eyes never left hers as she got herself comfortable, and he untangled her shorts from her ankle, his cock hardening further when she giggled playfully.

She spread her legs a little, her hand finding its way back between them. He hissed as she played with herself, and he could hear how wet she was as well as see it.

He leaned forward, his hands on her thighs. “Are you this wet for me during class?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Are you lying to me?” His hands smoothed up her legs and he could feel how hard she was shaking having his touch on her.

“No…”

“Mm...” His hands found her sensitive inner thighs and her legs spread further, enticing him in. “I think you’re lying, Violet.” His thumb brushed her sensitive clit and she gasped. “I think…” A little more pressure. “You sit in my class, fantasising about me.” Small circles. “And then you go home, get yourself off and imagine that it’s me doing it.”

“Please—”

“Am I wrong?”

“Fuck,” she cried out as his fingers built up speed and pressure. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“I never am.” He smirked, pulling her so that she was laying down flat on the couch.

His mouth found her cunt in a deep kiss and she rolled her hips up towards him, his hands cupping under her thighs to keep her where he wanted her.

Her back arched at the sensation of his mouth. So wet and hot and skilled. She’d known how good he was with his mouth, as she’d listened to him talk for hours. But this was something else, and she knew she’d never look at his lips the same again.

His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he moaned against her, loving how sweet she tasted. How she was shaking and he’d only just gotten started.

His tongue found her clit in delicate flicks, sucking and nibbling it until she was gasping.

The straps of her camisole fell down her shoulders, and her tits came into his view. Her nipples were pebbled from the cool air and he reached up, pinching and squeezing them with deft fingers.

All he could think of was the fact that she was lightyears better than anything he’d viewed in Gabinetto Segreto. But he knew that before he’d seen her naked.

His ears were ringing with how good she felt and he couldn’t wait to feel her wrapped around his cock. God, he’d grasp onto the feeling forever. He could already see himself begging shamelessly at her knees for a pity fuck.

Her hands came down and entwined with his curls, determined to make a mess of them. She had spent far too many hours admiring the perfect shape of them and the precise middle parting.

He groaned as she pulled them, his eyes finding her blissful expression. He ate her like he’d never had a satisfying meal in all his years. After tasting her, it felt like he hadn’t. And nothing would ever suffice again.

She brought Gabinetto Segreto fucking shame.

He gave her a finger, testing the waters with what she could take. Her body went lax before tightening up in pleasure. His jaw dropped at how warm and snug she was.

“Oh, pet. You’re going to get me addicted to this pretty little pussy, aren’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up in desperation. The way he was talking to her. Encouraging her and talking her through it. It was all so surreal.

“Professor…”

“What?” He pulled away, annoyed to have her interrupt.

“It’s okay.”

He frowned. “What?

“I—It’s okay. You don’t have to…”

“Don’t have to what?” He was getting pissed off now.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What, make you come?” He frowned further, bewildered.

“It’s hard for me to do that.”

His eyes softened and he crawled up her body, his hand cradling her jaw tenderly. “Has anyone ever made you come, pet?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just my vibrator.”

He pouted a little. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? I bet you get so creamy… so relaxed and soft.”

She could feel his hands massaging her body, but she felt lightheaded with how he was talking to her.

“I can make you come, pet. As many times as you want.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to do a thing. You just lay back and let your professor look after you, okay? You deserve it after all of your hard work. I’m very impressed.”

“Really?” Her eyes were wide.

“Really. Daddy’s going to reward you, now. Would you like that?”

Her eyes lulled the second that word fell from his mouth.

“Yes.”

“My good little pet.”

His mouth found her core again, reveling in her taste and the feel of her. He helped her relax enough that she could simply feel the pleasure and nothing else. She had been so stuck in her mind but now all she could fathom was pure bliss.

He gave her two fingers, massaging a spot inside of her that she had not discovered before. It was overwhelmingly intense. Pressure and sensitivity and euphoria.

“Relax, Violet. Can you do that for me?”

She focused on keeping relaxed, but almost laughed at his request. How could she relax with his head between her thighs?

She must have done a good enough job because he moaned, closing his eyes and kissing her cunt almost romantically.

He wanted to watch her. To guide her and talk her through it. He came up, licking inside of her mouth, sucking on her tongue.

You’re doing so well.

So sweet for me.

You’re milking my fingers, pet.

Breathe, that’s it.

He could tell she was close and he was watching her in awe. Watching her write in pleasure that only he had ever been able to entice from her. He was far too in his head to feel smug about it, but he knew he’d come back to that later.

“Oh…”

“That’s right,” he coerced. “You’re gonna come all over my fingers, I can feel it. Fuck, do it on my tongue instead.”

He swiftly placed his mouth on her again, paying all of his attention to her clit while his fingers worked inside of her. She was pulsing and it drove him to take her harder, moaning against her.

His arm tensed, the veins in it prominent, snaking around his muscles. He couldn’t fathom why the men before him hadn’t got her here like this. He was addicted to everything about her. Her body and her mind. Her jaw dropped in pleasure.

His mouth latched onto her clit ferociously, and the intensity of it knocked her over the edge of bliss. She writhed around, crying out as it overwhelmed her. He pinned her down, helping her ride the wave.

“Thaaat’s it, pet. What a good girl.” He soothed her as she came down.

She gasped out, grabbing his wrist as he slowly fucked her with his fingers.

“Fuck.” She smiled, meeting his eyes.

“How did that feel, hm?” He checked in, his mouth and chin drenched in her. He kissed her inner thighs, pulling away.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He came over her. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?”

She barely had time to register what was going on before he ripped her silk camisole from her body, discarding it behind the couch.

“Hey!” She yelled out. “That was expensive.”

“Daddy will buy you another one.” He promised, his eyes falling over her bare breasts. “Fuck, look at you. Gorgeous little thing.”

She moaned as he gripped her breasts, toying with her nipples. He spat down on her chest, wiping his spit around her tits with a devilish grin.

“You’ll let me do what I want, won’t you, pet?”

“Yes.” She whispered, meaning it.

“The next time you’re in my class,” he pinched her nipple. “I’m gonna make you sit on my lap. Make you read out your paper while I play with your clit and fill your cunt with my cock. Make you cream all over me while everyone watches.”

“Professor—”

He stood abruptly, ridding of his shirt and pants, allowing her to see him as bare as she’d ever seen him. His inked torso and arms. His strong thighs and toned tummy. She felt her insides melt and warp.

He grabbed her hand and placed it over his clothed cock, hard and throbbing.

“Feel what you do to me?” He asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to hold her still while her hand felt him. “I get so hard every time I see you. I can’t fucking stand it.”

Her mouth was watering and she shifted forward, kissing along his length. He growled lowly, feeling his cock twitch and his balls tighten.

“You’re a naughty pet. Come to my class in those tiny dresses because you know I think about pinning you against the wall and slipping inside of you.”

“I wish you would.” Her eyes were wide, staring at his.

He tilted his head, gripping her hair in his fist, his rings catching. “You do, don’t you? Little whore.”

She nodded eagerly, whimpering when he pushed her face forcefully against his crotch. He leaned down, his fingers finding her pussy, slick from her orgasm. He hummed, gathering her wetness and spreading it along his covered cock.

“Messy girl. Clean me up.”

“Make me.”

He glared darkly, his nostrils flaring at her disobedience. He gripped her hair hard enough that tears formed, and he moved his hand to pinch her jaw until she opened it.

“Tongue out.” He barked and she slowly did as she was asked. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, clean me up or I’ll fuck my fist and make you watch.”

He spat on her tongue and she hummed, swallowing before leaning forward and licking off her wetness from his crotch. His brow furrowed at the sight. His feisty little pet.

She sucked on the tip of him over his boxers, and he whimpered before pushing her away. He quickly rid of his boxers, impatient. He had to be inside her. He prided himself in his ability to last but that seemed to be irrelevant when it came to her. Just looking at her naked and pouting was enough to set him off.

She reached for his cock, hard, a bead of pre-come on the tip. He throbbed in her palm, so hot and ready for him. He ran his hands through his hair, his body tingling.

She took him past her lips, her eyes fluttering. His head fell back on his neck as she took his tip, sucking and flicking her tongue against the slit. He encouraged her, his hand tangling into her hair.

“Take more.” He rasped, moaning loudly when she fit half of him in.

She used her hand to work on what she couldn’t fit yet. He was losing it, spitting down on his cock to get it nice and wet before forcing her to take all of him.

She choked on him, her eyes watering as she gagged.

“Fuck,” he gritted his teeth, his abs flexing as he pushed his hips forward.

Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. His thumb wiped under her eyes, smearing it further. He wanted to destroy her.

He took her throat in slow, rolling thrusts, allowing her to breathe and watching when she tapped his thigh when she needed a break.

She picked up her pace, and his knees buckled. He attempted to pull away but her hands wound around his thighs, holding him in place.

“Pet,” he whined, “you gotta stop.”

She eyed him mischievously, moving her mouth harder. Faster.

He swore, grabbing her hair and practically ripping her from him. He threw her back and slapped her cheek before gripping her jaw and pressing his face against hers.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

She giggled, her cheek stinging, but it fuelled her arousal.

He clenched his jaw, holding hers harder. “You promised you’d behave.”

The feral rage in his eyes made her gulp. She did not fear him, per se, but feared what he’d do to her as punishment. Feared that she’d like it too much.

She wanted him warmed up to her. But she wasn’t sure that he was capable of that.

“I am behaving, professor.”

“I don’t think you are.”

She frowned, pouting. His expression softened, loving how she looked all vulnerable when she did that little face.

He cupped her reddened cheek, looking at her wet eyes and swollen lips from his cock.

She opened her mouth to protest, to apoligise, or to plead. She wasn’t sure.

“I—”

“Shh.. sit back and take my cock, pet.”

The willingness in her eyes melted him and she fell onto her back, pressing her legs together with her knees bent and swaying them side to side.

He took a step forward, fisting his cock with a shaky breath. He had fantasised about this for so long and now that it was finally happening, he couldn’t believe it.

“You look so good.” He complimented, his voice low. His hands ran down her body, feeling every inch and every curve. He settled over her, hitching her leg high over his hip.

“So do you.” She breathed out, her hands running down his sides, feeling the muscles flex.

“You were made for fucking.” He spoke his thoughts, running the tip of his cock between her slick folds. “Made to take me. Made to be used by me.”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up. “Take me. Use me.”

He kissed her, pushing his hips forward a little. She made a soft sound as he pushed inside of her, able to take the tip of him before her body tensed.

“You’re so big.” She whimpered, wide eyes staring up at him.

“You can take it.”

He held her in place, pushing forward and breaking through her tightness. She gasped as she took half of him, and he reached down, rubbing her clit to lessen the sting.

She mewled softly, her body relaxing as he slowly took her. He pushed all the way in, and he swore quietly as she rippled around him.

“Attagirl.” He praised. “I knew you could do it.”

“Oh… my god.” She moaned, her eyes watering at how fucking good he felt. He was so big that she felt him everywhere. He was pressed snugly against that spot he’d found not long before and the pressure of it was blinding.

It was the fact that they definitely should not be doing this that made it feel so much fucking better.

“I’m going to move now.” He informed her, retracting his hips until only his head remained inside of her. He slammed back in forcefully and she cried out, her back arching.

He didn’t stop. He screwed into her relentlessly, pounding her down into the couch. She couldn’t get a single breath in with how hard he was fucking her. His touch never left her clit, until he wrapped his arms around her and stood, holding her up as he fucked up into her.

She bit into his neck, his skin warm and damp beneath her. Her nails embedded themselves into his shoulders, trying to hold on as he took her.

He pressed her against the wall, his head dropping back with a growl. She watched him in awe. The sheer power he exerted on her body was blinding. He was so in control, so feral and animalistic but in control nonetheless.

She had never had someone fuck her like this. He was confident in the classroom, but having him even more so while he was naked and inside of her was something she never knew that she’d experience.

She gripped onto his hair, near on sobbing as he took her. “Professor…”

“Harry.” He gritted out, his curls a mess.

“H—Harry, please.”

“Please, what?” He breathed out, grunting. “Tell me—fuck—tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

His hand wound around her throat, his gaze searing on hers. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, pet.”

“My clit.” She whispered out. “I need it, please.”

“Fuck, say my name again.” He huffed, staring at her desperately.

“Please, Harry. I need it.”

He groaned, pushing two fingers in her mouth until she gagged, getting them wet. Then he connected his fingers to her clit and rubbed in delicious circles. Her toes curled, her hands raking down his shoulders and sides as he took her.

“You like that?” He checked, knowing full well she loved it with how tight her pussy was around him.

She nodded, whimpering as he slapped his hips against her.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Your pretty little cunt is squeezing me like a fist. Dirty girl letting me use you like this.”

He placed her on her shaky legs, slipping down to his knees. He aided her in placing a leg over his shoulder, opening her up to him. He latched onto her core with a loud moan.

“Taste so good.” He said between licks, her core trembling around his tongue. “Love feeling how my big cock is destroying your pussy.”

He ate her, addicted. He held her up as her body became weak with pleasure. His fingers found her core, fucking her with two fingers while his mouth sucked and nibbled and licked her clit.

She looked down at his face, seeing his eyes closed as he ate her. He was enjoying it just as much as she was. Her professor was on his knees for her.

From tying her shoelace to eating her out in a matter of hours.

He loved being able to taste his cock while he ate her. Able to taste where he’d claimed her and destroyed her. His dick twitched, missing the warmth of her. Wanting to spread his cum inside of her and watch it leak out.

He grabbed her, bending her over the window seat. She stared at the view of the ocean as he stared at the view of her.

“Spread your legs.” He ordered.

She bit her lip, looking back at him. She pressed her legs together and wiggled her ass.

He glared, slapping her ass. “Whore.” Another slap, to which she cried out, clawing at the window. “I said open your fucking legs.”

He kicked her legs open forcefully, spreading her cheeks and staring at her dripping cunt. She moaned as he massaged her skin, his thumb dipping to press against the tight opening of her ass.

He spat down on it, massaging gently before he bent his knees, guiding his cock back to her drenched heat.

She held back her pleasured cries as he fucked her, his skin slapping mercilessly against hers. His thumb played with her ass, watching as she moaned and flowered open to him. His to use.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Take me so fucking well. You love having my big dick fill you up, don’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips back against her thrusts.

He slapped her side. “Don’t you?”

“Y‑Yes, Harry!”

He grabbed her by her throat, pulling her back while he kept fucking her. His lips found her ear, biting on the lobe.

“Call me daddy.” He growled. “Call me daddy and I’ll let you come again.”

She could feel the swirls of it blooming and she swore, her walls clenching around him.

“Please, daddy.” She whimpered, loving calling him something so naughty. “Please let me come.”

“You need daddy to rub your pretty little clit? Huh?”

“Fuck, please, yes I need it.” She gasped, her tits bouncing, drawing his attention to them. He played with her nipples. Twisting and tugging before his touch veered south, finding her clit with an expert touch.

She exploded around him, her body growing lax against him. He allowed her to melt onto the floor, not stopping his thrusts as he helped her through her orgasm. He screwed her on the ground, grunting animalistically in her ear.

They were sweaty messes, writing and naked on the floor as he took her, feral and obsessed. He lifted her ass up, taking her harder and harder, his hands gripped tightly onto her hips.

She clawed at the carpet beneath her, trying to hold onto anything that would keep her steady against his intense thrusts. The sheer power he had was astonishing.

He picked her up, sweeping knick-knacks and a lamp off a side table with a smash, throwing her against the newly cleared surface. Her chest was pressed against the cool wood, and he quickly began fucking her again.

Her knees betrayed her, and he spun her around, sitting her up on the side table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, their bodies pressed tightly together, sweaty and needy.

He pinned her back to the wall, his hand around her throat. They watched where they were connected before locking eyes, moaning before kissing with an intensity that made her toes curl.

He couldn’t get enough of her. His body was wound so tight with arousal, the feeling of finally having her driving him wild.

“Fuck,” he panted, “so fucking good.”

She purposely pulsed her cunt around him, his head going dizzy.

“St—god, you have to stop.”

The expression he wore was hardly an incentive to stop, and she did it more.

“Stop, stop.”

Pulling back, much to her dismay, voiced with a displeased moan, he stepped back from her. He grabbed his cock in his fist, playing with himself while she sat there watching. Desperately writhing, her chest heaving.

She whimpered as he fucked himself harder, the pleasure displayed clearly on his face. She shuffled forward a little, wanting to be the only form of bliss he felt.

He glared. “Did I say that you could move?”

“No, but—”

“Do as you’re told or I will come all over my hand while you watch.”

She bit her tongue, settling back into place with a pout. He chuckled lightly, his stomach tightening at the sight. He wanted to come so fucking bad but he wasn’t done with her.

“Get on all fours, pet.” He instructed, his fist still wrapped tight around himself.

She slowly lowered herself to the floor, on her knees in Infront of him before getting on her hands as well, on all fours just like he asked. He smiled proudly at her, watching her wait for the next instruction.

“I want you to crawl to the bedroom for me.” He purred. “Slowly.”

She bit her lip, hiding her smile, trying to remain unfazed. She did as he asked, just as she always had. Always wanting to impress him. He stalked behind her, watching the way her hips were shaped, watching how her ass swayed as she crawled, watching how her hair fell over her shoulders. She looked back to meet his eyes before picking up her pace a little.

He felt something spike in his bloodstream, and he ran after her, grunting as he picked her up and threw her onto the bed.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He chastised her as he followed. She crawled away, curled up at the top of the bed. “You want to run, pet?”

She shook her head, a mischievous smile lighting up her face as he narrowed his eyes.

“I better make sure you stay put.”

She watched as he went out to the lounge, fishing through his duffel bag before heading back to the bedroom. He began wringing a sage green tie between his hands, eyeing her.

He made his way towards her, gauging her expression. “Give me your hands.”

She did as she was told, mesmerised.

“Good girl.”

He tied her wrists up, not too tight, but tight enough that she wouldn’t slip out. Then he tied them to the white iron headboard, her arms stretched up. He couldn’t resist reaching down to bite and lick her nipples until she was whining and begging him to take her.

“You want this cock?” He shuffled forward until he was kneeling over her chest.

She nodded eagerly and he gripped the hair on top of her head. “Open your mouth. Taste your pussy on my cock before I give it to you again.”

She opened, her eyes fluttering when he pushed his dick into her mouth, all the way, not letting her adapt to his size. Just letting her taste him. Feel him.

“So pretty with your mouth full, aren’t you?”

She choked, her eyes prickling with tears that threatened to roll over before he pulled away. And then he was flipping her over, pulling her up onto her knees and elbows and fucking her so brutally that she feared the whole hotel would hear.

He made noises that were animalistic. Feral and unhinged. He fucked her so hard that neither of them could see straight. Hitting her so deep she could feel it in her throat.

He wasn’t sure he could last much longer, and he wanted to hold her. He moved her to her side, spooning behind her. He lifted her outer leg up, slipping his throbbing cock into her drenched heat with a deep, rolling moan.

His fingers found her clit again, and she reached back to kiss him messily. Their tongues met, wet and unashamed. He wanted her to come again, and his cock screwed into her relentlessly while he drew tight circles on her clit.

“Come for me.” He panted. “Please. I need it. Give me another one, all over my cock. You can do it, pet.”

She whimpered, her brow furrowed as he growled, taking her harder than he had all night. Her orgasm shattered her before she knew it was upon her.

She keeled forward, and he wound his arms around her to keep her steady while she came, crying out his name so loud that he had to give her two of his fingers to bite down on.

He swore at how tight she became when she climaxed, her walls pulsing and clenching around him. He fought to hold on, but his body was overworked and she felt so fucking good.

With a whine, he untied her hands and gently moved her onto her back, slipping inside of her with a long sigh. He took her, deep and slow and with a fluidity that had her legs shaking.

He wanted to come staring into her eyes. With her legs wrapped around his waist. His name was on her lips as he pounded into her relentlessly.

“Will you tease me again?” He asked her, his eyes searing.

“Yes.” She gasped out.

“You’re my little fuck toy.” He was a mess. “Mine to fuck and fill with my cum. Reward you for your hard work in my class. Make you come every time you pass.”

“All yours.” She breathed out, desperate to get him there. “I’m your dirty secret, professor.”

“Can’t fucking stand how you make me feel. Filthy fucking girl. Tell me you want my cum.”

“I want your cum, professor.”

“How bad do you want it?”

“I need it so bad. Please, fill me up with it.”

He growled out her name, burying his head in her neck and biting on the skin. His orgasm rocked through him, and he fucked her through it, not caring when she cried out in discomfort.

He wanted this. To fill her. Claim her. Stake his mark seeing as she’d sought after him. Teased him and poked until he gave in. He’d rip every one of those sundresses off her for a taste of how magical she was.

Like visiting all seven wonders of the world and discovering millions of new ones all at once.

***

I hope you enjoyed x

[reignpage]

Art Student!Choso

Renaissance: worship

Word Count: 5.4k Contents: 18+ mdni, plot with smut, mostly fluffy, direct continuation of the part 5 smau, and concludes pre-relationship Choso's story, not proofread so idk how much sense this makes, let me know if it’s complete bs and I’ll redo it or something

You’re staring at the most beautiful mural you think has ever been created. It’s made up of harsh strokes of ash, curving and spiralling into one another, sprawling across the entire back wall of the gym. The smudges and the streaks breeze from corner to corner, bouncing along the edges as they create layers of shadows which seem so thick you could feel it from where you stand. 

There, in the centre, you can make out a face. It’s contorted, mouth stretched inhumanly, eyes bulging and threatening to pop out. Fragmented and clawing itself, tearing skin and pulling until its face morphs into something you can’t quite make out. Dissolving into the fray, with the stark chalk, it spirals into frenzied strokes, suffocating itself. 

A gasp leaves you when you step back, taking more of it in at once, and you see amidst the smoke and the chaos, symbols, jagged and torn up. They make up even more faces, just as contorted and as uncanny, all stretched out in silent screams that pierce your soul and render your knees weak. 

It’s haunting. 

You had no idea you would walk in to find this when you were searching for Choso. And when you meet his eyes from above, leaning against the railing, you think you might actually fall to your knees. It’s the same eyes that match the big ones on the wall, both equally broken, accusing and full of heat as it never wavers from yours. 

There are so many things left unsaid, things that are desperate to get out, to be screamed at him so he’ll understand, so he’ll know. But only silence remains. 

Choso doesn’t say anything, just lets the moonlight streaming from the windows encase you both in half light, half-darkness. You can’t see the smudges on his hands, but you can see the yearning in his eyes, like he too has so much to say, so much for you to understand and accept.

Click. 

Both of your eyes dart to the entrance, there’s a security guard, holding a flashlight, aimed right you. There’s no way to escape. That’s what your thumping heart is telling you; you’ve been caught. And you haven’t done anything wrong.

“Hey! Did you do this?” He yells. 

You’re rendered speechless, frozen from the realisation that there’s no way out of this. Without looking at him, can’t bear to discover what expression he’s wearing now that it’s all unravelling between you, you walk to the guard and let him drag you of there. 

You don’t look back. 

——

“What would possess you to vandalise private property?” The Dean questions. 

His bald head is shiny, and the light’s reflection is all you can focus on as he thumps his fist against the mahogany desk separating you both. Thank God, too, because by the looks of that bulging vein on his forehead, he's pretty keen on giving you a lesson or two. It’s just you and him in his stately, stuffy office. The walls are lined with tall, dark wood bookshelves, which in turn are filled with old, leather-bound books in perfect condition, not a single dust in sight. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It goes without saying, I’m sure, that I’m disappointed in you,” he ignores you, voice gruff and measured, all condescending and pretentious. You’re convinced that’s not even his natural accent. “You have the talent, the potential, to do anything with your gifts. Your works have won many awards, and you could one day find them in museums or galleries across the world. Instead, this —this is how you choose to leave your mark?”

The chair squeaks when you shift uncomfortably, and your eyes choose to scan his meticulous desk, as opposed to his beady ones. There’s not a single paper angled wrong, no pens misaligned, not a smudge or even a water mark. 

“You’ve disgraced this fine institution. Our beloved Eden University for the Excellent has stood as a beacon for ambition, sophistication and innovation! And with every act of ‘artistic rebellion’ with your ‘cursed death paintings’, or the like, you have threatened everything we have built for centuries!”

You could try and defend yourself, could rebuff the accusations since you are, of course, innocent. But, well, the evidence is damning: you were at the scene of the crime, you’re an art student, you have attended practically every protest on campus, have liked posts from Cursed Womb’s fan-pages, and damn it, you had paint all over your shirt and hands.

You’re fucked. 

He leans back in his chair, sighing as he folds his glasses onto the desk. “There are no excuses; none I will accept. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I hereby — “

The door slams open. 

You both jump. 

“Dean Hanami,” a sneer projects through the office and you recognise it immediately as belonging to a guy that knocked on your door and glared at you as if you were dirt on his shoe. “We have much to discuss.”

When you twist in your seat, you’re alarmed to find three men: Sukuna in a newer looking jacket than you remembered, an old man in a suit, and a guy you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. 

Choso’s not looking at you, he’s not even entering the room, choosing instead to hang around by the doorway. 

“Mr. Ryomen, I am in the middle of a meeting,” the Dean splutters. 

Sukuna pokes your shoulder with a pen he picked up from the desk, looking over at you with complete disgust, like you’re a little cockroach. Still as rude as ever, he’s signalling for you to leave and as you look between the two men, one much older than the other, you choose to go with your instincts and rush out of there. 

“This is how it’s going to work,” he drawls, sliding into your seat and snapping his fingers at the man in a suit, “you’re going to give back everything I want, and you’re going to let this Cursed Womb farce go.”

The last thing you hear is the sheer humiliation of the Dean’s defeated stammering. You close the door behind you. 

Without looking at Choso, you walk down the hallway. 

“Y/n, we should talk,” he follows beside you. 

“Now you want to talk?” You sigh. You know you’re not being fair. Counting to ten, you try a softer approach. “Listen, Choso, it's been a long morning. Can we have this talk somewhere private? These hallways are so depressing.”

He nods, his pigtails moving with him. Wordlessly, he leads you outside, to his parked car, it’s all shiny and sleek, classic Ryomen money, and you get into the passenger seat. 

It’s odd being in such close proximity with him when he’s avoided you for so long, but you try to get comfortable regardless, ignoring the elephant in the room. There’s a Cursed Womb sized hole between you and there’s so much to be said but you’re afraid you’ll push him, that you’ll say the wrong thing and everything will be for nought; you’ll go back to being strangers, passing each other by, just like last year. 

And, whatever you feel for him, you just can’t let that happen. 

“Choso,” you begin, voice soft, “what happened? What happened between us?”

Driving, he doesn’t dare look at you, can only chew on the inside of his cheek before seemingly deciding on the right words. “I liked you. From the very beginning, I liked you. People either like me ‘cause of my family or 'cause of rumours, but you’re one of the very few people that actually reached out, saw me as an equal.”

You’re silent. He’s opening up in a way he has never before and you don’t dare disturb his flow, like one would watch a Master at work. Everything about him is compelling, the whites of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel harder than he should, the furrow of his brows as he thinks hard, the way his gaze slides over to you, just not meeting your eyes, and even the way he studies you, in just your thin jumper and jeans and turns up the heater without asking.

Trees fly by, everything a blur as you keep your gaze fixed solely on him. He drives pretty smoothly, unlike you. You're always pressed right up against the wheel, eyes darting to every mirror like a car would appear in the millisecond you looked away. But him...he drives like it's second nature, with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick.

“Despite me not being very open and particularly approachable I guess, you still made the effort to reach out, to include me in discussions, to ask if I’m coming to class — even lecturers have stopped asking. And you’re very smart! I like how passionate you are, you’re so full of great ideas, practically beaming with them. You never lose your optimism even when your art gets critiqued too harshly.”

This is the first time anyone’s ever described you like this, like he appreciates you by pure virtue of your existence and the way he sees your hard work, the strength it takes to get back up that you hadn’t recognised in yourself -- it feels like the way one would appreciate Starry Night. 

You can tell he practised this speech.

“But,” there’s a tremble in his voice and it makes your hand twitch, “you don't like me. Not like how I like you. And it makes me upset. Because you're so great and nice and pretty. Not that I like you because of your appearance, even though you have a very nice body. I mean that respectfully! Okay, actually just forget I said that. I like you for lots of different reasons. And I've been trying to get you to see me as more than your classmate or just your friend. But it's all pointless because you like Cursed Womb.”

“Choso, you are Cursed Womb.”

The car screeches to a halt. 

His hand flies out, pressing hard on your chest to stop you from flying forward. Thank goodness you’re wearing your seatbelt. And thank goodness the road is empty. 

“What the fuck!”

“Sorry!” He pants. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise.”

Like you’ve been possessed, you laugh. It’s more a cackle than anything else to be honest, but the look of utter shock and disbelief on his face is making you tear up, your sides hurting as you cradle them. “Oh my god, Choso, you should have seen your face. HA!”

He’s panicking, hands waving in the air as he tries to decide between lifting your hair up to inspect for damage and going to the steering wheel so he can drive off to safety, where the chances of a car accident caused by your blunt mouth are slim. Conflicted, he decides to keep them in his lap as he winces at your chortles. You’re finding this way too funny. 

“You’re being mean,” he pouts. 

Wiping tears from your eyes, you’re desperately trying to calm down, trying to school your features into something more neutral or, better yet, something serious so you can have a mature, adult conversation. But he’s just so adorable you can’t help yourself. 

“Sorry, Choso,” you playfully frown at him, making a puppy dog pout so he’ll cave in. “But be honest here, sweetheart. You didn’t actually think you were slick, did you?”

Like a child, he smacks his steering wheel, all grumpy and upset. “No one else knew.”

“That’s ‘cause no one else tried to know. Sure, people were investigating, trying to piece together clues, but no one really wanted to know; the mystery was addictive, and that’s what peopled liked. But you think you’re the only one who pays attention? I watch you all the time. Plus, your family’s presence today was concrete proof; Sukuna would never do that just because you asked, right? And on top of all of that, you’re not a very good liar, sweet Choso,” you coo. 

He stutters, “B-but you never said. You kept talking about him l-like —"

“Like he’s not you?” You finish for him. 

“Yes! Even that night when I asked you to hang out, you didn’t want to go with me but when I mentioned the painting, you said yes.”

Your hand reaches out to play with a loose lock of hair from his messy pigtails and he lets you, his eyes flutter shut when your hand grazes his cheek. Heart clenching, you sigh again. “I was genuinely busy, Choso. But when you mentioned that ‘your friend’ painted again, I knew that meant trouble. What you do is dangerous, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“What about the other time when you didn’t want to have lunch with me? And you just wanted to work?”

You giggle, playfully pulling at his hair, and he has to pretend he’s not getting hard. “Choso, you do realise we have to balance our project on top of our schoolwork, right? Like we have to actually study and work, to meet deadlines?”

Choso pouts again and you smush your thumb against his plump lips, easing away the tension there. All muffled, he whines, “But I wanted to have lunch with you!”

“And we enjoyed sandwiches, did we not? Which by the way, you never paid me back for. But eh, that's okay. Just treat me out next time -- I'm a broke college student.”

He groans, pulling away to smack his head against the wheel. It honks and you laugh again. He’s clearly embarrassed and frustrated and he doesn’t know where to begin, so you try for him. 

“Choso, sweetheart,” you rub his back, “don’t be upset. I’ll be completely honest: I was messing with you. I kinda just wanted to see how far things will go. I mean, I knew as soon as you told me he’s your ‘friend’ that you were Cursed Womb. It’s such an obvious throwaway; I hope you weren’t feeling very proud of yourself.”

Scrunching his nose at you, he sinks back into his seat. The road is still empty, and he doesn’t seem to have any desire to drive off yet. So, you let him take it all in, rubbing his shoulder in pity for the poor guy who was clearly so proud of himself for keeping such a huge secret from everyone. 

“What’s gonna happen with the Dean?” You just realised technically you were expelled or were going to be expelled. No longer a student, you aren’t sure what you would do as a non-student — would you even make a very inspirational contributive member of society?

What’s next? 

Taxes and mortgages?

You shudder. 

Choso grabs your hand, holding it in his lap as he fiddles with your rings, clinking them with his own. His nails are painted black in true male art student fashion and his fingers are so beautifully long and slender you’re not afraid to admit that you’ve stared at them a little too long during clay sculpting class. 

“The family’s going to take care of it. Make it go away like they did when Sukuna beat up some guy who pushed Yuji. Or when I got caught by some other security guard.”

You nodded. “Where does that leave us?”

“Us?”

“There is an us, right, Choso?”

He fiddles with your ring finger, and you try really hard not to notice the hearts in his eyes. “Do you want there to be us? It’s not because I’m Cursed Womb, is it?”

Of course, you don’t blame him for feeling this way; you played around too much, gave him too much power when you really should have made the decisions to begin with, forced him to confront everything that was unspoken between you much sooner. Then there wouldn’t be this awkward energy that's holding him back from meeting your eyes. 

“Choso, I never liked you because you were Cursed Womb. Sure, I liked Cursed Womb. I stand by everything I said — he’s cool, he stands for what’s right, he sends a message and isn’t afraid to put his art out there to be critiqued by the masses. How many people can say that? But I liked him like one likes a pop star! You, on the other hand, I like you as you are. All shy and sweet and considerate. And I know the picture of me was from you, by the way.”

He opens his mouth to argue, and you shut him up with a stern look. 

“We’re project partners, Choso!” You laugh. “I’ve seen your handwriting and the way you write your Cs, you silly silly boy.”

“But you teased me anyways."

With a shrug, you explain, "You liked it."

And then he’s kissing you. 

His seatbelt is off, and you’re being pressed back into your seat, his hands cradling your face. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and it’s so Choso you can only moan in his mouth. He’s holding you like the two lovers of Rodin, with so much care, so much passion, it's leaving you breathless. You feel so much warmth and adoration through every lick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth and every moan of your name he’s breathing into you. 

You push him back, taking your belt off so you can climb into his lap whilst he pushes the seat back. He kisses down your neck, sucking your pulse point and gripping your hip as if he’s scared you’re just a figment of his imagination. And when you grind down on his hard length, he moans your name again. You’re soaking. 

“I’m sorry for teasing you too much.”

With tentative hands, he lifts your sweater up your stomach, searching your eyes for any resistance. You smile and take it off for him. He wastes no time sucking a tit, flicking the hard bud with his tongue and you’re gripping his pigtails. That makes him groan.

“I’ll forgive you if you do one thing for me,” his words are garbled, on account of him trying to swallow the entire globe of your breast, cheeks all puffed up, and you can’t help but press a kiss against his forehead. “Call me Cho again.”

“What?” His teeth graze your sensitive nipple and you arch into him, eyes crossing.

“You only call me Cho when we’re like this, touching in a way we shouldn’t.”

“Do I?” Grinding down on his dick, you tug a pigtail back so you can tilt his face away from your wet tits and back to your mouth. You kiss him again, craving his taste, his warmth. “Sorry…Cho.”

He bucks into your clothed core, straight up to your clit and you’re moaning into each other’s mouths. This isn’t enough, you both need more. Neither of you even care that you’re on the side of a road and it’s midday. 

“I want you,” he whispers, and he’s tearing up, the frustration building up to a point where he’s clawing your jeans off and burying his face between your tits and inhaling deep. “Can I? Can I have you?”

“Of course, Cho. I’m yours,” you kiss his hair. “You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. 

Because the next thing you know, the seat is folding back and you’re being thrown onto the seat, facing the plush roof. He’s tugging your jeans down, pulling the material as if it’s singlehandedly his worst enemy. You can only rub his head as he frantically looks between your face, your tits and your panties like he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s desperately asking for permission, for guidance. 

“Choso, we can do whatever you want, just take your time.” And then, as an afterthought, you add, “Although, you shouldn’t take too long since we are outside. If we get caught, I’m not sure your family can take care of the charges we’ll face.”

He nods and then with dark, unfocused eyes, he shoves his face between your leg as he kneels on the floor, spreading your thighs with his strong arms. Sniffing is all he does, inhaling deeply and moaning. You blush, pushing his hair from his face. And, as if the urge has gotten too much, he pushes your panties to the side and licks a strip up your slit, from quivering hole to the clit. 

Your back arches off the seat. 

Moans and groans escape you, shaky breaths fanning the air as he sucks your clit, mumbling your name and the vibrations leaves you lightheaded. 

“Tastes so good. Knew you would taste so good.” He pushes in a finger inside and he groans with you when he wriggles it. “So wet, baby. You’re so hot a-and wet and I want to stay here forever.”

He curls his fingers inside, rubbing against that spot inside of you that has you gushing cream all over his mouth, and he laps it up like he’s starved. Just as a car drives past and he dives deeper into you, you find yourself cumming all over his mouth and fingers, clutching his pigtails harder.

"Fuuuuuck, don't stop, Cho!" You ride out your orgasm on his face, spreading your wetness all over his chin and his cheeks, clit bumping against his nose.

Shuffling up, something wet and hard traces your lips. It’s salty. You don’t hesitate to widen your jaw, letting him push his hot and hard length into your throat. It’s an awkward angle, with you laid not fully back and him having to crouch down, but you manage a few suckles before he gets frustrated and embarrassed, and he climbs back down to pet at your pussy. 

"That's just going to have to wait later, I guess," you chuckle.

A blush blanketing his cheeks, he nods and strokes his dick. He must have taken it out when he was licking you. It's long and hard and your body remembers the feel of it in your hands. And Monet! His tip is flushed red, leaking cum like a faucet. How adorable.

You see him lining his beautiful cock to your quivering hole, but you have to press a hand against his chest to still him. “Tut tut, Cho. Do I need to lecture you on the importance of safe sex, silly boy?”

He blushes and pats his pockets with frantic, panicked movements. You sigh. You didn’t bring one either.

“Well, you’re not allowed inside without a condom,” you mutter to his cock, telling it off as if it’s responsible for its owner irresponsibility. “I mean, really, Choso. You’re a grown man, a college student! You should always have condoms, silly.”

“I didn’t think we’d ever be together so I didn’t buy any,” he mumbles, laying down on you so he can hide his sheepish expression in your shoulder. 

The implication warms your chest, making you pout and rub his back. You coo, “Aw, did my baby not want to fuck anyone else? Just me?”

Pushed to his limit, he bites your neck and then quickly soothes it with his tongue as if upset at himself for hurting you. But it’s you who feels the most guilt; you played around too much, teased him too far, and now his hips are making short thrusts against your pussy. He just can’t help himself. It’s as if the magnetic pull of your cunt is too much for a weak man like him. You’re going to have to work very hard to earn his forgiveness even if he’s willingly thrown it at you. 

Starting, of course, by wrapping your legs around his hips and pressing him closer. You whisper, “Make yourself cum on my pussy, Cho.”

He groans. Maybe it’s the seductive way you ordered him to, the vulgar term you used, or perhaps it’s the fact that you called him a nickname he loves to hear. Well, whatever it is, it’s making him whimper in your ear as he thrusts against your lips, coating his length with your juices. His tip bumps against your clit and you both moan. 

“I-I missed you, y/n!” He cries in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

Again and again, he thrusts, still clinging onto you and holding you close. You can feel his desperation, sincerity, and his pre-cum all seeping into your skin. Rolling back, your eyes disappear — this is supposed to be for him, and yet you’re panting too, holding him tight, shirt threatening to rip under your claws. 

The fact that you’re naked and he isn’t is making you sensitive all over, from the way your nipples are rubbing against his chest and how he pinches at one all the way to the mumbling of your name, like a mantra, against your neck. 

You’re going to cum too. 

“Ngh, Cho! Keep going!”

He must have liked that because his thrusting gets more frantic, his cock head meeting your clit again and again and you’re both nearing your high. Your nails dig into his back and he bites your neck to stifle the broken moan that escapes him. Hot ropes of cum paint your stomach and it makes you arch your back once more, eyes closing shut. 

"So warm ngh!" He groans into your ear.

Hips stuttering, he drags out his orgasm like his body can’t help himself and a beat or two passes. He falls on top of you, still muttering your name like his brain has short-circuited and it’s all that’s left in there. 

“You like me better than Cursed Womb, right?”

You laugh. “Cho, you silly man. You’re the same person.”

Choso pushes himself up onto his elbows, slightly out of breath and dazed, a blush highlighting his face tattoo. You kiss him on the nose which brings out what sounds like a mewl from him. He copies the movement, and it tickles you. That makes him smile, still panting. 

“I know, but I want to know who you like better,” he licks a bead of sweat from your forehead and you have to smack his back. 

Sighing, you push him off, concerned over the fact that you’re naked and in a public space. He lets you scramble back to your seat, fixing your panties and leggings and he hands you your jumper. All in silence, you get settled back in. 

He starts the engine, looking a little upset and you have to still his hand with yours. Words aren’t really enough, you know that. So, the only thing to do is to show him. 

“Take us to my place, Cho.”

—

He’s confused, head tilting and brows scrunched together like a little puppy as you lead him to your dorm room. Whereas you’re practically buzzing with excitement, struggling to get the keys in due to your shaking hands. But you manage and you welcome him in. 

It’s the first time he’s been inside your place — there wasn’t a particular reason why you waited, it was really just because his place is bigger and cooler and generally a much better place to work in. 

Despite it being a pretty standard room, he’s marvelling at the space, eyeing the pictures of your friends strewn across the walls, the fairy lights and the open journal on the table full of your watercolour works. Choso looks like he just entered Santa’s workshop, and you giggle as you press your face in his back, hugging him and swaying you guys side to side. 

“Sorry about the mess, Cho. I didn’t know you’d come over.”

He holds your hands, swaying with you, but his focus is on only one thing. 

There, on your easel, stationed by the window for natural lighting, is a sketch. The lines are messy and criss-crossing, overlapping each other, the lead of the pencil unravelling to create a face loss in thought. It’s tilting its head as its own creation, examining the angles and the proportions, and you can tell it’s completely entranced in its work, losing grip with reality and wholly immersed in their own imagination. 

It’s the kind of expression you’ve decided is most beautiful in all your years of looking and sketching and studying. In all the models, in all the strangers, and in all the works of art you’ve come across, only one figure has captivated you as much it has. 

“Recognise him, Cho Cho?”

Despite the teasing tone of your voice, you’re actually pretty nervous. This has never been a problem for you; you’ve presented your work to countless of people, by virtue of being an art student, you’ve consented to being ripped apart again and again. But this time, you’re feeling a certain kind of insecurity you never have before. 

“Do you like it?”

“This is me?” He breathes out. 

You bury your face harder in his back, feeling a blush creeping up. “Yeah, Cho. I started it back in first year. I never got to finish it because, well, we’re art students and we all have ADHD or whatever. But when we became project partners, I’ve been adding to it, adding lines and details for every time I noticed something new about you. In fact, I was working on it that night you asked me to hang out and I almost turned you down. Sorry about by the way, baby.”

Waving a hand over the general area, you explain further, "At the end of first year, you got that face tattoo, and I struggled all summer adding it in because I only saw it once and wanted to recreate it from pure memory. But I couldn't ever seem to get the proportions right."

"Y-you started drawing me in first year?"

Pressing a kiss to his back and smiling at the flex of his muscles, you think back to a memory. "It wasn't like I was obsessed with you, or anything creepy, I swear. It's just that, you're a pretty handsome dude. The List agrees and well, when I first saw you in the lecture hall, I thought wow, someone needs to capture that guy in a drawing or something. And you know how us artists work — we develop fixations. I guess, you could say you've been my on and off one for a year now."

That was a lot of words and you’re not sure he registered any of it because of how silent he is, but then he’s clasping your hands tightly. And you’re shocked into silence when something cold slides down one of your fingers. On your left hand. Your ring finger. 

“Cho?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he shakily whispers. 

You want to laugh — it’s such a sudden admission and you’re fairly convinced it’s just that post-nut high. But the way he says it, the way it’s so serious, so real makes you pull away. 

He turns, desperate to see your face. And with another whisper, he admits, “I have one of you too.”

“What?”

“I painted a portrait of you. In my place.”

It strikes you there. You remember. The painting with the tarp over it. That was of you, and he hid it because you were coming over. With a grin, you raise your hand up to eye the golden signet ring on your finger, way too big and threatening to fall off if you don’t hold it tight. 

“We’re a pretty cool duo, aren’t we?”

Choso falls to his knees, pigtails bouncing, an expression of desperation and torment written all over it. He's never looked more beautiful staring up at you. "Please let me be your boyfriend!"

You laugh again, hands on your hips as you shake your head in disbelief. Rolling your eyes playfully, you respond with, "Alright, I guess I can grant you that one wish. Actually, since you gave me two orgasms, I'll give you another one."

He reaches for your hand with his eyes closed and you let him press it against his face. Cupping his cheek, your smile drops and you feel a fire burning inside and explode in your chest when he presses a distressed kiss to your wrist, full of panic like his brain is malfunctioning and he can't settle on one thought or feeling.

Then, his eyelids fly open and meet yours with a clarity that has never been there. Never. Not even since first year when you made eye contact in passing and you couldn't get his face out of your mind. And it's like all the anguish you saw that night is gone, the chalk mural fading from view.

More certain than ever, you know he'll give you all the opportunities you need to finish your portrait of him, and every new one you'll make. And your project will be renewed with a deeper level of teamwork, because you've transcended the definitions of your connection.

“I want to eat you out again.”

And well, who are you to say no to a man on his knees?