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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months ago

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Star Student

Label Mature 18+

Summary Professor Butler casts you as the lead in the annual college play, coaching you through the difficulties of acting with ease, until it comes to an intimate scene, where he teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

🚨Depraved Smut 🚨 Teacher student relationship • unequal power dynamics • broken boundaries •sexual favors from a professor • manipulation •coercion• obsession •angst• regret• edging •fingering • clit play• romance denial • kiss it better • oral sex fem receiving• size kink• p in v• interchanging positions •multiple orgasms•squirting• oral gratification from student •dubcon 🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proofreaders @purejasmine @peggyao3 🎬Scene Consultants @eternal-love @aust-een ✨ Inspo via request 💝

Star Student

Your spring semester in college is a whirlwind of academic chaos. Between endless group projects, partying and essays stacking up faster than you can keep track, the sleepless nights in your dorm leave your vision blurry.

But above all the unforeseen excitement as a freshmen, nothing compares to the thrill of landing a coveted spot in Professor Butler's Advanced Acting Course.

After impressing him with your intuitive talent over the first few weeks, and absolutely nailing the annual audition, he chooses you to star in the annual production of A Streetcar Named Desire.

Now, with the performance looming ahead and expectations high, your nerves begin to rise.

He has cast you as the female lead, Blanche DuBois, a coveted role brimming with vulnerability and raw sensuality…a part that demands you kiss your co-star, Stanley, in front of a packed house.

You've never kissed anyone on stage before, and the thought of it makes your stomach flutter with sudden spikes of anxiety.

But Professor Butler becomes your lifeline, your mentor, your anchor, and he rehearses with you daily, guiding the cast with his quiet, unshakable energy.

Under his guidance, the script becomes instinct, your lines needing only fleeting glances as his technique shifts to channeling the deep emotions and bold physicality into the characters.

Today Professor Butler stands at the front of the rehearsal hall, his sandy brown hair catching the late afternoon light filtering through the large windows. Trim and poised in a crisp white button-up, his sleeves are pulled back to reveal his forearms as he moves with the effortless grace of someone who's spent years commanding the stage.

“A Streetcar Named Desire is about raw human need,” he begins, his deep honeyed voice filling the room. “It’s not just a play it’s a collision of desire and desperation. Every choice you make on this stage has to give into that.”

He speaks with his hands, a habit that both fascinates and distracts you as they sweep through the air demonstrating the intensity of the play, his fingers coaxing the moment into existence.

“This is a world where want drives every move, Blanche’s longing, Stanley’s hunger,” he says, his voice rich with conviction. “You have to embody that fire.” His blue eyes scan the room, then settle on yours with a familiar smile of expectation. “Let’s see that come alive.”

His full lips always smirk when he speaks about acting, and you can feel his passion for it, his perfect side profile catching the light just so as he pairs you into groups.

“You two” he says as he teams you up with Jake who’s been cast as the male lead Stanley, his hazel eyes flickering with restless nerves beside your own unsteady energy.

“Blanche and Stanley are opposites, but they’re both driven by want. You’ve got to find that in yourselves and build that tension,” he directs.

You and Jake begin the Dive Bar Scene, where Blanche’s flirtation clashes with Stanley’s raw energy, and Professor Butler watches, his smirk—half-knowing, half-impressed, warming in amusement.

You can’t help but glance at Professor Butler, his unwavering attention always makes you feel the reward of approval in his eyes.

When he bites his bottom lip in contemplation, it sends a jolt right to your chest, and you fumble through the scene, until he speaks again, his voice cutting in with quiet authority.

“Blanche isn’t fragile, she’s toying with him to hold herself together,” he says, his eyes locked on yours intense and focused. “You’re close, but dig deeper. Unravel, let us see her desire.” He says his words a personal challenge for you.

As you begin again, you can tell he’s pleased with you as he pauses, resting a hand on his chin, his thumb brushing his jaw in that slow, tantalizing way that always makes your pulse race.

Professor Butler is entirely fuckable, a fact whispered in hushed giggles among the class, but his guard is impenetrable.

He calls you all "kids" or "my lovely students," brushing off heated glances with a playful deflection.

Even during frequent late-night rehearsals, when he leans close to adjust your posture, his breath warm against your ear, seeing you shiver from his touch…he never falters, never slips.

It's not just his looks that make him magnetic, it's his intelligence and presence, too. Professor Butler, has worked with legends like Robert De Niro, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Christopher Walken… names that feel larger than life, shaping his craft into something extraordinary.

He's had a successful career too, starring in films that racked up critical acclaim before stepping back to teach. Everyone knows he could've kept going, but he always says he wants to give back to the next generation, and damn do you feel so lucky to be part of it.

In the evening, after your particularly grueling rehearsal, you linger in the studio as the others trickle out, leaving you alone with him. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, the stress of the kiss scene for the finale pressing down on you like a weight.

"Professor Butler?" you ask, your voice softer than usual. "Can I talk to you about something?"

He glances up from the script he's been annotating, his blue eyes warm but curious. "Of course, kid. What's on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, stepping closer. "It's the kiss in Streetcar. I've never done anything like that on stage in front of people and I'm terrified I'll freeze up or… I don't know, look ridiculous." He sets the script down, leaning against the edge of the table, his posture relaxed and attentive.

"Hey, that's normal, first time I had to kiss someone on camera, I was a mess, sweaty palms, the whole deal," he grins, his voice dipping into that smooth, honeyed drawl you love.

His blue eyes spark with excitement, a glint of passion lighting them up as his hands gesture to emphasize his point.

"Here's the trick: it's not about the kiss itself. It's about what's behind it. Blanche isn't just kissing Stanley, she's grasping for control, for survival. You've gotta lean into her desperation, let it fuel you. The kiss is just the punctuation."

You nod, hanging onto his every word, he has a way of making everything sound possible, even poetic. "But what if I'm still nervous? Like, physically shaky?"

He smirks, resting his hand on his chin, a telltale sign he's pleased with your honesty.

"Then use it. Channel that into Blanche. She's a wreck too, right? Let your hands tremble, let your breath catch. Make it real." He pauses, then adds, "You ever see the TV Show Carrie Diaries? Look up the scene where I…well, where my character, kisses his girl in the swimming pool. Might give you some ideas."

Your smile quirks. "Wait, you were in TV shows?"

He chuckles, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Yeah, in my early twenties, that's where l got my start. It's all about gaining experience." He says his eyes glancing over you with a quiet intensity.

"Did you ever film a scene that involved more than just a kiss?" you tease, testing the waters, a playful lilt in your voice as you lean in slightly.

His blush deepens, as he rubs the back of his neck, a rare break in his composed exterior. "Well, uh… yes, I have. But even with cameras in your face and twenty crew members around, it still feels personal, and the body responds in ways you don't expect….Acting's funny like that…" He admits, his voice trailing off, then he clears his throat, steering the conversation back. "Anyway, watch it. See how the nerves can work for you."

You leave the studio feeling a rush of excitement and triumph, the honesty of words, and the way he blushed, all rolled into one, swirling in your mind, lingering long after the moment fades.

Later at night, sprawled across your dorm room bed with the lights out, you pull up The Carrie Diaries on your phone. The scene is easy to find, Professor Butlers first name is Austin, and he is much younger in this series, closer to your age but no less captivating.

His toned, tall frame is striking in a pair of black swim trunks, his sun-kissed skin glistening with a casual confidence that pulls you in, his every move radiating a magnetic ease.

You watch the playful banter unfold between he and his co-star, how he tries to kiss her and she pushes back, only for him to pull her into the pool with him.

They play-fight splashing each other in the water until the mood shifts, turning serious. His hands slide around her waist with ease, lifting her to him and drawing her close as he kisses her with a hunger that seems far too real.

The way he holds her, and the slow burn of that kiss becomes etched in your mind.

He's intoxicating, mesmerizing, and it doesn't help the stage fright for your own kissing scene, but it definitely plants another, far more dangerous idea in your mind.

Chapter 2: The Acting Studio

The next day class is upbeat and energetic. Professor Butler has planned a trust exercise: blindfolded confidence work.

You're paired with him for the demo, the rest of the class watching as he guides you through it. He ties a blindfold gently around your eyes, his fingers brushing your temples, and you swear you hear his breath catch for a second.

"Alright, kid," he says, voice low and steady. "I'm gonna lead you. Just listen to me, feel where I am."

You nod, hyper-aware of his presence and as he releases your hands, he guides you across the room, with his voice smooth and steady. "Alright step forward now…" he instructs, and you do, tentatively at first, the deprivation making you hesitate.

"Good, you're doing great," he says, his tone reassuring as you hone in on where he is.

The class fades away narrowing to just you and he as you step forward, your instincts taking over as you follow the sound of his voice. "You're almost there" he encourages.

When your palms press against his chest, you feel the warmth of him seep into your skin and he stops you, his fingers lingering on yours a second too long before he steps back. "You see?" he says, louder for the rest of the class.

"Trust is everything with acting. When you let go, when you give yourself to it, that's when the passion really begins." He says as he pulls off your blindfold.

You catch his gaze for a fleeting second, and there's something unguarded in those blue eyes of his, a flicker of heat that steals your breath, only to vanish just as quickly.

The rest of the session flies by, everyone feeding off of each other's energy with a newfound passion to perform as they build trust, but you're lost in a daze, unable to shake the moment with him.

After class, as you pack up your things he calls you over.

"Hey," he says, his tone casual and light as his eyes search yours. "l've got something to show you. Could help with Streetcar. You free tonight?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Yeah, definitely"You say without hesitation.

"Alright meet me at the studio, eight sharp." He says with his signature smirk, but there is a shadow behind it..something he isn't saying.

You've always been quick to read people, and Professor Butler is no exception.

He is kind, happy in nature, teaching is definitely his element, but you can tell there's something about you as his student that rattles his carefully curated demeanor.

And you, eager, sharp, and with a growing crush on him, are just as reckless and determined enough to uncover exactly what that is.

The clock on your phone reads 7:58 as you push open the heavy door to the acting studio, your nervous pulse thrumming in your chest.

The studio is dim, lit only by a pair of soft spotlights casting a warm glow across the hardwood floors of the stage.

Professor Butler is already there, standing near the center of the space, his sandy brown hair slightly tousled, as if he's been running his hands through it.

He’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, a shift from his usual button-downs, and the casual look only amplifies his effortless allure.

When he sees you, his face changes from contemplative to a wide, beaming smile, the kind that lifts the corners of his eyes, and it makes your knees weak.

"There she is," he says, his voice bright with enthusiasm. "Right on time. I've got something set up for you to help with those Streetcar nerves."

He gestures toward a tripod in the corner, a small camera perched on top, its lens pointed at the open space where you'll be working, like a silent witness to whatever is about to unfold.

You step closer, your sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor. "A camera?" you ask, tilting your head.

"Yep," he says, picking up a thin stack of papers from a nearby table and handing them to you. "We're gonna run lines, block it out, and see exactly how you look. Sometimes watching yourself back is the best way to shake those jitters. Plus, I figured a little one-on-one could get you comfortable with the physicality of it."

He says with a small smile, "You good with that?" he asks resting a hand on his chin for a moment, and you feel a familiar heat creep up to your cheeks.

You nod, glancing at the script seeing Blanche and Stanley's most intense exchange, leading right up to the kiss. "Yeah, I'm good. I trust you," you say quickly as your eyes meet…because you do trust him.

There's just something about him…his warmth, his steady presence, that makes you feel safe, even as your pulse races with anxiety.

"Alright then," he says, switching the camera on with a quick tap. "Let's dive in. You're Blanche, I'll take Stanley. We'll start from the top of the scene, right after she's taunting him about his roughness. Ready?"

You take a deep breath, slipping into character as you step into the spotlight. The studio feels smaller now, the air heavy with the weight of the moment.

You toss your head back, channeling Blanche's fragile bravery, and begin: "You think I'd be afraid of you? You think I'd tremble in your big, clumsy hands?"

His posture shifts instantly as he embodies Stanley's tempered energy. He steps closer, his blue eyes darkening with intensity: "You talk a big game, Blanche," he drawls, his voice low and rough, tinged with that southern cadence he's mastered effortlessly. "But I see right through you, all that fancy talk …..it's just noise."

The script calls for him to circle you, and he does, his movements slow and intimidating sizing you up as you try not to falter.

You turn to him, your breath stuttering as he closes the distance sharply, standing at your side.

The air hums between you, the energy so heavy you can feel the heat of his body. Your line comes next, shaky but defiant: "You wouldn't dare touch me. You wouldn't know what to do with a woman like me."

He stops, inches away, towering over you just enough to make your heart pound. His smirk flickers, dangerous and knowing as he delivers Stanley's retort: "Oh, l'd know exactly what to do."He confirms his voice dropping an octave, his gaze locked on yours steady and unyielding.

The script denotes he'll grab your arm, yanking you in close, and he does, his grip firm his fingers squeezing against your skin as he pulls you to him. You fall forward, chest brushing his, and for a moment, you almost forget your lines entirely.

You tilt your chin up, Blanche's desperation bleeding into your own as the scene intensifies. "You're nothing but a brute," you whisper, your voice trembling, your true nerves rising and blurring the line between you and the act.

His hand slides up your arm, resting just below your shoulder, and you feel the heat of his palm through your thin shirt. His breath fans across your face, shallow and quick, and you aren't sure if it’s the aggression of the scene or something else simmering in his blue eyes.

The script denotes to pause here, right before the kiss, a beat of silence where Blanche's resolve crumbles and Stanley takes what he wants.

Your both at a stand still, breaths heavy, the space between you charged with uncertainty. His eyes flick to your lips, then back up, and you can’t tell if it’s planned or not, if this is still the scene or something more.

Your pulse thunders in your ears, and then, without warning, he breaks character and kisses you.

It isn't hesitant or staged. It is full-on, hungry, his mouth crashing onto yours with a force that steals your breath. His lips are soft and warm, parting yours as his tongue sweeps in, tasting you like he's been starving for it.

Your hands fly to his chest, script falling to the floor as your fingers curl into his shirt, kissing him back just as fiercely, a moan slipping out before you can stop it. He groans into your mouth, one hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You devour each other, the camera long forgotten, the script a distant memory, nothing exists but the heat of his body, and the way he presses himself against you like he can't get enough.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulls back, his palm outstretched to hold you at arm's length. His chest heaves, his lips swollen and tinged a deep shade pink. His eyes are wide with something raw, shock, maybe, or regret.

"Wait," he rasps, his voice rougher than you've ever heard it. "We…shit, I didn't mean…" He drags a hand through his hair, stepping back further, the distance between you cold and abrupt after the fire you'd just shared.

You stand there, dazed, lips tingling, your own breaths staggering. The camera's red light still blinks in the corner, a silent witness to the line you both crossed.

You don't know if it was part of the exercise or if he'd lost himself as much as you did, but one thing is certain, the dynamic in the studio has shifted, and there is no going back.

Professor Butler stumbles toward the camera, his movements rushed, like he is trying to outrun what just happened. He pulls the camera from the tripod, holding it in his hands as he sinks onto the steps at the side of the stage.

His shoulders hunch as he stares at the tiny screen and as you watch him you can't help the small smile that forms across your lips. He's completely undone, his impenetrable guard fractured to pieces letting something real and vulnerable show through, and it thrills you to to no end.

You walk over to him, sitting on the steps close enough that your thigh brushes his. The heat radiating off of him is intoxicating, and you can't resist leaning in, your breath grazing his shoulder as he presses play on the footage.

The screen comes to life, and there you are Blanche and Stanley, raw and captivating. You nailed the scene, every trembling word and desperate glance is perfect, and watching it unfold again sends a fresh wave of heat through you. The way he grabbed you, the way your bodies had collided, it was hotter than you'd even realized, and your breaths quicken as you struggle to stay still sitting so close to him.

The kiss comes up on the tape, and his finger hovers over the pause button. The second your lips met on screen, he hits it, stopping the frame.

His eyes stare ahead, unblinking, as his voice comes out low and hesitant, laced with something dark. "That wasn't supposed to happen," he confesses, almost to himself.

"I'm your teacher. This… this is so fucked up."

He swallows hard, his jaw tight, his hand trembling where it rests on the camera. "You're too good, you know that? Too fucking good, and I-I shouldn't have allowed that to happen."

You freeze, caught between the thrill of his confession and the edge of fear in your gut. But your body betrays you, leaning closer, your voice barely a whisper. "Then why'd you kiss me?"

His head turns toward you, eyes filled with conflict. “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he says, his voice hushed as he sets the camera down.

His breaths are heavier now, his chest rising and falling as his blue eyes stare at your lips, then back into your eyes filled with everything unspoken.

Your voice is a shy whisper as you look at him. “I liked it, Professor,” you confess, and he freezes, his breath catching, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

“You shouldn’t say that,” he chastises, his voice low and firm, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the encouragement you need.

“I mean it,” you say as you look at him, your eyes soft and honest. “I liked it when you kissed me, Professor Butler” You say without hesitation.

His jaw tightens, a war raging behind his eyes, and then he leans in, rushed and desperate, as he claims your lips a second time.

He kisses you with a deep urgent press of his mouth, and it lunleashes all of your desire for him as his lips move against yours with a reckless edge

His hands slide down your sides igniting a throbbing heat that pulses through your core, and you whimper as his palms glide up your thighs, his touch hesitant before turning bolder, his fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt

He grazes the soft fabric of your panties, stroking his fingers between your legs with agonizing precision, and you moan as he presses against your clit sending a jolt through you.

He breaks the kiss, the realization hitting before he can stop it. “I shouldn’t be touching you like this…” he says, his voice a shaky command. “I shouldn’t be doing this to you,” he says, his tone soft and broken, the hesitation overwhelming in his blue eyes as he looks at you unable to pull away.

You don’t tell him to stop… you can’t.

Instead you part your legs wider, a silent invitation letting him in, and he makes a soft, needy sound as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them smoothly down your legs in one swift motion.

Your heart is hammering as he leans closer, his beautiful hand trembling as he presses it between your legs, testing you. “Fuck,” he mutters sliding two fingers along your slick heat. “You’re already so wet,” he whispers, his voice shaky, reverent.

He glides his fingers gently up and down, holding on to the last thread of his restraint as you reach for his wrist.

“Please, Professor Butler,” you beg breathlessly, your pelvis titling up pressing yourself against his hand, and he lets out a desperate groan of surrender as he finally pushes his fingers in, slow and deep.

“You like this?” he breathes, his tone shifting darker, more commanding as his wrist flexes, thrusting his fingers just right and you nod, chest heaving as you try to stay focused.

“Show me,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your clit and you whimper, your hips bucking against his hand, and he watches you, his eyes locked on your face, memorizing every expression, every sound.

“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting deeper, steady and relentless. “You’re so obedient—fuck, you’re killing me.”

Your soft little gasps and whines spur him on, his words spilling out in a fevered rush. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Watching that tape, getting all worked up.” His fingers pump faster, slick and precise, and you moan louder, the sound echoing in the empty studio.

“Fuck I love your voice,”he praises, his tone filled with awe “So full of emotion and range when you act.” He reveals, his fingers making sloppy wet sounds as you feel them deep inside. “But what I’ve really wondered”he confesses, his voice low and desperate. “is how you would sound just like this.”

His words make your whole body tense as your hips twitch taking a pounding from his fingers until your moans come out wild unstoppable.

You crave every part of him now, his touch, his voice, his passion, your desperation rising as you ache for him to claim you completely. Your body writhes, slick and needy, your heart racing with a raw, reckless desire to be his, entirely consumed by the thought of him inside you.

"Professor Butler please," you breathe, clutching his arm. "Please-more—"

"More?" he echoes, his breaths quickening, his eyes sharp and dangerous. "You want to give me everything, don't you?" He coaxes, thrusting his fingers inside, hitting the sweet spot that makes your vision blur as you cry out, trembling.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” he says, his fingers jostling you as they thrust harder inside, “I should’ve known my star student would always give her everything," he praises, his voice a low rasp.

His filthy encouragement pushes you to the brink and you moan loudly enough that he covers your mouth, his fingers plunging into your core as you choke back sobs against his palm.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he commands, his breaths fast and ragged.

Your body seizes, a rush of heat flooding through you as you come hard, squirting all over his fingers in a slick mess.

His hand over your mouth stifles your pleasurable moans, but the whimpers slip out anyway, soft and needy as he works you through it, his fingers relentless until you’re shivering and delirious.

He slowly pulls his hand back releasing you and his fingers are glistening with your slick, then he looks at you, his chest heaving, eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief.

You sit there, panting, skirt hiked up, legs wide, a dazed expression on your face as you see the camera lying forgotten beside him, the frozen kiss still on the screen, a memory now surpassed by the real thing.

You are hopelessly in love with him now, your mentor, your teacher, Professor Butler, the man who's just finger-fucked you on the edge of a stage.

Your breaths are shaky exhales, as your body recovers from the intensity of what he's done, and when you glance at him, your heart stutters.

He stares at his slicked fingers like they've betrayed him and he wipes them clean on his jeans, you quickly fumble to find your panties, pulling them back up over your thighs, feeling the wet fabric press against your skin.

He reaches for the camera with a jerky motion.

"I have to delete this," he says, voice low and rough, tinged with something heavy…guilt, maybe, or fear. "This can't… it can't exist. If anyone sees-"

"No!" you blurt, lurching forward to grab his arm. Your voice is desperate, pleading, and you don't care how it sounds. "Please Professor, don't. I-I want it. I want you to keep it." Your eyes lock on his, wide and pleading, and you see the conflict across his face. "It's ours. No one else has to know." You say shakily.

He pauses, his thumb hovering over the delete button, and for a long moment, he just stares at the screen. His blue eyes are stormy, torn between reason and whatever irresistible hold you have over him.

Finally, he exhales sharply, turning the screen off. "Fine," he mutters, relenting. "But it stays between us. Locked away. You hear me?"

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips as relief floods through you. "Yeah. I hear you."

He stands abruptly, gathering the tripod and script pages in a rush, like he needs to move to shake off the weight of it all.

You follow suit, tugging your skirt down and collecting your bag, your mind spinning with the memory of his fingers, his voice, the way he made you come on the side of the stage.

As you leave the studio together, the cool night air hits your face, but it does nothing to dim the heat you feel for each other.

"Good night," he says softly, his voice lingering in the air between you. "Good night," you reply, your tone dreamy, and drifting as a small smile forms across your lips.

You walk back to your dorm in a haze, every step light and floaty, your thoughts consumed by him, your body still on a high from his touch.

After your shower you lay in bed with the memory of him and a strange calm settles over you.

Maybe he will fuck you.

He could have tonight but he didn’t. Maybe that was the line he wouldn't cross, but you smile to yourself, a quiet, private thing.

You’ve already gone further than he wanted to go, and that alone feels like a victory. But you want for more. You want him entirely, you want him to lose control again when he takes you, and that idea alone makes your pulse race all over again.

Chapter 3: Restraint

The next morning, you arrive at class, your eyes meeting Professor Butler’s briefly, a fleeting spark passing between you before you tuck into your row, heart racing from the memory of last night.

The class is a test of restraint, and Professor Butler stands at the front, playing it cool—too cool. His posture is stiff, his voice tense as he outlines the day’s lesson: subtext in physicality, how to convey longing without words.

He wears a black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his sandy brown hair is tamed, but you notice the tension in his jaw, the way he doesn’t move his hands as much when he speaks.

You, on the other hand, are a glowing mess, cheeks flushed, eyes smitten and burning right through him. Every time he glances your way, you catch the flicker of his indecision: look away or hold your gaze? He can’t decide, and it thrills you to no end.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together. “We’re pairing up. I want you to pick a moment of unspoken tension and play it out. Less dialogue, more movement.” His eyes sweep the room, landing on you, and your heart leaps.

“You,” he says, pointing and you practically jump out of your seat eager to be his partner, but then he nods to someone else behind you.

“And Jake. You two are together. I have something special planned for you.”

Your excitement fades, nerves creeping in as your co-star Jake, the tall sophomore with dark curls and a shy smile, stands up.

You like Jake well enough, but he isn’t Professor Butler, and the thought of performing with anyone else after last night feels wrong.

He looks at both of you, handing you scripts. “You two are going to play out the kissing scene, emphasizing the subtext in physicality.”

You and Jake nod standing to face each other, and Professor Butler circles you both to watch, just like he did last night, and his presence becomes a gravitational pull you can’t ignore.

“Start closer,” he instructs, his voice steady but edged. “Let the space between you tell the story.”

You try to focus, standing inches from Jake, acting out the dialogue mirroring last night’s intensity, but your pace is lagging, slow and distant in an awkward orbit.

Your mind is elsewhere, on Professor Butler’s hands, on how his lips felt against yours last night and your energy becomes soft, dream like, distracted.

Jake, picking up on the exercise, steps closer, his hand brushing your arm, pulling you to him gently leading right up to the kiss.

Your eyes lock and both of your faces break into wide, giddy grins, your shyness eating you alive, and just as quickly Jake leans in giving you a soft chaste kiss, it’s part of the improv but it jolts you all the same.

“Stop,” Professor Butler says, his voice cutting through the room like a whip. Everyone freezes, heads turning, but his eyes are fixed on you and Jake, his hands on his hips, his composure cracking.

“That’s not it…You’re rushing the tension, build it, make her want it, don’t just jump to the kiss.” His tone is sharp toward Jake, then his gaze lands on you, a flash of jealousy betraying his cool facade.

You bite back a smile, your lips still tingling from Jake’s kiss, but it’s Professor Butler’s reaction that lights you up.

He looks rattled, his guilt surging back to the surface, as if seeing you kiss a boy your own age is supposed to fix something, to erase the line he crossed last night.

Maybe he hopes it will snap him out of whatever this is, remind him you belong with someone like Jake, not him.

But it doesn’t work. You feel it in the way his gaze lingers, the way his hand pulls into a fist at his side like he wants to pull you away.

Jake shuffles back, his grin widening, muttering a quiet “Sorry” under his breath, but you don’t respond, too busy watching Professor Butler as he steps back slowly pacing, trying to regain control.

Your cheeks glow hotter, your smitten eyes still locked on him, and you know, kissing Jake hasn’t fixed anything….It only makes you want Professor Butler even more.

The rest of the class resumes as you rehearse, but the air between you and Professor Butler is heavy with unspoken tension.

The studio empties out, the chatter of your classmates fading into the hall as they file through the door, but you linger behind, moving slowly, like a cat stalking its prey.

Your bag hangs loosely over your shoulder, and you let it drop to the floor, your eyes tracking Professor Butler as he busies himself at the front of the room, stacking scripts and avoiding your gaze.

He wants you gone, you sense it in the tight set of his shoulders, the way he keeps his back to you so long. But he doesn’t say it, and that’s enough to keep you there, toying with him.

“Professor Butler?” you call, your voice soft and laced with intent you can’t resist. You step closer, your sneakers silent against the floor, stopping just a few feet from him. “Can I ask you something about the exercise?”

He stiffens, his hands pausing mid-motion, and when he turns, his blue eyes are guarded, flickering with something he tries to bury. “Yeah, sure,” he says, precise and careful. “What’s up, kid?”

You tilt your head coyly in a move to draw attention. “I just… I feel off with Jake. Like I can’t connect. You see it, right?” You take another step, closing the gap, and his breath hitches faintly. “I keep thinking about last night. How it feels… different.”

His jaw tightens, and he crosses his arms in a flimsy shield. “Last night was a mistake,” he says, low and firm, but his eyes dart to your lips for a split second before snapping back up. “We’re not doing that again. You should go.”

You don’t move. Instead, you smile…just a little, just enough to nudge him further. “You sure?” You ask peering up at him innocently. “You didn’t seem to think it was a mistake when you had your fingers inside me.”

The words hang in the air, bold and unapologetic, and you can see the crack in his resolve, the way his hands squeeze his biceps.

“Stop it,” he snaps, uncrossing his arms as he steps back, but his voice wavers, betraying him. “You don’t know what you’re playing with. I’m your teacher. This—” He gestures between you, frantic. “This can’t happen. I don’t want it.”

But you see it, the bulge straining against his jeans, the way his chest rises and falls too fast. He’s lying, and you both know it.

You step closer, bolder now, your fingers slowly tucking into his belt loop to pull him in closer “Then why am I still here Professor Butler?” You ask your voice laced with a playful challenge.. “Why haven’t you kicked me out already?” You say staring into his eyes.

He exhales sharply, a sound of frustration and surrender, and then he moves fast, grabbing your wrist firm and pining your hand against the desk beside you.

“You’re becoming such a fucking menace,” he grits, leaning down his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your cheek. “You think you can just push me like this and I won’t break?”

Your heart races, exhilaration flooding as he towers over you, his control slipping. “I want you to,” you whisper, eyes locked on his.

That does it—He lets go of your wrist only to spin you around, pressing your hips firm against the desks edge, his body crowding yours from behind.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he mutters, and his hands are already on you sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher. His fingers brush your panties, and he groans, low and guttural. “Damn it, you’re already soaked again.”

You gasp, arching into him wanting more, but he pulls back, leaving you in place as he goes to lock the studio door with a sharp click, the sound echoing in the empty space.

When he returns, his cock is hard and strained against his jeans, undeniable now as he presses it against you caging you in. “Is this what you want?” he rasps, his hand slipping between your legs, tugging your panties aside. “Me losing it? Taking you right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe, trembling under his touch and his fingers tease you, circling but not dipping in yet, still fighting himself, even now, as his free hand grips the table like it can anchor him.

“I shouldn’t,” he says, almost to himself, but then he gives in, his two fingers sliding in to you, slow and deep, stretching you with a precision that makes your knees buckle.

“Professor Butler it feels so good,” you cry out, your voice filled with lust as he thrusts steady and deliberate.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that? All damn class, with those eyes on me.”he grits.

You moan, soft and desperate, your hands bracing against the table as he works you open nice and slow.

“More Professor Butler please,” you beg, and he complies, his pace quickening, fingers curling just right, his thumb finding your clit and pressing down.

“Shit,” he curses, his control unraveling as your little noises fill the room. “You’re gonna take this aren’t you? Everything I give you.”

“Yes” you moan and his free hand slides up your back, pressing you down until your chest meets the table, and he leans over you, his hard cock grinding against your hip through his jeans.

“I try to stay away,” he says, pumping his fingers harder, faster, his voice dark and desperate. “I try to be good. But you—you just keep begging for it.”

You whimper, lost in him, your body tightening as he pushes you close to the brink, until you can’t hold back anymore, his fingers, his words, the weight of him pinning you down, it’s too much.

“Come for me,” he orders, as his lips brush your ear, and you do, climaxing on his fingers with a cry you can’t stifle, your walls clenching tight as pleasure rips through you.

He slows but doesn’t pull away, his breathing heavy as he feels you tremble beneath him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, easing his fingers out, slick and glistening. He steps back running his other hand through his hair, his cock still straining, untouched. “Get your stuff,” he says, voice hoarse but softer now, the fight drained out of him. “We’re done here.”

You straighten, dizzy and glowing, your love for him a wild, reckless thing as you pull up your painted and adjust your skirt. He takes advantage, sure, but you want it, you push him to it, and the thrill of it lingers as you grab your bag, casting him one last smitten glance before slipping out the door.

At night in your dorm room you lay sprawled across your bed, utterly wrecked. The play A Streetcar Named Desire is only a day away, and your mind feels like it’s been dipped in jelly, sluggish and sweet.

All you can think about is Professor Butler, his hands, his voice, the way he lost it and pinned you across a desk and made you come in the acting studio. Now the only thing on your mind is how badly you want him to fuck you until you see stars.

Chapter 4: Just a Girl

The next morning, you wake with a lingering smile, your body still on a high from Professor Butler’s touch, his voice echoing in your mind.

You head to the theater, heart pounding to see him again, to catch that spark in his blue eyes that makes your heart flutter with excitement.

The final rehearsal for A Streetcar Named Desire is today, the play set for tomorrow evening, and the pressure is undeniable.

You arrive early enough to see only few crew members adjusting props and Professor Butler is already there, standing near the stage, clipboard in hand. He’s in a sepia button-down, sleeves rolled up, but his posture is tense, his jaw set in a way that makes your stomach knot.

You approach slowly, a smile on your lips, “Good morning Professor Butler,” you say sweetly, your voice laced with intimacy.

He cuts you off turning sharply, his blue eyes cold, devoid of the warmth you crave. “No,” he says, his voice low and biting, a harsh edge you’ve never heard directed at you.

“We’re not doing this here.” He says his eyes darting over the crew members working dutifully. “Yesterday was another mistake ..a fucking stupid one—and it’s not happening again.” His words land like a slap, each syllable intensified as you stare at him.

“You’re my student. I’m your teacher. That’s it. Get it through your head.” You freeze, breath catching, heart plummeting, because the rejection stings, raw and unexpected.

“Professor Butler, please you don’t mean it,” you whisper, voice trembling, stepping closer, desperate to bridge the gap. “I want to be with you… you can’t just—”

“I can,” he snaps, stepping back, his tone brutal, blue eyes flashing with a mix of anger and guilt. “And I will. This stops now. You’re a kid, chasing something you don’t understand. I’m not your boyfriend, and I sure as hell am not yours to play with.” He voices, trying to keep his tone low. “Focus on the play. Be a good student. Leave it at that.”

His words shatter you, your chest tightening as tears prick your eyes. You want him so badly the ache hurts like a physical pain, he’s shutting you out, his denial now a wall you can’t breach.

You open your mouth to argue, to beg, but his glare silences you, “Go,” he says, turning to his clipboard, dismissing you.

You stumble into a seat, crossing your arms and sinking down, legs shaky, heart hammering. The cast trickles in, their chatter a distant hum as you open your script, trying to anchor yourself.

You throw yourself into, memorizing every nuance of Blanche’s lines, every stage cue, determined to prove your worth to him, to channel the pain into your performance.

Your eyes keep drifting to Professor Butler, standing at the front, directing the cast with precision and each time you look, tears well, stinging as they threaten to spill. His rejection cuts deeper than you expected, a wound that deepens with every glance.

Rehearsal begins, and you force yourself to focus, running scenes with Jake, whose timid acting feels like a shadow compared to Professor Butlers intensity.

You pour everything into Blanche, her fragility, her longing, her desperation, using your turmoil to fuel her. Your voice trembles authentically, your movements bold yet brittle, and the cast notices, their whispers of praise and awe lifting through the theater.

Jake grips your arm for the kiss scene, his touch gentle, and you flinch, remembering Professor Butlers firm grasp. Your eyes flick to him, standing in the wings, watching you with a neutral expression, and you catch a fleeting crack the tensing of his jaw, a shadow in his eyes. It’s not enough to undo his words, but it sparks a flicker of hope, he still wants you.

You push through the scene allowing Jake to kiss you deeper making your performance raw and electrifying driven by the need to show Professor Butler what you’re capable of, to make him see you.

When you pull away from the the kiss you glance over at Professor Butler but he’s focused elsewhere, intentionally avoiding your kiss with Jake, and the tears well again your vision blurring.

You blink them back, refusing to let them fall, channeling the hurt into Blanche’s unraveling. The final run-through ends, and the cast applauds, Jake whispering, “You’re incredible,” but it’s hollow without Professor Butlers approval.

As the theater clears, you linger, script clutched to your chest, eyes drifting to Professor Butler as he gathers notes, speaking to another student. You want to talk to him, to understand why he’s pushing you away when you both know the truth, but his words—“I’m not yours”—echo, rooting you in place.

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek; you wipe it away quickly, heart heavy with longing. Tomorrow’s the play, and you’ll be Blanche, flawless and fierce, but tonight, you’re just a girl broken by the man you love, acting through the pain, his rejection a fire that both burns and drives you.

Chapter 5: Muse

You arrive to the theater for premiere night of A Streetcar Named Desire and the air is filled with frantic energy. Backstage is a whirlwind of organized chaos as crew members dart about, adjusting velvet curtains and testing flickering stage lights.

A rack of costumes sways as a wardrobe assistant rolls them past, while props like a poker table and a tarnished brass lamp are shuffled into place from the prop warehouse.

You spot Professor Butler near the front of the stage, clipboard in hand, giving directives with calm authority.

He’s in a blue button-down, sleeves rolled up, sandy brown hair catching the glow of the theater lights, his blue eyes sharp yet distant.

He looks stunning, visionary, commanding, and you try not to get distracted as you head to wardrobe, your heart beat quickening despite the ache of his rejection.

In the cramped dressing room, you slip into Blanche’s costume, a delicate, cream-colored chiffon gown, the soft fabric clinging to your frame, paired with pearl earrings that evoke her fragile elegance.

Jake, as Stanley, wears a tight, stained white t-shirt, slightly torn, with worn jeans that hug his tall frame embodying Stanley’s raw edge. You exchange nervous smiles in the wardrobe room, the weight of the performance settling in.

Sitting in front of a bulb-lit vanity, you powder your face, the warm glow framing your reflection as your eyes drift to the mirror’s edge landing on Professor Butler in the background.

He’s been watching you, and as your gazes lock in the reflection, his blue eyes are filled with a mix of longing and restraint that silently echoes your own.

The moment holds, heavy and restless, until he looks away, jaw tightening as he busies himself reviewing prop placements with a stagehand intentionally avoiding your stare.

You weakly smile, eyes welling with tears as you understand the forbidden love you have for him. You love him fiercely… recklessly… but it’s a secret you promise to keep locked away, suffering in silence as the theater bustles around you.

You blink back the tears, focusing on your reflection, channeling the ache into Blanche’s desperate soul, determined to make tonight’s performance flawless.

When the curtains rise on stage, you’re a different person. No nerves, no hesitation, just Blanche DuBois, aching and luminous beneath the spotlight.

You meld into her like she’s always been inside you, waiting to be let out. Every tremble in your voice, every subtle gesture and glance is embedded with meaning. You pour everything into the performance, the longing, the desperation, the heartbreak.

When you argue with Jake, the theater is silent , not a whisper from the audience. And when you kiss him full on confident and alive—it’s seamless, charged with a kind of raw power you didn’t know you had.

At curtain call, you all hold hands and bow as the crowd erupts the applause crashing around you as the focused spotlights warms your skin, bight and dizzying.

As you rise from your final bow, you glance side stage and see Professor Butler there, just beyond the curtain. His smile is small, and real, a sense of pride flickering in his misty blue eyes, and it lights you up brighter than the stage lights ever could.

As the curtain falls, cheers and whistles echo across the theater and you head backstage into the celebratory chaos.

Ecstatic classmates hug and laugh shouting praises after a successful performance. Jake touches your shoulder, beaming. “You were absolutely amazing,” he says, and you glow, not just from the applause, not even from the kiss, but knowing it was your talent brought out from what Professor Butler sparked in you, the fire still burning bright inside.

As the chaos settles, your eyes scan the backstage area until you find him. Professor Butler is leaning near the stage door, his arms crossed, a fond smile curving his lips.

You approach slowly, the chiffon of your gown whispering with each step as the adrenaline surging inside you becomes something more.

His eyes soften as you near, the look in them doing something dangerous to your heart as you feel that spark, that pull, knowing what you want as you gaze up at him.

“You were incredible out there,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

His words wrap around you, warm and private, and your cheeks flush under his gaze. The two of you stare at each other, caught in the moment, heavy with heat and anticipation, both of you aching to touch—but knowing you can’t. Not here. Not with people still darting past, the noise of the post-show adrenaline still filling the air.

You make a small daring gesture, your hand drifting toward his belt loop, fingers tucking in subtly at his side in a silent request for more.

His eyes flick down, a smile forming across his lips, and he gently takes your wrist, carefully pulling it back. “Not here,” he says, soft and steady.

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting with a question as he nods toward the hallway with an invitation.

“Come with me,” he says, his tone gentle but sure.

“Okay,” you whisper, your mind racing with anticipation.

You follow him, heart pounding, as he leads you through the backstage corridors, each hallway quieter than the last, until it’s just the two of you.

He stops at a large nondescript door, pulling out a set of keys, his movements quick as he unlocks it, and you both step inside, revealing the college’s prop and set storage warehouse.

It’s massive, high ceilings with rows upon rows of props and set pieces. Painted backdrops hang like giant tapestries, Grecian columns from past plays lining the wall with sets of knight’s armor.

Racks of period costumes in plastic wrap line one section, hats and crowns perched on shelves above, and a gilded throne from Hamlet sits beside a velvet-draped bed from Romeo and Juliet

You’re speechless walking in, your eyes scanning around every infamous theater prop before landing on a large scaled ship for the Odyssey.

Professor Butler closes the door behind you and locks it, the latch click echoing in the silence.

His eyes darken as he steps closer, his voice low and reverent. “I couldn’t stop thinking about us,” he confesses, each word heavy with longing.

“The way you channeled your heartbreak and commanded that stage tonight, I understood everything you felt about me,”he whispers, and before you can respond he tilts your chin up, his mouth claiming yours in a slow passionate kiss.

He gently backs you against a pillar, grasping your waist. “I can’t do this anymore,” he pleads between kisses, his large hands roaming your body, tugging your chiffon gown up. “Pretending I don’t want you is killing me,” he whispers, his hard cock pressing against you through his pants and you softly moan, fingers sliding up his neck to pull him closer.

“I want you too,” you confess, your voice shaking with needs as you look in his eyes, and that’s all it takes.

His fingers reach your hips, sliding your panties down, and he turns you around, bending you over a weathered table from a play, his hand sliding between your legs, teasing your slick entrance.

“My perfect little muse,” he praises, and you wait, expecting his fingers to slide in, but instead he sinks to his knees behind you almost worshipfully. “Let me satisfy you,”

You gasp, voice shaky as his large hands cup your ass, his tongue lapping at your core and pushing in with a warm probing glide. He hums against you, and the vibration making you moan, until he nips at your sensitive skin, drawing a sharp yelp.

“You taste so good to me,” he praises, his voice thick with lust. “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispers, and he dives back in, his tongue swirling in circles, teasing your entrance before plunging slowly back in.

He eats you out until slick drips down your thighs, and you choke back sobs, your core throbbing under his relentless mouth.

“Fuck, you’re getting so wet,” he groans, and he wipes his mouth along your thigh, pulling back as he pushes two fingers in, stretching you wide with steady, precise thrusts.

You whimper as he gently flicks your clit, his fingers scissoring inside as your body rocks against the table, chasing the torturous pleasure.

“Don’t stop! …Please keep going… I’m so close!” you plead, hips pressing back to offer more and his fingers curl, hitting a spot that blurs your vision, pumping relentlessly until you lose yourself, back arching.

Your moans grow raw, desperate, your body trembling as you come, a shuddering cry escaping your throat as your walls clench tight on his fingers feeling the surge of release flood through you.

He slowly glides his fingers out as he stands, and you shudder, gasping, “Please…give me more, Professor Butler,” your voice threadbare as you peek back at him, and you tremble when you see he’s unbuttoning his pants.

“I’m going to give you everything this time,” he promises, a grin on his lips as his hands shove his pants down just enough to let his hard cock spring free, thick and heavy, daunting in its size.

You gasp, eyes widening, a mix of awe and nervousness and he places his palm on your back. He keeps you in place as he nudges the tip against you, the blunt pressure slipping making your core clench instinctively.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be so tight on me,” he whispers, his voice dripping with lust.

He pushes in, slow at first, the stretch immediate, overwhelming, a sharp ache that has your feet kicking out.

“Shh shh take it all the way in,” he soothes, his voice low and patient, “You’re my star student I’m giving you everything you wanted,“ he says one hand gripping your hip as the other keeps you steady.

You whine, your senses overwhelmed, a raw, keening wail erupting from your throat as his cock stretches you beyond belief, your feet kicking out against the floor

The sensation becomes too much, a delicious pressure that narrows your senses as he settles in, and he claps a hand over your mouth, muffling you completely unaware you’ve been making high pitched crying sounds the entire time.

“Fuck your little sounds are breaking me,”he rasps, his voice thick with lust.

He works himself deeper with several thrusts, each one harder than the last until your squirming, half-fighting it, half-taking it, your body resisting even as you crave more.

“Doing so good for me…such a good girl” he praises, slipping two fingers into your mouth to soothe you, and you give in to his encouragement, sucking on them, swirling your tongue and making him buck his hips even harder as you moan in pleasure.

“Fuck,” he curses, his restraint slipping as he starts to thrust faster, his need taking over as his thighs clap against yours with rhythmic force, the sounds echoing in the warehouse with your moans and stifled whimpers.

He slips his fingers from your mouth as your moans fade into silence, the pressure so deep and relentless, you can’t speak , you can’t even think, all of your senses consumed by his cock, and how well he fucks you with unrestrained awe.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well,” he says, his hand sliding between your legs to circle your clit. The wet squishing sounds are slick and messy until you can’t hold back anymore and you to come, squeezing tight against his cock.

He pulls out abruptly, the sudden emptiness leaving you aching, and his hands find your waist, lifting you as if you weigh nothing. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulse hammering, as he carries you to the large stage bed.

Its canopy looms in the dim light, a silent witness to performances past, and he sets you on the edge, the bed tall enough to allow him to stand between your legs.

“You’re so damn pretty like this,” he praises, his voice low and reverent as he hitches your legs around his waist. “I’m gonna let you feel me all of me now,” he says, his hand cupping your jaw and he kisses you, soft and slow, nudging his cock against you, then pushes forward, filling you all over again.

The slow glide of his cock stretches in your pelvis deep, the aching fullness making your body quiver involuntarily as your back arcs overwhelmed by his size.

Your hands cling to his neck, anchoring yourself as he builds a steady rhythm, and his palms grip behind your knees, spreading you wide.

Your eyes lock, yours wide and pleading, his eyes dark with lust as his hips clap between your thighs, the force slamming your deepest point, your moans desperate feeling your clit throb as he wrecks you.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks, feeling you take his cock deep, each thrust sending a jolt through your core on the verge of another orgasm.

Yes, Professor Butler!” you cry out, your voice trembling with need.

“Austin,” he responds, his voice a low, breathless plea, letting you call him by his first name for the first time, and the intimacy makes you fall for him all over again.

“Yes, Austin,” you say softly, voice pleading , looking up at him with worshipful eyes, and he groans, a deep, primal sound, holding your legs tighter, snapping his hips, harder seeing the the way you’ll do anything for him.

“Do you know how many times I watched our little tape?” he asks, his thrusts hammering fast now. “You know how many times I’ve wanted you like this?” he breathes, and you’re a feeble mess your moans rising higher, knowing you’re about to come.

“I wanted you all along, I wanted you to be mine,” he says, his tone resolute . “I won’t fight it anymore.”his confesses, his voice breaking and he kisses you, tongue diving in, as he delivers his most devastating thrusts, your core throbbing, as your eyes fall shut feeling the indescribable pleasure.

You pull from the kiss, unable to breathe, unable to think, begging, “Please…please,” not even knowing what you’re begging for. Then it hits, your body tensing as you orgasm, whimpering as a surge of your release soaks him, his thrusts rebounding faster, tighter.

He groans, breathing ragged, his cock twitching as he makes soft sounds of pleasure. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, pulling out abruptly.

He holds the base of his cock, stroking it as he guides you down onto your knees before pressing the tip to your tongue.

“Take it all for me,” he instructs, and you nod as he slowly pushes it in, guiding his cock and smoothly filling your mouth with a warm, weight that makes your jaw stretch to accommodate him. You seal your lips around it gently sucking trying and draw him in deeper and he groans in pleasure l.

“So pretty…such a good girl…satisfying me like this .” he praises and your knees press together, unable to withstand the surge of arousal from pleasing him.

He thrusts gently, the wet, slurping sounds amplifying each slick glide in your mouth as you whimper around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers up his spine.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, his voice strained. You look up into his eyes silently begging, and in that moment he comes, warm and slick on your tongue.

His voice is tense as he groans, slowing his thrusts to release more into your mouth, and he cups your jaw, guiding you to taste the last of him before pulling out.

His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth as he tucks his cock away, and he pulls you up into his arms letting you rest against his chest, your hearts pounding. You look up at him wide-eyed, and breathless, soft sighs escaping as you tremble.

He gazes down at you, his eyes softening as he traces his thumb along your cheek, “I can’t be without you now,” he says, his voice low and heartfelt, filled with unspoken promise.

You smile, heart beat slowing as you place your hands behind his neck pulling him down into a kiss. “I can’t be without your either,” you whisper against his lips.

He smiles, taking you into another kiss, and his fingers weave softly into your hair, holding the back of your neck. “My star student” he says with pride.

His thumbs slide down your neck as he pulls back slightly. “I’ll find a way to make this work, I promise,” he says, his gaze steady and affectionate.

“I know,” you respond, your eyes filled with trust. He looks at you a moment longer, as if envisioning a shared future before he smiles kissing you again,slow and tender.

You wanted him: your mentor, your teacher, your lover,

—and now you had him.

END 🎭

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mara-ganger · 5 months ago

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as a long time fan follower of your channel and your twitter, there's something i want to ask: how do you love "problematic" media without any shame or guilt? this isn't me judging you, it's me asking for advice as insecure person with moral anxiety. i legitimately feel like a bad person or like i'm supporting something bad for loving anime like kill la kill.

i mean this in the most sincere way possible but kill la kill is very tame, i don't think you should feel bad for liking it whatsoever !

to answer your question properly though, i think with age you just start realizing that the only people who really care about that stuff or will actively try to shame you for that are terminally online losers with nothing better to do in their lives. "problematic" is often vague on purpose and meant many different things over the years and honestly, a lot of times it's used in this almost anti-intellectual way to say "anything i personally disagree with" which you can probably see why i don't take that sort of label very seriously. art is meant to evoke emotions within us and sometimes those feelings can be disgust as much as it could be joy or whatever else. plus some of the best stuff is made by weirdo perverts so i think we all gotta be a little more open about liking what we like lmao

#ask #really good question btw

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astroeleanor · 2 months ago

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༉‧˚🥀🖤❀༉‧˚Black Moon Lilith: Your Feminine Rage (How To Access Your Untapped Potential)༉‧˚🥀🖤❀༉‧˚

Black Moon Lilith symbolizes your Dark Feminine power. She represents where you were silenced, but need to reclaim your power. You don’t need to heal Black Moon Lilith, you need to UNLEASH her.

Black Moon Lilith is NOT a planet, it’s a mathematical point in your birth chart that represents where you were shamed, or where you were robbed of your power. It represents where your potential got redirected into people pleasing. Let’s talk about how to reclaim this power!

CALCULATE YOUR BLACK MOON LILITH SIGN HERE!

♈︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN ARIES ♈︎

Don’t wait for permission to act on your instincts. Stop second-guessing your desires just because they’re “a lot.” Start before you’re ready.

🥀SECRET TIP: Channel your anger into sports, intercourse, dance, or anything else that allows you to move your body. Also, you don’t have to fight everything. Sometimes the best strategy is walking away.

Your energy threatens people who rely on power imbalances. That’s why they try to slow you down. If you want to access your potential, you need to get comfortable with being the villain in someone else’s story.

♉︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN TAURUS ♉︎

Reclaim your right to say no without explaining. Turn your focus inward, toward what feels good, real, grounded. Build your life around what nourishes you, not what others expect from you.

🥀SECRET TIP: If you’re stuck, give yourself more, not less. Luxury, silence, space, food, pleasure. Watch your clarity return.

There’s a quiet rage in your refusal to move until it’s on your terms. To access your Lilith here, treat your body like a decision-maker. If your stomach knots, the answer is no.

♊︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN GEMINI ♊︎

Your voice is your sword. Speak, write, teach, ask questions that make people uncomfortable. Let go of needing to be agreeable.

🥀SECRET TIP: Your rage gets stuck in your throat. Try talking out loud to yourself, singing in the car, recording voice notes, even if no one hears them. That’s the release you need.

People will try to twist your words, label you as flaky or two-faced. Let them. Your adaptability is a threat to their rigidity. Access your power through contradiction. You’re meant to be many things at once.

♋︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN CANCER ♋︎

Start prioritizing your emotional safety. Say no to people pleasing and pouring from an empty cup. You’re allowed to be soft AND have teeth.

🥀SECRET TIP: Let people disappoint you. Don’t rush to explain it away or mother them into being better. Just observe, and detach. You don’t need to make everyone else feel safe if they haven’t earned your respect.

You’ve been the emotional crutch, the therapist friend, the secret keeper, the one who gets the 3 a.m. crisis call. But when you need holding, it’s fu**ing crickets. Start tapping into your Lilith by refusing to soothe people who hurt you.

♌︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN LEO ♌︎

Stop apologizing for being the center of attention, you were born to lead. Create, perform, shine. Don’t downplay yourself to make others comfortable. Step into the spotlight without guilt.

🥀SECRET TIP: Make something just for you that no one else has to clap for. Art, drama, selfies, music, projects, dance breaks, without the applause.

Somewhere, someone made you feel like wanting attention was shameful. But, your self-expression can heal people. Your Lilith gets activated when you celebrate yourself.

♍︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN VIRGO ♍︎

Your mind is razor sharp, use it to cut through the noise, not yourself. Let go of perfectionism. Start trusting your ability to spot what works and what doesn’t. Your power is precision, don’t let it turn into self-criticism.

🥀SECRET TIP: Burn the to-do list for a day. Then see what still actually matters to you. The rest was someone else’s noise.

You were praised for being “so helpful”, and that’s how they kept you small. Power comes when you start asking: Do I actually want to be involved in this? Not just “Can I?”

♎︎︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN LIBRA ♎︎︎

Stop twisting yourself into shapes that fit other people’s comfort zones. You don’t owe anyone your sweetness or silence. Make choices based on truth. Let relationships form around the real you, not the 'edited' version.

🥀SECRET TIP: Practice saying “that doesn’t work for me” and not filling the silence afterward. Let it hang.

You’ve learned how to disappear in order to be liked. But shrinking yourself isn’t peace if it costs your truth. Let things be awkward. Let them squirm while you stay still.

♏︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN SCORPIO ♏︎

Use what you’ve survived as fuel, not something to hide or carry in shame. Own your intensity.

🥀SECRET TIP: Your biggest power move is telling the truth instead of keeping the upper hand. Vulnerability is not weakness when it’s a choice. Also, don’t wait until you explode. Let people know where the line is, and say it like you mean it.

You’re magnetic because you hold things back, but that can become a prison if you never let anyone in. You don’t have to test people to know they’ll fail. Let them try, then walk away clean.

♐︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN SAGITTARIUS ♐︎

Stop shrinking your truth to make it easier to digest. Say the hard thing. Leave when it’s time. Your freedom is non-negotiable. You lead by living out loud.

🥀SECRET TIP: Boredom is a red flag. If you feel trapped, don’t wait for permission, plot your exit. Even planning the next adventure can keep your fire alive.

Don’t water down your wisdom to make it “palatable.” Say the thing. Burn the lie.

♑︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN CAPRICORN ♑︎

Build a life that answers to you, not some tired rulebook. Stop proving your worth through constant output. Set your own metrics for success, and then exceed them. Authority isn’t out there. It’s you.

🥀SECRET TIP: Drop the self-control strategically. Let yourself fail at something that doesn’t really matter, and see what falls into place anyway. Also, stop playing the role of “the reliable one” when you’re secretly exhausted.

You became self-reliant out of survival, now you don’t know how to ask for help without feeling weak. External success is great, but tapping into your Lilith means developing INNER AUTHORITY.

♒︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN AQUARIUS ♒︎

Lean into what makes you different. Speak the truth others avoid. You’re not meant to blend in, you’re meant to disrupt, to wake people up.

🥀SECRET TIP: Stop trying to explain your vision to people who are close-minded. Build it anyway. They’ll get it once it’s real (or not, and that’s fine). Most importantly, don’t rebel for the sake of it. Pick a cause you truly believe in. Make it count.

You’re the outlier, and they’ll call you difficult for refusing to play by rules you didn’t agree to. Sometimes you isolate yourself before others get the chance. That’s fear disguised as control.

♓︎ BLACK MOON LILITH IN PISCES ♓︎

Put boundaries around your empathy, every feeling isn’t yours to carry. Use your imagination to build something real, instead of escaping. Trust your intuition, but don’t let it be used against you.

🥀SECRET TIP: Intuition is a muscle. Stop doubting it every time someone else sounds more confident.

You’ve been romanticized, underestimated, emotionally siphoned. Start tracking when your energy dips around certain people. That’s your signal to pull back, not push through.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post!Your curiosity & engagement mean the world to me. I hope you not only found it enjoyable but also enriching for your astrological knowledge.Your support & interest inspire me to continue sharing insights & information with you. I appreciate you immensely.

• 🕸️ JOIN MY PATREON for exquisite & in-depth astrology content. You'll also receive a free mini reading upon joining. :)

• 🗡️ BOOK A READING with me to navigate your life with more clarity & awareness.

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4only1 · 6 months ago

Note

Gotae smut after him being away for a long time

Make Me Go

Gitae Kim x Reader *NSFW* Word count:1169 *nice* Warnings: Smut Masterlist ------------------------

Blankly flipping through channels, you found yourself spacing out, not paying attention to what the TV was playing. It had been over a month since you last saw Gitae, who was away on some cartel business. You didn’t exactly know what to expect during his month-long venture, certainly at least one phone call.

But no, not even a simple hello text. You suppose it was to be expected, afterall, Gitae didn’t scream great communication skills, no matter your relationship. What even was your relationship? You had been seeing him for months now, but had never put a label on it.

You still never labelled it, even after you moved into his luxurious apartment and had locals know you by names like “Gitae’s girl”. It upset you a bit, you wanted to call it something other than just seeing each other. So here you sat, over a month since you last saw him, on his couch, in his apartment, wearing his shirt. You felt a bit pathetic.

Pathetic for clinging onto something that he clearly didn’t view the same way you did. If he did, he would have called or texted.

And if you paid attention, you would have realized that the door had opened, that instead of wasting time taking his shoes off at the door, he looked for you. If you paid attention, you wouldn’t have been so shocked when his arms wrapped around you, holding you so tight, you couldn’t breathe.

“Wha- Gitae!? You’re back?” You phrased every word like it was a question. Unsure if what you were seeing was true.

As he pulled away, he stared at you, rare emotions swirling in his eyes.

“I just got back.”

You took in his appearance, noting a slight shake in his breathing, almost as if he rushed to get here. No, that isn’t the case. But the more you look at him, the more you can’t deny, his unkempt hair, shoes still on, did he really rush to see you?

“You came straight here? Why?”

It was more of a question for yourself. Why did he bother coming back here first? Normally, he would have headed to the cartel hideout first before returning home. But those trips were never a month long.

That is what changed it this time. Gitae knew that when he went away for a few days, he would see you soon after. Why should he rush back? This time however, it was a month away from you. Neither you nor he would have realised how much he would miss you. So much so, that when he returned, you were his first stop.

His lips pressed against your neck as he moved to face you. His shoes were now kicked off and you found yourself laying down on the couch, Gitae hovering over you.

Between kisses pressed against your jaw and neck, Gitae's deep voice radiated through you. The vibrations sent a tingle down your spine, one you hadn't felt in a while.

“I missed you”

His lips moved, capturing yours. He moved his lips rough against yours, but there was still a gentleness there. More like a longing or passion.

His hands moved lower, grabbing onto your shorts, slowly pulling them down. You didn't stop him. In fact, you wanted this to go farther.

He had come to see you right away? He did care more than you thought. Your fingers jumbled with the buttons on his shirt, trying to undo them as quickly as possible.

As soon as you got to the last button, his shirt was off swiftly, discarded on the floor somewhere with your shorts.

His fingers moved around your underwear, playing with your clothed folds. It always felt so good. Your breathy moans told him so.

Soon enough, your underwear was thrown somewhere and a finger travelled between your legs, swiping up your wetness.

Your breath got caught in your throat as Gitae placed a finger inside you, moving in and out at just the right place. Your hands clung onto his shoulders as your back arched.

Another finger was added and the pace picked up. Your noises became louder and soon enough, your climax reached its peak, crashing down on you.

You took a moment to catch your breath as Gitae pulled his fingers out, kissing you again. You took a sharp breath in when you felt his large member line up with your hole. It had been over a month since you last did it. Would it still fit?

It was slow and the stretch killed you, but once Gitae was fully inside, you couldn't deny how good it felt. He barely allowed you a moment to adjust before slamming into you again and again.

Your, well his shirt, had risen above your breasts, bouncing with every thrust. One hand moved to play with one nipple, while his mouth worked on the other. The noises you made sounded heavenly to him, something he missed while away.

Pulling away from your breasts, Gitae focused on thrusting in and out harder. He was memorized by the scene. You beneath him, pressed into the couch, boobs bouncing with each thrust, sweat building on you body as you took his cock like the good girl you were.

He loved the way you looked, with juices flowing down your legs as you got wetter with each thrust. He moved your legs, placing your knees by your shoulders, letting him get a better view.

You moan louder as the change in positions hit places that only Gitae could ever touch. The pressure quickly built up within you, a release was coming soon. For both of you.

“Cum on my cock (y/n). Let me show you how much I've missed you”

His words sent you over the edge as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Stars was all you saw as the pleasure reached every inch of your body, flowing intensely.

Just as you were coming down, Gitae reached his own climax, sending a few messy thrusts into you before exploding. His milky white cream coated your walls and you both laid there panting, catching your breaths.

A passionate kiss was shared between the two of you as Gitae pulled out and switched your positions. He was now laying on the couch and you on top of him. His finger played with your hair as your moves aimlessly on his chest, moving to trace his well defined abs.

“I didn't think you were gonna come here right when you came back. Sometimes I think you have other girls besides me.”

You knew he wouldn't normally entertain such silly thoughts, normally choosing to ignore them. After sex however, he usually became more talkative, or well, more willing to answer.

“I don't need nobody else when it feels this good”

He didn't elaborate on what it was, the sex or the relationship.

He knew he didn't need to clarify. Afterall, why waste words when he could just show you what he meant.

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

Wrapping up the year with a Gitae fic, just like how I started writing this year.

My first attempts at a smut. If you cringed, don't worry, I also did while writing this. Please forgive any mistakes, I wrote this very late at night.

Happy New Years to everyone 🥳🥳🥳

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #gitae kim #kitae kim #gitae kim x reader #kitae kim x reader #lookism gitae

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valorascult · 2 years ago

Text

⭐️ RESET ⭐️

——————

- delete contacts you no longer speak to, old notes on phone, playlists you no longer listen to. 📱

- unsubscribe from podcasts, channels, music, remove apps & accounts that you no longer absorb. (replace these things with content the person you’re becoming would consume) 🎵🤍

- go through your wardrobe & create a donate, sell, & keep pile. don’t keep things you haven’t worn in months. before purchasing something, ask yourself if you’ll use it more than 5 times. for every item you bring in, 2-3 items should leave. 👚👙👟

- start adjusting your diet to fit your personal goals. remember that slow motion is better than no motion + discipline is necessary. don’t force yourself to get healthy / fit in one week this is a steady win - avoid burnout. writing your goals every week helps. ✍🏼🍳🍎🫐🥑

- practice detachment. i don’t mean from emotions & becoming ‘stoic’ but from materialistic objects, remove yourself from labels, become nothing so that you may become something. detach yourself from people that no longer serve you, stop dwelling on the past; there is only ‘right now’. detach yourself from the future, it is not promised & only creates anxious emotions. 🧠🫀🦶🏼

- learn to become comfortable with the uncomfortable. train yourself with breath work. I recommend pranayama, morning & night. I used to be anxious about anything that is ‘new’ until I started simply breathing properly & quieting my mind first thing when I wake up, I swear by it. 💆🏼‍♀️

- journal morning & night. track your mental + emotional patterns. write down why you feel a certain way & if you don’t know why, break it down instead of looking at the bigger picture. 📓

I could list more but I will end it here. There are levels to a reset. (lvl 1)

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kikyoupdates · 28 days ago

Text

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑑

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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“...did I give you permission to touch her?”

The cursed spirit just stands there, wildly in disbelief. Until just a moment ago, it was focused entirely on you. It wasn’t interested in Itadori at all. It could have continued toying with Itadori for quite a while longer, but it knew it had to deal with you first. From the moment it took note of your presence, it was determined to kill you.

And yet, the boy that it had previously overlooked is now breathing down its neck, and he even managed to… rip off one of its arms?

Instinctively, it realizes that something has changed. The person standing before it is someone else. Someone completely different.

Someone… strong.

The cursed spirit hastily jumps back, putting as much distance between itself and Sukuna as possible. The reaction is immediate, reflexive. For the first time since it manifested, an unpleasant emotion rises to the surface, impossible to ignore.

The cursed spirit doesn’t want to admit it, but…

It’s terrified.

“You’re such a fool,” Sukuna scowls, leaning down to pick you up into his arms. He’s already healed Itadori’s body back to normal. He originally didn’t plan on restoring Itadori back to full health, but he didn’t have the time to control his power. He was too focused on jumping in to save you.

Ha. To think that the King of Curses would actually save someone… it’s almost laughable.

But that just goes to show how much you’ve captivated him.

“This girl is off-limits,” Sukuna declares. “I couldn’t have cared less if you killed those other two brats. You picked the wrong target. You made a grave mistake.”

The cursed spirit is panicking, without a doubt. When faced with such overwhelming, oppressive power, it doesn’t know what to do. It feels as if it’s been backed into a corner. It feels as though its only choice is to fight or die.

And so, it chooses to fight.

The cursed spirit lets out a scream as it channels a beam of cursed energy. Sukuna clicks his tongue at the sight. Even while holding you in his arms, he isn’t the slightest bit fazed. All he has to do is shift you around a bit to free up one of his hands, extend it outwards, and just like that—the cursed spirit’s attack has been blocked.

“What a pain,” Sukuna sighs, so irritated that he can’t even derive any joy from the curse’s horrified expression. “It seems you still don’t know your place. In that case, allow me to spell it out for you. The moment you decided to lay your filthy hands on this girl… you were already dead.”

Sukuna gently sets you down, and before the cursed spirit can even react, he lunges towards it, teeth bared. Just like the curse did to you earlier, he stomps down on it with his foot, but significantly harder. Part of the structure they’re standing on breaks into pieces, straight down the middle, and the cursed spirit drops down into the water below.

Meanwhile, Sukuna takes you in his arms again and chuckles softly as he admires his work. “What a joke. Can you believe it? Apparently, both of us are classified as special-grade. You and me. Isn’t that ridiculous? I’m not sure who came up with these labels, but I’m offended to be put in the same category as a weakling like you.”

Still holding you, Sukuna drops to water level alongside the curse. It lost even more limbs during that attack, all of which are buried haphazardly in the wall it got slammed into, like pieces of a broken puzzle.

The curse grits its teeth as it strains to forcibly remove itself from the wall, and at the same time, the lumps of its dismembered flesh gradually change shape—until all of its limbs have been restored back to normal.

The cursed spirit then jumps back down to the ground and smiles proudly at the feat.

Sukuna tilts his head. “You look happy. Were you expecting me to praise you? Regeneration comes easily to cursed spirits, unlike with humans. You’re so ignorant that it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Fine, then. This is a good opportunity, so allow me to show you what true jujutsu sorcery is.”

He sets you down again, freeing up both his hands. The cursed spirit considers striking again right then and there, but instead, it simply watches with bated breath. It gets the sense that something is about to happen. It needs to be ready to react.

Of course, by the time Sukuna brings his hands together, it’s already too late.

“Domain Expansion. Malevolent Shrine.”

The cursed spirit freezes up, rendered motionless by sheer terror. It wouldn’t have made a difference even if it tried to run. It never had any chance of escaping to begin with.

Within the blink of an eye, it’s dead.

“You really are weak,” Sukuna sighs, very much unimpressed. He approaches the cursed spirit, which has been brutally sliced into pieces, and retrieves another one of his fingers. It was a boring, tedious fight, but at least he got something out of it in the end.

Sukuna pockets the finger, then turns back towards you. You’re still unconscious, of course, propped up against the wall he sat you against. He had to modify the conditions of his domain to ensure you weren’t caught up in any of the attacks. As a result, you’re unharmed. Well, no more than you already were to begin with.

“How unpleasant,” Sukuna remarks, brows furrowing together. He doesn’t like seeing you this way, with your body all broken and ugly. Your fascinating circumstances aside, he can admit that he’s rather biased towards your pretty face. If you’re going to become his woman, he can’t very well leave you the way you are. It’s an eyesore.

Sukuna reaches his hand out, ghosting his fingertips over your skin, starting with your soft, supple cheeks. His reverse cursed technique allows him to heal both his own body, as well as anyone else’s. Normally, he would never be caught dead doing something like this, but right now, it can’t be helped.

After all, he’s not even close to being done with you.

“Ah, much better,” Sukuna hums. You’re back to your normal, pretty self now. He leans closer without even realizing it. It’s the first time—apart from when he first reincarnated—that he’s gotten to be this close to you, while in control of this body. Normally, that stupid brat is constantly trying to silence and suppress him.

But now, he can touch you to his heart’s content, and the realization makes a horrifically gruesome smile spread across his lips.

Sukuna pulls you into his arms again, closer and closer, until your foreheads are touching. You’re unconscious, but you’re still alive. He can see your chest rising and falling along with each breath. He can even feel your heartbeat from this distance. You feel comfortably warm in his arms, and he has the sudden urge to lay claim to every inch of your body.

He chuckles softly, bringing his lips mere inches from your own.

But then he stops himself.

“No,” he mutters. “No, no, no.”

How shameful. The King of Curses has no business stealing a kiss without you being none the wiser. It’s a pathetic, cowardly tactic. Why should he have to sneak around? If he wants something, then it goes without saying that it will become his. Besides, kissing someone while they’re unconscious is no fun.

It’ll be much more fun when you’re actually awake, fully aware of what’s happening. He wonders what kind of expression you’ll make then. He wonders how you’ll react to his advances, and what you could possibly do to try and stop him.

Either way, it’s bound to be absolutely delightful.

Sukuna chuckles again. He squeezes you tighter, and instead of claiming your lips, he settles for lightly kissing your forehead this time. It’s enough to tide him over for the time being. He’ll be sure that you realize you owe him your life. You’re lucky you happened to catch his eye.

Otherwise, he would’ve had no qualms slicing you up into ribbons, just like the special-grade curse.

“Alright, I’m done,” Sukuna mutters, knowing all too well that this moment won’t last. He continues to hold you, but in just a second, now that you’re all healed, Itadori will take control again. “I said, I’m done. So frustrating. If you’re going to switch, hurry up and switch already!”

There’s no response.

Strange. Itadori has never struggled to suppress him up until now. What is he taking his sweet time for? Is he being deliberately annoying, by making Sukuna feel like he finally has some freedom, only to inevitably tear it away from him?

“Brat?” Sukuna calls out for the second time—but yet again, there’s no response.

More time passes. Nothing is happening. Sukuna can still feel that he has full control over this body. Unlike all those times before, there isn’t that uncomfortable, nagging sensation. The one that makes him feel like he’s being forced deep, deep down.

Surely, by now, Itadori would have taken over.

Which must mean that… he can’t.

Sukuna’s grin stretches out even wider. First being able to see you in the flesh, and now this turn of events.

Today just keeps on getting better.

Fushiguro successfully escaped. He dropped Nobara off with Ijichi, who agreed to take her to the hospital to get treated. Even now, he can’t help but feel as though he took the coward’s way out. He left both you and Itadori behind. Itadori promised to switch with Sukuna, which means that he’s most likely safe, but as for you…

Is he stupid for holding out hope that by some miracle, you managed to survive?

Fushiguro lowers his gaze to the ground. No, he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Even if you lasted long enough for Itadori to make the swap, the fact that you were trapped in there with Sukuna, of all people, may as well be a death sentence. Sukuna can easily kill the special-grade curse, and he’ll protect Itadori’s body because that’s his vessel, but he won’t bother to have mercy on you. He could care less about whether or not someone lives or dies. Earlier, he even outright stated that he wanted to kill all of you.

She’s dead.

As much as Fushiguro doesn’t want to admit it, he knows that it’s true. He clenches his fists, shoulders trembling slightly. He’s suddenly reminded of your bright smile, and all the silly, oftentimes ridiculous things you would say. Maybe he was too harsh on you. Maybe he judged you too quickly, purely because of your strange circumstances. You seemed so happy to move into the dorms and spend time with him… and yet, he was only ever cold to you.

Before Fushiguro can sink further into a bout of depression, something in the air shifts, and when he looks back towards the detention center, he can tell that the Innate Domain has disappeared.

“The special-grade curse is dead,” Fushiguro mumbles. “So, Itadori must be—”

“That brat isn’t coming back.”

Sukuna is standing behind him. Fushiguro’s entire body tenses up on reflex. He feels as if all of the air just got knocked out of his lungs. He’s so scared that he can barely move a muscle.

But then, out of the corner of his eyes, he sees.

Sukuna is holding you in his arms.

“Don’t be so frightened,” Sukuna muses, cradling you gently, as if you’re something precious. “I’m in a great mood right now. Let’s chat for a little while.”

Fushiguro still isn’t moving, but despite how terrified he is, despite the fear running rampant through his veins, he also feels relieved.

You’re alive.

“Put her down,” Fushiguro demands, hoping his voice comes across at least somewhat stern. “Let… let go of [Name]. Get away from her.”

“This girl? How rude,” Sukuna sighs. “I’m the one who saved her, you know. She would have died to that curse if I didn’t step in. Even when the brat swapped over to me, ultimately, saving her was still my decision to make. I even went out of my way to heal her. You wouldn’t believe the state she was in earlier. Now she looks pretty again. Just how I like her.”

Sukuna… saved your life?

Come to think of it, one of the first things Sukuna did upon reincarnating was say that he recognized you. He tried speaking to you back then, but Itadori intervened by suppressing him. And ever since, he’s been making strange remarks, like repeatedly asking you to explain yourself, and trying to interact with you every chance he gets.

It’s obvious that Sukuna has some sort of fixation on you. Fushiguro kind of already knew that. But for him to go as far as to actually spare your life…? It’s difficult to believe. Even if it was only done for selfish purposes.

Right now, none of that matters, though. The only thing that matters is that you’re still alive.

And Fushiguro intends to keep it that way.

“It was nice,” Sukuna continues, pressing his cheek against yours as he continues to hold you close. “I was able to spend some quality time there with this girl. Alone, away from prying eyes. With no one to disturb us.”

You’re fully unconscious, so naturally, you don’t react. But even though you aren’t aware of your surroundings, the image of you, trapped inside that domain, passed out and completely at Sukuna’s mercy…

It’s enough to make Fushiguro feel like throwing up.

“You sick bastard,” Fushiguro grits out, on the verge of exploding. “What the hell did you do to her?!”

Sukuna shakes his head. “Tsk, tsk. There’s no need for any outbursts. Don’t worry. I didn’t deflower her.” He pauses for a moment, intentionally gliding his fingers up your uniform, and stopping just in front of your chest. “It’d be no fun if she wasn’t awake to enjoy such an intimate act. I decided to hold off until later.”

Fushiguro knows he doesn’t stand a chance against the King of Curses. He should be desperately trying to run away right now. He should be attempting to create any kind of opening in order to escape.

But after that disgusting remark Sukuna just made…

He’d be lying if he said he was still thinking rationally.

“Anyways, just relax,” Sukuna chuckles. Before Fushiguro can completely lose control of himself, Sukuna gently sets your unconscious body down on the ground, up against the trunk of a nearby tree. “There’s no need to worry about the girl. I don’t plan on hurting her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered saving her in the first place. The fact that I’m able to move freely right now must be because that brat tried to use me without any kind of pact. He seems to be having trouble switching back. Still, it’s only a matter of time until he regains control. Which is why I thought about what I can do right now.”

Without warning, Sukuna rips his shirt off and plunges his hand deep into his chest, then rips out his heart—or rather, Itadori’s heart.

Blood trickles down the corners of his lips as he chuckles cruelly, and a pool of crimson spills onto the rain-spattered ground. He grips Itadori’s heart firmly, and with every passing second, Fushiguro’s expression unravels more.

“Wh-What are you doing…?” he asks fearfully.

“I’m taking this brat hostage,” Sukuna grins. “I can live without this, but the same can’t be said for him. Swapping with me right now would mean certain death. Oh, and… I also have this, just for good measure.”

Sukuna pulls out the finger he retrieved from the special-grade curse and promptly swallows it, thereby increasing his strength even further. Fushiguro can only watch, terror-stricken. Sukuna tosses the heart aside and wipes a hand across his bloody mouth. His grin still shows no sign of disappearing.

“I guess that makes me a free man. Feel free to be scared now. While I’m here… I think I may as well kill you. For no particular reason. Just because I can.”

Fushiguro casts a quick glance over to you. “Itadori will come back. Even if it means dying. That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

“You’re giving him way too much credit,” Sukuna brushes off. “He’s just a dimwit who’s a little tougher than most humans, that’s all. Earlier, he was whimpering like a baby. He couldn’t believe how weak he truly was. He knew he couldn’t save the girl on his own, which is why he had no choice but to rely on me. Such a pathetic weakling… I know for a fact he doesn’t have the guts to kill himself.”

Fushiguro takes a step back, narrowing his eyes. Sukuna is clearly capable of healing himself and others. He healed you, and even Itadori’s arm has been restored. He may be able to live without a heart, but it must still be damaging to him. He needs to feel as if he has no choice but to put his heart back. He needs to believe that he can’t win in his current state.

The odds of overpowering him are incredibly slim. Fushiguro knows that all too well. But whether or not he can actually do it doesn’t matter.

He will do it.

Not only for Itadori, but for you.

“If you kill me,” Fushiguro begins, assuming a fighting stance, “what do you plan to do with [Name]?”

Sukuna just stares at him for a few moments. The rain seems to be picking up even more. For a while, the only thing that can be heard is the sound of raindrops pelting the ground, drowning out virtually everything else.

Until Sukuna laughs, that is.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he grins crudely. “I’m going to make her mine. And once she’s mine… I’ll do whatever I please with her.”

Fushiguro grits his teeth.

Like hell is he going to let that happen.

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

🔮 main masterlist! ♡ oneshot masterlist

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world-of-aus · 1 month ago

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First Time Caller

Summary: Bucky doesn’t mean to call. It’s late. He’s bleeding. The motel room smells like metal and dirt, and the weight of the mission is still heavy on his chest. He just wants to forget—for a few minutes. That’s all. But then she answers. Her voice is sweet like honey, smooth like sin, and it slips past every wall he’s built. She doesn’t just flirt—she soothes. Makes him feel wanted. Soft. Like he’s more than what the world turned him into. He calls for the distraction. He stays for her. And by the end of the night, he’s already craving more.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader (Hotline AU)

Warnings: NSFW | 18+ | Explicit Content |Hurt/Comfort | Strangers to Something More?

Bucky flicks at the edge of the label of the beer he’s nursing, torn tactical shirt feeling like a second skin from the now dried blood that had dripped steadily down his temple hours earlier. Sam's beside him flipping through channels on the crappy TV at the half decent motel they managed to find a vacancy at.

His friend sighs from next to him, fingers still searching. “You know man, if you keep staring into that bottle like it owes you something, it still won’t call you back.”

Bucky rolls his head, eyes following, “Wasn’t expecting it to Wilson. Unlike some people, I don’t need to sweet-talk glass to feel better.”

His friend grins, pausing his search to look over at the brooding brunette. “Right, cause you’re the king of emotional stability.”

Bucky doesn't rise to the bait. Just leans further into the hard, stale chair, he slumped into when they arrived jaw tight. Sam’s grin falls, an understanding passing over him as he nods at his friend. “Tough one today.”

Bucky grunts as he takes a sip of his now luke-warm beer, grimace kissing his lips as he swallows it down. “They’re all tough.”

Sam nods, a pause as he takes a sip of his own beer, his grimace worse than Bucky’s as he lets out a discontent hiss. “Hey, you ever try one of those,” Sam tilts his head side to side as if debating sharing his next words, “late-night call lines?”

Bucky frowns brows furrowed, beer froze mid-way to his lips. “Like tech support?”

Sam laughs a full bellied laugh shaking his head, “No, man like a ‘spicy’ hot line. You know, ‘Talk to a stranger, share your deepest desires,’ all that nonsense.” He shrugs when all Bucky does is continue to stare at him, “got bored one night and tried it for a laugh.”

Bucky stares at his friend for a moment longer before shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Oh c’mon don’t judge. Wasn’t about the sex talk. Some of them just talk to you. Like real conversations. One woman,” he sighs as if recalling the night, “had this voice, man Bucky you should have heard it; like honey and sin. She could’ve told me my transmission was broken, and I’d have said thank you.”

The brunette raises a brow, a scoff bubbling past his lips, “You’re telling me you paid five bucks a minute to be read bedtime stories by a stranger?”

“You’d be surprised what people need at 2 a.m. Buck. Sometimes it’s not the words it’s the voice. The way someone talks to you, like they’re not afraid of the mess.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, watching as Sam leans over to pull something from his tactical bag, his friend hands him a gold-plated card, a single number on it.

“What’s this?”

Sam shrugs his shoulders, “It doesn’t hurt if you ever want to give it try. There are worse things than letting someone talk you off the ledge. Even if you don’t know their name.”

The conversation drops; Bucky still flipping the gold-plated card around in his fingers.

He wouldn’t call, he thought as he slipped into the pocket of his muddied cargos.

The air is thick with dust and sweat, Bucky sits on the edge of the sagging mattress, a dim yellow lamp casting sharp shadows on the peeling paint barely coating the walls. Blood crusts at his temple, knuckles split and bruised, shirt half-peeled off his shoulder from where he took scissors to tend to a stab wound. His fingers are curled around the card, his other holding the burner; the burner he stares at like it’s a loaded gun.

He doesn’t think; doesn’t chastise himself as he dials the number Sam passed him days ago. He brings the burner to his ear, the device hot against his skin.

Ring.

A voice as sweet as velvet soaked in red wine comes through a second later;

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

Bucky goes still, his breaths halting. Not because of what you said, but how you said it. Like you had truly been waiting for his call, already picturing who it was that would be calling.

He clears his throat, “This a,” he sounds rough, “line where you talk people through their nightmares?”

Even your laugh, is soft, warm, teasing. “I mean, I usually offer a different kind of dream. But I’ve got time for whatever kind of night you’re having.”

His eyes close on a soft exhale that he lets slip past his lips. He lets the sound of your voice wrap around him, soft as it is sinful. And God, it works. He lets out another slow exhale, he hadn’t even realized he was still bracing for a fight.

Your voice is softer now as you speak to him, he finds he likes it. “Rough night?”

He nods stiffly though you can’t see it. “Yeah.”

You hum, he likes that too, his mind wondering what other sounds you might make. “Want to tell me about it? Or should I just distract you?”

Bucky swallows hard. “I - I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. We can figure it out together.” You say it like it’s easy. Like he’s allowed to not know. His grip on the phone loosens just slightly. “Tell me your name, handsome.”

Bucky hesitates for a moment. “James.”

There’s light in your voice when you answer, he imagines you might be smiling. “James, that’s a nice name. James you sound like someone who carries too much.”

Bucky smiles though barely, “You could say that.”

“Hmm.” you hum playfully, “you need someone to help you put it down for a little while?”

He huffs a breath, almost a laugh. Almost. But it’s the first time his mouth curves in hours.

“There it is, see I knew there had to be a smile under all that silence. You’ve got a nice laugh, James. Bet it doesn’t come out often, does it?” you question.

“No, it doesn’t.”

The silence between the two of you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable like he imagined it might become. It’s almost intimate, like you’ve carved out a little space in the world just for him.

Your sweet like honey voice speaks again, “I like the sound of your voice, too. All low and gravelly. Like you’ve seen some things.”

“Seen too much, sweetheart.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not afraid of the dark, James. You can bring yours here. I promise I can handle it.”

He closes his eyes again, chest tight

“Now, I could tell you what I’m wearing, or not wearing, if you want. But something tells me what you really need is someone to just be here. Am I right?”

His voice is thick with emotion when he replies, “Yeah.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, James. I’m all yours for tonight. Are you alone right now, James?” you question softly.

“Yeah, I am.” He answers truthfully.

“Good. Then I can talk to you the way I want to, the way you deserve to be spoken to.” you purr, tone teasing, flirty.”

Bucky shifts slightly on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking beneath his weight. His shoulder throbs, his ribs ache every time he breathes too deep. But your voice, God, your voice cuts through all of it like silk across broken glass.

“Do something for me James, close your eyes for me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I can.” he husks, eyes slipping shut just for you. The dingy motel disappears, in a world of black; the blood, the bruises, the weight on his back fades.

Your voice is speaking to him again, “I want you to imagine my hands. One of them sliding into your hair, gentle at first, slow. Just to touch you, not to take. You’ve had enough of people taking, haven’t you?”

Bucky swallows hard; his metal hand clenching on the itchy bedsheet. “Yeah.” he croaks.

You continue, “And the other hand? It’s on your chest James. Right over your heart. Feel that?”

He nods even though you can’t see it. And he does feel it, your words sinking into his skin like heat. Like balm. He’s trembling, barely breathing now, and it’s not from pain. It’s the gentleness of it that’s undoing him.

“Not pushing.” you breath life into the receiver again, “not pressing, just reminding you that it’s still beating. That you’re still here. And you deserve to feel good. To feel wanted.”

“I don’t know if I do.” he whispers.

“I do. And until you believe it, I’ll say it for you.”

A silence stretches, thick and heavy with emotion. And then your voice changes, still warm but laced with something more. “I bet your skin is still hot from the adrenaline, huh? I bet your muscles are tight. Hard. Like they’re begging to be touched.”

Bucky lets out a ragged breath he didn’t know he was holding, “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll start wanting you.” He wonders if that surprises you, because it surprises him.

“Maybe I want to be wanted.” you return.

He closes his eyes tighter, the edges of the world blurring with the sound of your voice curling into him. It’s not just arousal he feels, it’s need. A craving for closeness, for permission to let go. But he doesn’t touch himself, he doesn’t have to. Every word from you strokes across his skin like a hand he’s starving for.

“I’d kiss every scar, James. Slowly. Like they matter. Like you matter.”

That undoes him.

He makes a low sound in his throat; half growl, half breathless ache. His bloodied hand lifts toward his chest instinctively, pressing flat where your voice said to imagine your touch. His ribs shift beneath his palm, heartbeat pounding.

“What’s your name?” he questions on an almost silent whisper.

There’s a pause on the line, you smile softly against the phone, knowing full well you can’t give that.

“Tonight, I’m just yours. That’s all that matters. Are you still with me, James?”

“I’m here.”

“Good.” you murmur. “I want you to lay back for me just let yourself feel. Can you do that?”

He shifts, gingerly easing back against the thin pillow, the mattress dipping beneath him. His bruised body protests, but he listens to you like its instinct, like your voice is the only thing keeping him tethered to something human.

“Now I want you to let your hand drift lower. No rush. Just follow the heat. Let your fingers skim your stomach. Feel how your skin responds to me. To my voice.”

He obeys, his fingers skimming his stomach like you asked. His metal fingers stay fisted in the sheet while his bloodied flesh hand trails beneath the waistband of his sweats. He swallows hard. He hasn’t done this in - God, too long. Touching himself has always felt like punishment. But with you guiding him, it feels like a gift. Like healing.

“I want you to stroke yourself,” you breathe, “nice and slow. Pretend it’s my hand, soft and greedy, wrapped around you. Just for you, baby. No one else. You deserve this.”

A ragged groan leaves his chest choked off, like it slipped past his defenses before he could catch it. His hips twitch up into his own hand, the movement automatic now, desperate. “Jesus” he gasps.

“No, baby. Just me.” You let that land, purring the words into his ear like you’re right there beside him, whispering against his sweat-slicked skin. “You’ve been strong all day. Brutal. Bleeding. But now? Now, I want you soft for me. I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

His breath stutters. He’s trembling. One hand fisting the sheet, the other working himself slowly, precisely, like he’s finally remembering what it feels like to want. His metal arm creaks under tension, every muscle drawn tight, but it’s not violence in him anymore, it’s need.

“Don’t stop talking.” he begs.

“I’m right here baby.” you coo, “Not going anywhere, I want to hear you fall apart. I want to be the one who undoes you.”

And he does. Quietly, desperately. His climax crashes over him like a wave he didn’t see coming jaw clenched, chest heaving, body curling in on itself with a muffled groan pressed into the crook of his arm. A beat passes. Then another. Silence, save for his breathing and the faint buzz of the motel light.

“That’s it, baby. You did so good.”

“Why do you talk to me like that?” he questions breath ragged.

“Because you sounded like you forgot what it feels like to be wanted.”

The line goes quiet after you wish him a good night and remind him softly, almost shyly, that he can call again anytime. That you’ll be here.

Bucky stares at the ceiling. The phone still warm in his hand. Sweat drying on his chest. His body sated, but his soul shaken. He should feel stupid, ashamed even, but he doesn’t. All he can hear is your voice.

"You did so good."

And God help him; he wants to hear it again. Not the sex. Not the release. Just you. That voice. That impossible warmth, like you reached into his chest and reminded his heart it still had a rhythm.

He sets the phone down gently. Sits in the dark, quiet motel room, surrounded by bloodstains and cracked wallpaper. But for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel completely alone.

And even though he won’t admit it yet he already knows:

He’s going to call again.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au

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smoshyourheadin · 1 year ago

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some comfort soencer agnew :(

It’s okay, you can cry now.

pairing: spencer agnew x fem!reader

a/n: OH WE’RE SO BACK SMOSHYOURHEADIN NATION!! i’ve missed y’all sooo much!!! kinda short but enjoy none the less 🫶 requests are open <3

as you lay on his bed, the sound of raindrops tap against the windows gently as you feel a tear roll down your cheek. his room is softly lit by the glow of the tv which is playing some shitty reality show, with plush blankets and pillows on his bed.

spencer and you met when your friend damien had invited you to be a guest speaker at his ‘funeral’ - where spencer made your sides hurt with how funny he was. from the moment you met him, there was an undeniable chemistry between you. over time, you and spencer started hanging out more, texting and calling, meeting up for coffee before he had to go to work, and you’d also started to convince damien to invite on the channel more often, as an excuse to see him - ian and anthony eventually hiring you to work on art and design.

despite the growing closeness, neither of you ever explicitly acknowledged the romantic tension that occasionally surfaced. your friendship had a mix of intimacy and comfort that neither of you wanted to jeopardize by labeling it. you were each other's confidants, sharing dreams, fears, and everything inbetween.

“hey there, y’okay?” spencer’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, as he walks into his room with two cans of sprite, seeing you blink away tears.

“um, yeah. no. i don’t know” you sit up and wipe your face, sniffling gently, and you cross your legs as he sits to face you on the end of his bed, your knees touching his.

“d’you wanna talk about anything?” he looks into your eyes, gaze soft but firm somehow.

“um,” you look away as you feel more tears forming, a lump creeping into your throat “i just... feel like i'm constantly running, trying to keep up with everything. the videos, the comments, the expectations. it's like... it's never enough, you know?"

spencer nods, his hand moving to rest atop yours. "i get it. this world can be overwhelming. but you don't have to face it alone. we're a team, remember?"

you squeeze his hand, finding a bit of strength in his touch. "i know, it's just... sometimes i feel like i'm letting everyone down. like i'm not good enough."

his eyes soften even more, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in a good way.

"you're more than enough. you bring so much joy and creativity to everything you do. and it's okay to feel overwhelmed. it doesn't mean you're failing."

you take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words. "i guess i just need to hear that sometimes. that it's okay to not be perfect."

spencer shifts closer, his other hand cupping your cheek, thumb gently brushing away a stray tear. "no one expects you to be perfect. especially not me. i just want you to be you. because that's more than enough."

his words break something loose inside you, and the tears start to flow freely. spencer pulls you into a gentle hug, holding you as you let out all the pent-up emotions. his embrace is warm and reassuring, a safe haven from the storm raging inside you. you inhale deeply, and notice he smells like old books and coffee,

“it’s okay, you can cry now” he says into you hair as you sob, his fingers gently brushing through you hair

after a while, you pull back slightly, looking up at him with gratitude. "thank you, spencer. for being here, for understanding."

he smiles, a small, comforting smile. "always. you mean a lot to me, y’know that?"

you nod, a small smile of your own forming. "you mean a lot to me too, spence."

he takes a deep breath, and for a moment, you see something flicker in his eyes.

you move yourself next to him, and lay your head on his shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, as you close your eyes, feeling content in the moment. the sound of the rain, the flickering light of the tv, and the steady beat of his heart lull you into a sense of calm.

and in that quiet moment, with the rain still pattering against the windows, you know that no matter what the future holds, you'll face it together.

#smoshyourheadin #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #courtney miller #arasha lalani #smosh #shayne topp #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader

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kolawnk · 1 month ago

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revenge, perhaps ?

013 ☆ watch me burn brighter

⊯sypnosis: y/n, a beloved singer, fell deeply in love with the famous model Park Sunghoon, whose charm quickly turned their relationship into a global sensation. She was blind to his flaws, believing love could change his troubled past. But two months ago, she discovered the heartbreaking truth—he cheated. The betrayal shattered her. Yet, despite the pain, y/n still finds herself haunted by thoughts of him. Now, with her upcoming single, she's channeling that heartbreak into art, pouring all the unresolved emotions into her music. It’s not just a song—it’s her revenge, her way of reclaiming herself. Little did she know, someone was watching her more closely than anyone else.

note: this one is kinda long soo make sure to read everything😌😌 more under the cut !!

The cheers were thunderous, echoing through the venue like crashing waves. The entire stadium vibrated with adrenaline and anticipation, every fan on their feet, lights flashing like fireflies in a thunderstorm. The massive LED screen behind the stage shimmered to life—blooms turning to ash, petals melting into embers.

And then, she stepped out.

YN.

She walked slowly, deliberately, draped in a sculpted silhouette of velvet and flame. Her face was bare but strong, her eyes glazed with a cold fire. She looked every inch like a woman forged in pain—and not just surviving, but ruling her own ashes. The stage was hers. The night was hers. The world was watching.

“I'm still myself, but my views and people have changed. Now, are you ready to see the new era of yn?” her voice asked through the speaker, low and smooth, nearly swallowed by the rising music.

The crowd lost it.

She performed with a grace that bordered on violent—dancing as if exorcising demons, her lyrics ripping through speakers like confessions. Each verse hit like a punch to the chest, each chorus like a scream that had waited too long to be heard.

But somewhere between the strobe lights and the screams, somewhere deep inside—YN felt it again.

The fear.

She didn’t let it show, not as she twirled through the fire-lit choreography of “Mirror Talk” or screamed the final notes of “Ashes in Bloom.” But backstage, where the stage lights couldn’t reach her, she could feel it. That cold prickle along her spine. That invisible breath against her neck.

He was still out there.

And worse—he was watching.

SUNGHOON'S POV

He watched the entire performance alone, in a dark apartment with nothing but his phone screen illuminating his face. When she sang the second verse of “No Apology,” it was like being gutted with his own knife.

"you swore you changed / i should’ve known / silence is still betrayal / even when it’s gold.”

He knew that line was about him. Or maybe not. Maybe it was about everything. Her label. The stalker. All the betrayals layered over each other until the only thing she could do was burn it all down.

He typed and deleted the same message five times before settling on just one:

She sat in the corner of her new apartment, knees pulled to her chest, surrounded by unopened boxes. The silence was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the city through the window.

Her phone buzzed again.

Not from him.

From a private number.

No message.

Just a video.

She hesitated, then tapped it.

The screen flickered.

It was footage—of her. Tonight. Walking backstage. But the camera wasn’t from the venue. It was low to the ground. As if it was taken from behind a door. From the shadows.

She froze.

Then another buzz. A message.

“i was closer than you thought. beautiful show tonight.”

Her breath caught. The world spun.

She didn’t cry. Not this time.

But her fingers moved quickly, and she opened her contact list.

She scrolled to his name.

park sunghoon (dni)

She stared at it.

Her thumb hovered.

Then—

Calling...

prev 《 masterlist 》 next

taglist!! (req open) @curaheehee @sngj08 @tasnemluvs @honestlyatomicpanda @haerin-luv @angelzforu @hyuneskkami @nessas-archive @enhastars @rikidaze @leralise @nk-3554 @hyuneskkami @angelzforu @semi-wife @desistay

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astrolook · 2 months ago

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#2 The Astrology About Your Difficult Placements & Turning Them Into A Career Opportunity - Rx Edition

Here's Part 1

Note: This post is based on my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. It's important to understand that no single placement in a chart can determine whether someone is “good” or “bad,” a success or a failure, or even something as extreme as a criminal. Astrology is complex, and the entire birth chart must be considered as a whole. What we often label as "difficult" placements can actually become powerful sources of strength if we choose to approach them with awareness, effort, and a growth mindset. These placements aren’t curses, they’re invitations to evolve. This post is based on Vedic/Sidereal Astrology.

Astrology is a lot like Google Maps, it shows you possible routes to your destination, but it’s still up to you which path to take. It can guide, not dictate. That’s why I find it disheartening when some astrologers deliver overly negative interpretations that leave people feeling helpless or afraid and making serious life decisions based on it. Every placement holds multiple possibilities, some more challenging than others. With awareness and the right mindset, even the toughest placements can become powerful tools for growth.

These placements don’t doom you, they challenge you to rise.

Saturn Rx in 10th - Had to work twice as hard as others to get half as far. You'll reach further, just not in a straight line. Unemployed or underpaid, in some cases.

On the bright side, this is a good placement to start you own damn business later in life after 27. Any business, policy making, construction, architecture, independent consulting, freelancing, etc.

Mercury Rx in 3rd - You second-guess your thoughts before they even finish forming. Social anxiety in a house that loves communication. Speech delay, in some cases.

On the bright side, this is a good placement for writing, podcasting, editing, musician, research analysis, journalist, UX design, AI expert, etc.

Saturn Rx in 4th - Not a soft childhood. Emotionally distant parent. Abandoned by their parents or grew up in foster home, in rare cases.

On the bright side, this is good placement and often creates people who build emotional homes for others like therapists, healers, realtor, real estate agent, psychologist, home renovation, child care, trauma coach, homeless shelter, etc.

Venus Rx in 2nd - Self-worth isn’t something you inherited. You had to earn it dollar by dollar, compliment by compliment.

On the bright side, this is a good placement for luxury branding business, voice acting, model scout, jewelry design, financial consultant, insurance agent, dealerships, hairstylist, dermatologist, etc.

Mars Rx in 6th - Invented burnout. Obsess about work but doesn't know how to properly channel the pace. All or nothing. OCD, in some cases. Accidental death in workplace, in very rare cases.

On the bright side, this is a good placement for crisis management, IT consultant, fitness coach, nutritionist, ENT specialist, neurologist, etc.

Mercury Rx in 8th - You read between the lines before the lines are even written. You’re suspicious of surface-level anything. Says something and does the opposite. Hides real opinions to avoid judgement or criticism and keep to self.

On the bright side, this is a good placement for filmmaking, pianist, guitarist or any musical instrument careers, jailer, UFO researcher, criminal lawyer, occultist, financial advisor, sex therapist, etc.

Saturn Rx in 7th - Dating or relationship is minimal or non-existent. Unconventional partner - smart worker, older or wiser but young at heart. Career/partnerships picks up in late-20's.

On the bright side, this is a good placement for own business, CEO/Chairman, managerial positions, divorce lawyer, govt jobs in a far away place, contractor, industrialist, brand consultant, bio-tech researcher, etc.

Jupiter Rx in 11th - Outsider among outsiders. Tough to find your "people". Changes lives behind-the-scenes. Lonely at times.

On the bright side, this is a good placement for tech startups, humanitarian work, social reform, activism, game development, digital media, advertising, astrology, etc.

Jupiter Rx in 5th - Joy is earned not given. Has to fight for personal freedom, in some cases. Luck comes later in life after 27.

On the bright side, educator, creative writer, freelancer, web or app developer, speculative writing, children's media, performance arts, YouTuber, comic artist, etc.

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report or synastry reading🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

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sexxynerd10 · 3 months ago

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REPOST| NEW ACCOUNT!

I was formally @| Nerdbabeee on here but I’ve decided to do a makeover & start fresh! Enjoy 🌵

Astro observations — UNIQUE’S PERSPECTIVES

🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪🧪

- Pisces placements (suns mostly) are pathological liars along with Libra (especially suns) being runner up 🖕🏽

- Taurus placements are usually the most beautiful people you’d ever meet until you’ve encountered their stubbornness & anger, these people cannot be tamed & this once beautiful image becomes a shock to those around you, almost in way that people tend to perceive you all as someone who wouldn’t do certain things or react a certain way because “You’re too pretty for that”??? yea NO 😒 (I absolutely LOVE both Taurus men & women so shut your pie holes please! Y’all are literally number two on my list of the bestest!)

- unhealed Gemini men are the worst people to date or build a sexual relationship with, these men can harbor deep jealousy towards their partners & ultimately make their lives a living hell ⚠️

- Aries Woman are usually evil eyed the most, just because of their looks but their drive, passion & leadership 😻 (BAD BITCHES SINCE BIRTH!)

- Leo sun woman & Leo sun men are two totally different perspectives with Leo sun women being more competitive & channeling it through jealous like behavior as oppose Leo men channels their competitive nature and jealousy through sports, gym or any active activity that’ll keep them distracted from said feelings 👎🏽

- Scorpio women are usually the most critical because majority of them were criticized a lot in their childhood, this especially applies to the scorpio Moons 💔 these placements often dislike the attention they get as these placements often like “Recognition” often indicating these placements want the attention only for a good cause

- Scorpio Venus in men can create someone very trusting too easily & someone very competitive in love. This usually results in them being very hurt in the end & depressed or deep personal growth 🦂

- Virgo moons & any Virgo Placements are the worst people to be around, they swear their shit doesn’t stinks #FUCKVIRGOS 🤮(I’d shit on y’all’s grave #GRAVEDANCER! )

- Aries venus in men usually make them really active in bed, lots of groans and grunts & a heavy dirty talking 🥵

- Pisces moons usually grew up with one or both absent parents, either due to prison, or drugs 😞

- Aquarius men are usually very sensitive deep down but are usually forced to be nonchalant & unexpressive due to most of them being abused or badly hurt in their younger years 🥺

- Capricorn Moon women are shitty partners i’ve noticed, they wine about wanting love yet cannot fully express themselves to their lovers nor can they be receptive. These women usually fall into the trope of having an ex or multiple exs that’s usually labeled “The one(s) that Got Away” 🫠

- Scorpio rising women are usually very quiet & others tend to project their insecurities onto them a lot, they could also end up with men who are extremely jealous of them in their relationships 🦂 these women are undeniably strong individuals with a powerful intuition & a powerful gift of sight

- Aries Moons are the type to talk behind your bad then avoid you, these people often struggle with a guilty conscience due to their emotional impulsiveness, they could be the type to “accidentally” spill their close friends secrets because they needed to “vent” but it’s only a cover to them usually being very insecure deep down & emotionally immature 👎🏽

- Cancer sun men unhealed will literally drain the life out of you 0/10

- Gemini women (sun) gossip a lot but are usually burdened by pain and emotional scars. these women tend to use socialization/gossiping as form of therapy for themselves whether negatively or positively 7/10 🫶🏽😒 (i have a deep soft spot for them, even the negative ones seem to have been deeply hurt in their childhood or in love that causes an irreversible change in their characters, earth angels literally!🫶🏽🥺)

- Sagittarius woman 0/10 ew yall are literally weird asf, simple. I’ve always experienced some sort of weird unrequited ass “beef” with them.. weirdos 4 sure 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 they’re not all positive and sunshine that shi is a facade ! #GRAVEDANCING4ETERNITY! #I’DSHITONY’ALLSGRAVES!

—

Hey my name is Unique, I hope you enjoyed my post!

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the-cosmic-cauldron · 6 months ago

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♡𝕍𝕖𝕟𝕦𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕟 & ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ♡

This is a continued post ❁

8️⃣🏠

Aquarius Venus in the 8th house can be hot and cold. They are deeply introspective and often channel their detachment into their emotions. One day, they may be fully connected, listening and sharing with you, while the next, they could ghost or retreat emotionally. They crave deep connections but are hesitant to allow vulnerability. Trust is crucial for them, and once they trust you, they will open up more. Before that, they will primarily share their ideas and beliefs, keeping their emotional side under wraps.

9️⃣🏠

Aquarius Venus in the 9th house is constantly on the go. When they like someone, they want to experience new things with them—traveling to exciting destinations or exploring new ideas. They need to be intellectually stimulated and get bored easily, so they seek a partner who can bring energy and excitement to their life. Commitment is not easy for them, as they value their freedom and don’t want to be smothered. They need a partner who can provide the life they desire while allowing them space to explore and grow.

1️⃣0️⃣🏠

Aquarius Venus in the 10th house cares deeply about their public image and career. They seek a partner who aligns with their values, particularly in terms of being progressive, humanitarian, and unique. They enjoy relationships but maintain a strong sense of individuality, preferring to have their own life outside of the relationship. They want a partner who supports their vision and allows them to remain independent while also sharing common goals.

1️⃣1️⃣🏠

Aquarius Venus in the 11th house is friendly and outgoing. They value intellectual connections and need a partner who feels like their best friend. They tend to resist commitment and prefer unconventional relationships, such as friends with benefits or open relationships. They don’t like labels and enjoy keeping things casual, but they still value humanity and emotional connection in their own way.

1️⃣2️⃣🏠

Aquarius Venus in the 12th house struggles with connecting to the Aquarian qualities of independence and intellectualism when it comes to love. They tend to attract emotionally needy partners or end up in traditional relationships that don’t align with their true desires. This creates difficulty in finding a fulfilling love connection. They often suppress their true desires and values, making it hard for them to express their authentic self in relationships.

🅟🅘🅢🅒🅔🅢 🅥🅔🅝🅤🅢

How they love: Unconditional lovers, Venus in Pisces, take the cake for romance. They exist in their minds, in their ideals, and in their dreams, and they want to bring those dreams to life. They often feel a deep connection to someone’s energy and are drawn to who that person is on a soul level. What they deeply crave is an all-encompassing, intimate relationship—soulmate energy, twin flame energy.

1️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 1st house is the type of Pisces who will initiate communication with someone they like. They go after what they want because they feel that the person they are drawn to encompasses everything they desire. They tend to view people through rose-colored glasses, idealizing anyone they like, and often feel that this is the person of their dreams—someone they want to be with for the rest of their life, even if they’ve never met them. They can idealize people based on first impressions, how they look, or their vibe and energy. These individuals crave a passionate, loving, and intimate relationship.

2️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 2nd house values steadiness in their relationships. They are the type of lovers who truly need to feel loved on a deep level, valuing unconditional love to the point where they require someone who will show up and provide that love consistently and steadily. They are also very sensual, needing physical closeness and affection from their partners. They enjoy expressing love in a concrete, practical way, such as through words of affirmation or physical touch. These individuals often base their beliefs about love on their spiritual or personal value systems.

3️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 3rd house is the ultimate communicator, always craving deep conversations with the person they like. They are fascinated by others’ lifestyles and day-to-day lives and want to stay connected through constant texting and talking. It’s not about doing things together but about having one-on-one conversations that reveal truths and deepen understanding. These individuals are captivated by meaningful dialogue and need mental stimulation in relationships.

4️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 4th house is a homebody who enjoys privacy and loves being at home. They are deep romantics who crave intimacy and connection. They love love letters and sentimental items, holding on to meaningful gifts from those they care about. These individuals are genuine and kind-hearted, seeking partners who are soft-hearted, family-oriented, and a bit mysterious. They enjoy a tight, unconditional, long-lasting bond with their loved ones, and their ideal partner is someone who can offer them comfort and provide the sense of love they’ve envisioned.

5️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 5th house is playful and enjoys having fun with their partners. They become giddy and childlike in the presence of someone they like, and their relationships allow them to express their inner creativity. They may enjoy artistic activities like painting, singing, or making content with their partner. These individuals pour their love into their relationships and can have many lovers, giving deeply of themselves to each person.

6️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 6th house has conflicting energies. On one hand, they are free-loving and fluid in their approach to relationships, but on the other hand, they seek stable, grounded partners. They are attracted to creative, down-to-earth, and spiritual individuals who can make them feel special. They have certain standards in relationships, but those standards are flexible. While they enjoy the freedom of getting to know people, when it comes to committed relationships, they seek partners who align with their values.

7️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 7th house is the quintessential romantic. They desire to give their entire self to their partner and can become so unified with them that they feel like one. These individuals are self-sacrificial in relationships, willing to compromise and do whatever it takes to keep the peace and harmony. They fall in love easily and want to devote themselves to their partner for life. Their relationships are centered around deep emotional connections and creating a harmonious, loving partnership.

8️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 8th house is a deeply emotional and intense placement. These individuals have a lot of unconditional love to give, but they also have trust issues. They need to trust their partner before they can fully open up and express their emotions. Once they do trust someone, they become deeply devoted and willing to show their more intimate and vulnerable sides. This placement is highly sexual and desires deep, intimate connections. They feel more in love when they share this level of intimacy with their partner.

9️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 9th house is passionate and loves to explore their connections. They enjoy doing meaningful things with their partner, such as traveling to places that hold significance or having deep conversations that help them understand each other better. These individuals value a partner who shares similar beliefs and philosophies, and they enjoy connecting with their partner on a spiritual or intellectual level. They are not just about the physical connection—they seek deeper meaning in everything they do with their partner.

1️⃣0️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 10th house focuses outwardly on the image of their relationships. They may alter their appearance or adapt to their partner’s lifestyle to create harmony and attract the right partner. These individuals care deeply about maintaining a positive public image of their relationship, sometimes to the point of sacrificing their own desires to maintain peace. They are very accommodating lovers who often let their partner take the lead in the relationship, focusing on keeping things calm and harmonious.

1️⃣1️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 11th house is a loving and compassionate individual who values friendship and connection. They have a magnetic and mysterious quality that draws people to them. While they enjoy relationships, they are not traditional and prefer to let things unfold naturally. These individuals are not possessive and value freedom in their relationships, both for themselves and their partners. They appreciate open-mindedness and enjoy the fluidity of love that comes without expectations.

1️⃣2️⃣🏠

Pisces Venus in the 12th house has a heart of gold and is incredibly loving and nurturing, but they can be very confused about their own emotions. These individuals have a deep, spiritual nature and often struggle to express their love in a clear way. They may feel misunderstood or disconnected from their own feelings at times, but their love is pure and compassionate. This placement often leads to self-sacrifice in relationships, and these individuals may give too much of themselves without receiving enough in return. They need a partner who can understand their emotional complexity and offer them the same unconditional love they so freely give to others.

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mattsobvimyfav · 6 months ago

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roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 18 -

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question. My chest tightened as I tried to put my chaotic thoughts into words. “I don’t know, Matt,” I admitted, “I don’t want a label. Not right now. It’s too soon, and everything is too messy. I just… I want to live and have fun. I don’t want to be tied down to anything right now.”

His expression faltered, and he looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. The defeat in his posture stung, but I couldn’t lie to him.

After a long moment, Matt let out a deep breath and walked over to me. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, resting his head on my knees. The sudden vulnerability in his actions caught me off guard.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice softer now. “If that’s what you want, I get it. But can we at least start over? Forget all the shit that’s happened between us. Pretend we’ve never met and start fresh. No history, just a clean slate.”

I stared down at him, my heart twisting. His forehead was pressed against my legs, and his hands rested lightly on my knees, like he was grounding himself in the moment. There was no anger in his tone now.

I reached out hesitantly, brushing a strand of his dark hair from his face. “You really think we can do that?” I asked softly.

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I want to try. I’m tired of all this fighting, of all this back and forth. I just want to know who you are without all the baggage. I think you’d want that too. I know I'm a dick to you but Ill try if you do.”

His words hit me hard, and I nodded slowly. “Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s try.”

Later on that night, Matt emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp from washing his face and dressed in a simple pair of plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt. He paused when he saw me already tucked under the covers, my legs curled up and my phone abandoned on the nightstand.

I glanced up at him, feeling oddly shy after the emotional rollercoaster of the night. “Hey,” I said softly, shifting a little to sit up against the headboard. “Before we go to sleep, can we… I don’t know, maybe watch some of your YouTube videos? On the TV?”

Matt’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You want to watch them? Again?” he teased lightly, moving toward his side of the room.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the grin that crept across my face. “Yeah, I do. They’re funny, and it’s kind of cool seeing that side of you and your brothers.”

Matt nodded. “Alright, yeah. Let me grab the remote.” He picked it up from his desk and switched on the TV, pulling up their channel.

As the familiar intro music played, he climbed into his bed across from mine, propping himself up against the wall. He glanced over at me “Just so you know, I’ll deny this if you ever tell Nick or Chris I actually enjoy showing these to you.”

I laughed, settling into my pillow as I focused on the screen. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We sat in comfortable silence as the video started, the room filled with the sound of the triplets’ banter. Every now and then, Matt would glance over to see if I was laughing, his own smile widening whenever he caught me giggling.

We watched them for about an hour before I fell asleep to the sound of Nick’s yelling. Matt shut the TV off before going to bed himself.

The next morning, I woke up to the soft sound of Matt shuffling around the dorm room. The sunlight streaming through the blinds made me squint as I stretched under the covers, my body still tired from everything that had happened the night before.

“Morning,” Matt said, glancing over at me from his desk where he was scrolling through his phone.

“Morning,” I mumbled, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. I figured you needed the sleep, so I didn’t wake you,” he said with a small shrug. “Nick is coming later today, so we’ve got the morning to ourselves. You hungry?”

I nodded, rubbing my eyes. “Starving.”

Matt set his phone down and leaned back in his chair. “Wanna hit up that diner off campus? The one with the pancakes the size of your head?”

“You had me at pancakes, they’re the best.” I said with a grin, sliding out of bed.

“Waffles are better but whatever you say,” he teases.

After quickly getting dressed and throwing my hair into a messy bun, we headed out. The diner was bustling with students, but we managed to snag a booth near the window. Matt ordered waffles, while I went with the classic chocolate chip pancake stack.

After breakfast, we decided to walk around campus. The crisp fall air felt refreshing, and the leaves crunching beneath our feet made everything feel so serene. At one point, Matt stopped near a bench and pointed out a squirrel attempting to drag an oversized acorn up a tree.

“See? That’s me trying to carry the team during practice,” he joked, earning a laugh from me.

“Oh, please. You’ve got Chris for that,” I teased back, nudging him with my elbow.

We eventually made our way back to the dorm, where Nick and Chris were unloading a bunch of camera equipment into our room.

“Perfect timing,” Nick said, spotting us. “We’ve got a new video idea, and you two are helping.”

Matt groaned. “Do I even want to know what it is?”

Chris smirked. “It just a normal Q&A. But first we need to talk about what happened last night” He turned pointing at me

We walked out of my dorm and down to his.

Chris closed the door behind me and crossed his arms, standing a few feet away. “I don’t want to drag this out,” he said, breaking the silence. “I think we both know things got… messy.”

“Messy is putting it extremely fucking light,” I said, my voice tinged with bitterness.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah, it got ugly. But I don’t want to keep holding onto it. You don’t deserve to be caught up in all this, and honestly, neither do I. I screwed up, you screwed up—we both did.”

I sighed, crossing my arms as I looked at him. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying let’s put it all in the past,” he said firmly. “No more talking about what happened, no more drama. We move.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to gauge how serious he was. There was a weight in his expression, but also a sense of relief.

“Can you actually do that?” I asked, tilting my head.

Chris gave a small, humorless laugh. “I’m trying, aren’t I? Look, I don’t want to keep feeling like this. It’s exhausting. And I know you don’t either.”

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Fine. Clean slate. But no more games, Chris. No more complications.”

“No more complications,” he agreed.

We stood there for a moment, an unspoken understanding passing between us.

“Well, we should get back,” I said, pushing off the desk.

“Yeah your right” He agreed as he opened the door holding it for me.

The boys prepared to film their YouTube video. Our dorm had been transformed into a mini studio—ring light glowing in the corner, the trusty camera perched on a tripod.

Nick sat on the couch, on his phone, while Matt tinkered with the camera. Chris stood by the window, cracking jokes to anyone who would listen.

“Alright, we’ve got everything set up. Nick, you’re not bailing early this time, so no excuses,” Matt said, adjusting the frame on the camera and glancing over at his brother.

“I wasn’t going to bail,” Nick replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s always me you guys blame.”

“Because it’s always you, dickhead” Chris said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at Nick.

“Guys,” I interjected from my spot on Matt’s desk, “Focus.”

“She’s the only responsible one here.” Chris said with a grin.

“Responsible?” I teased.

“Alright, alright,” Matt interrupted, clapping his hands. “Let’s get this started before Chris decides to monologue again.”

The three of them plopped onto the couch, their banter filling the room as Matt hit record. “What’s up, everyone!” Chris started, leaning forward into the camera with his trademark grin. “We’re back with another video because you guys won’t leave us alone about doing a Q&A.”

“Seriously, the comments are getting aggressive,” Nick joked, making a mock-serious face.

Matt grabbed his phone and read the first question. “‘Which triplet would win in a fight?’”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Nick said, pointing to himself.

“Yeah, right,” Chris countered. “You’d trip over your own feet before the fight even started.”

“Excuse me, I did hockey in elementary school, thank you very much,” Nick shot back, earning laughs from everyone in the room.

The video carried on with its usual chaotic energy. They answered questions about their favorite childhood memories, and embarrassing moments.

Every now and then, the camera would pan to me for a “neutral party” opinion. “Y/N,” Matt said, pointing dramatically, “settle this: who’s the funniest?”

“Oh no,” I said, shaking my head with a grin. “I’m not getting involved in this one.” I started mouthing and pointing that is was Nick.

“Exactly,” Nick teased.

“Smart,” Chris said, leaning back and smirking. Not even noticing I said Nick “She knows it’s me, though.”

As they wrapped up the video, the energy in the room didn’t fade. Instead of packing up, the triplets decided to order pizza.

Nick leaned back on the couch, scrolling through TikTok while Chris flipped through the Q&A submissions they hadn’t gotten to. Matt moved the camera aside, turning to me with a rare relaxed smile. “So, what’d you think? You’ve been here for the filming. Did you like it?”

“Definitely,” I replied, laughing.

Nick glanced over at me with a sly grin. “Hey, Y/N, you wanna help me edit this? I could use a second opinion.”

I chuckled, shrugging. “Sure, why not? But if this crashes and burns, don’t blame me.”

Nick grabbed his laptop and plopped down on the couch, gesturing for me to join him. Chris and Matt were already halfway out the door, arguing about who knows what.

“Don’t take forever!” Nick yelled after them before turning back to me. “Okay, let’s make this somewhat coherent.”

We settled in, and Nick opened the editing software. The raw footage was hilariously unfiltered—Chris making ridiculous faces at the camera, Matt tripping over air while setting up, and Nick accidentally recording a full minute of his shoes.

“Wow, professionals,” I teased.

“You’d think we’d fucking have this down by now,” he replied, laughing. “But honestly, It’s like endearing stupidity.”

We sifted through the clips, trimming the dead air. Every now and then, Nick would pause a frame to make a sarcastic comment.

“Look at Matt’s face here,” he said, pointing to a still of Matt mid-sneeze. “Should we make this the thumbnail?”

I burst out laughing. “Absolutely. Nothing screams ‘must-watch content’ like that.”

As we worked, the conversation drifted. Nick started talking about his time at school, leaning back against the couch cushions as he clicked through the timeline.

“It’s weird sometimes,” he admitted, his tone a little more serious. “Like, having this YouTube thing is great, but it's weird.”

I tilted my head, watching him. “What do you mean?”

“We are growing.. And fast, a couple days ago we had fifty thousand and we are already at seventy thousand. People on tik tok post our clips and it's giving us mad clout. Literally 20 thousand people subscribed to us within a fucking day?” he said, shrugging. “I mean, I love doing it. It’s fun, and it’s ours, you know? But I don't know if it'll work out or if this is just our fifteen minutes you know?”

“That makes sense,” I said softly.

He glanced over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I always make sense”

We kept editing, falling into an easy rhythm. Nick’s sharp sense of humor and relaxed demeanor made it fun, and before we knew it, the video was coming together.

By the time Chris and Matt returned with the pizza, Nick and I were laughing over a particularly absurd moment where Chris accidentally hit himself in the face.

“What’d we miss?” Matt asked, setting the boxes on the coffee table.

“Pure comedy gold,” Nick replied, smirking. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “I don’t trust that.”

“Trust me,” I said, grinning. “It’s perfect.”

As the smell of pizza filled the room, Nick saved the project.

After the video upload was set in motion, the energy in the room began to shift to that cozy, late-night vibe. Chris stretched dramatically, standing up from his spot on the couch.

“Alright, we’ve done enough hard work for one day,” he said, grinning. “Time for some Mario Kart to prove, once again, that I’m the reigning champion.”

Nick scoffed. “You’re only ‘reigning champion’ because Matt doesn’t know how to drift properly.”

Matt scoffed. “I do know how to drift. You just cheat.”

“Sure, kid,” Chris said, walking over to set up the Nintendo Switch. “Y/N, you’re playing. No excuses.”

I laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “I’m pretty sure I’ve only played Mario Kart, like, twice in my life. Prepare to be disappointed.”

“That just means you’ll beat Matt,” Nick teased, earning himself a glare.

We all settled in, controllers in hand, the screen lighting up the room as the familiar Mario Kart music played. Chris picked Donkey Kong, Nick went with Yoshi, Matt picked Luigi, and I chose Princess Peach because her kart was pink, and I figured I might as well go all in.

The first race was chaos. I somehow ended up in first place for about five seconds before being hit with a red shell—courtesy of Chris, who couldn’t stop laughing about it.

“Welcome to Mario Kart, Y/N,” he said, smug.

By the second race, I’d started to get the hang of it. Nick kept trying to coach me, yelling advice like, “Use the mushroom now!” or “Don’t fall off Rainbow Road!” which, of course, I promptly did.

“See? This is why Rainbow Road is banned from tournaments,” I joked, earning a round of laughter.

After several rounds (and Chris smugly retaining his so-called championship), we called it a night for gaming.

“Alright, what now?” Nick asked, leaning back against the couch.

Chris shrugged. “We could watch another movie.”

After some debate, we decided to make ice cream sundaes instead. Chris pulled out a pint of cookie dough ice cream from the mini-fridge, while Matt went to the dining hall to get toppings like sprinkles and chocolate syrup.

Once we all had our sundaes, we returned to the couch, the conversation flowing easily. We talked about everything—funny childhood stories, embarrassing moments, and plans for the next few weeks.

“Okay, but seriously,” I said, between bites of ice cream. “Who decided that Rainbow Road was a good idea for beginners? That map is evil.”

Chris chuckled. “It builds character.”

“Or trauma,” Nick added, making us all laugh.

By the time we finally started winding down, it was nearly 2 a.m. Chris had fallen asleep sprawled across the floor, while Nick was half-asleep on the couch. Matt looked over at me.

“Told you tonight would be fun,” he said quietly.

I smiled back. “Yeah, it really was.”

I snuggled into my pillow and watched some tik tok on my phone before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, the sun peeked through the blinds as we all stirred awake. The room smelled faintly of leftover pizza, and the energy was slow and lazy. Nick was the first to get up, stretching and groaning about his drive back.

“You guys better FaceTime me later,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “And, Matt, don’t be an idiot.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I never am.”

Chris snorted. “Sure, you’re not.”

Nick pulled me into a quick hug before heading out. “Take care of these two,” he whispered jokingly. “They’re a lot.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got them under control,” I replied with a grin.

Once Nick was gone, the dorm felt a little quieter, though the buzz of the morning kept us moving. Chris left to go take a shower in his own dorm. That left Matt and me alone in our dorm.

Matt leaned against the wall, eyeing me thoughtfully. “So, uh, today’s a special day for the team.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What makes it special?”

“It’s ‘Bring a Girl to Practice’ day,” he said with a smirk.

I laughed. “That sounds ridiculous. What, like a ‘Take Your Daughter to Work’ thing?”

He shrugged. “Kind of, but it’s more fun. We get to mess around a bit, and honestly, some of the guys’ girlfriends are terrible skaters. It’s hilarious to watch.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?” I trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Because you’re actually good at skating,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And, I don’t know, it might be fun to have you there. Plus, I need someone to prove that I’m not the worst skater on the ice.”

I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Hmm, tempting offer. So, I’m supposed to just show up and skate circles around all these girls?”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning now. “You’ll make me look good.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the smile forming. “Alright, fine. But if you embarrass me, I’m walking off the ice.”

Matt chuckled. “Deal. Practice starts at 2. Be ready to go.”

The rest of the morning passed quickly as I got ready, excited but slightly nervous about what I’d gotten myself into. Skating was something I hadn’t done in a while, but I had a feeling it was going to be a fun afternoon.

As I zipped up my jacket, a sudden thought struck me like lightning. Charlie! Why hadn’t I thought of her before? She’d love something like this—and it’d be hilarious to get her on the ice.

Without a second thought, I darted out of the dorm and ran straight to Chris’s room, knocking frantically on his door.

Chris opened it, his hair wet, clearly just out of the shower. “Yo, what’s up??”

“I have a favor to ask,” I said, leaning against the doorframe to catch my breath.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What kind of favor?”

“Bring Charlie as your girl to practice,” I blurted.

Chris stared at me for a moment. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” I said with a grin. “It’ll be fun! She’s never been on the ice before, and you two will have a great time.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I was going to bring Katie.”

I crossed my arms, the grin slipping from my face. “Seriously, Chris? You’re still seeing her after everything?”

He groaned. “It’s not like that. She was just going to come for fun.”

“Well, now Charlie is coming for fun,” I said firmly.

Chris looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head with a small laugh. “Fine.”

“Perfect!” I said, already texting Charlie to get ready. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

By 2 PM, Charlie and I were walking into the rink, both decked out in black leggings, cozy leg warmers, and fitted Lululemon zip-ups. Our outfits were sporty but cute, and we were feeling confident as we laced up our skates.

Matt was already on the ice, passing a puck back and forth with one of his teammates. When he saw me, he skated over, smirking. “Not bad. You clean up alright for practice.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I teased.

“Really? Cause I remember differently?” he said, offering me his hand to help me onto the ice.

I scoffed and smacked his hand away from me, skating past him as he laughed.

Charlie wobbled a bit as Chris helped her onto the rink. “I’m going to die,” she whispered, clutching his arm.

Chris laughed, steadying her. “You’ll be fine. Just keep your knees bent a little.”

“Alright, Matt,” I said, turning to him as we skated toward the middle of the rink. “You’ve seen me skate. You trust me, right?”

Matt scoffed, skating a slow circle around me. “Nationally ranked or not, you still scare me.”

I smirked. “You’ll survive, promise. Plus, I’ve been dying to teach you something cool instead of just watching you skate in circles.”

“Alright, fine,” he said, finally stopping in front of me. “What’s the plan, sweetheart?”

“A lift,” I said, my grin widening.

His brows shot up, and he gave me a skeptical once-over. “A lift? Like, one of those Dirty Dancing-style moves?”

“Sort of. But skating.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head with mock seriousness. “Trust me, if anyone can do the lift, it’s gonna be you.”

He groaned but relented. “Alright, fine. But if I drop you, it’s on you for thinking this was a good idea.”

“I won’t let you drop me,” I promised. “Now, come here.”

I skated closer and showed him how to position his hands—firmly around my waist while keeping his elbows slightly bent for control.

“I’m getting dejavú,” he laughs, and I can hear the smirk on his voice as his hands tighten around me.

I roll my eyes. “The key is to keep your core steady and your legs moving. I’ll do most of the balancing; you just have to lift me up and keep skating forward.”

Matt sighed, adjusting his grip. “If we end up in the hospital, you’re explaining this to the doctor.”

“You’ll be fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Ready? On three. One… two… three!”

With surprising ease, Matt lifted me off the ice, his hands steady as he held me up.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, glancing up at me. “You’re light as fuck, that was easy.”

“See?” I said, laughing. “You’re a natural.”

He started skating forward, his strides cautious but controlled. I balanced effortlessly, throwing my arms out for effect.

“Alright, showoff,” he said, smirking as he glided across the ice. “Don’t get too cocky up there.”

“Cocky? Me?” I teased.

As he set me back down gently, Charlie stumbled over with Chris trailing cautiously behind her. “Seriously? You guys are doing figure skating routines now?”

“Jealous?” I shot back, adjusting my leggings.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can barely stay upright. I’ll stick with Chris.”

Chris smirked at me. “He didn’t drop you, huh? Impressive, Matt. You might have a future in this.”

Matt grinned. “Told you I’ve got skills.”

I laughed, nudging him playfully. “Alright, Matthew. Let’s see if you can do it again without turning us into a video on barstool.”

By the time practice ended, we were all laughing and out of breath, and Matt had officially mastered the lift.

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