#I couldn't not take pictures and record

[shotofstress]

Yesterday was my birthday and I really enjoyed getting greetings from Cliff (or Mads Mikkelsen, whichever you prefer) and having a cake. It's a great gesture from Kojima to the players. That the cake is being eaten a piece at a time is great!

[onyxisnotuniqueenough]

question for anyone who has ever looked at my art account. do you care that the pictures are crappy. do you have any tips for me to improve the crappiness.

i am working with a samsung galaxy s22 and i feel like my default settings change everytime i take a pic. it's very inconsistent. it doesn't focus right. all of my pics have blurry edges for no reason. i tried to fix it but i usually make it worse and just endure the default settings and do my best to edit the pics later.

[deathofacupid]

ᡣ𐭩 content — fan!gojo x pop-princess!reader. fluff, gojo's kind of a freakk :P

fan!gojo is, delicately put, obsessed. his penthouse apartment? a whole room dedicated to your discography, limited edition vinyls glowing under soft led lights, and walls plastered with every magazine cover you've ever graced. his credit card? permanently swiped for your latest merch drops, holographic posters, and plushie keychains.

fan!gojo who hears about the meet-and-greet raffle from your instagram (he's the first to like the post). panic sets in. a raffle? random chance? this is an affront to his meticulously planned life. no amount of money can guarantee a win.

fan!gojo who has to beg for this stranger on reddit to give them their tickets to him. he lost a little over a million dollars (yeah, okay, in hindsight, that wasn't financially smart — but, this was the opportunity of a lifetime).

fan!gojo who ends up bringing geto with him, since he doesn't want the other ticket to go to waste. out of geto, of all people, he's not sure. geto, the heavy-metal aficionado. their music tastes' are worlds apart, but gojo's doing his best friend a favor.

fan!gojo who spends hours picking out his outfit, to which geto snorts, "it's not like you're going on a fucking date with her."

fan!gojo who huffs, dramatically crossing his arms. "we're taking pictures."

fan!gojo who ends up bring all of your vinyls to the meet-and-greet. every single one. "what?" he asked geto, who was giving him a funny look. "i couldn't decide. they're all amazing."

fan!gojo who's practically bouncing off the walls, when the security guard tells him it'll be their turn, soon. will he be okay? does he look okay? wait, does he smell okay?

fan!gojo who's shoving his to-be-signed merch into geto's hands, cracking his knuckles. after a moment, he snatches them back, hissing, "don't do anything embarrassing, okay?"

"...says the one bringing a whole ass record store."

fan!gojo who is freaking out when he lays his eyes on you. in person. even geto, who's never seen him flustered over a girl, can't help but snicker.

fan!gojo who thinks your voice is even sweeter in real life, if that's possible. you smile, a soft greeting leaving your lips. all he can do is stutter a response. (yes, geto is filming.)

fan!gojo can't tear his eyes off you. you're dolled up in the prettiest shade of pink, and you look gorgeous. your hair rests in soft curls, styled to perfection. though, he'd pop a boner if you showed up with bed-head.

fan!gojo who gets all his merch signed by you, as he grins boyishly, a warm pinking dusting his cheeks.

fan!gojo who musters out the courage to blurt; "i love you! y— your music, i mean," stuttering over his attempted amends. too much courage, it seems.

fan!gojo who practically sighs in relief when you laugh. "yeah?" you ask, handing him his items.

"yeah," fan!gojo says, breathy. "huge fan."

you tilt your head at him, thoughtful eyes. "i can tell." fan!gojo's cute, you think. as they're heading out, you stop him, watching his brows knit in confusion.

"we can take a picture, just us," you suggest. "if you'd like."

if fan!gojo would like? fuck, yeah, he would.

fan!gojo who's beaming, waiting for the click of the camera, when you catch him off-guard — pressing a kiss to his cheek.

fan!gojo who's eyes widen, and he's sure that photo came out odd on his end, but god, he'll keep it forever.

fan!gojo who thinks his life can't get any better, but you're sliding off your bejeweled, pink bracelet and slipping it on his wrist. eyes twinkling, you wave him out.

it's not until he gets home, placing his merch back where it belongs (on what normal people would call a shrine, but fan!gojo prefers the term collection), that he notices something on his vinyl, not just a signature.

it's your number, with, right below it; for my biggest fan.

fan!gojo who's breath hitches. he's won.

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ heart-shaped cut-out

pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader synopsis: reader shows rafe her new lingerie warnings: smut, masturbation (f), sexting MDNI! wc: 700 a/n; i saw the new skims heart cut-out lingerie and it was so cute i had to write something about it!! anyway it’s another completely new fic, my neighbors are partying on a tuesday but this is for my nerd!rafe girls.

masterlist ♡ pervert!reader masterlist

you opened the package you'd ordered a week before, your eyes widening in glee when you got a peek of the baby pink fabric. you clapped your hands together, carefully lifting the bralette, admiring the little heart cut-out in the middle. when you'd seen it, you immediately knew you had to have it.

it took about five minutes until you were out of your clothes and changed into the adorable lingerie set, laying on your bed as you twirled your hair biting down on your lower lip as you sent a text to rafe.

YOU: i know we're supposed to meet up in a few minutes for tutoring, but i wanted to ask if you wanted to see some new clothes i got 🥰

you rubbed yourself through the pink fabric of your thong as you waited for him to reply, looking through pictures of rafe, the fabric forming a slight wet spot while your breathing got more erratic, especially when you landed on a picture you'd sneakily taken of his hand while he had been writing down notes. but when your phone finally pinged and the notification came up, you couldn't help the mischievous grin that took over your lips.

RAFE: Sure 😊

you opened the camera app on your phone, starting to record a video. you looked at the camera, biting down on your lip with a smile, before bringing it down to your chest, cupping and squeezing your breasts. your nipples were hard and pebbled through the fabric, and you let out a soft laugh.

you slowly panned it down to the thong you were wearing, showing off the damp patch on it, but now, instead of rubbing yourself through the fabric, you slipped your finger through the heart-shaped cut-out until it met your clit, causing you to let out a slight gasp. you circled and rubbed your clit, letting out small moans for the camera, your thoughts on rafe and the reaction the video would get from him.

after a few minutes had gone by, you dipped your fingers inside of you, gathering some of your arousal and taking your hand out of your thong, showing your fingers off to the camera.

"fuck, 'm so wet..." you moaned, before stopping the video. grinning, you pulled on a sweatshirt that was lounging next to your bed, taking a picture of yourself wearing it.

you went to your messages with rafe, proceeding to send the video you'd taken, keeping your eyes on the screen, waiting for the little 'read' receipt to appear, and it took a few minutes, but once the little grey text appeared, you sent the picture of you in the sweatshirt.

YOU: oops, i sent you the wrong thing, meant to show you the sweatshirt 😅 i'll be in the library soon!

you pulled on a pair of low-waisted jeans, making sure they showed off a sliver of the pink fabric, and even though it took you ten minutes to get to the library, rafe's face was still flushed, and there was still a bulge in his chinos.

"hope i didn't take too long." you said with a coy smile, pulling back the chair and sitting down next to him, more than pleased with his reaction.

"n-no... it's all good..." rafe mumbled, looking down at his textbook. you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a feigned yawn, rafe's eyes zeroing in on the small amount of skin peeking out under your sweatshirt, the boy letting out a breath before clearing his throat, and you immediately knew he'd seen the thong you were wearing, the soaked thong you’d rubbed yourself through.

"so." you turn to him with a bright, casual smile, biting down on your lower lip in the same way you had done in the video, acting like you weren't getting off on knowing how much he wanted you as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before bringing your hand down to rest on the table, touching his just a tiny bit, and even the minimal contact caused his eyes to widen.

"what are you gonna teach me today, rafey?

[choerypetal]

Meet and Greet / Homelander

summary: Homelander had never experienced an obsession before, nor was he even familiar with the term until he met you at the meet and greet, where you were dressed in a recognizable blue costume.

*Pt-2!! read after this one— *

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors, xo"

Everyone knew that Homelander wouldn't hesitate to admit his obsession with you. His drive to be the best was deeply ingrained in his mind, and during a meeting with the Seven, your image lingered in his thoughts. Fortunately, he managed to hide these distractions before Ashley could express her concerns about the upcoming show—a significant one, especially since Homelander knew you would be attending with your family. He always knows. 

And he was right. Your parents, being big fans of the Seven, never wanted to miss a single annual show. This meant you had to tag along. "Come on, you have to wear it! Make Homelander proud," your mother insisted, holding up a superhero costume made in your exact size. Make Homelander proud. You sighed, wanting to object, but your attempt to call your mother's name was drowned out by the loud music in the store and an overly enthusiastic clerk who repeatedly asked if you were satisfied with your find. She was also wearing a costume, though not Homelander's, which made you suspect there would be more than just Homelander present that day.  

Fortunately, you weren't the only one wearing the costume you had put on for your mother, making it easier to blend into the crowd. However, this also made it easier for Homelander to spot you as soon as he stepped on stage. With Ashley having access to the ticket records, finding your last name had been a simple task. His eyes remained fixed on the screen the moment your name appeared, and he mouthed your entire name just as Ashley's voice startled him, reminding him it was time to go on stage. 

“Welcome! How lovely you all are!” he announced in his typical rehearsed tone. He was growing increasingly annoyed; the whole theatrical aspect bored him. Why couldn't the Deep handle it today? Or even someone new, while he sat in the back, scrutinizing every silhouette to find yours. It wasn’t difficult either, given that your parents had ensured you got the best seats. His lips curled into a sly smirk. Bingo, he thought. It still surprised him that, even without knowing your face, the name matched his expectations perfectly. He had to know. He was the Homelander after all. He knew everything. 

Luckily he managed to let out of his usual monologue, with the new recruits being presented today, it let him more time in his hands. And that also meant, seeking out for you when he had the chance. 

The show concluded as expected, with your mother delighted to see her favorite hero on stage and your dad eager to meet Starlight again. During the ongoing meet-and-greet, Homelander couldn’t help but observe your every move. Despite your apparent boredom, the fact that you were wearing a costume identical to his caught his attention. He couldn't deny that you looked incredibly sexy, and he fantasized about having his hands around your waist, hearing your moans, and you begging for more. 

“Sir,” Ashley’s voice broke through his thoughts, catching him off guard and irritating him since it meant he couldn't keep watching you. After all, as Homelander, he was doing the city justice by ensuring your safety. Right? “It’s time for your meet-and-greet,” she reminded him. With a knowing nod, he indicated he would be right there. Little did you know, you were one of the few fans waiting in line to meet him. 

He wasn't entirely wrong. Once again, your mother had requested you to take a picture with him. You always wondered why she couldn't do it herself, citing being 'just shy,' but deep down you knew the real reason was that she wanted to see her own daughter with the man she fantasized about. Unlike her, you weren't a fan of superheroes and their inflated egos. Yet, here you were, waiting in line between a family and two fangirling girls. 

“Thank you, and have a wonderful day. God Bless you!” he said, flashing a wide grin as he ruffled the boy’s hair after taking pictures. In just a few minutes, you would be up next, and you were acutely aware of it. He, too, was counting the people in line, noting your silhouette emerging behind a tall man. The way the outfit hugged your curves and the cape flowed on your back caught his eye. Oh how he wanted to fuck you right there. He wanted to have you all wrapped around his finger. And he knew exactly how to get you, if only Ashley was there. 

As you neared the photo booth, you reluctantly acknowledged that despite your aversion to heroes, Homelander possessed an undeniable allure. Whether it was his striking blue eyes or his impeccably groomed hair, you couldn't quite determine. “Next,” the disinterested employee called out, mirroring the lack of enthusiasm you had felt upon arriving at the show. Barely glancing at you, they scratched the bottom of your ticket and directed you toward Homelander. It was then that you made eye contact with him for the first time, and he couldn't look away.

"Hello, dear," he greeted you formally, like everyone else, but his tone made him stand out. His fingers gently rested on your waist, pulling you close until there was no space between you. "Say cheese!" the photographer prompted, but Homelander, true to form, knew more than just posing for a picture. "Nah, let me get my best side, will you?" he interjected, subtly extending your time together. The photographer hesitated, eyeing the remaining fans in line, but Homelander paid no attention. With a soft scoff, he leaned closer and murmured in your ear, his voice almost a whisper of a threat, yet his lips curved into a smile when he glanced down at you. "Loving the costume," he added with a quick smile for the camera. His charisma left you breathless, and he noticed you weren't ready for the picture.

His comment caught you off guard, and the way he leaned closer only added to your unease. Sensing your muscles tense at his touch, he directed the photographer to take another shot. The photographer, aware of the waiting line, was hesitant, but Homelander insisted. "We don’t want this beautiful lady to go home with a bad photo now, do we?" That damn bastard, the photographer likely thought, as you glanced at him hesitantly. He glanced at the line, sighed deeply, and the resignation in his eyes mirrored your own thoughts.

Homelander, on the other hand, relished the opportunity to keep you wrapped around his finger for as long as he desired. If he had the courage, or if your parents weren’t around, he might have invited you to join the Seven. But he knew better than anyone that he had to make a good impression. "Say cheese," the photographer repeated, his voice now tinged with boredom. You noticed the tension in Homelander’s jaw as he clenched it. He glanced at you, a smile playing on his lips, before glaring at the photographer, which was enough to make the poor man gulp silently and mirror the same grin.

And that's where his obsession took hold completely. The scent of your perfume, the way your hair was immaculately styled into a neat ponytail, and your lightly applied blush with rosy plum lips—all were irresistible to him. He couldn't deny that your lips were the most enticing he'd ever seen. His fingers now traced the leather of your Homelander costume, appreciating how it hugged your curves perfectly. Oh, how he...

“Done!” The photographer's almost relieved voice snapped John back to reality. Despite maintaining his composure during the photo session, his thoughts had wandered to fantasies of you. He imagined you beneath him, taking his cock so well, one hand firmly massaging your breast, his lips eagerly seeking the fresh milk oozing from your nipples. And you... so vulnerable, so petite around him, begging for more...

From that day on, Homelander never missed an opportunity to see your face again. It seemed almost too good to be true when he later had the chance to meet your mother and requested that you accompany her more often to their annual shows. He promised to show his appreciation, hinting that he would return the favor very soon.

[mediocre-writing]

—̳͟͞͞♡ — "I won't be able to pay the rent this month" Lando Norris X Fem!Reader

This is short but I couldn't help but write it lol

When Y/n saw this trend, she couldn't imagine anyone more perfect to do this than her boyfriend.

Lando is lying on the bed using his cell phone, and she enters the room with the cell phone in her hand and the recording already on, she holds the cell phone as if she were using it, but prays that the camera is catching his face.

"Lando." She says, getting on her knees on the bed next to him.

"Hi, kitty." Lando says without taking his eyes off his phone, but with one hand caressing her leg.

"I won't be able to pay the rent this month," she says, and that finally gets Lando's attention.

Lando stops the video and looks at her with just his eyes.

He knows his girlfriend is joking, Lando would never let her pay the rent considering how much more he earns than her.

They even had some fights about it, but they came to an agreement that Lando would pay the rent.

He loves his girlfriend's independence, she's always been like that, but he wants to take care of her, pamper her, that wasn't a burden for him, it was a privilege.

"No?" He says with a half smile.

"No, I did the math and it really is impossible."

Lando drops his phone and leans on one elbow, getting very close to her face, sighing in fake frustration.

"It turns out that I won't be able to either, I was going to tell you but... I was afraid you would kick me out." Lando says this and Y/n smiles when she sees that he joined in on her joke.

"What do we do now?"

"I guess I'll have to sell pictures of my body." Lando says this, and Y/n can't control her laughter.

He watches his girlfriend smile and he just wants to keep those moments in a memory box.

"Lando! How am I going to post this now?" She says still laughing and stopping the recording.

"Was it a joke? So you'll be able to pay?" Lando says, lying down again and pulling his girlfriend on top of him.

"If my boyfriend lets me." Y/n says laying on Lando's chest and closing her eyes.

"Never, my baby doesn't need to worry about that." He says kissing her head and closing his eyes too.

"I love you Lan"

"I love more."

[vamplvs]

TYPES OF KISSES

characters — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd warnings — lots of fluff, a bit of swearing, and it gets a little suggestive in jason's notes — this is my first time back on tumblr in about a year or two so forgive me for any errors/organizational issues. also for the record i absolutely pictured battinson

BRUCE WAYNE. — trailing kisses

after a gala, bruce is always worn out. it's draining being in front of press and high society—if that's what gotham's equivalent of socialite extravagance can really be called—for hours on end. putting on a pretty smile, dancing around questions regarding the dark shadow looming over gotham's underbelly, and shaking hands with people he couldn't care less about. none of it is remotely interesting, and being trapped there for hours lest he face alfred's wrath is all the more frustrating.

"how was the night, b?" you speak softly as he sulks into your bedroom, his suit jacket long abandoned elsewhere in the manor.

he only hums in response.

"that bad, huh?" you put down your book and got up from the bed, smoothly making your way over to him. as you get closer, you catch the furrow of his brow and the dip of his frown. "c'mon, lets get to bed, yeah?"

"please." it's a quiet reply, low in the back of his throat.

you make quick work of his cufflinks and the buttons of his shirt, and in no time at all, he's in nothing more than a pair of briefs.

"why don't i go with you next time?" you pull him towards the bed, "i mean, i don't mind wrangling the public." in a swift motion, you fall onto the bed.

"i won't ask that of you."

"that's why i'm offering, baby," you smile up at him, motioning for him to lay down next to him. "if it'd ease your nerves, i would be happy to go with you." you press one kiss to his shoulder, then another just above that one until you reach the edge of his jaw.

bruce wraps a warm hand around you, pulling you closer to him, and you simply continue trailing kisses across his jaw, his cheeks, until just before you reach his lips.

"i would do just about anything if it meant making you happy."

"i know," he whispers at you, deep blue eyes staring intently into yours. a careful hand works its way to the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss.

DICK GRAYSON. — silencing kisses

"ugh, he was just so-" you cut yourself off with a groan, scrubbing harder at the dishes in the sink. "i mean, seriously, who on earth does that?"

dick snickers behind you, a bemused smile dancing across his face.

"the nerve of some people! why would that question even cross your-" there's a clattering of dishes as one slipps out of your hand. "god dammit!"

"hey, c'mon," dick's hands are suddenly around your waist, "why don't we take a break?"

you turn to face him now, frustration painted on every plane of your face. "no, i need to finish the dishes, or they'll just sit-"

"we can finish them tomorrow," he says with an easy smile, and it's hard not to listen to his voice of reason when he looks at you that way. it's all soft eyes flitting across your face from your eyes to your lips.

"i know the way we are," you huff, "they'll never get done."

"i promise i'll help you tomorrow." he squeezes your waist reassuringly, pulling you towards him and away from the already doomed dream of finishing the dishes tonight.

"but you said you had to-"

"nope, i'm helping you with dishes now. that's the plan."

"but you're already behind on-"

he cuts you off with a kiss, slow and gentle. "i can worry about that tomorrow."

"you really shouldn't-"

he cuts you off yet again, a cheeky grin spreading on his face. "i can keep doing this all night if you really want me to."

"dick," you groaned, your head falling onto his shoulder. he only wrapped his arms around you tighter.

"i can tell when you're saying my name and when you're not, y'know," mirth lacing his words, and you can't help but crack a smile. "you're always telling me to take care of myself, so let me do that for you just this once, okay?"

JASON TODD. — breathless kisses

the adrenaline of the night is already starting to wear thin as you rounded a corner into a dark alley, jason trailing after you. laughter is in the air, and for the first time in a long time, a patrol feels like something more than a task to complete.

"careful, red, it looks like you're getting slow!" you call back to him, feet pounding across the pavement as you race forward towards the fire escape of the building ahead of you.

"oh, yeah?" he shouts in return, fighting to keep the smile out of his voice—even through the mask. he pushes himself forward, ignoring the burn in his legs from the exertion of the night. within a moment, he's past you, using a grapple to propel himself to the top of the building.

"that's cheating!" you scale the fire escape as quickly as you can, panting by the time you reach the top. jason is already a rooftop over by the time you get there, and it's a good thing you're faster on foot than he is—even if only just.

he simply laughs, continuing his dash to the safe house only a few blocks away. you manage to catch up to him, heart beating out of your chest as you both run in tandem, leaping over gaps between buildings and trying to trip each other up. it's only once you both run down yet another fire escape leading to the window of your shared apartment that jason pulls forward once and for all, a grin under his mask as he hears you groan behind him.

in one swift movement, he slides the window open and slips inside. once you get inside, jason already has his mask off and there's a smug smirk on his face.

"what was that about me getting slow?" his chest is still heaving.

you can't help but laugh. "only because you cheated!"

"no such thing in gotham, baby." he pulls you forward by the arm, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

you smile at him, rolling your eyes and still breathing heavily. jason's eyes flit between yours and your lips for no longer than a moment before he kisses you again.

between light, breathless kisses, his hands find themselves wrapped around your waist, and before you know it he has you both dropping onto the couch. your legs are spread over his lap, and you pull away for just a second, forehead pressed to his.

"as much as i love the whole body armor look, why don't we take all this off, yeah?" you murmur.

"i like the sound of that."

[bambikisss]

Husband activities : C.San

Husband!San x Wife!Reader

📖 : After working hard for a promotion, your husband decides to take you out to dinner to celebrate

⚠️ : Unprotected sex (please wrap it and be safe), fingering while driving, public oral (male to female), biting, lots of praise, a smidge of degrading, talks of recording/picture taking, small use of food, desperate San, pussy drunk San

🦌Bambi's notes : Hi! This is my first story back and I'm very excited to get back in the swing of things when it comes to writing and posting again. There are a few more tags added above as I got a bit carried away, but here's something to begin the year off with for book club. Enjoy!

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED | ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY

"Congratulations again, Mrs. Choi"

You smiled at Barbra's compliment, thanking her once more before wishing her a good night. After months and months of hard work, you had obtained the promotion position you had been dreaming about. While it took everything you had, you were happy to finally have the new plack with your name on it and the new position.

As you continued to set up your new office, you heard a knock on the door gently. When you turned around and were met with your husband's smiling face, you couldn't help but mirror it, rushing into his arms with a bright smile. "San, what are you doing here?" You asked though you didn't mind. You loved it when he visited you and the same for him. "I just wanted to come to congratulate you in person, baby" San placed a gentle kiss to the side of your head, pulling back just enough to see your face as he wrapped his arms around you more, keeping you pressed right up against him.

San loved how you felt against him, fitting him perfectly. It was one of the many things he loved about your body: how it felt right against his.

You gave him a small tour of your office, leading him to the large floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a beautiful view of the city. San couldn't help but look down at you with pride in his eyes, pressing his chest against your back as he wrapped his arms around you once more, leaning down so that his lips grazed your ear as he hummed "I'm so proud of you, baby. You worked hard and now you get to enjoy it all"

You smiled as San's lips met you in a gentle kiss, savoring the feeling before he pulled back, suddenly now holding his phone out to you. On the screen was a reservation reminder for one of your favorite restaurants, a smile appearing on your lips as San's hands returned to your hips as he hummed "I got us a reservation. It's nothing, just a little gift."

San loved spoiling you, doing whatever it took to keep you happy and see that smile on your face, though it didn't take much. He enjoyed the glint in your eyes whenever he bought you a gift, the sight always making him want to pin you against the nearest surface.

"It's so soon, though" You pointed out, turning to the clock on the wall. The reservation was at 7 o'clock and it was already 5:30. San nodded, gently grabbing your hand to press a kiss to the back of it, slowly turning you around to face him as he smirked "Well, we should get going then. I want you to take your time when it comes to tonight."

San words repeated through your mind as you got ready, picking out one of your favorite and best-looking dresses and matching heels before taking a long hot shower, taking your time to thoroughly relax. As you put on the dress and finishing touches, your eyes moved over the dress, happy with how it adored you beautifully.

Just as you were applying the finishing touches on your makeup, San could be heard approaching the bathroom, the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the floors as he stood in the doorway. "Hey honey, we should get…" San's words left him in real-time as his eyes landed on your figure in the dress, his mind no longer focused on the reservation, but on how fucking good you looked. You had the same reaction, looking over his broad shoulders and slim waist in his choice of outfit, simply wearing his white button-up and beige vest over it. Though the outfit was simple, he looked absolutely sinful in it.

San licked his lips as you approached him, his fingers itching to touch you as he breathed out "Baby, oh my god. You look…" His words left him once more as he spun you around, his eyes moved over every inch of the dress and your figure, his mouth watering at the things he wanted to do with you. His lips met your cheek before slowly kissing down to your neck, your hands moving up his muscular chest as you hummed playfully "shouldn't we get going?"

"Going where?" San's question was muffled as he kissed your neck, breathing in your scent as he kissed and sucked gently on your neck, drawing a low moan out of you, one that made San press you back against the bathroom sink. You knew that if you didn't stop him soon, there would be no chance of you both making that reservation. As you pushed him away gently to meet his face, San licked his lips once more, his eyes now full of hunger and desire.

"San, the dinner reservation." San groaned at the reminder of the reservation, biting his lip before he nodded, backing up as he said "God, you're going to be the death of me" San couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you both made your way out to the car, his eyes drinking in every movement you made. He found you to be the prettiest woman he had ever seen, thanking the universe every day he got to marry you.

You tried to finish your makeup while he drove, the sight of you applying your lip gloss in your little compact mirror making it hard for San to simply focus on the road. His hands tightened around the wheel for a moment, his lips itching to meet yours and lick off the lip gloss. You gently pressed your lips together to spread the lip gloss evenly, not noticing San's hand leaving the wheel to meet your thigh over the dress. It seemed like such a simple touch, offering him a small smile before you returned to your lips.

"What kind of lip gloss is that?" San asked, his eyes glancing over to yours for a moment before returning to the road, focusing on driving once more. "I think it's stawberry-" You were unable to finish your words as San's hand shot up to grip your cheeks, pulling you into a deep kiss with him as he pulled up to a red light. You moaned gently as San's tongue met yours, your lips moving together in a heated kiss as San's hand left your cheeks to move down your body, greedily grabbing and feeling every part of you before pushing away your thighs, his finger meeting your panties. You couldn't help but pull back to bite your lip as San continued driving with one hand, his other hand working on slipping your panties to the side as he pushed in a finger to your pussy, a moan leaving you both.

"You're so wet, honey" San breathed out, his finger moving in and out of you at a slow pace, the palm of his hand rubbing small circles on your clit. You gripped the seat at his motions, letting him do as he pleased as you continued to let out your moans into the car. The sight of you relaxed, head tossed back against the seat made San's cock twitch, gripping the wheel as he sped up, rushing now to the restaurant.

Your eyes opened to the sound of San's door slamming shut, the backseat door opening to show San climbing into the back, his lips and tongue wrapped around the finger that was just inside of you. His eyes were dark, a moan leaving him as he met your eyes. He motioned for you to meet him in the back with his free, only freeing his finger from his lips when you sat on his lip, his lips crashing with yours in a messy kiss.

"We have 15 minutes left before our reservation" San groaned against your lips, carefully moving so that you were against the seat as he moved onto his knees in front of you, kissing down your thighs as he mumbled "I want my appetizer"

Who were you to deny your husband such a need?

As you simply opened your legs wider for San, he smirked at the sight, blowing some air onto your wet pussy with a playful grin on his lips.

"Now isn't the time for that, San" You mumbled, running your hand through his styled hair as you pushed his head towards your pussy. San smirked, knowing you were right as he let you bring his lips to your pussy, moaning immediately at your taste. He took his time enjoying you, his tongue moving in and out of your pussy lips as he looked up at you through his glasses. He let you move your hips against his face, his own eyes rolling shut as you gripped his hair to press him more against you.

"Hmm, ride my tongue honey. Let me taste you" He moaned, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he focused on licking up all your wetness. You tossed your head back as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard on it before he pulled back to mumble against your pussy "such a good girl for me. so fucking tasty"

Your moment with San was interrupted by the sound of his phone going off, letting him know that it was time for the reservation. He sighed gently before pressing a few more kisses to your pussy, as if kissing it goodbye before he pulled back to allow you both to fix up your appearance. He bit his lip at the sight of you reapplying lip gloss once more, wanting nothing more than to kiss it off of you again.

"You know," San hummed as you both exited the car and began to walk to the restaurant hand in hand. "I wouldn't mind just going back home and celebrating there"

"San" You gently scolded him as you both entered the restaurant, following the hostess to your table. San smirked gently, squeezing your hand to let you know he was playing around with you.

The hostess led you both to a private room dining room that had a beautiful view of the ocean, the room full of candles to give it a romantic glow. You gasped gently as San led you into the room, pulling out the chair for you as he said "I wanted to celebrate in a more intimate setting" He gently placed a kiss on your shoulder before moving to sit across the table from you, smiling proudly. He knew based on the glint in your eyes that he picked right for the reservation, his heart racing as you gently thanked him. He placed his hand on top of yours, gently pulling it to his lips as he said "Anything for you, my love. And you deserve it, you worked hard for that promotion."

San placed a kiss on your wedding band, making your heart skip a beat as he intertwined your fingers with his, admiring how perfectly they fit. San was a perfect life partner for you, someone who was driven and loved with his whole chest. You were his world and he wanted to make sure you knew that at all costs.

Soon the table was covered in food, San supporting you in ordering anything you wanted to try. You hummed happily as you both picked at the various dishes, both of you tasting the various foods with smiles on your face. You fed him some beef, smiling as he hummed "That has to be my favorite thing I've put in my mouth tonight."

You raised an eyebrow playfully at his words, your mind thinking back to the moment you both shared in the car before you both came inside, feeling more wetness gather at the memory. "Oh really?" You asked flirtatiously, leaning forward onto your hand as you met his eyes. At your new tone of voice, San raised his own eyebrow, putting down his fork as he said "Well, not as good as you of course." You hummed at his words, picking at your food with a faux pout on your lips. The sight made San smirk, leaning back in his chair as he asked

"You don't believe me?"

You shook your head, shrugging as you continued eating, your eyes moving to look out the window at the water. San scoffed at your answer, his eyes roaming your body hungrily before he decided to prove it to you. Your eyes stayed on the waves as the sound of San standing up and his chair being pushed back filled the room. You expected him to appear behind you, instead when your eyes left the window, you were met with an empty room. You looked around in confusion, trying to find him when you felt a pair of hands suddenly on your thighs. You jumped lightly before moving the table cover to see San on his knees once again in between your legs, his lips kissing your thighs as his eyes looked up to meet yours mischievously. As you asked him what he was doing, he bit his lip before simply pushing apart your legs more, his free hand moving up and down your covered pussy as he simply shushed you.

You were glad you were in a private room with San, the staff not being able to enter unless you both called for them on the tablet on the table. San smirked as he leaned forward to lick up your clothed pussy, his smirk growing as let out a sharp inhale. He enjoyed seeing you squirm and shake at his touch, repeating the steps a few more times. "Baby, aren't we supposed to be celebrating my promotion?" You asked breathlessly, your voice combined with your words making San moan against your panties, looking up at you with now flushed cheeks as he said "You're right, this is about you babygirl. This is about what you want"

San found the top of your panties, dragging it down your legs slowly before he attached his mouth to your pussy, his eyes locked on you as he continued to lick and suck wherever he could. Your eyes couldn't help but flicker to the door, letting out small moans as he gripped your hips, eating you out to his heart's content. At the sight of your eyes not meeting his, he got a pang of jealousy, wanting you to focus on him.

Your hand shot down to his hair as he pushed a finger into you, San moving your other leg onto his shoulder as he moaned against your pussy "look at me, honey. Focus on your reward" Your hand tightened in his hair as you both began to let out your moans into the room, both quiet and muffled by the music that the restaurant played. You began to move your hips against his face, San adjusting to match the angle. He focused on your face, watching every reaction to everything he did, wanting to make sure to drive you to ecstasy. San had hearts in his eyes as he ate you out, drinking in your taste happily while you held back from screaming his name, arching your back against the chair.

The sight of you panting and gripping both his hair and the chair made San's cock twitch painfully, his hands leaving you for a moment, though he didn't leave you empty as his tongue moved to replace his fingers as he hurriedly removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants, allowing his cock to peek out from the top of his boxers. Your eyes returned to see San's tongue moving in and out of you as his hands worked on his cock, using his precum to jerk off.

"You tasted so good, honey" San moaned, hips pushing forward as he groaned "I couldn't hold back, baby. You're so hot, you make me so hard."

The sight alone brought you closer to the edge, the sight making San forget about himself to give you 100%, his lips wrapping around your clit while his two fingers returned to you, curling up in the best way as he pushed you closer and closer to an orgasm. As you came, you breathily said San's name, hips shaking as San quickly licked you up, his hips still thrusting forward into nothing, wishing it was you.

As you slowly calmed down, San returned to his seat as he licked his lips, stuffing something into his pocket. As you closed your legs and moved to grab your panties, your eyes slightly widened at the realization that he had taken them. San confirmed it by patting his back pocket, taking a sip of water as he said "Don't worry, they're safe with me."

"How am I supposed to walk out of here without them?" You asked, San's smirk only growing as he said "Who said we were done here?" You raised an eyebrow as San flipped the tablet to face him, leaning forward with dark eyes, smirking as he asked "How do you feel about dessert tonight, baby?"

"Shh baby, remember, we aren't home where you can scream my name baby. Here, give them to me"

You moaned as San gripped your chin, making you face him as he continued to fuck into your pussy from behind, propping one of your legs up onto the table to fuck you deeper. You gripped the tablecloth and San's hair as he moved, fighting the urge to moan louder. You bit your lip as San pulled back, his eyes now blown out as he moaned quietly "There we go baby, let me give you my present for working so hard" San began to kiss down your neck, his free hand moving to bunch up your dress more at your hips to use as leverage as he began to move faster.

The only sounds that left you both were hushed moans and the sound of your cock plowing into your pussy, the squelching noises driving San crazy. "San, slow down, you're-"

"Shh, my pussy is talking to me" San groaned, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock moving in and out of your pussy, his tongue moving over his lips as he moved faster. You reached forward further on the table as San pushed you forward with every thrust, San's eyes landing on the cake you both ordered. "Here" San leaned forward, his hips still busy with their rough pace as he was able to keep his upper body up to grab a fork, gathering some of the vanilla cake onto his fork before he leaned down with you, his chest now against your back as he held it to your lips. "Say ahh, honey."

San didn't bother to stop moving as he fed you, chuckling at the moans that did escape you, praising you as he kissed your cheek.

"You're doing so well baby. Here's more, take it from my finger, yeah?" San dragged his finger along the frosting, holding it up to your lips as his pace sped up. You couldn't help but drop your head as his new pace, the frosting leaving San's finger to now land across your cheek. San chuckled at the sight, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as he said "that's not what was supposed to happen baby. You were supposed to open your mouth, look at the mess you made." He continued his disapproving tone as he pushed himself up to stand behind you once more, deciding to take on the opportunity of having you bent against the table like this.

You gasped as San landed a slap against your ass, his pace picking up speed he chuckled, saying "Look at how you jumped baby. All because you couldn't just open your mouth for me. Why? All because this cock feels just too good?" San punctuated each word with a hard thrust, chuckling gently as you nodded. He placed his hands back on the table, leaning down to lick a stripe up your cheek where the frosting was before he moaned "You're acting so messy, aren't you baby? Allowing your husband to have his way with you in a restaurant like this where anyone can walk by and hear us."

San's words and his pace pushed you closer to the edge, nodding before letting out another choked-out moan as San delivered another smack to your ass, his hands now gripping both cheeks as he quickened his pace, groaning "You're just my little slut, right baby? Anytime, anywhere I can give you this cock, my tongue, my fingers, anything, you'll take it right?"

"Yes San" You began to feel tears brimming in your eyes, San's lips pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek as he whispered "That's what I love about you, honey. You'll let me plow this perfect pussy over and over again, giving you pleasure just the way you'd like."

"What if someone were to walk in right now, baby?" San panted, his hips rolling against the flesh of your ass as he leaned forward to bite and kiss your shoulder, continuing to talk, almost to himself as he moaned "You look so pretty like this baby, god, it makes me want to take a picture of you like this. Let the whole world see how beautiful my wife is."

San could tell you were close, leaning down to kiss up your back as he groaned "Don't hold back, please don't. Cum baby, please cum" You gasped at his words, rushing to sit up at his words on your elbows and grip his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss to muffle yourself as your cum coated all over his cock. San cursed at the feeling, keeping you up as his hands separated your ass cheeks, watching as his now cum coated cock plowed into you, the sight bringing him close to the edge.

"Where do you want me to cum tonight, Honey? Want me to fill up this perfect fucking pussy?" He asked desperately against your shoulder, kissing wherever he could as his pace grew rougher, chasing his release as you nodded, pulling him into another deep kiss as he came, his hips shuddering against your ass as your tongue locked with his. San massaged your body as you both kissed, whispering praise and compliments before he pulled back, licking his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, giving you both a moment to calm down.

"Do you think we were too loud?" You asked as San slowly pulled out, shaking his head as he placed a kiss to your shoulder once more before he pulled back with a gentle mile. "No. But even if we were, I paid extra to ensure that we were in a room with no one to either side of us"

"You thought of everything, huh?" You asked as he helped you get ready, laughing gently as he gave you a smile wink. Once you both were appropriate, San paid the bill before gently holding your hand, leading you with a proud smile out of the restaurant. San gently swung your hands as you both walked, making you laugh gently as you both approached the car.

"Wait, before you get in" San hummed, opening the trunk to take out a bouquet of roses he had hidden. As he held them out to you, he met your eyes once again with hearts in them as he said "I'm so, so proud of you honey. I cannot think of anyone more deserving of that promotion than you." You smiled as San kissed you gently, handing you the roses as he gently rubbed your arms, kissing your forehead as he hummed "Congratulations again, baby"

You accepted the flowers, climbing into the front seat as San did the same with a grin on your face. San smiled as you admired the flowers, gently rubbing your thigh as he began the drive home. "Do you have anything else planned?" You asked, turning to see your husband's smile turn into a smirk, the hand on your thigh slowly moving towards your pussy as he said "well, I plan on getting my wife home and continuing our celebration in a more private setting." You spread your legs more as San pushed in two fingers, San's voice meeting your ear as he pulled up to a red light, hunger lacing it as he hummed "starting right now."

BAMBIKISS | 2025

[st7rnioioss]

۶ৎ BSF!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER

the types of videos bsf!chris sends you when you're away.. (p!link)

˚𝜗𝜚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬... smut, masturbation (male), pet names (angel, sweetheart, pretty), swearing, recording.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟ chris’s slightly trembling hand adjusted the camera a final time, the camera only giving you a look at his chest and lap.. and the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

you were out of town for a couple days, apparently family-related, and chris was sure he’d miss you too much. like, way too much for the week you were gone, hence the fact he sat in his gamer chair about to jerk off in front of you.. well, his phone and then send it to you.

it all started because you’d been much too bored, locking yourself in the guest room to send a few pictures to chris. it didn’t take too long or raise any suspicion, just a few pictures up your skirt—chris’s favorite.. and he was instantly hard when he opened them, nearly gaping at the sight.

he let out a groan when his palm came to cup his erection, almost teasingly tugging the fabric away to show his raging hard dick, precum smearing at his slit. it looked painful, and it sure was. the time he’d spent ogling at your pictures and then fiddling with his phone to set up a reasonable angle took away his sweet time, only making the ache unbearable.

“fuck.. looking so pretty and i’m not even there, huh?” he whispered lowly, his voice having a twist of darkness to it, and he wished you could see the wide smirk that settled on his lips out of frame. "bet you wish i was there to touch you, flip that skirt up over your pretty ass,"

carefully, he wrapped his clammy fingers and palm around his cock, emitting a nearly incoherent whine from him, and slowly started to jerk his fist up and down his shaft.

it was a whine of relief, the lack of restraint making a huge weight being taken right off his shoulders. his head looked back against his chair, his eyes drifting shut to picture the photos you’d sent just mere minutes ago.

“o-oh my god.. such an angel,” he sighed, beads of sweat forming across his forehead and his cheeks flushing from just how pent up he was, how he finally got to ease the ache and throb of his dick.

he slowly picks up his pace, occasionally rubbing his thumb over his leaky tip like he’d taught you how to do, the image of you between his legs, on your knees with his cock in your much smaller hand making his hips jerk up to meet his own fist.

“christ.. w-wish you were here to d-do it for me,” he moaned, his eyes still screwed shut but now being pinched closed with pressure, his fingers mercilessly rubbing up and down his hard cock while his hips and thighs stuttered.

he was leaking, bad. beads of precum trickled down the side of his tip, eventually being met with his close to balled up fist, making it easier for his hand to glide up and down, repeating that motion.

groans and whimpers were elicited to his otherwise quiet room, his chest heaving and forehead all sweaty by now, having such a clear image of you and that stupidly hot skirt in his head.

“n-need you so so bad, sweetheart..” he groaned, his hips bucking and legs trembling, twisting his fist to add to the pleasure.

oh, he couldn't wait for you to be back, finally have you to himself like usual, even though it was just for a week. but he was allowed to miss you, right?

his hair was sticking to his forehead, his wrist twisting in any direction he could that would provide him a sense of pleasure—but yet those pictures of you took his focus away from his wrist completely, his imagination running wild while he pressed his thumb to his slit, smearing the slick and sticky substance over his sensitive tip, an almost pitiful moan being ripped from his throat.

he was picturing how cute you’d look, how pretty and pathetic your body would look bent over the edge of the bed with your skirt hunched up around your waist. he thought about how he would clamp his hand to your mouth whenever you got a little too loud, whispering a mix of sweet praise and degrading words while you dumbly moaned into his palm, your eyes stuck to the back of your head while he mercilessly stuffed you full of his cock.

before he knew it his sticky tip was spilling the ropes of cum onto his black t-shirt in stripes, coming off as a stark contrast from both the black shirt and his already dark room. moans and exhausted groans were heard, while he leaned fully back on the chair—spent, sticky, and still tugging on his dick to milk himself completely dry, watching as the few last spurts of cum landed on his dark shirt.

“so beautiful.. aren’t you?” he murmured, before his fingers slipped from his shaft, going to stuff his cock back into his boxers and sweatpants, giving his phone a kiss when he picked it up, before ending the video.

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: soooory this is shitty i feel.. i've been so fucking tired this whole week, i need a 15 liter iced coffee and a fat kiss from chris

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

❛❛ © 𝐒𝐓𝟕𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ❜❜

[eraserbread]

your best friend with benefits, suguru, really likes watching u shower ✧

→ f!reader, est 'relationship', use of baby/baby girl, recording while nude, suggestive, sfw

water falls burning hot over your skin, flushing you from the inside out. it plugs your eyes, drowning out your hearing, and the fan blares in the background.

you love taking showers at suguru's—he has a whole shower room that heats and ventilates. the sliding door keeping you from the hallway is frosted over, and you're drawn in blissful white noise.

"baby, did you get lost in there?"

his voice cuts through the static like a hot knife, and your lips curl up instinctively. he's muffled, standing on the other side when you crack open your eyes. his reflection is tall and blurred, you can see he's still shirtless—his hands are in his pockets, hair loose and tucked over his shoulder.

"you missed me already?"

the sound of your voice, soft and welcoming, is the only permission he needs to slide open the door. he peeks his head through with a small smile on his lips, focusing on your dripping face before trailing all the way down your familiar, nude body.

he hums. "let me join you."

you give him a watery glare, reaching forward to close the door on him. "no, I'm sore."

"baby~"

you feel the rush of air when he pulls the door open again, this time with his face covered by his digicam. you're too familiar—he's glued to it.

"wha-

"don't worry, i'm just getting your face." he catches your words, zooming his lens on your hands and the way they comb the water through your hair. suguru thinks that's beautiful—he thinks you're beautiful. he couldn't help himself.

sometimes, it'll be a candid of you on a walk, other times just you two in a bathroom mirror, ripe with the afterglow of love making. he just loves capturing you. the profile picture of you on his phone changes weekly, though he does have favorites.

and they're always the worst ones.

"look at me, pretty baby."

you open your eyes, sending daggers straight into his lens. on the other side, he gasps, focusing on how your eyelashes clump against the water.

"nice."

on command, your features soften. you give him a look only he could appreciate—like you want to laugh but don't want to take this moment for granted.

"do you know how pretty you are?"

"you tell me often."

"cause you need to know." sugu's getting flustered, you can hear it in his tone. "can I record your body?"

unblinking, you look at his clouded reflection through the water. "yeah."

"oh, thank you, baby." he whispers, panning the camera over your neck then to the dip of your collarbone and shoulders. he tries not to linger on your chest, but he does, breath all hot in his throat.

the way the water drips and pools against the dips and curves of your body has him going manic. you move so delicately, soap slides off your body in all the right ways. your stomach drives him fucking crazy.

"please, i want to join you."

"four rounds in a day is my limit. you're all tapped out."

you swear you can hear a defiant whine rise in his throat. the camera falls at his side, you two lock eyes.

"i don't know why, but i'm so crazy over you." he's talking, but not loud enough for you to understand. he brings the camera to his waist, cutting it off with a flip to the power button.

staring face-to-face, that's all he can say. all he can do is admire you outwardly, but the stars in his eyes are damning.

you swallow a laugh, reaching to turn the water off.

"you know, it wouldn't kill you to say you have a crush."

[suiana]

streamer reader who asks people to film them and yandere! loser who gets easily scared

so you ask a guy to film you rock climbing right, because you're a fucking influencer who does these type of things

and you decide to attack him because the title of your video is "asking people to film me and attacking them after"

anyway the guy agreed, a little too enthusiastically so now you have to hear him scream like a little girl after you jump onto him like a feral rabbit.

"so i just film... you...?"

"yeah just hold the camera."

"oh okay..."

you decide not to question him when he starts staring at the phone screen a little too intently. is he... drooling? ugh, whatever. you chose the wrong guy to do this prank to. or maybe it's the right guy..?

you climb the fake rocks for a bit and you get about... a meter up before launching your plan. heh. this video will blow up like the rest of your videos! you know it!

"RAGH"

"EEK!"

"...huh?"

you swear you just heard the most girlish, most terrified scream in your entire life. you blink slowly, staring at the guy who was now pinned under you as he cowers and hides behind his hands. sweaty.

"I'm sorry i was staring at your ass... I didn't mean to! the camera just auto focused on it and i-i couldn't help it! i swear I'm not a creep even if your ass is so pretty and grabbale-"

and then he's rambling. rambling and apologizing for... recording your ass instead of you rock climbing.

"okay give me back my phone."

he hesitates before shakily handing it back to you. strange... why would he be afraid to give back your phone unless he did something weird?

"u-uh don't look in the gallery-"

"why is there a picture of my feet?"

"i swear I didn't mean to take it! my fingers just slipped!"

uh... you think you picked a fucking loser for the prank. guess you're not uploading this video! but then all hell breaks lose when you try to get off the poor guy.

"NGH-! hah... ah... an..."

what.

the.

fuck.

"did you just... cum in your pants?"

his cheeks are flushed, hair sticking to his skin as sweat beads on his forehead. meanwhile you felt nothing but disgust as you jump up and yell in disgust.

"gross! disgusting! fucking loser!"

"hng.... more..."

"get a fucking job!"

silence.

and then he's crying and sobbing on the floor. um, you don't know about him but this guy looks kinda weird and not in a good way! maybe you should report him to the police!

"I'm trying... it's just hard facing my fears..."

"fears?"

"empl*yment... but for you... I'll face it... anything for you..."

okay wrap it buddy show's over.

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

[chirpingchorus]

chirp

(long and silly rant in tags so maybe don't open them if you're scrolling at a leisurely pace)

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

My Darling

"Who even is that guy?"

"That's my darling"

----

It starts with a post.

Eddie had posted a photo on Instagram holding his acoustic guitar, cross legged on a chair.

Recently he had been front cover of a magazine of 'him' wrapped around a young woman. Living the Rockstar life.

His agent had suggested he show a more domestic side to him, a softer side.

Hence the acoustic.

It was summer so Steve was off of work and sleeping on the couch behind him, blankets up to his ears. The only thing visible was his hair peeking out and his arm hanging over the side of the couch. A sleeve of tattoos running down it all the way to his knuckles. Eddie loved that arm. He loved the way the tattoo curved around his knuckles like water. His nice, big. veiny hand that-

WOAH off topic.

He had done half the tattoos himself and made sure he payed for it all.It was the least he could do for all Steve has done for him.

They met eight and a half years ago, Steve had seen Eddie play at shitty clubs and recognized his mop of hair getting hit in the alleyway.

Eddie thought he was a goner for sure until Steve ripped the guy off him.

Steve just shot him a smile and complimented his guitar skills.

Eddie fell to his knees. He was gone for him.

He invited Steve to band practice as a thank you since he didn't have much to offer.

Two weeks later they were dating and Steve has been their number one fan since.

When Eddie got the record deal he dedicated everything to Steve.

Everything always was for him. As it should be.

Anyways,

Eddie posted the photo excited to promote the acoustic cover of his hit song 'My Hero, My Darling'.

The comments instantly went ballistic asking who the random man behind him was. He definitely wasn't in the band and why would notorious lady killer Eddie Munson have a man in his house...he couldn't possibly have friends.

Eddie responded to one comment only, knowing the rest would sort itself out.

"That's my darling ❤️"

----

"Eddie," Steve was frowning at him, poking his side with his foot.

"Eddie look at me this is serious."

"Yes my love?"

"You outed yourself. You were doing such a good job keeping this a secret. This will change everything."

Eddie turns over until his holding Steve close to him, his face in his hands.

"Good. I'm tired of hiding you my darling. I'm tired of the accusations."

"But Eddie you OUTED yourself."

"I won't say anything about you, I'd never out you Stevie. But I'm done hiding that I'm a simple man in love."

"...me too. I'm done too."

"Darling are you sure? This is a big deal. What about your school? Your principal?"

"I don't care. Everyone important to me knows. My family, my real family, know and don't care. They do wonder why I've been single for eight years but they'll get over it."

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me oh my god that's the hottest thing I've ever heard. I love you so much please I can't live another moment not having you mine. Besides, if you get fired that's definitely a lawsuit and you know I've been pleasing for you to quit so I can take care of you, but you love those damn kids. Just...be mine...please."

"I've been yours. Since the start. Since always." They both have tears in their eyes.

"Yes?"

"YES OF COURSE YES!"

They're giggling through their kisses.

---

"Heeeeyyy everyone thanks for joining my live. I have something super important to inform you on! I'm getting married!!!!!"

The comments instantly flood in questioning him on moving too fast, asking if he's on drugs. The usual.

"Oooooh you guys have no idea."

----

The photo goes up an hour after the live ends.

It's Steve sitting on the couch, glasses on, red pen in his mouth. He's wearing a thick sweater and grumbling grading papers.

He looks so soft, so smooth, it's Eddie's favorite picture. The next picture in the carousel is Steve backstage at his concert. They're holding onto each other like they need each other to breathe.

The last picture is a selfie taken minutes after. Eddie with his stage makeup sweating off his face smiling brightly at the camera. and Steve kissing his cheek. Eyes squinted shut and eyeliner thick, he had worn it as a treat for Eddie.

It was well received.

The caption reads:

"I'm so happy to announce I'm marrying my best friend and partner of eight years! Everyone meet my darling. Steve is a local middle school teacher who has literally saved my life more than once. He saved my heart. God, I love him so much.

P.s. yes the tours are in the summer so Stevie can travel with us. I'd never leave him."

---

Bonus engagement edition:

"YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED TO EDDIE MUNSON?!"

"Yes. We've been over this."

Eddie stuck out his hand to shake, "hi, Eddie Munson, nice to meet you."

"YOU HID THIS FOR EIGHT YEARS?!"

"Yes."

"I'M BASICALLY YOUR BROTHER! HE'S MY FAVORITE CELEBRITY!"

"Yes Dustin and you can't keep a secret."

"...fair...welcome to the family."

*inspired by my friend only learning her cousin was marrying someone famous when he showed up to Thanksgiving and she lost her mind

[ditzybeee]

❥・Jason Todd — high school bf

❥・tags: jason todd blurb, jason todd is a loverboy, jason todd is a loser, high school sweethearts, gn!reader, no use of y/n, implied dialogue, loosely based on me and my bf :3

❥・word count: 636

❥・─────────────────────

Jason Todd is crushing hard.

The two of you met freshman year and he couldn't get you out of his head since.

He, of course, went through the painful process of friends-to-lovers. Because he'd rather make sure you liked him—a lot—before considering flirting.

Not that you'd know it.

He was bad at it. He was so, so bad at it.

Stupid lines from his stupid novels. Did you even read Jane Austen?

Never mind that you thought it was cute—you thought he was cute—lucky him.

When Jason asked you out, it couldn't be less cheesy. Full bouquet of flowers—which he didn't burden you with holding for the school day—and a bunch of your favorite snacks, which you promptly shoved into your bag before your teachers questioned them.

Newly dating and he was so excited. Nervous and sweaty palmed holding your hand in his, smiling ear to ear.

He'd walk you to class, even if it's across campus.

Sure, a few tardies would damage his perfect record, but he can't afford you missing your classes.

Dates with Jason were something else. Bruce had Dick chaperone the first few—either that or the dates were at the manor. Not that he didn't trust you, but he didn't trust Jason.

And he wanted to see his second son awkwardly maneuver speaking to his own partner.

Jason shared his first kiss with you on his first non-chaperoned date. A picnic some spring day in which he kept sneezing because of the pollen, mumbling about how badly he looked.

You stared at him in awe, giggling, and helping him wipe his face.

He was so, so in love with you that he whispered if he could kiss you, and quickly did when you accepted.

As high school continued, your relationship blossomed.

Both families trusted the other to keep their child safe when they slept over, to send the two of you to different cities and states for events, and to allow trips.

Jason first said "I love you" when he saw you in your dance attire. Sure, he's seen you in formal wear before. But this? This takes the cake.

He kissed you quickly, whispering the three words into your ear before Alfred made you two pose for pictures.

This same scenario repeated every time the two of you had a dance.

Every dance, every school event, every club meeting, you and Jason were there together.

It was about junior year when he told you about Robin and how he was thinking of changing it to Red Hood once you two graduated. He took your pointers for his new costume design—after a week-long argument about him being a vigilante and how dangerous it was.

He asked you to prom in a long-winded text message—multiple questions of whether you wanted a public promposal—it was obvious he used speech-to-text, and the message mirrored his speech patterns.

The dance was great. Dinner was delicious and the night was equal parts your boyfriend and equal parts your friends.

The days leading up to graduation were full of anxiety and joy.

You and Jason would stay out well past your curfews—which were basically obsolete, as both families didn't enforce it, as long as you were with each other—and just hang out.

You'd talk about your plans after high school—college, trade school, straight to work?

He'd mumble soft praises against your skin as you ramble about your ambitions, mirroring your energy when you asked about his vigilante plans.

Graduation—Jason's eyes hadn't been dry for a single second that day. He sobbed when you walked across the stage, when you cheered just as loudly for him, and when he saw you in your graduation gown all dressed up.

Jason loves the title "high school sweethearts".

❥・─────────────────────

❥・a/n: im feelin soft for my boy rn :( obvi no trauma au if he never DIED <3 more smut soon tho! i wont have internet the week after this coming week so ill try and get as much stuff out as possible!

❥・masterlist

[bananayuyu]

Tell Me No {1}

Pairing: professor!Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, dark academia vibes

Word count: 6.3k

Summary: You'd always been a picture perfect college student. So when Professor Jeong gives you a grade that threatens your flawless track-record, you'll do just about anything to raise it.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, age gap not specified but it's obviously there, reader wants him bad but is kinda in denial, dry humping, heavy petting, lots of praise

A/n: Professor Yunho always hits, I've seen so many fics on here that I've loved but I just had to make my own. I hope y'all enjoy <3 (I'm working on a part 2 and part 3 for this now, lmk if you want to be tagged!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Read it on ao3

Professor Jeong was remarkably smart, remarkably tall, and remarkably well-liked. There wasn't a thing he could do, it seemed, to upset anyone. His third year as faculty, he was already surpassing all expectations the Dean and Vice President had set. It was a revelation: all his students absolutely adored him, every single one. All, except for you.

It was late fall, and the weather was starting to turn. Leaves were falling in clouds of red and yellow, and the air was crisp in the mornings. The entire week the sky was overcast, not a ray of sunshine to remind you of the warm season just past. It felt gloomy, calm, and focused on campus, and it should have been the perfect start to your favorite time of year.

It should have been. But as you sat in your Contemporary Literature class and read over the marks on your most recent paper, you felt nothing but rage.

63%. That's what he'd given you. That, and a slew of notes in red ink along every margin, telling you just how poorly you'd screwed this whole thing up. You didn't much care for contemporary books, that was the worst part; this was a class you were required to take as a part of your literature degree, and one you'd dreaded taking, no matter how many raving reviews you'd heard about the professor. It was an added slap in the face that he was so damn harsh with grading, when you really couldn't give a fuck about the books you'd been assigned to read.

It only took a week of class before you understood. His good looks, his sense of humor, his easy and flirtatious nature, those were the things that made every student love him. Class itself was a slog, but you'd been expecting that at least, and made it through your first two papers with decent grades. Only three papers and a final exam were graded in his class, and you panicked every time you handed one in, not knowing if you'd be able to pass with at least a 70% and get your much needed credits. But so far it had been fine; you'd never needed to ask him much, never seen a reason to visit office hours. You had no desire to talk to this good-looking professor, even if your mind wandered in his class. It was all too easy to picture him in all his naked glory, but a part of you knew your dreams must be too good to be true, and you'd hate to have the illusion shattered.

It wasn't out of character for you to crush on a teacher. And it wasn't that you hated him. But what good was a hot professor if he was going to fuck up all of your plans?

"Hey, did he screw you too?" a voice behind you asks. You didn't bother turning around, knowing the aggravating man it had come from and exactly the conversation he was hoping for.

"Yes, obviously," you answer. Professor Jeong's a fucking asshole, you add to yourself. Dad's gonna fucking kill me.

Here on Daddy's money, you were that girl. And though it was an obvious perk, it came with one severe expectation. You would be done in four years, and never get below a C. There would be no making up credits, no re-dos. Summer was meant to be spent interning, not making up for stupid mistakes during the year. Your dad's words ring clearly through your mind as you sigh into your desk.

"Wanna go get coffee and bitch about prof for an hour?"

"No, Marcus, I have shit to do," you respond.

"One day you won't be such a bitch to me," he replies, before slinging his backpack over one shoulder and shoving his long hair out of his face. "I'm gonna go to his office hours tomorrow and give him a piece of my mind," he says as he walks past you.

"Good luck with that," you joke, staring down at the floor.

You'd been able to wear your favorite boots today, and your legs covered in black tights were a sight for sore eyes. But none of it could be enjoyed, these little beauties of life that usually brought you peace. The potential of failing this stupid class was looming, and now more than ever you were thankful for the weather, for sunny days always made your bad moods even worse, making you feel almost guilty for your negativity.

"Come to my office hours tomorrow, I have to head home now," you hear Professor Jeong tell a clearly panicked classmate, who sighs with defeat and slumps away. You look up, taking in the small room, a class with only thirty desks, dark and windowless, with bookshelves lining the back wall behind a large mahogany table. The few lamps at the front illuminated the tired and frustrated bodies of your peers as they exit to the front corner, and there is no part of you that wants to join that sad parade. There had to be a way out of this, a way to avoid your worst nightmare. There was no way you'd let your hard work of the last two years go to waste, all to be replaced with beratement from your Dad and a forced position in his company.

You'd never been overcome like this, or so determined. Something in the red ink on your perfectly printed paper had switched a flip. Paper in hand, you sling your book bag over your shoulder and storm to the front of the classroom. The last student had just slipped out, and your professor was turning off the lamp high on the right-most bookshelf, his back to you.

"I need to talk to you," you say. The force in your voice shocks you, and you take a deep breath to recover.

"My office hours are tomorrow, you can co-"

"No, I need to talk to you now."

He turns to you, peering over his shoulder before his chest has time to face you too. Instantly his gaze is piercing, a deepness in his brown eyes that you'd never noticed before. His suit is perfect and sharp and intimidating, and your knees feel wobbly as your guts roll. Who were you to be demanding such a thing from him? You had no idea where it had come from, other than the primal fear of a life lived under your Dad's severe control. Your degree was your chance to escape, and you'd stop at nothing to secure your freedom.

"I have to head home now, I can't talk to you." His voice is stern but soft, and feels like a warm breeze blowing past your cheeks and neck. A shudder runs through you, one you try your best to hide.

"Just five minutes, I'll walk with you out of the building," you reply. He lets out a frustrated sigh through his nose, crossing his arms and staring at you deeply. With a subtle shake of his head he straightens up again, grabbing his own bag off his chair and zipping it closed, before slipping it over his head. He pushes in the chair, and moves to the other lamp, looking back to you once more before clicking it off. For a brief moment the room is blanketed in complete darkness, and all you can hear is the soft rustle of trees outside blowing in the wind.

He opens the door, holding it until you exit, and locks it swiftly behind you.

"I was wondering when you'd finally come talk to me," he says, walking the opposite direction you expect, towards the back of the building. His long strides are hard to keep up with, and you balk at what to say now. There was something eery about his words, but something too that told you to keep going. This may just work, if you were willing to push through your nerves.

"My grades on my last two papers were reasonable, I didn't see any reason to come and argue with you about thos-"

"No, what I mean is, you obviously hate my class," he cuts you off.

"I- I don't, sir, I promise-"

"You don't need to lie to save my ego, I can easily tell when a student doesn't like the work I assign for them," he sighs softly.

"I just don't care much for contemporary books, I'm much more interested in historical literature. And literature written by women tends to interest me more, too," you reply. You'd reached the end of the hallway, the back double doors much shabbier than the front, but still adorned with wood carvings and leaf-shaped handles. Professor Jeong pushes the left door open with ease, holding it in silence until you exit again, rejoining you in your decent of the steps.

"Yes, I have heard this complaint a time or two, and I saw this coming from you, I know your type," he replies cooly, walking fast and still making no eye contact.

"I'm not any type of person, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," you snap, covering your mouth seconds later in regret.

"No, please, lay it all out, I am all ears. It's only about two minutes to the train station, so you'd better make use of it."

"You're seriously going to accuse me of being some "type" of student who complains about how all the books we read are by men, when your main critique of my last paper was that the perspective I took was predictable and the same as so many students before, and that I really should look outside of the box and be more creative with my thinking? When you assign the most boring, predictable, inside the box books known to man? What the hell do you expect, me to invent some deeper meaning to this whiny basic crap I'm reading?"

The words tumble out of you with force, another student you passed looking bewildered, ducking their head down and walking into the grass to avoid you. Adrenaline wracks through you, your heart pounding hard enough you could feel it in your head. You weren't sure what you were thinking, launching into such a personal attack of the books he'd assigned. But once he said to lay it all out, your mind couldn't think to do anything else. You try to walk in a straight line beside him, try to keep up with his strides without completely losing your breath. A distant strike of lightning is followed many seconds later by the low rumble of thunder, and your head snaps up in your anxious state, your whole body on high alert. Seconds stretch by, as the air feels suddenly colder and your sweater far too thin. You were waiting for his professional, academic response, knowing almost surely humiliation was about to greet you. But when you finally look up, his lips are turned up in a smirk. Your eyes go wide, wondering if he was laughing, if he found your statement so pathetic and stupid that all it did was make him chuckle.

"You're funny," he deadpans, looking up to the cloudy sky. "And no, I'm not smiling, not at all." His smirk grows wider, almost to a full smile, before he turns from you and steels his face, his expression back to his typical stoicism as his eyes meet yours.

"You think your paper deserves a second look?" he asks, as you cross the bike path and walk through the strip of pine trees, before starting down the stairs to the train station.

"Absolutely, sir, I just want a second chance, maybe I can explain to you further what I meant in certain sections, help you understand- I- I'll rewrite sections if you'd like, anything for a better grade-"

You are cut off by the man in the ticket booth.

"Heading home, Mr. Jeong?" the man calls jovially, waving a large hand in his direction, a pale yellow ticket between his fingers.

"I'll take two today Mr. Choi, thank you," he replies, smoothly walking up to the booth and slipping the man two one-dollar bills.

"Have a nice ride, enjoy your evening!" the man calls as you both walk towards the platform, your boots scuffing on a crack in the stone tiles, eyes too focused on the tall broad back in front of you to notice the ground.

Already a train was approaching, and by the look of your professor, it was obvious this was his. You aren't sure why you're still following; you pull up for a second, eyes wide as you take in the scene around you. The station ss teeming with people, many students and several faces you think you vaguely recognize, but amidst it all his head of black hair ss visible, so much taller than anyone else around. He walks forward a few steps before looking behind him, noticing your absence and squinting hard, trying to find you. The train was now pulling up, and his eyes were flicking between it and the direction he'd lost you, looking the least bit frantic, if that was even possible for him. As soon as the train stops people launch towards the doors, handing the ticket-man their yellow slips and hurriedly finding the seats they want.

When the crowd thins enough and he can see you again, Professor Jeong makes his way to you quickly.

"Whatever you do, don't you dare get on this train car with me," he utters, slipping one of the tickets into your hand and closing it in his. "Don't get off at Fortsmith station, and don't wait for me by the red phone booth outside."

As he walks towards the door his head turns to meet your gaze one last time, and something deep and mischievous glints in his eyes. As he enters the car, ducking low to fit through the small door, you run up behind him, handing the man your ticket too and slipping inside. A moment later the ticket-man jumps in too, sliding closed the door and locking it, sitting in his designated chair.

"How many stops to Fortsmith station?" you ask him, peering over your shoulder at the nearly packed car, only one empty seat next to a man that looked leeringly at you, in a way that made your skin crawl.

"12 stops, ma'am," the man answers, his accent thick.

"How- how many minutes is that, approximately?"

"About 40 minutes, ma'am."

You sigh, stepping out of his way. "Thank you," you add, nodding to him slightly, before turning back around to find a place to stand. When you turn, though, a different seat is empty, one you could swear had been filled by your professor just moments ago.

When you look to the right, you find him sitting by the leering old man and watching you intently. And quickly you slip yourself into that now empty seat, breathing a sigh of relief for your poor heels.

The ride was smoother than you had expected, but the stops were arduous, and each time as people filed on and off, you felt your nerves growing and shaking you. This seemed so strange, that your professor was letting you follow him, giving you the ticket and directions so you wouldn't get lost. Had your little outburst really piqued his interest? Was he only winding you up to shit on you later, in the privacy of his own home, when it was only you two? Suddenly, you realize you know nothing about this man. You aren't even sure if he lives alone, if he has a family, if anything about this little excursion iss a good idea, or if you're walking right into the den of a lion. A deep shudder runs through you when the announcement for 'Fortsmith' comes through the speakers. Only another minute, and you'll be wobbling your way out of here. You'll be in a completely foreign part of the city, not one person knowing where you were.

The station is much smaller, not underground like the University stop, the train only at a full stop for maybe thirty seconds before whisking itself off again. Only one other person steps off with you two; the woman makes quickly for the north exit of the station and disappears into the pouring rain, the cool outside air hitting you and making your body go rigid.

With a quick glance around, you spot the phone booth. It was just to the left of the south exit, visible through the glass panels of the door. As Professor Jeong exits he opens his umbrella, standing patiently by the red booth as you made your way in his direction, your body shaking. Once you exit he begins walking beside you, holding you close under the small radius of his umbrella, his large hand on your back feeling like it was searing right into your skin.

Its a short and quiet walk to the quaint street he lives on, large trees covering the sides of the small boulevard and ivy covering the stone walls of most of the houses. Each was small, only a few with a second floor, including his; it was exactly the type of place you'd expect him to live, the heavy front door creaking as he pulls it open and walks in ahead of you, quickly closing his umbrella and setting it down, and closing the door with a gentle thud once you enter.

A draft hits your wet legs and causes you to shiver again, and you wrap your arms tightly around yourself. Inside it is dim and hazy, and soon he was pulling out a set of matches and lighting a candle on his mantle, the living room coming into view once the warm light started flickering.

"This is my office, wait in here," he says, opening a door just down the hall. When you walk in there is only the soft light of the early evening to guide you, the floor so hard to see that you reach out your hands and shuffle slowly. Once his desk comes into view you spot the ornate lamp just behind it, and carefully reach around to click it on, the room suddenly awash in a gentle pinkness.

Not unlike his classroom, the walls are covered with stacked bookshelves, but in here it was every inch, not a single bit of free space available. You walk slowly to the closest shelf, your eyes scanning over the spines. Shock rips through you as you see the authors: Dickinson, Austen, Bronte, so many of the historical women you adore. Above that shelf is a collection of more contemporary works: Cline, Hooks, Mock, your eyes just about bug out at seeing the names, breath hitching. Here was a stunning collection of so many of your favorite authors, an entire giant bookcase dedicated to the work of women, and women alone.

"You found my favorite shelf, I see." His voice is low and buttery and doesn't shock you, only makes you feel like melting into the floor. But you can't help turning suddenly and clinging to yourself, the room still feeling chilly. "You aren't in trouble, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why did you bring me here?" you shoot back, taking in a quick breath.

"Why did you come when I told you not to?" he replies, walking close and handing you a cup of steaming tea, the notes of lavender and honey hitting your nose.

"You- you obviously wanted me to come, you told me exactly where to get off-"

You cut yourself off at the sight of him smirking again, and shake your head, the shock of the situation finally hitting you.

"I shouldn't be here, should I?" you suddenly panic, shoving the tea back in his direction, making for your bag on the floor. But as you crouch and grab it your hands feel like stone, not willing to move an inch. You don't want to leave, not at all, as much as some part of you is telling you to stop this and head back to campus, now. You stand back up quickly, feeling awkward as you smooth down the bottom of your oversized sweater, turning to him again.

"Is this wrong?" he asks, gesturing between you with the mug of tea.

"I- I don't know," you sigh.

"I made you tea because you looked cold, are you sure you don't want it?"

You stare longingly at it, his hand easily wrapping around the entire thing. With a hard swallow you push yourself to take a step, grabbing the tea from him and finally taking a sip, your chest instantly feeling warmer.

"Why did you let me follow you?" you ask, turning around and sitting yourself on the smooth top of his desk , crossing your legs. His legs cross too as he leans back against the shelf behind him, a longer piece of his black hair falling in front of his eyes.

"I've been hoping to get a chance to chat with you, ever since I read your first paper."

"So even though you could tell I hated your readings, even though I'm that type of student you seem to have such great distaste for, you still wanted to talk with me?" you ask.

"I kept hoping you'd come to office hours, but you never did," he sighs. "You might hate my class, but you're obviously passionate about literature. You'd be surprised how rare that is, amongst all my English students."

"You've only had a few like me, then?" you ask.

"I've never had any student like you."

Silence hangs in the air, and you sip at your tea to fill it, savoring the way your body is relaxing. You stare at him, trying to read it all. Why the hell would he say something like that to you? Alone in his house, no indication of another soul residing here, you feel oddly comfortable. It had never crossed your mind that you could possibly end up in a situation like this.

"You're determined to get at least a C, aren't you?" he asks.

"I have to," you reply. "I can't- I just have to."

"For your scholarship?"

"No- well, sort of, in a way," you sigh, thinking of your Dad. "It's a long story, but I have to."

"Let me give you some advice then. Just because you don't much care for an assignment, don't throw in the towel and do the bare minimum. Your other work is too good, it makes it obvious when you've barely spent any time on something."

You stop short, tea clasped tightly in your hands, your eyes wide.

"Do you write, any fiction or poetry?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Good, you have an immense talent for writing, you must nurture it."

It was the last thing you were expecting, and the words send shivers of warmth through your limbs, your mouth hanging slightly agape.

"God, do you have any idea how remarkable you are?" he asks, his head suddenly shaking, his arms crossing.

"What do you mean?" You try to keep your composure, but his last words feel like a metaphorical breaking of a boundary, and suddenly your cunt aches and your feet feel tingly. Were you really that easy to break? Liking praise this much was something you'd always felt shame about; your cheeks redden as your heart rate slowly picks up, and you are sure your flush is obvious, even in the faintly pink light of the room.

"You're just- you're remarkable, there's no other way to put it. Like I said, I've never had a student like you," he says.

"Then why torture me with such a bad grade?" you ask, taking another sip.

"I'm not torturing you, it was deserved," he replies. "You wrote that whole paper the night before it was due, didn't you?"

You turn your eyes away in lieu of responding, not wanting to admit that he was absolutely right.

"I know everyone says I'm a harsh grader, but what about next year? You'll have two semesters with either Haas or Park, and both of them are stricter than I am, both expect near perfection. I'm preparing you as best as I can for next year, so your whole degree doesn't blow up in your face at the final hurdle."

"You really care that much?" you fake pout, chuckling a bit and biting your lip.

"Yes, yes I do. You're too smart to not make it out of that University with a degree." His voice is genuine, not an ounce of sarcasm present. Something about how sure and even it is adds to the heat in your low guts, and you squirm slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

"Come here," you say, setting down your mug and holding out your hands in front of you.

"What?" he asks as he pushes off the bookshelf, uncrossing his arms as he starts walking. In only three steps he's just inches away, towering over you as you spread your legs slightly. You're hit with his smell, something musky and rich that you can't name, and all it does is add to the heat inside you, sweat beginning to form underneath your sweater.

"Will you read my stories and poems, if I show them to you?" you ask, tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket, your eyes locked together.

"I won't hold back in my reactions," he says, sighing deeply to try and keep the growing firmness in his pants at bay. Being this close to you was not something he'd planned for, and his head spins as your soft eyes look up so longingly, his own guts doing somersaults at the precious sight.

"I wouldn't want you to," you say, smiling, unbuttoning his jacket and exposing his white button down, making work of the buttons there too, from top to bottom.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," he chides from above, but he doesn't move an inch, doesn't do a thing to prevent your movements. You notice quickly he isn't wearing an under shirt, met with the creaminess of his skin as you expose his chest, working slowly down to the lowest buttons. You pull his shirt free from where it was tucked in his pants, loosening his belt to help you, before pulling the sides of the shirt wide and finally revealing his naked torso.

Now you understood. He was a nightmare, but in all the ways you least expected. He was better than your dreams, hotter than you could imagine; the flat plane of his chest was broad, and his tummy was the perfect mixture of muscle and softness, a small dark line of hair snaking down from his belly button and into his pants. And his pants, when you finally look down, you see it; his bulge is straining against the fabric, long and hard and thick, and immediately you start salivating, running your tongue along your bottom lip to collect yourself.

"Good god," he groans from above, his pupils blown, losing the fight to not be affected by you. Your small, soft hands running over his torso feel heaven-sent, and in seconds he's rock hard, shamelessly staring down the low cut of your sweater, letting himself look at you the way he's been wanting to for months.

"This- this is what you want?" he asks, breathless, running a thumb down the side of your cheek, turning your head up further to meet his gaze head-on.

"You- you just kept saying such nice things, and it made me feel all weird right here." You grab his hand and pull it towards your crotch, the warmth and wetness immediately evident even with your tights in the way.

"Fuck," he groans, tipping his head back and sighing. Though he knew it was already risky bringing you here, lines were now being crossed that were objectively wrong. He tries to pull his hand away from your core, but he can't, and when he looks down at you again, your eyes are wide with want and need, conflict screwing all of his thoughts into a tight knot.

But before he can stop himself, his open lips meet yours. The kiss is immediately deep, all the tension and heat you'd just created washing through you both. He starts applying some pressure with his hand, rubbing his fingers up and down against the warmth of your cunt, and you moan into his mouth, suddenly breaking the kiss when he hits your sensitive spot, your mouth falling open. With no support behind you, you grab onto his arms, pulling him closer as you move to kiss him again, his right hand wrapping around your back to hold you up.

His lips are soft and sweet in yours, and you can't help biting at the plumpness of his lower lip, making a quick breath escape his mouth before he dives in harder, the hand on your back moving up to your nape as he pulls your face impossibly closer. You reach your hands out to feel over the bareness of his torso again; his skin feels hot and smooth, his abdominal muscles clenching as he leans into you more and takes all the effort of steadying you both. Balanced on the edge of his desk you feel shaky, so you reach around his hips and pull them closer, forcing him to remove his hand as your cores meet in sudden ecstasy, the hardness of him feeling all too delicious against your soaked cunt.

Immediately you're grinding against him, savoring every bit of pleasure you can get, while his wide torso cages you in and his soft lips move to your cheek, then your neck, trailing down until he's biting at the soft skin above your collar bone. The choked moan that leaves you sounds almost like a cry of pain, but it was really just the shock, the unexpected pleasure you were getting from every little movement of his.

He pulls his mouth away, suddenly nervous he's taken a wrong step, gone too far. His hair falls in his face as he watches you shamelessly grind against him, your eyes still screwed shut in ecstasy, stopping at nothing to get all of the pleasure you can from it. It takes you a few moments to register the absence of his lips, and when you do you look up at him through hooded eyes, wondering why he pulled back.

"What do you want?" he asks, working hard to rip his eyes away from the sight of you grinding on him.

"Just wanna be good for you," you say breathlessly, swallowing a moan. "Wanna- wanna make you feel good."

"You are making me feel good, angel, I'm so fucking hard," he sighs, looking down again and starting to rock his hips slightly, in time with yours. The added pressure and friction send jolts of pleasure through you, and suddenly your head feels a bit fuzzy, your hands and feet tingling with delight. "You gotta tell me to stop, I can't- this, fuck, we shouldn't be..."

"Please don't stop," you cry, holding onto him for dear life, focused entirely on the feeling of him against you, his strong arms in your hands, his hot breath on your face, his hardness giving you more pleasure than you could ever dream of. "I'll rewrite my entire paper, I'll do anything, just please, don't stop."

"You don't have to promise me that right now," he says, holding you tight against him. "You're too good, let yourself have this."

With his permission, you let go completely, all thoughts leaving you as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, your spasming cunt sending shockwaves of pleasure up through your entire core. His lips are on yours again, and he kisses you deeply, savoring every taste he can find, all but devouring you as he keeps up with your pace, rocking his straining cock against you just how you need it. You feel fully enveloped by him, by his smell and his words, by the feelings of complete safety and desire that he's lighted within you. You never expected this conversation with him to go so well, to head in this direction. For the first time in your life a teacher saw what you hoped they would in your writing, and his admission of his admiration for you left you wanting every bit of praise and pleasure he could give.

Finally, you feel it building deep, a volcano about to explode, your core tightening and threatening to snap. The feeling is searingly hot and delicious, your legs starting to shake, his hands moving to hold onto your thighs as you desperately shake and hump against him, chasing your orgasm to completion. You rip your mouth from his to scream, all the glee and nerves of your evening coming to a head, your body going rigid as it rips through you, your climax so intense and long lasting that you can't quite believe it's real.

"Good girl, let yourself cum," he whispers in your ear, helping you through it. His cock is achingly hard in his pants, but the feeling of you coming in his arms takes all his attention, the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. It's hard to tell when it ends, your legs still so shaky, but eventually your rubbing ceases, and he stops his thrusting too, just holding you in place as you pant and center yourself, adrenaline and happiness coursing through you.

"You okay?" he asks.

"More than okay," you sigh, slumping into him, making you both laugh. It's light, airy, the sound an absolute joy to your ears. You look up, face flushed and cheeks high in a smile, and he leans down to kiss you, a soft and patient kiss that makes butterflies dance in your stomach.

"I didn't mean for that to escalate like that," he says, sighing.

"I did," you say, and it makes him laugh harder, his high cheeks and beautiful smile greeting you. You've never seen him look so sweet, so happy; your stomach suddenly clenches with a feeling of utter admiration, and it's so deep that tears spring in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, not wanting to cry in front of him, but you can't help the look on your face. His smile is gorgeous, and internally you're melting at just how perfect he is.

You stay locked together for a long time, the minutes passing by as you both breath deeply, more kisses planted on your forehead and cheeks that make you giggle and squirm. Eventually you come down, your legs finally not shaking, your body coming back to the temperature of the room. The cool air is making you sleepy, and you yawn as you pull away from him, gently moving him back so you can stand and stretch your legs, gathering yourself.

It's silent, slightly awkward, but nothing in you feels scared. Though your legs are back to freezing, you feel a warmth in your chest and stomach that won't leave, and when you look up to him, his face is soft and still and utterly lovely.

"I really didn't mean for that to happen," he says, clearing his throat and finally breaking the silence.

"It's okay, seriously, I- I wanted it to," you sigh, holding his gaze.

"I really think you're amazing, it's not just that you're beautiful, I- I want you to go places, I want all of your dreams to come true. With writing, and everything else too," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," you respond, nodding and smiling. "I know."

It's all you can think to say, when so much is running through your head. Now that your heart rate is more normal you can actually think straight, and though you don't feel scared, there is some level of uncertainty dancing in the back of your mind. Where would this lead? And what could possibly come of it? Your own hormones and emotions had led the way earlier, and now you weren't so sure it had been the best choice. But you also couldn't fault yourself for doing it, because you knew that if given the chance, you'd absolutely do it again, as many times as he'd be willing to. Class now might be a nightmare, your active imagination supported by this memory. But that didn't sound all bad, either, frankly. It might be fun to make eyes at him and watch him stutter, to see just how much you could affect him in front of all your peers.

"Are you wanting to head home now?" he asked.

"I probably should, I have a lot of homework to do. And I need to get some dinner."

Twenty minutes later, the delivery arrives, and you sit in his living room sipping at your favorite soup, a casual conversation about your other classes filling the air. It had always bugged you when people asked about school, but for some reason with him, you felt giddy to brag, excited to share every grade and project you could. You felt seen, felt actually supported. It struck you over and over how strange it was to be feeling this way with him, of all people.

"Rewrite that paper, you have a week," he says as you stand in his open door, the streets and lawn drenched from the rain, but the sky now clear.

"Rewrite the whole thing?"

"I expect it to be up to the standard of your other two papers."

With all of the other work you had, it should have been frustratingly hard to finish it. But there was something about thinking of his face as you worked, of his hands, of his chest and his abs and his cock....

You finished the paper in record time, turning it in only four days later. And the next day in class it was lying on your desk when you entered, bright red marks along the front again.

91%.

You looked up at him, and though it was subtle, there was no question there was a glint in his eye as he winked.

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