#How do I start software development?

[enhaflixer]

campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

-

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

-

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused. 

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

-

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

-

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

-

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

[fuck-customers]

(half rant half story)

I'm a physicist. I work for a company that helps develop car parts. Essentially, car companies come to us with ideas on what they want from a part or material, and we make/test the idea or help them make/test it. Usually this means talking to other scientists and engineers and experts and it's all fine. Sometimes this means talking to businesspeople and board execs and I hate them

A bit ago when AI was really taking off in the zeitgeist I went to a meeting to talk about some tweaks Car Company A wanted to make to their hydraulics- specifically the master cylinder, but it doesn't super matter. I thought I'd be talking to their engineers - it ends up being just me, their head supervisor (who was not a scientist/engineer) and one of their executives from a different area (also not a scientist/engineer). I'm the only one in the room who actually knows how a car works, and also the lowest-level employee, and also aware that these people will give feedback to my boss based on how I 'represent the company ' whilst I'm here.

I start to explain my way through how I can make some of the changes they want - trying to do so in a way they'll understand - when Head Supervisor cuts me off and starts talking about AI. I'm like "oh well AI is often integrated into the software for a car but we're talking hardware right now, so that's not something we really ca-"

"Can you add artificial intelligence to the hydraulics?"

"..sorry, what was that?"

"Can you add AI to the hydraulics system?"

can i fucking what mate "Sir, I'm sorry, I'm a little confused - what do you mean by adding AI to the hydraulics?"

"I just thought this stuff could run smoother if you added AI to it. Most things do"

The part of the car that moves when you push the acceleration pedal is metal and liquid my dude what are you talking about "You want me to .add AI...to the pistons? To the master cylinder?"

"Yeah exactly, if you add AI to the bit that makes the pistons work, it should work better, right?"

IT'S METAL PIPES it's metal pipes it's metal pipes "Sir, there isn't any software in that part of the car"

"I know, but it's artificial intelligence, I'm sure there's a way to add it"

im exploding you with my mind you cannot seriously be asking me to add AI to a section of car that has as much fucking code attached to it as a SOCK what do you MEAN. The most complicated part of this thing is a SPRING you can't be serious

He was seriously asking. I've met my fair share of idiots but I was sure he wasn't genuinely seriously asking that I add AI directly to a piston system, but he was. And not even in the like "oh if we implement a way for AI to control that part" kind of way, he just vaguely thought that AI would "make it better" WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEANNNNN I HAD TO SPEND 20 MINUTES OF MY HARD EARNED LIFE EXPLAINING THAT NEITHER I NOR ANYONE ELSE CAN ADD AI TO A GOD DAMNED FUCKING PISTON. "CAN YOU ADD AI TO THE HYDRAULICS" NO BUT EVEN WITHOUT IT THAT METAL PIPE IS MORE INTELLIGENT THAN YOU

Posted by admin Rodney.

[aquarius-johnny]

I Hate You Too, Baby. | Jeong Jaehyun

genre: smut | word count: 7.9k | deadly sins series | m.list navi pairing: roommate! jaehyun x afab! reader warnings: dom! jaehyun, soft! jaehyun, light sugardaddy! jaehyun, reader is hœrny and implied to have a lot of fuck buddies, angry sex, jaehyun is kinda mean at first, reader also is kinda mean too at first, reader is also a brat, a lot of swearing, jaehyun is implied to have really bad communication skills, he’s down bad for the reader, face fucking, choking, spanking (if you squint), angry sex, overstimulation, oral (f! and m! receiving), p in v, protected sex (haven’t seen her in a while), smut, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending (literally in that order) summary: jaehyun is sick and tired of you fucking everyone but him and you finally push him to the edge, so he shows you he’s better than anyone else you’ve been with; however, he’s secretly in love with you, oops. | deadly sin: wrath a/n: the beginning starts off intense. reader calls jaehyun a virgin but it’s implied he most definitely is not one. mark is mentioned as jaehyun’s best friend.

⌞ pinterest board ⌝ ≫ concept photos

One year and three months. That’s how long you’ve known Jaehyun. In those fifteen months, you never once thought you’d be pressed up against his bedroom door, with one of his hands wrapped around your throat while his other hand is shoved down your dark blue satin shorts in the early hours of the morning, muttering explicit promises in your ear as you bite back any lewd sounds you so desperately want to make. 

One, because he was your stoic software developer roommate who paid you no attention while you two lived together and two, you’re convinced he absolutely hates you.

This is your fault — according to Jaehyun. You pulled his final straw when you chewed him out for being a complete jerk to one of your favorite hookups when all your hookup did was greet him before leaving for the night. 

“None of those guys can fuck you and I’m sick of hearing your fake ass pornographic noises when they’re here! Not only is it not convincing, but it’s fucking annoying too!” He angrily shouts at you, redness tinting his ears as he steps closer to you.

“Please!” You roll your eyes. “You don't think I know you listen when I have people over?” Stepping forward, you cross your arms. “Or when I play with myself? You don’t think I know how hard you come in the bathroom when you think about me? Honestly, Jaehyun,” you scoff. “It’s kinda pathetic. It’s like you’re a desperate virgin.” 

“Virgin?” He smirks at you, amused by your assumption. 

“Yes, virgin.” You let out through clenched teeth. “If you wanted me to fuck you, you could’ve just asked instead of hating me like some jealous ex-boyfriend.” 

Jaehyun pushes up the sleeves of his white button up shirt up to his elbows before he loosens his black tie, unable to rid himself of his work clothes before you jumped down his throat minutes after he walked into your shared apartment. His eyes darken as he makes his way towards you, closing the distance between your bodies. He lifts your chin with his long index finger to look him in the eyes.

“A virgin wouldn’t be able to make you come on the first try, right?” He backs you into a wall. “Now, what’s the excuse for those pathetic losers you keep bringing home? They can’t all be virgins. You’re defending them like they give you the best orgasm of your life and we both know they can’t even pull one out of you.” 

“Those are big words coming from you, roomie.” You spat sarcastically. “Like you can do any better.” 

“Is that an invitation?” Jaehyun dryly chuckles, pressing his hands flat against the wall behind you, a hand near each side of your head.

You so badly want to pull him into you. His pink, plumped lips are tempting and inviting as he licks them before taking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Your words come out no louder than a whisper. “You’re full of shit, Jaehyun.” You silently curse to yourself for sounding so pathetic. 

“Aw,” Jaehyun laughs. “Not a big talker now, huh?” He teases, his index finger tracing the outline of your jawline before gripping it to force you to look into his eyes. “If you wanted me to fuck you, you could’ve just asked instead of being a brat about it.” He mocks your words, pushing his body away from you. He undoes his tie in front of you, before throwing the fabric over his shoulder. He turns to walk away, already unbuttoning his work shirt as he makes his way towards his bedroom — the bedroom absolutely no one was allowed in. You follow him, watching as he walks down the hallway. He stops under his door frame, feeling your eyes watching him.

“Anything else you want to say, you fucking brat?” He turns to face you, his shirt nearly fully unbuttoned, exposing his beautifully sculpted abdomen — something you secretly admired every time he chose to work out at home instead of going to the gym. 

“Yeah, I do.” You furrow your brows, making your way to him. “Are you scared to fuck me because you know you can’t live up to your own words?” The words coming out of your mouth are used to spite him and rile him up as pay back for the lack of attention for the past year. 

“Tell me to,” he towers over you, his aura so dominant he doesn’t even need to touch you to press you against the nearest wall. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.” 

Your heart races and a dry lump forms in the back of your throat. 

“Stop fucking with me and say it.” His fingers grip your waist, tightening his hold on you; nearly preventing you from running away from him. His jaw clenches, you watch it tighten as he impatiently waits for your permission. “Last chance. Say it or fuck off.” 

Your eyes widen at his ultimatum, your mouth working faster than your brain. “Fuck me,” you softly let out.

“Louder.” 

“Fuck me!” Your voice is clearer and louder, no mistaking what you just gave him permission to do.

Jaehyun roughly grabs your arm, pulling you into his bedroom before slamming his door shut and pushing you against the wooden frame. His lips target your neck first, attacking it with no remorse as he lifts your sweatshirt over your head and throws it across his bedroom floor. Sucking your skin into his mouth, he sucks hard, causing you to hiss at the tender spot. His hand absently kneads your exposed breasts, his fingers pillowing your supple skin. 

“Such a slut,” he harshly comments, his other hand gripping your ass hard, pulling your body closer to him. 

“I’m not a slut,” you faintly argue, your nails digging into his shoulder in response to how roughly he’s groping you and attacking your neck.

He simply hums at your feeble remark, his lips moving to the other side of your neck. You feel the same harsh movements, Jaehyun clearly wanting to leave marks on your body that’s apparent to anyone who looks at you. 

His hand slithers into your shorts, petting your slit with his long fingers over your white cotton underwear. The tip of his finger grazes your clit ever so gently, your body jerks in response. 

“A virgin wouldn’t find it on the first try, right?” He snickers, pushing your underwear to the side, giving himself access to your sopping folds.

“Shut - ah! - up,” you hitch, feeling Jaehyun’s fingers rub small circles on your bud of sensitive nerves. “It’s beginner's luck,” you retort sassily, sucking the air between your teeth when you feel him bite down on your shoulder.

The pain is exhilarating, never experiencing a partner as rough as the man in front of you. He’s hungry for you, desperate even. It’s clear when he pulls your lips into his; a deep groan leaving him as his lips finally meet yours. He circles his fingers before sliding it against your folds to collect your sweet arousal around his digit before using it to lubricate your clit.

His movements are gentle and slow, a stark difference from what he's doing to your exterior. He knew what he was doing and you’re certain he’s going to make you come within seconds if he continues his movements, making you eat your words about the virgin comments you insist on making. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He taunts, his lips hovering over yours, teasing the shit out of you. “Impressive for a virgin, don’t you think?” 

“Shut up,” you groan, your jaw falling open when you feel his finger tap against your clit, the stickiness of your arousal making the pad of his digits stick to your nub before allowing his digit to pull back. 

“What’s that?” He grins. “Not much of a talker now that you know I can make you come when I want to. Your pathetic fuck buddies can’t say the same, huh?”

“I hate you,” you let out before whimpering as he ghosts over your clit, his fingers barely grazing it.

Jaehyun smirks at your words. “I hate you too, baby.” His tongue rolls over your bottom lip, prying access to your mouth. You allow him to with no hesitation; the way he calls you baby nearly sends you over the edge. His voice is so deep, so cocky, so lustful — he has you in the palm of his hand. He pulls your shorts down in one swift move, leaving you in nothing but your white cotton underwear with a black little bow on the front. 

“Hm, cute.” He comments, head slightly tilting as his eyes scan your body. He pulls on your waistband before letting it go, allowing it to hit your skin. You jump at the sting, rolling your eyes while biting down on your bottom lip, trying to bite back the smile threatening to creep onto your face. 

“Done already?” You narrow your eyes, straightening your posture. “You just got me naked and now you’re giving up? At least my fuck buddies know to keep going when I’m in nothing but my underwear.” 

“God, you just don’t know how to shut the fuck up, don’t you?” He growls, his hand wraps around the base of your neck, his lips ghosting over your parted lips.

The corners of your mouth pull into a devilish smirk, the sight of your angry roommate soaking your white cotton panties. “Why don’t you fucking make me.” Your words come out lightly strangled, the grip around your neck tightening ever so slightly. 

His lips crash into yours, trapping your body against his. The heat of his body warms your bare chest, while he nips your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth.

He pushes you down by your shoulders, forcing you to your knees. You look up at him, eyelashes batting in innocence as you watch him undo his belt, then his pants, and pulling his erection from his underwear. 

His tip rests against your lips while his hand settles on the top of your head. You suppress the urge to take him into your mouth, although the idea of it makes you salivate. 

“Open,” he commands. “You want me to make you shut up? I will. Now open.” 

Your sex flutters hearing his words, arousal slowly leaking out of you. If your panties weren’t soaking already, it is now. 

His voice is so deep and husky, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement in the pit of your stomach. 

You slowly part your mouth open, purposely teasing him. Jaehyun shoves his cock into you, stretching your mouth open. He fills your mouth perfectly, your mind racing at the idea of how it’ll feel inside of you. He doesn’t give you a second to adjust before he thrusts his hips into your mouth, feeling it in the back of your throat. 

“Anything else you wanna say?” He taunts, tilting your head back, forcing your eyes to meet with his as he looks down at you.

“No,” you attempt to say, only for your voice to muffle around his hardened length. Tears brim your waterline as you’re gagging before you blink, allowing them to trail down the sides of your face.

“You’re so pretty with my cock down your throat, you know that?” A smirk dances on his lips while his thumbs wipe away your tears. “I bet you haven’t gotten your mouth fucked before, huh?”

You shake your head, honest with your answer.

“Good,” he sneers. “You’ll never forget the first time.” He thrusts his hips into you, giving you no time to catch your breath. You’re gagging around him, drool dripping out of your mouth and onto the wooden floor. Looking up at him with wet lashes, you see he’s already watching you take him into his mouth — his jaw clenches before his mouth falls open and he throws his head back, reeling in the pure bliss your mouth is giving him. 

The pain in your jaw begins to settle as his movements don’t let up; however, you’re nothing but determined to make this man feel good — determined to never let him forget how much of a good fuck you are. 

Jaehyun withdraws his hips, pulling him out of your mouth and taking in the sight of the string of saliva that connects your lips with the head of his pulsing cock. You’re nearly gasping for air; coughing and panting as you try to catch your breath. 

“Had enough?” Jaehyun arrogantly questions, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Y-you haven’t shown me you could make me come yet, you cocky asshole.” Your words would’ve hit harder if you weren’t gasping for air after taking Jaehyun’s cock into your mouth, both you and Jaehyun knew that. 

Jaehyun clicks his tongue, amused at your tenacity. “If I do, you know I won’t stop until you can’t come anymore right?” His warning only sparks your interest and continues to pool a wet spot in your underwear. 

“Sure, roomie.” You cough. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “I did warn you,” he lets out before commanding you to get up. 

You do as he asks, feeling incredibly vulnerable as his eyes scan your nearly nude body — as if his eyes are analyzing and taking note of every detail your body offers. Goosebumps cover your skin when you feel his hands trace over your thighs, then up to your hips before settling on the base of your neck — it being his favorite spot on your body thus far. His grip tightens ever so slightly, using his leverage to guide you to his king sized bed behind him — something you arguably think is unnecessary for someone who constantly spends nights alone like he does. The back of your knees hit the edge of his mattress, causing you to fall on your back, slightly bouncing as your back hits his mattress. 

Propping yourself with your elbows, Jaehyun quickly rids you of the only fabric you have left on your body and throws it behind him. Your thighs close, a reflex of yours that causes annoyance. You feel a sting against your skin before feeling his calloused hands rub the same spot, soothing it before another slap in the same spot is heard. 

“Who said you could close your legs?” He scolds, prying your knees apart before quickly finding your clit again, circling over your sensitive nub. “You’re soaking,” Jaehyun purrs, causing a rush of heat to fill your body. “I wonder if those losers you keep around have gotten you this wet before.” 

You bite back your reply, knowing the answer will stroke Jaehyun’s already huge ego.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He laughs, picking up his pace.

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” His added pressure on your clit causes you to gasp, hindering you helpless and in the most compromised position. “Oh wait, you can't?”

A whimper leaves your lips as you feel his fingers glide through your soaking folds with ease, circling your clit in the most satisfying and exciting way. His movements are consistent, so consistent it’s nastily pulling you closer to your release. It’s been less than five minutes since he’s been playing with your ball of nerves and you already feel the coil in you tighten and Jaehyun sees it. Your eyes shut as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, your hands desperately tugging on the sheets under you, and your hips involuntarily moving against his fingers. 

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” He taunts.

You nod.

“Should I even let you?” He clicks his tongue although his movements don’t halt.

“P-please,” you beg, looking up at him with your brows knitted together, desperate to feel your orgasm wash over you. 

“See, baby, it’s not hard to be nice is it?” 

“C-can I come?” You stumble on your words, automatically asking for permission. Jaehyun’s expression shifts ever so slightly after hearing you beg. “Please,” you whine.

His eyes soften for a second before narrowing at the sight of you. “Come for me.”

Your back arches and a string of whimpers fill his room. Pure ecstasy overcomes you as you reel in the feeling of pleasure that Jaehyun gave you. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel his tongue against your clit, lapping over and sucking your overly sensitive bud. Your thighs quiver at the feeling, pushing yourself up the bed before you hear a frustrated grunt from Jaehyun who pins your hips down the mattress, trapping you in place.

This was your punishment. This is what he warned you about. He made you come and he’s not going to stop until you physically can’t anymore, or at least until he does. 

You nearly scream at the overstimulation, biting your lip so hard you’re certain you could taste your blood. You cry out his name, only to have him look up at you between your thighs, although his tongue doesn’t stray away from your heat. You could feel it, your second orgasm, inching closer and closer. 

Jaehyun’s hands grab your breast, kneading it as if his life depended on it and adding to your pleasure even more. He watches as you try to simultaneously hold back your tears while chasing your high. 

“I’m gonna come!” You sob, tears pricking the corners of your eyes — the feeling so intense and pleasurable you begin to feel a hint of lightheadedness as incoherent noises stumble out of your mouth. Your stomach tightens and you feel your release hit you tenfold. 

You watch Jaehyun through half lidded eyes. Without missing a beat, he pulls out a condom from his bedside table and rolls it onto his erection before aligning himself with your entrance, your body still recovering from the back to back orgasms this man has given you. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” Jaehyun chuckles devilishly. “You wanted me to fuck you.” 

You sheepishly nod your head, trying to move past the mental fog you’re feeling. 

Grazing his tip against your folds, you hear the squelching sounds as he teases your already sensitive clit with his shaft and sends jolts of electricity through you. 

“But this position won’t do,” he says, head tilted a bit to the right. “Turn over, ass up.” 

You struggle to gather your bearings, but you still obey his command. Positioning yourself on your hands and knees, you nervously biting down on your bottom lip as you turn your head to watch him. 

He’s stroking himself, eyeing your movements while admiring your ass — something he’s been secretly eyeing for a while now. You feel a dip in the bed before a hand harshly pushes your head into the mattress while the other pushes down on your lower back, helping you arch your back to his liking. 

In one swift and quick move, Jaehyun sinks himself into you. Your jaw falls open, nearly drooling from the stretch and pleasure you’re feeling as he fills you up nicely. 

“Fuck, you’re still tight.” Jaehyun groans. “Even after coming twice.” 

“Y-you’re just too big,” you whimper, cheek pressed against his sheets, as your fingers rake over the fabric covering his mattress. 

“Don’t flatter me, baby girl,” Jaehyun hums. “It’s not going to stop me from fucking you stupid just like you wanted.”

Rutting his hips harshly, you hear his skin slapping yours. His fingers rake against your ass cheeks, his moans growing louder and louder as he fucks you from behind. He pushes up against you with each thrust causing you to bury your face into the mattress in an attempt to muffle the explicit noises you’re making.

Jaehyun tangles his fingers into the roots of your hair and harshly tugs on it, forcing your back to press up against his chest. The sting causes you to hiss in pleasure just before Jaehyun’s hips move erratically. 

“F-fuck!” You wail as your eyes roll back from pleasure. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He rasps in your ear, feeling a smile against your skin. “I’m better than those losers you let fuck you, right?”

“D-don’t ruin it,” you growl. 

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Fucking say it.” His fingers find their way to your clit again, mercilessly and messily rubbing against you. You nearly fall forward from the pleasure until Jaehyun’s free arm tightly holds you against him, sweat forming between your bodies. “Do you want to come?”

You nod your head. “Please,” you pant.

“Then say I’m better than those losers.”

“Jaehyun!” You sob, feeling your body quiver as your pleasure builds in you, your cunt dripping your arousal. 

“I know you’re close. I can feel it.”

“Let me, p-please!”

“Not until you say it.” 

You give in, frantically repeating the words he wants to hear over and over again. “You’re better than anyone I’ve had, now please,” you gasp. “Let me come, please!”

“Go ahead, baby. Come all over my cock.”

Your walls flutter around his length, your body freezing in place as Jaehyun fucks you through your orgasm. Your muscles tenses and your back arches as you come undone under his touch. 

“Good girl,” Jaehyun coos, placing soft kisses against your shoulder. “Now do it again.”

Your jaw falls open, Jaehyun’s cock throbbing inside of you as he warms his shaft between your walls. His fingers roughly move side to side against your clit. Your vision begins to blur, your body trembling and nearly going limp at the overstimulation. There’s something about the pain that is deliciously riveting, especially when you’ve never experienced it like this before. Your attempt to push Jaehyun’s hand away fails when the arm holding you up grips your wrist, hindering your movements. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” You chant, your knees bucking as you're pushed to the edge. Your gummy walls convulse and tighten as you come all over Jaehyun’s cock. You scream out in pleasure, tears falling from your eyes. You’re panting, muscles in your body turning into jello as Jaehyun slowly releases his hold on you. You fall onto your stomach, completely and utterly fucked out. 

“Turn over,” Jaehyun softly orders and you comply, slowly. Mustering any energy you have left, you lay on your back. Jaehyun watches you catch your breath, his hand carefully soothing your quivering thighs. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asks, concerned.

“N-not until you come,” you softly reply, your voice hitching before you gulp. “I want you to come, too.”

He simply nods. Aligning with your entrance again, he hovers over you, and your sweet cunt swallows him fully as he stuffs himself into you. 

You take note of his lack of eye contact with you and instead, opting to bury his face into your neck as he sensually moves his hips into you. 

You stroke the back of his head with your fingers, your legs wrapping around him to keep him close to you. This is what you wanted for the past fifteen months. You wanted to be under him, giving you everything his body can offer you. You wanted him; you needed him.  

Jaehyun lifts his head and flickers between your eyes, softening at the sight of you. His hips slow, biting his bottom lip with hesitation. 

“W-what’s wrong?” You ask, your brows curve with worry as you bring your finger to move the strand of fallen hair from his eye.

He grabs your wrist, halting your movements. Burying his face into the crook of your neck once more, he breathes against your skin. “I want you.” He mutters. “I hate the idea of someone else fucking you.”

You stay silent sitting with the confession coming out of his mouth.

“Tell me what I need to do to have you all to myself.” He pushes into you harshly. His fingers gripping onto your hips for dear life.

“You can take me out to dinner or to a movie,” you smile against the shell of his ear. “Maybe even buy me a Cartier love bracelet to show me you’re serious.” You giggle. “And tell me why you want me.” 

You feel him grin, his movements speeding up. The feeling of his pelvis hitting against your clit. His tongue laps over your skin, giving you a small bite before his arms wrap under your back, arching you closer to him. His tip kisses that sensitive spot inside you, rubbing it as he penetrates into you feverishly.

“Jaehyun,” you whine. “G-gonna come, again.” 

He takes your words as an invitation to keep going, eventually pulling your orgasm out of you right before he finishes himself off into the rubber wrapped around his shaft. 

You’re both heaving, catching your breath. The sun rays peak through Jaehyun’s bedroom window, coloring his walls with an orange tint. 

Jaehyun pulls out of you, shyly avoiding eye contact with you as he tosses his used condom in the bin next to his bedside table. He throws on his favorite joggers and you do the same, hastily dressing yourself with your clothes from earlier.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting me, I mean.” You softly question as his back faces you. 

“Yeah, I did.” His voice is quiet, almost embarrassed that this was his way of confessing his feelings — when he was balls deep inside of you; arguably not the most romantic way to be confessed to. 

“Can I ask why? I mean, why do you want me? It seems like you have hated me since I moved in.” 

Jaehyun turns to you, moving his lips to say something, but is not able to have anything come out. He steps forward, only to halt, letting silence fall between you two. 

“Is it so you can fuck me whenever you want?” Your voice drips with disappointment, silently hoping that wasn’t the case. 

“No! No it’s not that.”

“Can you tell me why?” 

“I’m not - I mean, I can’t -“

You shake your head, disappointed at the man in front of you. “I have to get ready for work.”

“Wait! Please.” His hand grabs your arm, stopping you from walking out his bedroom door. 

“Jaehyun,” you sigh. “Telling me you simply want me isn’t enough; anyone can just say that. I know communication isn’t your strongest skill, I get that, but until you can at least communicate to me why you want me, I don’t think I can be what you want me to be.”

Heaviness fills both your hearts as you say your words. Tears brim from Jaehyun’s eyes, before he sharply inhales as he lets your arm go. 

You give him a second to gather the courage to tell you how he truly feels about you, but he doesn’t; sinking your heart to the pit of your stomach. 

“I need to get ready for work,” you whisper, salty tears threatening to fall from your eyes. 

Jaehyun doesn’t stop you. Instead, he closes the door behind you as you walk out, clutching his chest in hopes to ease the pain he desperately wanted to avoid. After mentally beating himself up for being unable to simply tell you how he feels, he grabs his phone to text his best friend. 

jaehyun: come over, i need your help.

“What did you need help with at 7 in the morning?” Mark yawns, walking through Jaehyun’s front door 

“Y/n and I, we…” Jaehyun starts, only to stop and timidly look down at his bare feet, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants and biting back a smile only to have his dimples betray him.

“Oh my god, you two finally did it.” Mark looks at his best friend with shock that quickly turns into happiness. “Dude,” he lifts his hand to cup Jaehyun’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Congrats!”

“It’s complicated,” Jaehyun lets out, popping the bubble of bliss that radiates through the room.

“Uh-oh.” Mark drops his hand before crossing his arms. “What happened?”

“It started off as hate sex, I guess you can say,” Jaehyun shares, ears burning red as he tells his friend about his sex life. 

“Oh?” Mark smiles. “Well, I guess that’s a way to do it.”

Jaehyun shakes his head before explaining the situation he’s in, everything you told him before leaving for work. “I need help to prove to her I’m serious about her.”

They both make their way over to the living room couch, Jaehyun desperately needing his best friend’s help.

“Ever thought of just using your words to tell her?” Mark offers, slightly annoyed at being woken up early on his off day from work. 

Jaehyun clicks his tongue. “I don’t want to say something dumb and ruin everything. You know I'm not good with my words. She knows I’m not good with communication, she said so herself. I’m working on it,” Jaehyun sighs. “I have some things I want to do for her. I just need help with a few of those things. Please.”

“Fine,” Mark huffs in defeat, standing from his seat and clapping his hands together. “Where do we start?”

You drag your feet from the elevator to your front door, dreading walking into your apartment and facing your roommate after everything that happened this morning. Your hands tremble as you push your keys into the lock and your heart rapidly increases as you hear the front door unlock with the turn of your key.

You’re greeted with Jaehyun sitting at the dining table that’s visible as you enter the apartment. He quickly slips his phone in the pocket of his pants, before quickly meeting you at the front door. 

“Hey,” he softly greets, taking the bags from your hand and placing them on the side table near the entrance as you take off your shoes. “How was your day?”

“Tiring,” you sigh. Your eyes meet his before you both look away from each other. “How was yours?”

“Busy,” he nods, taking your jacket and throwing it on the coat rack. “I know you’re tired, but could you, um,” he pauses. “Change into something comfortable and meet me in my room? I have something to show you.”

It’s clear he’s nervous and you could feel your heartstrings tug for your roommate.

“Sure.” You flash him a weak smile and see his tense shoulders relax. You walk into your bedroom, changing out of your work clothes and into an oversized sweatshirt with pajama shorts before walking down the hallway and knocking on Jaehyun’s bedroom door. You quickly shove the memories of the morning to the back of your mind. 

The door opens, Jaehyun already looking down nervously.

Your mouth parts before a gasp leaves your lips as you see what he’s done to his bedroom. Red rose petals are scattered over Jaehyun’s bedroom floor and over his bed. He’s rearranged his bedroom, pushing his bed to a corner of his room and leaving more space between his bed and the dresser that had his tv on it. Three blu rays of your favorite horror movies are stacked on each other as they sit on his dresser and a set of plates are strategically placed on his bed. From where you stand, you make out that it’s your favorite food from a local restaurant that you absolutely love.

“Jae -” you’re cut off with Jaehyun’s words.

“I would’ve taken you out to a movie and dinner, but I didn’t know how you’d feel when you got home, so I thought we could have our, uh, our first date here.” His hand rubs the nape of his neck and the other gestures over the picturesque layout in front of you. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you smile. “That’s okay. But um,” you shake your head to collect your train of thought. “Why here and not in the living room?” 

“I don’t have women come into my bedroom at all and I guess I wanted you to be the first one.” His eyes finally meet yours and are filled with hope. “Hopefully the last one, too.”

You giggle, stepping towards the tv and picking up the blu rays. “My favorite movies,” you smile. “How’d you know?”

Shutting the door, he takes pride in himself as he hears your words. “I notice you watch them a lot, like at least those three once a month. So, I took a stab in the dark and bought those three.” He moves next to you. “Which one do you want to watch tonight?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you contemplate his question. “Maybe this,” you say lifting The Grudge blu ray. 

He nods his head, opening the case and setting it up as you place yourself on his bed with your back against the wall. You lift the plate of food in front of you, smelling the aroma of your favorite dish that fills the room. He joins you on the bed after turning off the overhead lights. 

“I hope I got your order right,” he smiles.

“You did!” You praise, excitedly.

Throughout the movie, you occasionally catch Jaehyun looking at you before shyly turning his attention back to the movie. Sliding your fingers into the palm of his hand, you slowly interlock them with his, physically feeling him tense up before relaxing when you lay your head on his shoulder. You’re easily pushed off when Jaehyun jumps during a jump scare scene, causing you both to laugh at his reaction to a scene you’re immune to.

“You okay?” You giggle, rubbing your thumb over his. “Not a big horror fan?”

“Honestly?” He laughs, clutching his chest. “I don’t know how you do it.” 

You pause the movie. “Wait, really? I wish you told me you didn’t like scary movies before we’re three-fourths into it.” You reach over his bedside table to turn on his lamp. “Let’s do something else.”

“No, it’s okay.” He tugs on your hand gently, urging you to sit back down. “We’re almost done.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not putting you through this if you’re not enjoying it.” You grab the deck of cards off his bedside table, before sitting back down.

“I’m enjoying it because I’m with you.” 

Heat rushes to your face, flustered at his words. “No,”you playfully argued. “It’s okay, really. Let’s play a card game instead.” You push the empty plates away before you open the packaging that holds the deck of cards.

“Oh, that’s -” Jaehyun attempts to let out before you read the handwriting scribbled in permanent marker on the front of the package. 

“52 reasons why I love you?” You read aloud, looking up at Jaehyun curiously. “What’s this?”

He gently takes the card deck from you and out of its packaging, laying some cards in front of you. You read some of the cards with handwritten notes — I love the perfume you wear every time you leave the house; I love the way your tongue kinda sticks out when you’re so focused on something; I love your smile (it’s very pretty); I love the way you lip sync to your favorite song when you think no one is watching. 

“You told me to give you reasons why I want you and these are some of the reasons why I love you.” His voice shakes, clearly worried about your reaction. 

You carefully grab the remaining cards from his hands, reading through all the cards — a smile creeping onto your face as you get to the end of the deck — I love you because being around you feels like home.

“I know it isn’t much,” he halfheartedly chuckles. “But I have one more thing.” He grabs his laptop with his headphones that’s strategically placed at the foot of his bed. “I don’t know if you know, but Mark has this makeshift recording studio at his place and he helped me make something for you.” He pauses, typing and clicking away on his laptop’s keyboard. He opens an mp3 file before turning the laptop towards you. “Read this letter first before listening to the file — the letter and the song basically tells you everything you need to know.” 

You nod your head looking down at the envelope with your name on it. You look up when you feel a dip in the bed and see Jaehyun leaving. “Wait, where are you going?” You ask, worry written all over your face. 

“I’ll be outside. I just want you to listen to it alone.” He gives you a nervous smile before biting down on his bottom lip. “Come find me when you’re done, okay?”

You nod your head before Jaehyun walks out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Carefully opening the envelope, you take a deep breath before reading the letter.

I’m sorry I let you walk out this morning and made you go through the entire day worrying about where I stand when it comes to my feelings. I never want you to go a day without knowing how much I love you. When you walked through the apartment door for the first time, I felt my heart stop. You’re ethereal, damn near perfect to me. But I honestly thought that was it — you were just a beautiful roommate that I was going to live with but I was so wrong. You’re so patient, kind, considerate, and compassionate even when I didn’t deserve any of those things. Through the months living with you, there was this nagging feeling that I couldn’t ignore. Those emotions scared me, you scared me, so I was selfish and made you think I hated you in hopes that my feelings for you would go away, but it didn’t — it just made you think I hated you even though it was the complete opposite. Seeing you bring over other men ruined me. I wanted so badly to get over you or at least muster the courage to tell you how I felt about you but I was scared. My past relationships weren’t successful, as you can guess, and the idea of being so in love with someone scares the living shit out of me because it can easily be taken away at any moment. I didn’t want you to leave if you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want to spend a day without you in my life regardless of whether you knew how I felt or not. This morning was eye opening, then I had to fuck it up by chickening out again. I’m sorry about that. When you walked out the door, there was a moment where it felt like you weren’t coming back and I knew I needed to keep you; to do everything I can to make you stay. I hope by the time you’re reading this, I’ve given you a few reasons why I want you…why I love you. I’m hoping the recording you’re about to hear ties everything together. 

Grabbing his headphones, you adjust the volume before pressing play on the mp3 file titled “completely.” You bring your knees to your chest, close your eyes, and you force yourself to focus on the lyrics. The feeling that overwhelmed you is indescribable — you smile at the lyrics made for you, your heart fluttering immensely as it continues to fill with love for Jaehyun. When the song ends, you selfishly replay it, forgetting that Jaehyun is waiting for you and drowning in his own anxiety. After your second time listening to it, you rip the headphones off and excitingly make your way to the door. 

You find Jaehyun pacing back and forth in the hallway biting down on his thumb restlessly waiting for you. 

Placing a gentle hand on his back, he turns to face you, eyes filled with worry that quickly disappears when you pull him into a kiss and his arms wrap tightly around your waist. 

“I-I’m assuming you liked it?” He asks between kisses. 

“I loved it,” you smile against his lips. Tugging on his shirt, you pull him into his bedroom and lead him to his bed. His mattress hits the back of his knees and causes him to fall onto his back. You push the scattered items further away from you, giving you more room to move around. As you climb on top of Jaehyun, his hands quickly find your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Wait, wait,” he sighs as you pull your body away from him. “I hope you know I didn’t do all of this because I wanted to have sex with you again. I meant everything I said.”

You let out a small giggle. “I know,” you whisper against his lips. You gently pull his lips into yours, your hip rolling over his pelvis. “Is it okay if we do this?” You ask between kisses.

“Only if you’re okay with it,” he breathes before capturing your lips once again. 

You hum, nodding your head. “Take your pants off,” you softly command before feeling his hips lift off the bed. He uses both hands to push the fabric down his thighs then to his legs, pulling one leg out and using the other to push it off his ankles all while his lips never leave yours. You take note of the lack of underwear he has, smirking at his hardened length pressing against your clothed core. You lift the fabric of his shirt over his head before trailing kisses down his neck, chest, and stomach. 

Jaehyun gulps at the sight of you, feeling vulnerable as you place chaste kisses against his soft skin. 

Licking a strip against his shaft, he gasps as a sudden wave of blood flows into his length, hardening under touch. You take his tip into your mouth before sinking him deeper, allowing his cock’s head to hit the back of your throat. A moan quickly escapes from his lips, his mouth agape at the pleasure he’s receiving. 

“Damn,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “This mouth will be the death of me.”

You smile against his cock before hollowing your cheeks, sucking on his shaft as his hand wraps around the nape of your neck, slowly guiding your head up and down. 

“Just like that,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re too good at this.” He props himself up with his free elbow, enjoying the delicious view in front of him. 

You lift your head, your spit glistening against your plump lips and stroking his erection slowly. “Too good?” You question with a smirk. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Not at all, baby,” he sighs before you place a soft kiss on his lips. His tongue rolls over your bottom lip before his teeth capture it, tugging on it gently. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You tease, rubbing your thumb over his excited tip.

“No, please,” he begs.

“You’re very cute when you beg, you know that?”

“And you’re a tease, you know that?” He smirks, pulling your lips back down to his. 

You grin before placing kisses against his length, twitching under the soft touch of your swollen lips. Flattening your tongue, you take his entire cock into your mouth, gagging on it until a pool of saliva drools out and falls onto the base of his shaft, causing a string of Jaehyun’s favorite curses to leave his lips. You leave his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. 

Jaehyun tugs on your shirt, pulling it over your head and throwing it across his bedroom. You quickly remove your bottoms as Jaehyun places open and wet kisses against your abdomen. Pushing him back, you grab a condom from his bedside table remembering where he had them from this morning. You roll his condom onto his erection before you align your entrance with the tip. Jaehyun’s hands gripping your ass, your supple skin pillowing between his fingers. You ease your hips down his hard length, moaning at the stretch you’re still not used to. 

“So tight,” he murmurs under his breath, trying to steady his breathing as his tip dips into your needy cunt. “Maybe we need to do this more often to - fuck - to get you used to me,” he chuckles, licking your collarbone before sucking the skin into his mouth. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling it back to look up at you. “You’re naughty, you know that right?” A devilish grin pulls at your lips as you watch Jaehyun’s jaw drop, feeling your walls swallow his entire shaft selfishly. 

“Only for you,” he whispers, completely intoxicated by your presence. 

You roll your hips against him, your moans filling the space between his and your lips. Jaehyun grips your hips, helping you move up and down his shaft before smoothly switching positions with you under him. 

“This feels very familiar,” you giggle, licking your bottom lip. 

Jaehyun smiles down at you, his hips sensually moving into you. “You don’t have to say it back, but I do love you.” He sighs, peppering kisses against your cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that to you.”

“Not at all,” you smile, your legs wrapping around his waist. “I love you, too.” 

You could feel him smile against your skin before his hips move rapidly into you. You feel Jaehyun’s tip kiss your sweet spot inside of you as he slowly rubs your clit with his finger. He’s timing your orgasm, ensuring he releases at the same time as you do. He feels your walls flutter against him and he takes notes of your moans now turning into tiny whimpers. Your back arches and you press your heels against his back, keeping him as close to you as he possibly can be. Within seconds, you and Jaehyun are coming in tandem — both of you desperately catching your breath. Slowly pulling out of you, he rids himself of his used condom before getting dressed and rejoining you in bed. 

You rest your head on his chest, your arm slinging over his abdomen as he strokes your hair endearingly. “I hope I gave you enough reasons,” he lets out, kissing your forehead. 

“More than enough,” you smile, your finger tracing his abdomen. You look up at him before kissing his cheek. “Also, I hope you know that now that I know you can sing, I’ll be asking you to sing to me all the time.”

Jaehyun shyly giggles, pulling you back down to his chest. You both lay there in silence, soaking in the moment you have with each other. 

“Oh!” Jaehyun lets out, sitting up in bed. You follow his actions, sitting up confused. “Before I forget, close your eyes.”

You smile nervously but you do as he asks.

“Stick out your wrist.”

You lift both wrists together, smiling cheekily. 

“Just one wrist, baby.” He laughs as he watches you drop your right hand to your side.

You feel something cold press against your skin and the weight of it feeling heavy on your wrist. “What is it?” You ask, your eyes still shut until he allows you to open it which he quickly does. 

Your eyes flutter open, your jaw dropping at the sight of the Cartier love bracelet around your wrist. “Wait, Jaehyun, is this real?” You lift your wrist, examining the bracelet up close.

“Yeah, I bought it today.”

“No, wait,” you stumble on your words. “I-I can’t accept this, this is expensive. Return it and get your money back.” Before you could remove the bracelet from your wrist, Jaehyun grabs your hand and halts your movements. 

“It’s really no problem. If you’re worried about it being expensive, just know it didn’t put a dent in my bank account, I promise.” 

You open your mouth to protest, only for him to shush you as his finger is pressed against your lips.

“I’d give you the entire world if I could,” he smiles. “But since that’s physically impossible, I’ll do my best to give you everything else.”

[mahmoudna]

While Some Celebrate Christmas 🎄

We’re Drowning in Rain and Cold 🥶

Hello everyone,

My name is Mahmoud Naeem Abu Hatab, a young man displaced from Gaza. While many around the world are celebrating Christmas 🎄, enjoying warm meals and cozy gatherings with loved ones, my family and I are struggling to survive under heartbreaking conditions.

The heavy rain has completely flooded our tent, leaving us shivering in the freezing cold ❄️ without proper shelter, food, or warm clothing. This winter feels like it might be our last if we can’t find help soon.

Our Reality vs. the World’s Joy:

• While homes are lit with decorations and people are exchanging gifts 🎁, we’re battling dampness, hunger, and the biting cold.

• We don’t have blankets, jackets, or even enough food to make it through the day.

• My dream of completing my education and creating a better future is slipping away after losing my laptop during the evacuation.

How You Can Make a Difference:

I’ve started a GoFundMe campaign to raise funds for:

1. Finding a warm, safe place for my family to stay.

2. Buying food, warm clothing, and blankets.

3. Replacing my lost laptop so I can continue my university studies in software development.

Donation Link:

[GoFundMe Campaign Link]

Why Your Help Matters:

This season is about giving and spreading joy ✨. By contributing to our campaign, you can bring warmth and hope to a family in desperate need. No donation is too small—it all helps us move closer to safety and dignity. If you can’t donate, please share our story and campaign link with your friends and family.

A Final Message From the Heart:

While others are singing carols and enjoying festive meals 🍗, we’re drowning in cold rain, praying for survival. Please don’t forget families like mine during this season of giving. Your kindness and generosity can be our lifeline.

Thank you for reading, supporting, and sharing our story. May this holiday season bring blessings to all.

Donation Link Again:

[GoFundMe Campaign Link]

OR USDT

TLns8czyFHsJQWkaAEeza3of5cgEH7vi3n

[treasure-mimic]

So, let me try and put everything together here, because I really do think it needs to be talked about.

Today, Unity announced that it intends to apply a fee to use its software. Then it got worse.

For those not in the know, Unity is the most popular free to use video game development tool, offering a basic version for individuals who want to learn how to create games or create independently alongside paid versions for corporations or people who want more features. It's decent enough at this job, has issues but for the price point I can't complain, and is the idea entry point into creating in this medium, it's a very important piece of software.

But speaking of tools, the CEO is a massive one. When he was the COO of EA, he advocated for using, what out and out sounds like emotional manipulation to coerce players into microtransactions.

"A consumer gets engaged in a property, they might spend 10, 20, 30, 50 hours on the game and then when they're deep into the game they're well invested in it. We're not gouging, but we're charging and at that point in time the commitment can be pretty high."

He also called game developers who don't discuss monetization early in the planning stages of development, quote, "fucking idiots".

So that sets the stage for what might be one of the most bald-faced greediest moves I've seen from a corporation in a minute. Most at least have the sense of self-preservation to hide it.

A few hours ago, Unity posted this announcement on the official blog.

Effective January 1, 2024, we will introduce a new Unity Runtime Fee that’s based on game installs. We will also add cloud-based asset storage, Unity DevOps tools, and AI at runtime at no extra cost to Unity subscription plans this November. We are introducing a Unity Runtime Fee that is based upon each time a qualifying game is downloaded by an end user. We chose this because each time a game is downloaded, the Unity Runtime is also installed. Also we believe that an initial install-based fee allows creators to keep the ongoing financial gains from player engagement, unlike a revenue share.

Now there are a few red flags to note in this pitch immediately.

Unity is planning on charging a fee on all games which use its engine.

This is a flat fee per number of installs.

They are using an always online runtime function to determine whether a game is downloaded.

There is just so many things wrong with this that it's hard to know where to start, not helped by this FAQ which doubled down on a lot of the major issues people had.

I guess let's start with what people noticed first. Because it's using a system baked into the software itself, Unity would not be differentiating between a "purchase" and a "download". If someone uninstalls and reinstalls a game, that's two downloads. If someone gets a new computer or a new console and downloads a game already purchased from their account, that's two download. If someone pirates the game, the studio will be asked to pay for that download.

Q: How are you going to collect installs? A: We leverage our own proprietary data model. We believe it gives an accurate determination of the number of times the runtime is distributed for a given project. Q: Is software made in unity going to be calling home to unity whenever it's ran, even for enterprice licenses? A: We use a composite model for counting runtime installs that collects data from numerous sources. The Unity Runtime Fee will use data in compliance with GDPR and CCPA. The data being requested is aggregated and is being used for billing purposes. Q: If a user reinstalls/redownloads a game / changes their hardware, will that count as multiple installs? A: Yes. The creator will need to pay for all future installs. The reason is that Unity doesn’t receive end-player information, just aggregate data. Q: What's going to stop us being charged for pirated copies of our games? A: We do already have fraud detection practices in our Ads technology which is solving a similar problem, so we will leverage that know-how as a starting point. We recognize that users will have concerns about this and we will make available a process for them to submit their concerns to our fraud compliance team.

This is potentially related to a new system that will require Unity Personal developers to go online at least once every three days.

Starting in November, Unity Personal users will get a new sign-in and online user experience. Users will need to be signed into the Hub with their Unity ID and connect to the internet to use Unity. If the internet connection is lost, users can continue using Unity for up to 3 days while offline. More details to come, when this change takes effect.

It's unclear whether this requirement will be attached to any and all Unity games, though it would explain how they're theoretically able to track "the number of installs", and why the methodology for tracking these installs is so shit, as we'll discuss later.

Unity claims that it will only leverage this fee to games which surpass a certain threshold of downloads and yearly revenue.

Only games that meet the following thresholds qualify for the Unity Runtime Fee: Unity Personal and Unity Plus: Those that have made $200,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 200,000 lifetime game installs. Unity Pro and Unity Enterprise: Those that have made $1,000,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 1,000,000 lifetime game installs.

They don't say how they're going to collect information on a game's revenue, likely this is just to say that they're only interested in squeezing larger products (games like Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail, Fate Grand Order, Among Us, and Fall Guys) and not every 2 dollar puzzle platformer that drops on Steam. But also, these larger products have the easiest time porting off of Unity and the most incentives to, meaning realistically those heaviest impacted are going to be the ones who just barely meet this threshold, most of them indie developers.

Aggro Crab Games, one of the first to properly break this story, points out that systems like the Xbox Game Pass, which is already pretty predatory towards smaller developers, will quickly inflate their "lifetime game installs" meaning even skimming the threshold of that 200k revenue, will be asked to pay a fee per install, not a percentage on said revenue.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Hey Gamers!

Today, Unity (the engine we use to make our games) announced that they'll soon be taking a fee from developers for every copy of the game installed over a certain threshold - regardless of how that copy was obtained.

Guess who has a somewhat highly anticipated game coming to Xbox Game Pass in 2024? That's right, it's us and a lot of other developers.

That means Another Crab's Treasure will be free to install for the 25 million Game Pass subscribers. If a fraction of those users download our game, Unity could take a fee that puts an enormous dent in our income and threatens the sustainability of our business.

And that's before we even think about sales on other platforms, or pirated installs of our game, or even multiple installs by the same user!!!

This decision puts us and countless other studios in a position where we might not be able to justify using Unity for our future titles. If these changes aren't rolled back, we'll be heavily considering abandoning our wealth of Unity expertise we've accumulated over the years and starting from scratch in a new engine. Which is really something we'd rather not do.

On behalf of the dev community, we're calling on Unity to reverse the latest in a string of shortsighted decisions that seem to prioritize shareholders over their product's actual users.

I fucking hate it here.

-Aggro Crab - END DESCRIPTION]

That fee, by the way, is a flat fee. Not a percentage, not a royalty. This means that any games made in Unity expecting any kind of success are heavily incentivized to cost as much as possible.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A table listing the various fees by number of Installs over the Install Threshold vs. version of Unity used, ranging from $0.01 to $0.20 per install. END DESCRIPTION]

Basic elementary school math tells us that if a game comes out for $1.99, they will be paying, at maximum, 10% of their revenue to Unity, whereas jacking the price up to $59.99 lowers that percentage to something closer to 0.3%. Obviously any company, especially any company in financial desperation, which a sudden anchor on all your revenue is going to create, is going to choose the latter.

Furthermore, and following the trend of "fuck anyone who doesn't ask for money", Unity helpfully defines what an install is on their main site.

While I'm looking at this page as it exists now, it currently says

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

However, I saw a screenshot saying something different, and utilizing the Wayback Machine we can see that this phrasing was changed at some point in the few hours since this announcement went up. Instead, it reads:

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming or web browser is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

Screenshot for posterity:

That would mean web browser games made in Unity would count towards this install threshold. You could legitimately drive the count up simply by continuously refreshing the page. The FAQ, again, doubles down.

Q: Does this affect WebGL and streamed games? A: Games on all platforms are eligible for the fee but will only incur costs if both the install and revenue thresholds are crossed. Installs - which involves initialization of the runtime on a client device - are counted on all platforms the same way (WebGL and streaming included).

And, what I personally consider to be the most suspect claim in this entire debacle, they claim that "lifetime installs" includes installs prior to this change going into effect.

Will this fee apply to games using Unity Runtime that are already on the market on January 1, 2024? Yes, the fee applies to eligible games currently in market that continue to distribute the runtime. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

Again, again, doubled down in the FAQ.

Q: Are these fees going to apply to games which have been out for years already? If you met the threshold 2 years ago, you'll start owing for any installs monthly from January, no? (in theory). It says they'll use previous installs to determine threshold eligibility & then you'll start owing them for the new ones. A: Yes, assuming the game is eligible and distributing the Unity Runtime then runtime fees will apply. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

That would involve billing companies for using their software before telling them of the existence of a bill. Holding their actions to a contract that they performed before the contract existed!

Okay. I think that's everything. So far.

There is one thing that I want to mention before ending this post, unfortunately it's a little conspiratorial, but it's so hard to believe that anyone genuinely thought this was a good idea that it's stuck in my brain as a significant possibility.

A few days ago it was reported that Unity's CEO sold 2,000 shares of his own company.

On September 6, 2023, John Riccitiello, President and CEO of Unity Software Inc (NYSE:U), sold 2,000 shares of the company. This move is part of a larger trend for the insider, who over the past year has sold a total of 50,610 shares and purchased none.

I would not be surprised if this decision gets reversed tomorrow, that it was literally only made for the CEO to short his own goddamn company, because I would sooner believe that this whole thing is some idiotic attempt at committing fraud than a real monetization strategy, even knowing how unfathomably greedy these people can be.

So, with all that said, what do we do now?

Well, in all likelihood you won't need to do anything. As I said, some of the biggest names in the industry would be directly affected by this change, and you can bet your bottom dollar that they're not just going to take it lying down. After all, the only way to stop a greedy CEO is with a greedier CEO, right?

(I fucking hate it here.)

And that's not mentioning the indie devs who are already talking about abandoning the engine.

[Links display tweets from the lead developer of Among Us saying it'd be less costly to hire people to move the game off of Unity and Cult of the Lamb's official twitter saying the game won't be available after January 1st in response to the news.]

That being said, I'm still shaken by all this. The fact that Unity is openly willing to go back and punish its developers for ever having used the engine in the past makes me question my relationship to it.

The news has given rise to the visibility of free, open source alternative Godot, which, if you're interested, is likely a better option than Unity at this point. Mostly, though, I just hope we can get out of this whole, fucking, environment where creatives are treated as an endless mill of free profits that's going to be continuously ratcheted up and up to drive unsustainable infinite corporate growth that our entire economy is based on for some fuckin reason.

Anyways, that's that, I find having these big posts that break everything down to be helpful.

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[were--ralph]

why exactly do you dislike generative art so much? i know its been misused by some folks, but like, why blame a tool because it gets used by shitty people? Why not just... blame the people who are shitty? I mean this in genuinely good faith, you seem like a pretty nice guy normally, but i guess it just makes me confused how... severe? your reactions are sometimes to it. There's a lot of nuance to conversation about it, and by folks a lot smarter than I (I suggest checking out the Are We Art Yet or "AWAY" group! They've got a lot on their page about the ethical use of Image generation software by individuals, and it really helped explain some things I was confused about). I know on my end, it made me think about why I personally was so reactive about Who was allowed to make art and How/Why. Again, all this in good faith, and I'm not asking you to like, Explain yourself or anything- If you just read this and decide to delete it instead of answering, all good! I just hope maybe you'll look into *why* some people advocate for generative software as strongly as they do, and listen to what they have to say about things -🦜

if Ai genuinely generated its own content I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it, however what Ai currently does is scrape other people's art, collect it, and then build something based off of others stolen works without crediting them. It's like. stealing other peoples art, mashing it together, then saying "this is mine i can not only profit of it but i can use it to cut costs in other industries.

this is more evident by people not "making" art but instead using prompts. Its like going to McDonalds and saying "Burger. Big, Juicy, etc, etc" then instead of a worker making the burger it uses an algorithm to build a burger based off of several restaurant's recepies.

example

the left is AI art, the right is one of the artists (Lindong) who it pulled the art style from. it's literally mass producing someone's artstyle by taking their art then using an algorithm to rebuild it in any context. this is even more apparent when you see ai art also tries to recreate artists watermarks and generally blends them together making it unintelligible.

Aside from that theres a lot of other ethical problems with it including generating pretty awful content, including but not limited to cp. It also uses a lot of processing power and apparently water? I haven't caught up on the newer developements i've been depressed about it tbh

Then aside from those, studios are leaning towards Ai generation to replace having to pay people. I've seen professional voice actors complain on twitter that they haven't gotten as much work since ai voice generation started, artists are being cut down and replaced by ai art then having the remaining artists fix any errors in the ai art.

Even beyond those things are the potential for misinformation. Here's an experiment: Which of these two are ai generated?

ready?

These two are both entirely ai generated. I have no idea if they're real people, but in a few months you could ai generate a Biden sex scandal, you could generate politics in whatever situation you want, you can generate popular streamers nude, whatever. and worse yet is ai generated video is already being developed and it doesn't look bad.

I posted on this already but as of right now it only needs one clear frame of a body and it can generate motion. yeah there are issues but it's been like two years since ai development started being taken seriously and we've gotten to this point already. within another two years it'll be close to perfected. There was even tests done with tiktokers and it works. it just fucking works.

There is genuinely not one upside to ai art. at all. it's theft, it's harming peoples lives, its harming the environment, its cutting jobs back and hurting the economy, it's invading peoples privacy, its making pedophilia accessible, and more. it's a plague and there's no vaccine for it. And all because people don't want to take a year to learn anatomy.

[scarlettgauthor]

I first posted this in a thread over on BlueSky, but I decided to port (a slightly edited version of) it over here, too.

Entirely aside from the absurd and deeply incorrect idea [NaNoWriMo has posited] that machine-generated text and images are somehow "leveling the playing field" for marginalized groups, I think we need to interrogate the base assumption that acknowledging how people have different abilities is ableist/discriminatory. Everyone SHOULD have access to an equal playing field when it comes to housing, healthcare, the ability to exist in public spaces, participating in general public life, employment, etc.

That doesn't mean every person gets to achieve every dream no matter what.

I am 39 years old and I have scoliosis and genetically tight hamstrings, both of which deeply impact my mobility. I will never be a professional contortionist. If I found a robot made out of tentacles and made it do contortion and then demanded everyone call me a contortionist, I would be rightly laughed out of any contortion community. Also, to make it equivalent, the tentacle robot would be provided for "free" by a huge corporation based on stolen unpaid routines from actual contortionists, and using it would boil drinking water in the Southwest into nothingness every time I asked it to do anything, and the whole point would be to avoid paying actual contortionists.

If you cannot - fully CAN NOT - do something, even with accommodations, that does not make you worth less as a person, and it doesn't mean the accommodations shouldn't exist, but it does mean that maybe that thing is not for you.

But who CAN NOT do things are not who uses "AI." It's people who WILL NOT do things.

"AI art means disabled people can be artists who wouldn't be able to otherwise!" There are armless artists drawing with their feet. There are paralyzed artists drawing with their mouths, or with special tracking software that translates their eye movements into lines. There are deeply dyslexic authors writing via text-to-speech. There are deaf musicians. If you actually want to do a thing and care about doing the thing, you can almost always find a way to do the thing.

Telling a machine to do it for you isn't equalizing access for the marginalized. It's cheating. It's anti-labor. It makes it easier for corporations not to pay creative workers, AND THAT'S IS WHY THEY'RE PUSHING IT EVERYWHERE.

I can't wait for the bubble to burst on machine-generated everything, just like it did for NFTs. When it does some people are going to discover they didn't actually learn anything or develop any transferable skills or make anything they can be proud of.

I hope a few of those people pick up a pencil.

It's never too late to start creating. It's never too late to actually learn something. It's never too late to realize that the work is the point.

[purplecoffee13]

The Silent Type*

Summary: “Harry, the quiet guy in the office, has silently admired you during your time working for the firm. Now that your work there is done, Harry finds that he can’t let you go just yet…”

Wc: 5k

Tropes: colleagues (ceorry/nerdrry)

Warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, daddy kink, switch sub/dom dynamics, oral, choking

A/N: SUP Y’ALL!!!! God I have just been waiting to be able to write again! I still have some exams coming up next week, but I spent all evening writing this one shot because I have been dying to get back into it😋 This is my first time writing a more subrry tinted fic, so I hope you enjoy it!

General Masterlist

if you want to support me more than liking or sharing, you can consider buying me a coffee!

************************************************

Harry has never been one to talk much.

It is one of the reasons why he chose the career of software developing. Most of it, he could do on his own.

It wasn't so much that Harry hated people, he just preferred his own company. More people tend to complicate things, and Harry is a more logical guy.

That was until he met you.

About three months ago, the company for which Harry worked had started their expansion, and he was to lead the people transferred to that section of the firm. With the expansion also came new employees, and that’s where you came in.

You had been temporarily hired by the company to weed out applicants, and assist the current HR manager to help with the job interviews.

Harry still remembers that first day when you walked into the office, all nervous and fidgety. He had spotted you through the glass walls of his office, and couldn't physically tear his eyes off of you.

It wasn't until your third day helping in the office, that you actually met Harry. You had no idea what to think of him. Well, besides the obvious, of course. He was ridiculously handsome, and from the way he was staring at you, you figured that maybe he was thinking something like that about you too.

But he didn't talk.

Your first time meeting consisted of nothing but a gruff 'nice to meet you' from Harry's side, and no input in the rest of the conversation whatsoever. It was only a couple days later, when you asked the HR manager about it, that you found out that's just how he was, that he didn't really talk to anyone. From that moment on, there had been a surge of motivation to let him make you the one exception.

Harry was just fascinated by you, and he had no idea why. You were a ball of energy, talking so fast you'd think someone had clicked on your 'sped up' button, and you were chaotic, all over the place. The amount of times he watched you bump into people was impossible to keep count of.

Then, one day, you bumped into him. It should have angered him, the spilt coffee on his pants. But he had an extra suit, and you looked so worried, he didn't want to make you feel worse. You still felt bad, though, so you decided to make it up to him, and started getting him coffee every morning.

By the end of the first week, he looked you in the eyes when he thanked you. By the end of the fourth, he'd ask you how you are and recall things you'd told him. By the end of sixth, he told you things about his life, and by the end of the tenth week, you were having longer conversations with him.

It was difficult to keep up the small talk with him in the beginning. You soon found out that his lone wolf attitude may had something to do with his awkwardness. You thought, perhaps people weren't willing to work through that, and eventually he just stopped trying.

Such a prospect made you sad, and it only motivated you more to get to know him better. Of course, the longing glances, and standing unnecessarily close to each other with his knuckles barely touching your arm, those things helped too.

There was an undeniable tension between the two of you that you found incredibly difficult to decipher. The way he'd let you catch him looking at you gave it away quite clearly, but the lack of any real initiative confused you.

Had you read it all wrong? Did he even think there was something there too?

Unfortunately, there was no way to find out, as your assignment at the company was coming to an end. Today had been your last day, and tonight is a launch party to officially celebrate the expansion of the company.

You were a little sad to leave the company, especially since you really liked the people working there. It is why you are most excited for tonight.

Wearing a long yellow dress—it is your favorite color—you stride into the building. You are mesmerized by all the balloons and how pretty everyone looks. Wearing expensive suits or classy dresses. You immediately realize you might be a bit too happily dressed; everyone is wearing darker colors.

It does make it easy for everyone to spot you, though. By the time you've gotten your drink, five people have already walked up to you. About half an hour into the party, the CEO of the company takes the stage to give a small speech.

"I would like to thank everyone who has participated in making this expansion go as smoothly as it did. Your work does not go unnoticed." He says through the microphone. Everyone claps for a few seconds, and the man waits to go on until it is quiet again.

"Now, I have a special announcement to make. I have wanted to make this expansion happen since I began working for this company in 1988. Now that I finally have, I feel that my job at this firm is done. And so, I have decided to retire from my position as CEO."

Your eyes widen at the speech; you had no idea this was even a thing. By the sound of the gasps and murmurs traveling through the room, you deduce that the news is unexpected for the rest of the company as well.

"It is also with great pride that I present the new CEO of our company, chosen after careful consideration. If mr. Harry Styles could please join me on stage."

Your mouth falls open at the mention of Harry's name, and you are certain you will never be able to close it again when you see him walking onto the stage. He wears a black suit, perfectly tailored to his body, and the sight of him has you concerned that you may be drooling.

The bald man hands the microphone to Harry, who does not look very pleased to be on stage; it almost seems like he is regretting his decisions. Until his eyes meet yours, that is when you see him let out a breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson." He says, breaking eye contact to look at his former boss.

Right, that was his name, Johnson.

"I look forward to leading this company into more successes, and I promise that I will put my heart and soul into it. I have worked at this firm ever since I graduated college and they offered me a job during my internship, and it is safe to say that I have not regretted that decision a day of my life. I have always been loyal to this company, and I will remain loyal to you. Thank you."

You are perplexed. Why did he never tell you about this? You are very happy for him, but you do find it weird. It also makes you doubt again. Did whatever you had been building up the last months not mean as much to Harry as it did to you?

Well, it doesn't really matter, you're gone after tonight anyway.

Once the shock of the news has calmed down a bit, the party resumes as normal. Most people visit Harry one by one to congratulate him on the position, but you steer clear from him. It is no use, after tonight you will probably never see him again anyway.

Time passes, and you think you're ready to go home. There was a file in the office you forgot to sign earlier today, so you head up to do that first. The office is entirely dark when you walk out of the elevator. It's kind of eerie, so you are quick to turn on the lights.

It takes you a few minutes to find the file, since the receptionist placed it on someone else's desk. You find it on your colleague's desk, and walk over to the receptionist desk to sign it. Laying it on the keyboard of her computer, you pray that she won't displace it again, and make your way back to the elevators.

A loud shriek escapes you when Harry suddenly walks around the corner. He covers his ears at the high pitched sound, shocked by how much he scared you. With your hand on your chest you try and steady your breathing.

"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry, didn't mean to." He says, a bit of worry in his tone. You look up at him.

"What are you even doing up here?"

"I was looking for you." He shrugs.

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrow, that same old tension in your stomach settling like it does every time Harry looks at you for longer than two seconds.

"You've been avoiding me." He answers casually, and you feel your heart drop. You didn't think he'd catch onto it.

"Congratulations by the way, for being the CEO. That was definitely a surprise." There is a bitterness in your tone. It is Harry's turn to frown. He hears the condescension, but his mind can't seem to come to a conclusion. Why are you angry? It's so hard to tell.

This is why he doesn't do people.

"You're mad that I am CEO?" He guesses, and your mouth falls open, much like it did when Harry's new position got announced.

"What?! Of course not! I'm very happy for you." You sputter out. The last thing you'd want him to think is that you don't want him to be happy or satisfied or successful.

"But you're still avoiding me." He repeats slowly. "You know, I didn't tell you about it because no one was supposed to know. I had to sign for it and everything. It's nothing personal."

The painful grip that his potential distrust in you had on your heart releases at the sound of his words. You could have known that it was due to something like that, you work in HR after all. That fact alone makes you realize how invested you unknowingly had become in Harry.

"I...I figured." You give him a weak smile. Harry's eyes search for yours, holding onto your gaze once he has found it. You stay like that, staring at each other for a while until you break the silence.

"I'm heading home. I don't think I'll see you again, so good luck. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."

With much difficulty, you manage to look away from Harry and walk past him. At least, you try to, because halfway through, Harry's hand grabs your arm. You stop in your tracks, looking back at the man who stopped you. The man who has been sending you mixed signals for the past few months.

"D– do you want to join me in my office?"

You refrain from the shiver that threatens to run down your entire body, and nod. Harry's hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he intertwines his fingers with yours before he leads you to the glass doors that belong to him. On your way there, he flicks off the lights, leaving the two of you in the dark.

The city lights light up the otherwise pitch dark office that belongs to Harry, for now. He will be moved to the CEO's office when he starts his new position.

You don't say anything as Harry closes the door, or as he walks to the closet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. You wait in anticipation of what he's going to do.

But then he sits down. He just sits down on his chair.

You stand there, staring at him, utterly confused about this man and his intentions with you, while he obliviously pours the whiskey into the glasses. In that moment, there is a switch inside of you, one that says: fuck it. This is your last day, you need a way to release this pent up tension, and you probably won't see him ever again after this. What have you got to lose? Nothing.

You walk over to the desk and sit down on it, extremely close to Harry. The split of your dress shows your bare, freshly shaved leg, and he seems to notice. His eyes pull to your legs like magnets, and he has to force himself to look you in the eyes as he hands you the glass of whiskey.

You try your best not to smirk at the effectiveness of your plan, focusing on your next move instead. Straight for the kill.

"So, why am I here, Harry?" You ask nonchalantly, taking a sip of your whiskey. It tastes quite strong, and it takes you a lot of effort not to have an expressive reaction to it.

"What?" He asks, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Why'd you take me here?" You ask again, setting down your glass at the table before moving to stand in front of him. "To admire the view?"

Harry looks out the window, but his head shoots back to you when he notices you're sinking onto your knees in front of him. He thinks he may have forgotten to breathe as he observes the lustful look in your eyes. His eyes travel down to your tits, even more visible from this angle.

"Because I've admired it every day for the past three months." You continue. Harry swallows, frozen by the overload of his brain and the sensitivity of the growing constraint in these pants. "Why don't you take your pants off for me? Just enough to give me your cock. I like you in this suit."

Harry doesn't let another second fly by before he is unbuckling his pants, sliding it down just enough for you to have access to his cock and his balls. Your mouth waters at the size and girth of it, your cunt getting wetter with every passing moment.

You shimmy forward, leaning over his cock and grabbing it with your hand. Harry sighs at the minimal contact, making you feel even more powerful. Looking up at him through your lashes, you ask him one more question.

"You'll hold my hair, won't you?"

With that, you take Harry in your mouth as far as you can, before pulling away from him. A gasp leaves his mouth, and his eyes fall shut as you pump him with your hand while your mouth kisses and sucks on the head of his cock. You begin licking and kissing down his cock, while your hand softly feels up his balls.

Harry feels like he is in heaven already, and he forgets everything around him. It is only when you completely remove yourself from him that he opens his eyes again, and he sees. Catching on quickly, he leans forward and gathers your hair, twisting it around his palm.

Satisfied with Harry's obedience, your mouth attaches itself to his cock again. You take him slowly, teasingly, and move your head up and down. With every movement, you take him an inch deeper.

"Oh, f–fuck!" He groans out when you gag on him because you took yourself too far too fast. You steady your breathing, which is a bit more complicated as you can only breathe out your nose. You resume sucking him off for a bit longer, bobbing your head down a bit faster. The small sounds that leaves Harry's lips, along with his scrunched up face, gives you enough indication that he is approaching his climax.

So you remove your mouth from his cock.

He lets out a whine at the loss of contact. If your panties weren't wet before, they certainly are now. You smile at the state of him; desperate and needy for you. The fact that you've managed to make him fall apart like this makes you incredibly horny.

"I want to take all of you in my mouth, daddy." You tell him, looking up at him with your big eyes. "You'll have to help me."

You went out on a bit of a limb when you decided to call him daddy, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, Harry's eyes light up and his jaw slacks at the mention of the pet name.

"Shit– anything, sweetheart. Whatever you need." He croaks out.

"I need you to fuck my mouth." You respond sternly, not wasting any time and taking him between your lips again. You push yourself down his cock as far as you can, breathing deeply before moving your hand to Harry's hand, which is holding onto your hair, and pushing your head forward to indicate that he needs to push his cock down your throat.

Again, it doesn't take him long to listen, because Harry's hips thrust forward, his dick gliding into your throat. You moan at the force with which he pushed, and keep your mouth wide open as you let Harry navigate your head.

Once he fully understands that you are allowing him to let him use your mouth, the true fun begins. With the firm grip he has on your head, he pushes you up and down at an ungodly speed. Your jaw is already tiring from its locked position, but you power through it because the sounds that leave Harry's mouth make up for it.

"Fuck baby, such a good mouth. Never had anything like this... Jesus!" He pants out as he begins to thrust up into your mouth, and you feel like you might pass out. Suddenly, he pulls you away from his dick.

You frown, and realize as he is grabbing for a tissue that he is avoiding messing up your face. You don't stand for it, though, and wrap your lips around his cock again just in time for him to come inside your mouth. You take him deeper and feel the way his sperm shoots in the back of your throat.

"Fuck! Shit, shit..." The not so wide arrange of curse words are the only thing Harry is capable of saying as he dumps his load inside your mouth. The fact that you were so adamant about having his sperm in your mouth made his orgasm even more intense.

Your mouth lets go of his cock with an exaggerated plop, and you swallow every last bit of him, grinning at his fucked out face.

"That was... amazing." He sighs, his gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. You hum in agreement, and get up from the floor as he pulls up his pants. You are about to walk away, when Harry grabs your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." You answer with a smile, but Harry's grip on you only tightens. He shakes his head, his lips pouting.

"No, you need to stay. Let me make you feel good too." He protests. You squint your eyes at him.

"I don't need to do anything."

Harry's eyes widen. "You're right. But just let me make you feel good before you go, please? It's the least I can do."

Your mouth slowly forms into a grin, glad to have him where you want. Well, almost.

"Beg me."

Harry scoffs. "Are you serious? I don't really do begging."

You shrug, smiling at him. "That's fine. My vibrator can get me off too."

You take a few steps towards the door, while Harry contemplates his decisions. However, those were all clouded by the sole moment to please you the second you mentioned your vibrator. The image of you getting off like that is too much to bear. He needs to do it for you.

"Stop." He says. You turn around, and walk back to him as he gets out of his chair and gets on his knees. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you closer, his nose digging into your dress. His hands run up and down your legs, and it is making you weak in your knees.

"Please, let me eat you out baby. I'll do anything to make you feel good. I need to taste you so bad, please let me pleasure you."

You swallow, eyelids ready heavy, as you sigh out. "Alright."

Harry grins at your admittance of defeat, and stands up. He leads you to sit on his desk, your dress hiked up. He removes the stuff behind you, so that you can lean back entirely in case you want to, and waltzes over to his chair.

Spreading your legs, he rolls himself closer to you, and assesses your soaking wet panties. Chuckling, he leans to the side and grabs a pair of scissors, before he cuts the skimpy material from your body. You'd say something of it, but the sight of him admiring your pussy like this is too fascinating to interrupt. So, you keep quiet.

When Harry's thumb suddenly presses on your clit and begins to rub it, you can't help but gasp. His touch feels too good, and that blowjob got you really worked up.

"You have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this." Harry says, marveling at how reactive you are being.

"Me too."

His eyebrows rise up. "Yeah? Tell me more, baby."

You bite your lip, too obsessed with the pet name he's given you. It sounds so sexy coming from his mouth. He awaits your response with bright eyes, lazily rubbing your clit.

"Your arms... I'd think about them so much. And your hands, I'd imagine you choking me with them. They're so big..." You begin, and you know that you could go on for hours if you had to tell him about everything you've thought about doing with him, or doing to him.

Harry doesn't say anything, instead responds with two fingers entering your pussy. You moan at the feeling of his large fingers pumping in and out of you. It feels way fuller than your hand already. His two fingers is the equivalent of your three fingers.

"We can definitely make those fantasies come true..." Harry says softly. "But first, let's make you come, hmm?"

You nod, your head falling back and allowing yourself to fully indulge in the pleasure Harry's giving you right now. You let yourself lay on his desk, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

"Fuck, that feels good– oh fuck!" You shriek out when Harry tongue begins attacking your tongue after he adds a third finger. He speeds up the movements of his hand to match those of his tongue, and holds onto that tempo until your mind can't conjure up any more words to speak to him.

With the control entirely out of your hands, you let Harry guide you to your orgasm, which washes over your body like a tidal wave. You unconsciously push Harry's head further into your pussy with your legs. With an arched back, you moan at the sensitivity of your clit.

Harry lets you take a minute to catch your breath before he pulls on your arms to have you sit up straight. He is smiling sweetly at you, and your heart warms at it.

"You okay?" He asks, kissing your hands. You nod, trying to ignore the flutters in your heart at the way he is being so gentle.

"Thank you for letting me make you feel good, baby." He says, getting up and leaning into your face. His nose brushes against your cheek as he plants his lips on yours. Your arms wrap around Harry's neck as you kiss him deeper, too caught up in how good he feels and how much you want him.

You're never this greedy. You've never felt like you needed a man's cock inside of you. Like it was the only feasible option. You feel it driving you crazy, and you're sure it is the only reason you say— no, ask:

"Please, fuck me."

The grin that forms on Harry's lips makes you feel like you should regret what you said. A grin like that usually belongs on your face in situations like these. But you need him so bad, you don't really care that you are the desperate one this time.

"Oh, you're begging now too, huh?" He says cockily. You glare at him, pissed that he's acknowledging your neediness and mocking you for it too.

"It's alright baby, I'll give it to you. 'M cock's already hard again from watching you come like that. So fucking sexy..." He says. He pulls his pants down and lifts you off the table, turning you around to the glass windows and pushing your hands against them. "Bend over a bit and speak your legs for me, baby."

You do as he says, biting your lip at Harry's hand that pushes away your dress and roams over your ass. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes himself into you, sighing in pure relief. You shut your eyes tightly at the size of him filling you up.

"Fuck, you feel good baby." He says, slowly beginning to move in and out a bit. You let out a soft 'yes', causing Harry's jaw to clench. He spanks your ass, watching as it bounces from the impact, and his cock twitching at your yelp.

"Perfect fucking ass... perfect fucking girl, aren't you?" He groans, now lazily thrusting into you. He wants to give you time to adjust, but he learns your wishes when you begin to push yourself back into him.

"Ah, I see. Greedy girl wants to speed things up, hmm? Your wish is my command." He mocks, but does speed up his pace. His hands hold your waist as he begins to pound himself into you, your ass shaking at the impact. He spanks your ass again for good measure, obsessed with the way it moves.

You nearly lose yourself in how good it feels, but you know that he can get deeper than this.

"I want to ride you... want to feel you in my tummy." You spit out, hoping he understands what you're saying in your croaky voice.

Harry listens, pulling himself out of you immediately and taking a seat in the chair. You turn around and walk over to him, throwing your legs on both sides of his lap, before grabbing his cock and sinking yourself down on it.

It goes smoother this time, but Harry's really deep now, just like you wanted. The sensation is everything to you, and it isn’t hard to tell how good it feels for him too. Glad to have a bit of the control back, you start to bounce on his cock.

Harry’s eyes travel over your body, fascinated by the way you are moving above him. His hands travel to the straps of your dress and push them down until he can get your tits out of the top part of your dress. He begins to massage them as you keep impaling yourself on his dick over and over again.

"Fuck, daddy, you feel so good... so good for me. Listening to me. Knew this was the best way to fuck you... you love it." You slur happily. Harry nods profusely at your words, jaw clenched and moaning out in pleasure.

"Yes, needed it so bad baby. You're fucking daddy so good..."

You smile at how caught up Harry looks in his pleasure, like he doesn't know what to do with it. You, however, do know what to with it. You grab one of his hands and wrap it around your throat, before you do the same to him. With his hand on your neck and yours on his, you begin to fuck him as fast as you can.

"Ah, fffuck... shit! Holy shit!" He yells out, and automatically thrusts himself up into you, reaching an even further level of deepness you had never thought possible. That along with your hands on each other’s necks, is enough to know that your climaxes are near.

"Come inside me daddy." You pant out, and he does. It is as if your permission set him off. You smile in delight at the feel and knowledge of his cum being so deep inside of you.

You fuck Harry through his orgasm, and even after. He squirms in his seat. "Wait— too sensitive."

"I don't care, I haven't come yet. Don't you want to make me feel good? Have me coming around your thick cock?" You say sensually, and Harry nods. "Words."

"Yes– fuck! I want you to come, please come around my cock. Please, please..." He begins to beg, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Your toes curl at his whiny voice, and soon your juices are gushing all over his cock. Your pussy contracting around him seems to set Harry off even more, as you feel even more sperm spraying out of his dick and into your walls.

You ride out your high until you can't move anymore. You sit there, forehead pressed against Harry's as you both come down from what just happened.

After a minute or two, you decide to pull out. Slowly but surely, you manage to get Harry's dick out of you without hissing too much at the sensitivity of every single body part down there.

You lean against the desk, too wobbly to stand on your own, and you let Harry wipe you clean with the tissues on his desk. After cleaning himself up, he stands up and positions himself in front of you.

"Hey." He says. Your hand cups his jaw and your thumb wipes away the tear that is far down his face now.

"Hi." You tilt your head. The both of you burst out laughing, still surprised by what went down just now.

"That was really good." He says once the laughter has died down. You nod in agreement.

"Good enough for a repeat?"

Harry pretends to think it over, before he responds: "under one condition."

"And what would that be?" You quirk up an eyebrow, intrigued by his vagueness. He smiles at you so wide that you wonder if his mouth might be hurting.

"You let me take you out on a date first."

You roll your eyes, pretending not to be amused as he chuckles at your reaction. But the second you see the look on his face and the sincerity behind it, you realize that he is being quite serious about this request. You bite your lip, wanting to kiss him right then and there.

"I would love that."

[thefemigirl]

★ Embrace Uncertainty for True Happiness

I recently started reading this amazing book about Emotional Intelligence and it totally opened my eyes to how important it is in our daily lives. Emotional Intelligence isn’t just about understanding our feelings—it’s also about being flexible and open to whatever life throws our way.

Just imagine this: You’ve set your heart on landing a specific job right after university. You imagine how perfect it will be working there, you already know how you'll organise your desk, and window shopping your future office outfits. But when things don’t go as planned i.e. you don't get the job, you feel crushed and start doubting yourself and feel you're not good enough or just plain unlucky in life. Personally I've been there TOO many times. This fixed mindset can blind you to other awesome opportunities that might be just as fulfilling.

However, I have some tips from the book on how to emotionally manage these kinds of situations!

▸ Step 1: Stay Open-Minded

Tell yourself, “I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m open to learning and growing from whatever comes my way.” Let go of those rigid expectations and embrace life’s unpredictability.

Why it matters: Staying open-minded helps you adapt to new situations and discover unexpected joys.

Real Talk: I once had a super fixed idea of becoming a neurosurgeon (brain doctor), but when I left highschool early, I thought I would be a failure forever. Then a Software Development apprenticeship opportunity popped up, I decided to give it a shot. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made!

▸ Step 2: Focus on the Present

Make the most of your current experiences instead of always planning for some future “perfect” situation. Ask yourself, “What’s good about this moment right now?”

How to do it: Try practicing mindfulness through meditation or just take a few minutes each day to appreciate your surroundings.

Pro Tip: Start a gratitude journal. Every day, jot down three things you’re thankful for in the present moment. It’s a game-changer!

▸ Step 3: Embrace Growth in All Experiences

When challenges come your way, look for opportunities to learn or grow. Instead of labelling something as entirely good or bad, ask, “What can I take from this experience to make me stronger or wiser?”

Action step: After any setback, take a moment to reflect on what you’ve learned and how you can use it moving forward.

Personal Insight: During a tough breakup, instead of dwelling on the pain, I focused on what the relationship taught me about my needs and boundaries. This helped me grow and prepare for healthier relationships in the future.

Building emotional intelligence isn’t something you do overnight—it’s a continuous journey of self-discovery and adaptation.

So, as you navigate your own path, remember to embrace the uncertainty and trust that each experience, whether good or bad, is shaping you into a stronger, wiser version of yourself.

Here’s to your amazing journey ahead,

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[mv1simp]

my constant thought about max is him and virgin reader where r is saving herself for marriage and for her husband but max convinces her that doing anal means she’ll stay a virgin <33

Anon YOU EVEN MADE ME BLUSHH 🤭🤭🤭 do u know how hard that is. got me kickin and gigglin an shit, here u go u filthy animal keep the requests coming 🫶

Low Life ♥️

Max Verstappen x Horner! Reader

I been on the molly and ‘em xans with your daughter, if she catch me cheatin’ I won’t ever tell her sorry

Mad Max is back in full force with the poor Redbull strategy this season - and his boss, Christian Horner, doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it. Guess Max will just have to find some other way to get his revenge and relieve his stress…starting with his boss’s precious, spoiled daughter.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin!reader, who’s also a spoiled brat lol, dark! Max, blackmail, coercion, filming, VERY dubcon, anal, size kink, dom/sub, bimbofication, religious themes, EVERYTIME I WRITE A DARK MAX FIC IT KEEPS GETTING MORE NASTY GODDAMN, 5.2k WC

To say Max was pent up with rage would be an understatement. After dedicating himself tirelessly and dominating the track since his debut, the Redbull team had disappointed him this season with their pisspoor car and even poorer strategy. And to top it off, his boss was now making comments to the media about how he needed to spend less time on the sim rig the night before a race, making Max scoff. As if Horner knew more about winning a race than a 3 time world champion, Max thought angrily, yanking off his helmet as he stormed straight to his boss's office to give him a piece of his mind after another disappointing P3 finish.

Horner was having none of it, though, telling Max some bullshit about how the team needed to have a united front blah blah blah. Max has already tuned him out, cause what the fuck does he mean the team - he was the one bringing home the results every weekend, and anyone who tried to say otherwise just needed to look at the track record of Max completely dominating his teammates in equal machinery. God, he hadn’t gotten this mad in a long time, so he excuses himself rudely as he can tell he’s about to wreck something if he has to hear another one of Horner’s excuses. He wrenches open the office door just to have you stumble straight into his firm chest as you try to enter it.

You, Christian’s Horner’s daughter from his first wedding, freshly graduated from some private all girls college. He’d met you 3 months ago while you were trotting about like the spoiled little brat you undoubtedly were. No job, just using your degree as decor while you used your daddy’s fame to find yourself a rich man to spread your legs for, he had speculated, knowing just your type.

And it irritated him to no end that you looked the picture of innocence, an angelic figure in your white minidress and kitten heels and wide doe eyes, with a matching purity ring and all - even though your pretty tits and fat ass were openly ogled by many a male staff member. Max himself had to readjust his pants a few times when he’d seen you bend over.

He’d assumed you’d try to sink your gold digging claws into him soon enough, wanting some of his multimillionaire status for yourself, but you’d surprised him by skittishly avoiding him, almost looking a little scared, which he found amusing. He supposed he did dwarf your 5 foot frame though, and you had all the aura of a sweet little lamb compared to the Dutch lion. You’d surprised him again last month, when you’d introduced your dad to your pick of a first boyfriend - Tim, a docile looking, short guy who was a lowly new hire in the F4 reserve category. Too far down in the rankings to do any real benefit to your status. Conveniently, though, Tim’s father happened to own a software development app that was currently in the process of a $3 million acquisition deal. Chump change to someone like Max, but like he said, he knew your type, didn’t he?

But he’d been most surprised when he’d overheard moaning one night when he’d stayed late in the garage - and had pervily gone to investigate down the abandoned hallway and into one of the empty rooms - only to get an instant hard on at the sight of you on your knees, dress pulled down to your waist and those delicious tits out on display. So entranced by the angelic vision, Max hadn’t even noticed your loser boyfriend - till a scowl appeared on your pretty face as Tim furiously jerked his tiny dick off in front of you. He was panting and whining, sweat running down his face as he pathetically begged please, please can i touch your boobs-

You were no scared little lamb now as you snapped at him viciously. No! I told you, only looking and no touching! I promised daddy I would stay pure for my husband- Eww! Oh my god, what is that?

You’d been cut off as your boyfriend came, his small, clear load weakly spurting past his fist so that only a couple of drops landed on your caramel skin. Max had thought you’d been lying about the purity bullshit, just wanting an excuse to avoid Tim’s touch - but his eyes narrowed at your look of disgust at your boyfriend’s dick, and the genuinely puzzled expression on your face as you tried to figure out what the clear fluid that landed on you was - making the impressive semi he still rocked twitch, despite your pathetic boyfriend ruining his show. Interesting, you were still a virgin, huh?

Sure, you’d piqued his interest then, but he ignored you now as you stumble back from his hard chest, wide brown doe eyes blinking up at him. He’s still furious with Horner and starts to move past you but your aggravating father perks up, asking if you could show Max where his new drivers' room was in the refurbished wing, so that he could cool down and destress in peace after today’s race. Of course, daddy, you responded sweetly, making Max’s cock stir. He eyed you doubtfully as you lead the way. You had to know what you were doing, a grown woman using that word, right? But then again, he’d seen you call Horner by that title in a team wide press conference, making GP choke on his water next to him - so maybe not.

His anger hadn’t dissipated one bit as you approached his room, in a much more secluded area of the new wing for him to “cool down” as Horner had passively aggressively suggested. Still clearly nervous in his presence, you accidentally dropped the key you’d fished out. As you bent over to collect them, your miniskirt rose up, revealing your juicy ass peeking past your white cotton panties. Oh, he’d found the perfect way to get back at his boss, Max thought devilishly.

As you unlocked the door, he stepped in behind you, giving you no choice but to stumble inside - and then he’d casually stopped in front of the door to block your exit. You nervously twirled your keycard in your fingers, shuffling side to side.

Why don’t you sit down, he offered, we should get to know each other, yeah? You still looked like you wanted to bolt any second, but at Max’s authoritative tone you gingerly sat down on the plush couch.

He started with some generic bullshit about how he’d seen you around, you were his boss’s daughter after all, and as Horner’s best driver he should be on good terms with you too, no?

You relaxed, now looking up to meet his eyes and smiling brightly, pleased that the great Max Verstappen had come to seek your favour. You start saying that it was nice to meet him too, you’d heard lots about him, he was such an incredible driver-

You hadn’t noticed Max discreetly locking the door behind him. Stepping forward, he responded neutrally to your excited questions as he casually strips off his top layer, leaving him shirtless.

You abruptly stop talking, going pink in the face, and he asks what’s wrong, I’m just getting changed, are you a virgin or something? His mocking tone makes it clear that he still didn’t quite believe you were one. When you don’t reply, he gently lifts your face up with his large hand. And as your eyes shyly rise up to meet his, desperately avoiding looking at his broad, toned abs, there’s no faking the genuine innocence in them. I am, you stutter out. A virgin, I mean. I made a promise to daddy to wait till marriage.

You twirl your promise ring around anxiously as you say it. Max didn’t know what kind of sick brainwashing Horner had been subjecting his daughter too, but he fully intended to use it to his advantage. Really? He says slyly. Does your daddy know you let your little boyfriend jerk off on your tits?

You gasp, then glare as you demanded to know how he knew that, had he been watching, that was soo creepy and gross -

There’s the bratty angel he knew had been hiding. He cuts you off, confirming that yes, he’d been watching - but you’d been the dirty girl who seduced her innocent boyfriend in the garage for just anyone to see, hadn’t you?

You’d look outraged at his statements, but he reminded you of the power he had when he nonchalantly mentioned that he hadn’t planned on telling your father, but now that he knew about the promise you had made - well, it was his duty to let Horner know what kind of naughty things you’d been doing behind his back, right?

That had wiped the bratty glare right off your face, instead making you wide eyed and tremble with fear at the thought of your daddy finding out. You begged Max to keep your secret. Please don’t tell him, he would die, you'd do anything to stop him knowing!

Jackpot. Smirking darkly, Max pretended to consider your option before saying that he supposed he could keep it to himself if you helped him destress and relax like your father had sent you here to do, okay?

You nodded eagerly, looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes as he stepped right in front of you, watching you predatorily. His thick fingers brush along your pink lips, and his eyes darken as you instinctively take them into your mouth, sucking sweetly. Oh, you were going to be such a sweet little angel for him, he just knew it.

Within seconds he had you dropping your dress down to your waist, exposing those lush, pretty tits of yours. You blushed when he stared hungrily and ordered you to play with them, and at first you obliged and gently squeezed them, but then stopped to brattily ask just how this was supposed to help destress him, was he just being pervy again?

Great point, he said, and sat down next to you to easily lift you into his lap, taking over and roughly palming your tits. N-no touching! You had squealed, desperately trying to escape his strong arms. Rolling his eyes, he forced you back against him, explaining that it was okay, you knew that it didn’t count if it was to help him destress, right? And besides, nothing would affect your promise to your daddy except a man’s cock actually entering your precious virgin hole-

Okay! You had said frantically to put a stop to his explicit words, face flushed. Okay, if you promise it doesn’t count, I’ll still be a virgin, right?

God, it was so cute how naive you were. You hadn’t even realised that if what Max was saying was true then there was nothing illicit with what you and Tim had done - and Max had nothing to hold over you. Right, Angel, Max promised, enjoying the dazed look you gave him at the nickname as he squeezed your tits, bending down to take a pretty nipple into his mouth. It doesn’t count.

And that was how Max had his boss’s innocent little daughter wrapped around his fingers, ready to do whatever he asked of her, as long as he kept your secret. It was such a rush, having his way with you right under your father’s nose, being able to punish you for his crimes and ruining you more and more each time Horner pissed him off - and oh, did he piss Max off constantly.

So the next race, he’d had you fully strip for him, and yes, even those cute panties, Angel, when you’d whined, embarrassed from his intense gaze. You’d bit your lip and slid them off, obediently spreading your legs and gently playing with yourself like he’d asked, using unfamiliar movements. Soon enough you’d become accustomed to Max’s hungry stares at your innocent parts and began thrusting your tiny fingers inside your virgin cunny, because it had started to feel sooo good and soo tingly down there, and you’d never felt like that before.

You’d become distracted, closing your eyes from the sensation and when you opened them you shrieked, because Max was now standing right above you, greedily looking down at your petite form as he stroked his own private parts - called a cock, he’d made you repeat. He’d also warned you never to scream again in his room, or he’d gag you next time and tell your dad about Tim. You pouted, nodding obediently, but whining that you got scared Maxie, why was it so big, so angry, was it going to hurt you?

Of course not, Angel he’d reassured at the next race again, this time making you sit next to him, naked except for your kitten heels and a lacy blue thong he’d had delivered to your house - your father as clueless as ever when he handed the package over to you. It won’t hurt you, he promised, but it's very hard from stress and needs you to help drain it, okay?

He’d guided you to his large cock, smirking evilly as you struggled to grip him even with two hands. He moved one large hand over both of yours, showing you how to jerk him off the way he liked. You’d picked it up very quickly, innocently asking him why Tim's cock was so much tinier that his. Cause, Angel, I'm just a better man than he is, he had said with a chuckle. Oh, you had said, then - I hope my husband is a good man then, and has a big cock like you.

Oh, Jesus. Max was definitely going to hell after this. Feeling his peak approaching, he ordered you onto your knees, making you hold your tits up - and then proceeded to cover them with his thick, creamy release, so much of it that it dripped down onto your stomach - and much more than the time you had seen Tim’s cock explode. You’d almost screamed again but bit your tongue at the last minute, remembering Max’s threat last time. But it didn’t stop you from glaring up at him, brattily asking what this gross stuff was, eww, you didn’t want it on you-

That’s fine, Max had said cooly. That’s fine, because next time he'd make you drink it all instead. Your eyes went wide at that, tears forming and you adamantly denied Max, saying you’d never do something like that, it sounded pervy and dirty.

But your reluctance meant nothing to Max, as he smirked at you from your fathers side the next day, whispering something in his ear that had your daddy looking over at you and an icy chill running down your back. You were petrified as you got a text from your father to come see him in his office now, walking in on the verge of tears only to have him smile delightedly at you because Max mentioned you’d been very supportive of his races lately, it’s been a big reason why he’s so much more of a team player these days, so proud of you for helping the team, sweetie!

You’d accepted his praise, blushing from the attention, and later had dutifully wandered back to Max’s room to greet him after the race. He smirked at finding you there, already naked except for a pink lacey thong and heels, on your knees for him, shyly thanking him for keeping your secret and saying such nice things to your daddy. Of course, Angel, he murmured, unzipping himself. You know just how to say thank you then, hmm? And you obediently nodded, jerking him off like he’d taught you, then licking and sucking on his cock when he asked, and then taking all of his length inside your eager throat at his command, gagging the whole way as he tutted disapprovingly at you, taking over and controlling the pace with his large hands. It had really hurt your tiny mouth, and you couldn’t speak properly afterwards, but seeing Maxie swear and tell you how good you were doing, how he never wanted to let you go, made that tingly feeling come back in between your legs again. Instead of ignoring it like you normally did, this time you couldn't resist fingering yourself, thong pushed the side as you shoved your fingers inside your wet cunny.

Maxie had gone breathless seeing that, and then he tensed before you felt his warm, sticky thick cum fill your mouth. You swallowed every drop, opening your mouth afterwords for him to inspect. Good girl, he said, patting your head. My sweet angel, you drained my stress so well. Oh, so that’s what it was, you say innocently. I’m glad I made you feel better, Maxie.

After that, there were no races for a whole month as the paddock went into summer break. You had thought you’d be glad for the relief from Maxie and his mean demands, but you found yourself texting him often, missing his loving kisses and touches after you helped relieve his stress, missing the tingly feeling you got when he looked predatorily at you spread open for him.

You’d been shocked when you opened your eyes as a shadow had blocked out the sun while you were sunbathing at your family’s St Tropez holiday home, only to find Max grinning down at you, saying your dad had invited him to come for the week. Had you been doing your homework? You nodded diligently, looking at the banana you’d been practising swallowing whole without gagging to copy the dirty video Max had texted you of a petite woman eagerly sucking a very big cock - he must be a good man, you’d thought, just like your Maxie.

Secretly, you were so glad he was here, shooting him looks over the dinner table as he sung praises about what a good friend you’d been to him, helping him get back to P1, making your daddy proudly pat your head. And after dinner when everyone had gone to bed, he joined you in the hot tub to unwind. You’d excitedly begun to tell him about what you had been upto on the break when you felt his thick fingers creeping up the inside of your thighs. You’d frozen instantly, because Maxie had never touched you there himself, but before you could say anything your father stepped out onto the veranda, asking you something about your plans for the next day.

Answer him, Max mouthed, smirking as you had no choice but to let him keep gliding up your legs and undoing your tiny bikini. And when your daddy had gone back inside, oblivious that the flush on your face wasn’t from the heat of the pool, you’d tried to shove Max’s hand away, brattily saying you didn’t want his hand near your private parts, that was just for your husband-

Doesn’t count, Angel, Max had cooed, easily overpowering you and sliding a finger in, much thicker and longer than yours and making you squeal as he started pumping it in and out of you. And he hadn’t stopped despite your half hearted protests, because you’d started to feel really good, really tingly, and Maxie, I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee-

After you had your first orgasm, he carried your tired figure back into the house, setting you down and licking your cum off his fingers. And then, through your half asleep state, you felt his tongue swirling around your nipples, leaving hickeys and then trailing down, and down before his warm breath gently blew over your puffy cunny. And then you felt his wide tongue licking your folds, making you gasp awake and squeal cause why was he kissing you down there, that’s so pervy-

But he’d easily bullied you back into quiet muffled moans again, your skimpy bikini bottoms shoved inside your mouth as he warned you that your father was going to wake up right next door and come investigate if you didn’t shut up. So you reluctantly let him continue his filthy kissing, spitting and licking on your most innocent parts until you felt you had to pee again. He grinned wickedly as you squirted a second time, completely ruining the sheets, before redressing your passed out figure in a comfy hoodie. You felt the ghost of a sweet kiss on your forehead before he walked away.

You avoided him the next few days, glaring when he would approach you, angry he’d kissed you somewhere only your husband should. He’d promised you were still a virgin, sure, but still! It was just too much, wasn’t it?

But you’d been unable to resist his advances any longer when he’d cornered you in the family study one day when everyone else had gone out to the markets. He’d sweetly apologised, presenting you with a new Dior bag he’d had speed delivered that morning, and you happily snatched it up, gasping with delight as you look inside to find a Cartier bracelet. You’ll forgive me, right, Angel? Max had said, slowly wrapping his arms around you from behind and rubbing his practically blue balls against your plush ass as you distractedly admire your new gifts. I just wanted to make you feel good, hmm?

You nodded breathlessly, agreeing that you supposed it had felt really good, you liked that tingly feeling in between your legs. Yeah? Max had grinned, kissing you and slipping his tongue inside and saying that he knew a way to make you feel even better, Angel, and you’d still be a virgin after it, he pinky promises, okay?

With the new Dior bag and diamond bracelet you’d become a lot more agreeable, and didn’t protest as he laid you back on your father’s study table, lifting your miniskirt over your hips and grinning wickedly when he found no panties - just your glistening pussy. Y-you always just rip them anyways, Maxie you pouted.

Oh, you secretly wanted this, didn’t you? Acting all bratty just cause you wanted to make him work for it, he was certain. Your sweet body was such a good plaything for him that he didn’t really mind, deciding not to punish you for avoiding him.

You curiously watch as he unzips himself, taking his thick cock out, then you squeal adamantly in protest when he brings it close to your innocent hole. Shh, Angel, it’s just on the outside, he’d promised, I won’t put it in, it’ll feel so good, trust me.

And it had felt sooo good, making you bite your lip and toss your head back as he dragged his warm length along your folds, slapping your clit a few times with his cockhead, making you spread your soft legs invitingly as you felt the addictive tingly feeling come back again.

He’d been unable to resist the temptation, sliding just the tip into your virgin cunny- but you’d immediately screamed in protest, twisting away and he had generously released you from his hold, tongue in cheek as you sashayed away with a backwards glare, Dior bag in hand. He’d had to leave the next day, and you didn’t see him the rest of the break.

After the break, you had seemed different to Max. You carried the brattiness openly in your eyes, confident now in your ability to seduce him as he has brought such expensive apology gifts just for a little taste of your virginity.

You had infuriatingly said no when he tried to rub himself against your cunny at the next race, and at the one after that, so here he was, stuck fingering you and sliding his tongue in and out of your folds for the 3rd time this week while his cock ached to be buried inside you - when the wicked idea came to him.

He’d made sure to have all the preparations ready for the next race, knowing you would be a brat and try to weasel your way out of it. Like he’d predicted, you make your way to his plush sofa, spreading your legs to show off your naked pussy and demanding he come kiss it how you liked.

Oh, his Angel had become quite the spoilt little bitch, hasn’t she? He’d have to make sure you learned your lesson about who was in charge around here. You smirk as he drags his tongue up and down your puffy folds, thinking you had the millionaire driver all wrapped around your fingers. His thick third and ring fingers join his tongue, making you moan and close your eyes as he pumps them into your pussy. And then, his thumb drops down, lower, to circle your other winking hole before sliding inside.

You’d jumped in shock, naively asking why he was touching your dirty hole, that’s so embarrassing, you don’t want him to touch that place!

Max cooes that he couldn’t care less, besides, he can clean it out for you, yeah? If he just slides his cock in, just a little bit, he can make sure it’s all clean for you.

Your eyes go impossibly wide at the thought of his big cock anywhere near your ass. You furiously close your legs, brattily telling him that you’d had enough, wasn’t he just being a pervert now, and you’d already broken up with Tim ages ago and since Max seemed to be very relaxed now given his P1s has resumed you didn’t think you needed to help him out anymore!

Time to pull out the big guns. Sitting back on the sofa now, Max palms his growing erection as he calls out to you, making you pause from where your hand rested on the doorknob.

You know, Angel, I’ve had a lot of creepy fans sneak onto the garage lately. Some even got into my room. I guess they just really wanted to see me shirtless, huh?

You turn around to look at him, confused, until your eyes slowly widen in horror as he points to the camera tucked in the corner. There’s no trace of sympathy on his handsome face as he starts lazily jerking himself off, telling you that it had been your fathers idea to set it up, for his safety, and he’d even kindly offered to go through all the footage later - he took any threats against his prized driver very seriously.

You panicked, already teary eyed at the thought of your father seeing you spreading your legs sluttily and demanding Max pleasure you. You immediately dropped to your knees, begging Max to keep the tape himself-

Now why would I do that, Angel? Max cooes, getting harder at the sight of you kneeling in front of him and crying for his help. After all, you’re the one who’s forcing him to kiss her pussy on that video, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants you as you beg him, offering up your precious pussy to slide against again if he wanted, just don’t go inside, okay?

That’s not the hole he wants, Angel, he told you darkly. No - he wanted your other hole, the dirty embarrassing one, and he wants to sink his entire cock inside it.

He watches you stutter and gasp, before you take a deep breath and naively ask My husband won’t be able to tell, right Maxie? I’ll still be a virgin?

Max smirks. Of course, Angel. You know he’d never break your precious promise. And with that, you’re ready to become his obedient pet again, blankly turning around and sticking your ass up in the air like he asks, spreading your cheeks for him to look at.

And oh, Max takes his sweet time looking, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of having completely broken you down like this. He generously douses you in lube, making you squeal at the chill, before he’s furiously pumping his thumb inside your impossibly tight back hole. You tremble as he lines his cock up, ordered you to relax or it’ll hurt, Angel. Slowly sinking inside, he moans as he finally finds his way into your heat, feeling like he’s reached heaven. Tears stream down your face as you wail once he begins meanly thrusting, wickedly taking your anal virginity all for himself and giving you his fingers to suckle on and keep quiet.

He doesn’t stop until he’s finished inside you, panting heavily and pushing his matted hair out of his eyes, pressing kisses down your spine to let you know you did so well for him.

He pulls out with a wet squelch, enjoying the sight of his cum dripping out of your poor, abused little hole. Sitting back comfortably on the sofa, legs spread, he gives you a cocky smirk as you turn around, still seated on the ground in front of him.

Now clean it up, he demands meanly. He can’t have your hole make his cock dirty now, can he? And you obediently responded, crawling forward with glazed eyes, licking him clean from balls to tip like he’s trained you to do.

After that night, Max had held you completely in the palm of his hand. You’d be the perfect angel for him, doing whatever he wanted wherever he wanted - except for entering your innocent pussy, of course. He’d let you keep it yours for now, finding the fantasy hot. He’d buy you a diamond ring one of these days, he mused, so that you’d beg him to finally claim your virginity.

But for now, he had a couple other tricks to try out. And if you’d try to refuse, he’ll pull up the video he has on his phone of your eyes rolling back as Max ate you out on your father’s work desk from summer break.

He’d taken you back to his hotel room to teach you those tricks, making you wail and scream his name without restriction, headboard banging against the wall. It was hilarious when Horner had come upto him at breakfast the next morning, patting his back and saying it sounded like he’d been celebrating his win very well last night, congratulations, he deserves it and sounded like the girl couldn’t get enough!

Max had to hold back his laughter, as your clueless father had no idea he was carrying an extra croissant up for the very same girl who couldn’t get enough - his precious little daughter, who still lay sleeping in his hotel bed, exhausted from his dirty activities all night.

You’d ended up missing your flight back, making some weak excuse to your daddy and had followed Max into his private jet, obediently spreading yourself open for him as he pulled you behind the privacy screen. The flight attendants had blushed as they heard your eager moans and the lewd sounds of Max greedily fucking your ass again.

And when you landed, greeting your waiting family, Max had to discreetly wipe the line of cum that trickled down your skirt. You didn’t have to worry, though, he’d already thoughtfully ordered another delivery of sexy underwear straight to your home 🖤

—————————————————————————

A/N: I actually gave myself post nut clarity writing this (post writing smut clarity?? Post smut conscience??) time to go outside and reconnect with nature. As always,,,lmk what u think 🤔

[insertdisc5]

I forgot if I asked this last time your inbox was open (though even if I did, you never answered it) but how long did you have the ideas for ISAT in your head before you started the development process? I've had this idea for a game for 12 years and haven't coded a single line. I'm writing the story first. Is that a bad idea? I know it's not a race, but I feel like I'm behind my fellow mid-20s creatives. I also can't draw for shit, nor can I afford to commission a thousand or so art pieces. Do you have any advice (other than replaying your game, which I plan to do anyway) for an aspiring indie dev who has felt like giving up but hasn't actually done it?

writing the story first is never a bad idea. however i think you should start actually making the game where you know stuff like "so im gonna have this boy and he's gonna become a jedi to fight the emperor and then the emperor is gonna be his DAD and then he saves the galaxy", even if you don't know what happens in between those cool things. aka when you know your beginning and end.

the reason you should start actually making the game then is because while making the game, you will realize the strengths and weaknesses of the software you're using. which means you'll realize you cant make this cool moment with a thousand enemies. but you CAN add little scenes every time the player uses a specific item. and knowing the intricacies of the software will make your game cooler

tldr: just start da gaem already!!!!! u can do eet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

Hi!👋, im back(again), sorry if im a little bit of an bother(english isn't my first language sorry😅), i want to have ANOTHER request of Yandere TFP ALL Autobots(poly pls🥺)with an same cybertronian s/o from my first request that is SUPER shy, easily flustered and hardly ever raises thare voice that comes out as VERY adorable whispers and thare...

🥰DROP🥰

💞DEAD💞

❤️‍🔥GORGEOUS❤️‍🔥

🥰🌌💗💜AND like my first request small scenario and headcanons💜💗🌌🥰

Hug🤗

YOU ARE NOT A BOTHER SHUT UP I LOVE YOU!!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) And it's okay, english is also not my 1st language, but be patience and keep listening, reading and speaking it!! And you'll get the hang of it!

(〃￣︶￣)人(￣︶￣〃) Sending hugs too bestie!!!

(TFP) Yandere!Autobots w/ Shy Cybertronian!Reader (HCs & Scenario)

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, yandere harem, romantic relationships, overprotective and obsessive behaviour, soft kidnapping (?), typical violence from the series and a little bit more, Reader is gender neutral and in the Autobot faction. Long ass post ngl.

Don't worry guys I'm adding Ultra Magnus I ain't forgetting that fine mech again. And Cliffjumper, sorry baby I forgot you at first.

You were the little of hope the team protects dearly.

Everyone in the autobot team loved you so dearly and all of them had a little non-spoken vow: to protect and love you.

And how could they not do that? You were such a soft, spark-spoken bot, always trying to bring comfort to the others, never being too loud, supporting them and just being that light in the darkness they were in.

You arrived to earth with the original team - and if back in Cybertrone all of them were a little bit protective over you, being on a new planet it go 10 times more.

From the beginning after the autobots established on the base thanks to the human's militia and Agent Fowler, the team decided to forbid you from going on missions - you would have tried to gently speak in your defense of being able to fight alongside your friends, but after hearing the concerns of your teammates and feel as if their sparks would vanish at the mere thought of you getting hurt or... offlined by the Decepticons, it was more than enough to give in, smiling at them sweetly with a small 'I understand', deciding to become Ratchet's assitant.

All of them were so relieved - they didn't want to force you inside of one of the storages room and keep you there inside against your will. They were gonna do it to protect you! Alas, you were such a good, sweet bot that knew they were only looking after your well being! So good, so good!

The team cherishes every single little moment they have with you - every little smile, chuckle, conversation, inside-joke - anything became a dear memory within their softwares.

After Cliffjumper's death... the need to protect you grew, to the point the team started to develop such obsessive ideals about you.

Everyone's spark was clenching in pain, watching you cry your optics out while hugging Arcee, how was holding you closely and sobbing quietly, anger painted on her faceplate... she wasn't gonna let you get offlined like Cliffjumper did - no one was gonna let that happen.

You love dearly your teammates, and you know all of them love you! But... sometimes you feel like their love for you is too much. Sometimes.

Optimus Prime and Ratchet can be too overprotective, sometimes - You know they mean well, but sometimes you are mad at yourself for not telling them to chill. Optimus always remind you the promise you made to them before he leaves with the others for a mission - "to leave the base it is prohibited, even less if you don't have someone making you company." And you try to convice him, but his worried expression and your stuttering and passive behaviour always makes you close your mouth and whisper a "I'm sorry, I understand." It melts your spark at the sight of Optimus' soft, relieved smile and that forehelm gives you. And Ratchet, by Primus, he is always fretting about you - he is always checking on you even when you are on the same room, making sure you are well recharged and had your fill, always saying that "you are far more important than him" when you scold him for not having his fill of energon. You always remind him he is important too, but he is set on always prioritizing you over himself...

Your spark sinks a little at hearing Ratchet and Optimus speak quietly in the dead of the night - Ratchet was telling on detail everything you did on the day, as if it was a report. What it scares you is how precise his words and details are, it seems... obsessive, too obsessive. And Optimus thanks Ratchet for keeping you safe and sound, promising to keep fighting for a better world so all of the team and you could live happily back at Cybertrone... and you swear you felt Optimus' optics on you as you tried to recharge on your own berth, or heard Ratchet whisper sweet nothings to you as you recharged, too.

Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus have silently vowed to be your guardians, your own personal wrecker-guards. Wheeljack is constatly flirting with you, as Bulkhead is the shy type to quietly give you small gifts like a small flower or pretty rock. Ultra Magnus always gives you praises and words full of - all three of them always get to make you blush. But lately, Wheeljack's flirting has become too... intense in your opinion. Bulkhead seems always too anxious whenever he gives you a small gift, fearing you are going to reject it. And Ultra Magnus seems to make his praise become worshipping, as if you were like Primus itself. You've also have started to notice how the three of them seem to always aim to get your favor, any kind of positive reaction - an approval from you, as if you were the one to have the last word and decision, like a god does. Wheeljack wishes for a flirt back, Bulkhead wishes for an approval, Ultra Magnus wishes your benevolence.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen can't never get enough of your affection and attention - like two young puppies. They also always try to have any kind of physical contact with you, which nearly always translates into hugs or servos holding. And these two are an intensified version of the three wreckers - Bee constantly seems to look after your approval, your words of affirmation and gentle praise. Smokescreen either flirts with you non-stop or spills too many worshipping praises like he did when he got to meet Optimus. But what makes them different is that they verbalize their protective promises. The two of them have said they are not afraid of ending any decepticon for the sake of keeping you safe and sound, to give you the Cybertrone you deserve so you can live happily and surrounded only by the bots that love you so dearly. And they promise this as they snuzzle gently their helms against yours, holding your servos softly... whispering their obsessive promises to your audials.

You know that, since the day Cliffjumper was killed, something inside of Arcee broke again. And thus, you became her light of hope, for whenever she was grieving or letting her spark poison with anger and a need for revenge, you were there to hug her or hold her servo, letting her cry on your shoulderplate. But she should be the one doing that! You cried and grieved the loss of Cliffjumper too! She is still has burn in her system the sight of you crying after finding out about the red autobot's murder. She was gonna avenge Cliffjumper (oh, how much he loved you - He would always tell Arcee everything he loved about you, and find such happiness at knowing Arcee thought the same) and keep you away from any danger. She wasn't gonna lose you. She was gonna offline anybot before that happened. She had become more touchy, overprotective, always seeming to act as a wall between everyone and you. "Cliffjumper always vowed to protect you... and I'll do the same - I won't let anything happen to you." She promised in a whisper as she hugged you. All you can do is hug her back, even when you were slightly... scared at how lost her optics seemed.

You love your teammates - you were so sure you wished to pass the rest of your life with all of them once the war was over, to bond with them and love them... but you've noticed how deep their feelings for you were.

Obsessive. Overprotective. Worshipping you as if you were like Primus. Promising to you with whispers about forever protecting you, about how important to them you were, that they were not going to be afraid to shed energon in your name if it meant to prove their love and devotion for you. Keeping tabs on you, whispering to one another everything about you, listening to you, watching you from time to time as you recharge, making sure you never leave the base.

You are their beacon of hope, the light in the darkness - Optimus and Ratchet are not afraid to taint their vow to not offline the enemy if it means to keep you safe and sound, keeping their optics on you. Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus are ready to protect you from any danger as guardians and destroy anyone who tries to touch you. Bee and Smokescreen will keep giving you all the love and attention they can, promising you the universe and the stars. Arcee will make Cliffjumper's wish come true by keeping you away from danger and bring you the Cybertrone you derseve, just like the others aim to do.

And... there's nothing you can do about it.

All you can do is allow your teammates surround you as if the cocoon of a butterfly - keeping you warm, safe, loved.

Did my best!! Kind off felt like I didn't do good. (Uu￣ 3￣) Vhaos out!