#I want to bite my head off at all the review in general for classes cause

[nico-the-overlord]

Going to complain about homework real quick. Thanks!

[dreamingonfilm]

✧˖*°࿐ Pumpkin Bread | N.L.

Neville Longbottom x gn!reader, fluff

Summary: In which Neville helps you with Herbology, despite the fact that you can’t stand him.

w/c: 2.9k

part 2

You stood in front of the library doors, preoccupied listening to the pang of your heartbeat in your ears. The books and paperwork inside your backpack seemingly feel as if they now weighed tons. You sharply take a breath of the cold air and open the doors – taking a step inside the stuffy library; your thoughts come to a halt when you hear your name.

“(Y/N), over here!” the boy calls. Turning your head to the side, your eyes finally meet his. 

It’s not that you hate the boy or anything, but for some reason you two could never get along. Maybe it was the fact that he was always kind to you, or the fact that none of your insults or cold remarks could ever cut through him. Despite him being a nervous wreck all the time, the shudder of his shoulders and stammering of his voice always seemed to be cut short whenever you were around. And you almost hated him for it. 

You walked over to the table where he sat, giving a bitter look to anyone who dared look at you, and tried to calm down the anger that was slowly brewing inside. Neville however, was unaware of this anger, and this only seemed to frustrate you more as he pulled your chair out and handed you a slice of pumpkin bread. 

“I figured you’d want something to eat, you know, since we’re going to be here rather late and all.” He said sheepishly, giving you a soft smile as you took the pastry. 

You muttered a soft “thanks.” and went to open your book. It was a Friday night at Hogwarts and here you were in the library being tutored by none other than Neville Longbottom, the laughing-stock of Gryffindor. The flickering lights above you were already starting to give you a migraine, and the soft squeaks from your chairs were only distracting you from your own thoughts. How were you to do anything in here?

“S-so, I was thinking that maybe we could start with just going over what we’ve been learning in class so far,” he cut your concerns short, flipping through the pages of his book until he finally landed on the one he was looking for, “this is Stinksap! I-it's one of my favorites actually. My aunt gave me one for my birthda-”

“Neville, not to be rude or anything but I don’t really care.” You cut him off. The light in his face seemed to dim out as he shook his head in understanding. 

“Oh, well that’s alright. If you want we can review last weeks–”

Once again you cut him off with a loud groan. It was bad enough that you had to go to tutoring in general, but the fact that it was Neville, the one person who cared about Herbology, made it so much worse. You knew that there was no way to escape studying, and all you could focus on was how slowly the hands on the clock overhead turned. Two hours seemed to be so far away, and all you wanted was to get out of the library and go back to your dorm where you could do absolutely nothing and be content. 

“Look, I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to be here. So let’s just sit here in silence for the next two hours and then part ways. Alright?” You sneered, closing your textbook and going back to stare at the clock. 

The boy next to you started to shift uncomfortably back and forth in his seat. He fidgeted with the hem of his sweater for a moment before going on to agree with you once more. Closing his book and replacing it with a small piece of parchment. 

You both sat in an awkward silence. The library slowly got emptier as the time went on in a brutally slow pace, the silence occasionally broken by the dinging of chairs and the sound of his quill on the parchment. 

You groan. The sound of the parchment fills your ears. You take a bite of the, now cold, pumpkin bread. The sound of the parchment fills your ears. You turn to face the window. The sound of the parchment fills your ears. 

And after forty minutes of sitting next to him, and listening to the god-awful sound of his quill, you finally snap.

“STOP IT!” You scream at him in full volume, standing up out of your chair as your ears go red.

The library goes quiet, quieter than usual, as everyone turns to look at you. The turning of book pages, the chatter between friends, and the sound of the parchment now gone. If you were to even take a breath right now, everyone would hear it. 

Neville stares at you with an unknowing and rather concerned look, his face flushing in embarrassment as he realizes that everyone is staring right at your table. In one quick motion he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back down into the chair. 

“What’s wrong with you!” he whispers, trying to ignore the glare of everyone surrounding you two. You only roll your eyes and start to pack up your things. You didn’t need to deal with this and you surely weren’t going to force yourself through two hours of pure torture. The repercussion was something you could deal with later, but for right now you needed to go back to your dorm and get away from Neville.

You turn the corner to leave the library but not before hearing his soft voice speak once more.

“I never said that I don’t want to be here.”

—-

It has been two weeks since your tutoring lesson, or lack of, with Neville and things only seemed to get worse. Professor Sprout was furious when she found out about the scene you caused in the library, and about how you failed to stick to her assigned lesson plan. 

And that’s how you found yourself here, in the greenhouse, preparing pots for an upcoming lesson. This would be your second home for the next two months. 

Despite your constant whining, you started to find some sense of comfort in the greenhouse. You’ve grown accustomed to the echoing of your footsteps in the empty building, and the dripping of water every few seconds. While it was rather eery at first, being alone in a new environment at night, it started to become a nice part of your routine. It was certainly much better than tutoring after all. 

However, as the days passed by, you started to feel some sort of looming presence in the greenhouse. One night, you left the faucet to the watering system on. You were already halfway to your common room when you realized, but once you got back to the greenhouse, the faucet was already turned off. 

At first, you shook it off as you having a bad memory. But over time, things only got stranger and stranger. You complained about it being too cold in the garden, the next day there would be a sweater, with your house emblem waiting for you on a chair by the front door. You complained about the pots being cracked and there would be a fresh set of newly purchased pots not even a few hours later. There was this one instance where you forgot your backpack, and once you got to your dorm you found it there laying on your bed. How on earth, did your backpack get to your room before you? 

You were losing it. 

Your friends suggested that it was from a lack of sleep, and that you should talk to the professor about cutting down your workload, but you insisted that you were fine. And while the events truly did startle you, you really were fine, that would be up until today.

—

“(Y/L/N), may I have a word with you after class?” Professor Sprout spoke. 

Your train of thought broke as the class turned to stare at you. You lifted your head up before responding. “Yes Professor.”

The remainder of class went by quickly, students rushing out of the room as you went up to the professor's desk. She didn’t seem to notice you at first, and while you’d normally be aggravated due to your lack of patience, you found yourself rather calm. After all, you've grown really close to the Herbology teacher.

You let out a small cough and she finally looked up. “Ah! (Y/N)! Take a seat my dear.” she motioned to you. 

You awkwardly sat down in front of the professor. Your mind began to wander as you questioned what she could have called you for. Perhaps she’s extending your punishment, or maybe you messed up really badly last night? You go over the past few days, and nothing completely terrible seems to come to mind.

Finally you speak up. “What did you need to see me for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to check up on you! I know how overwhelming the greenhouse work may get, especially during this time of the year. Have you been alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, everything’s been fine,” you respond, not knowing whether or not you should bring up the strange events that have been happening. After all, Professor Sprout should have a reasonable explanation as to what has been going on, “actually Professor now that you mention in, there has been some strange stuff going o–” 

But your concerns get interrupted as she continues to speak.

“And I trust Neville hasn’t been giving you a hard time?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Neville? You hadn’t seen him since two Fridays ago, so why on Earth would she bring him up now? 

“Huh? Why would Neville give me a hard time? I haven’t seen him sinc–”

“Oh that’s wonderful to hear! I was worried that he wouldn’t want to help you out after what happened during your tutoring! But he seemed rather excited when I asked him to watch over you. After all, your grade isn’t nearly well off enough for me to trust you alone in the greenhou…..”

But her voice slowly started to fade away as you realized what had happened. It was fucking Neville Longbottom. 

—

The corridor is filled with the echoing of your footsteps and your heavy breathing. The items in your backpack making a ruckus as they all clattered together due to your running down the hall. All you could see was red. 

“Where the fuck is he?” you thought to yourself, booking it to every corner of the castle. This was it, you finally lost your mind. 

As you turned to go back to your common room in a great defeat, you saw him. How could it not be? His tall stature, fluffy hair, and soft hands that you oh so badly wanted to rip out of his sockets.

Neville stood there, talking to himself as he tried to memorize the answers to next week's potions exam, as well as trying to figure out where he could get some more pumpkin bread, as he had heard you mention it to your friends that same morning. He ran a hand through his hair and groaned, “she’s driving me crazy.” As he started turning the corner, he heard a high-pitched screech from down the hall.

He shot back, turning around to see who could be the source of this demonic noise. And there you were. Your whole face red, knuckles white as you clutched the strap of your backpack; you could practically see the steam coming out of your ears.

“This is it,” he thought, “this is how I die.”

“NEVILLE!” You scream once more, running towards the boy whose face looked almost as pale as Malfoy’s, “EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” You began to hit his chest, fist clashing as he attempted to push you away to avoid either of you getting hurt.

“(Y/N), p-please calm down,” he said, trying his best to keep you from hitting him any more, “what are you talking about?”

You stopped your attempts at assault and looked at him. He was staring right back at you, concern written all over his face. “Don’t play dumb, Longbottom.”

He shivered when he heard the way you said his last name. If he would have known any better, he would have thought that you were Draco based on how you said it. Pronounced in the same way that everyone before him has said it, with a hint of disappointment.

“I know that you’ve been with me in the greenhouse!” You finished.

His face went pale. A simple, “Oh.” was all he could manage to spit out. He didn’t know what you wanted to hear, and even worse, he didn’t know what he could say. 

After a few more seconds of excruciating silence, you spoke once more.

“So then,” you adjusted the straps of your bag, “what are you, some pervert?”

His tongue nearly fell out of his mouth. “What?” 

“I mean, you’ve clearly been watching me! How else would you know to get me a sweater! Or the pots! How else did you manage to get into my room!” You spat. You were more annoyed now than ever, here you were with the evidence that Neville is a creep, but he didn’t want to admit it. You didn’t even care at this point. All you wanted was to be rid of him forever.

“First of all I’m not some pervert,” he stated, going on to move out of your way, “and secondly, the only reason I know those things is because we’re in class together!”

“And?”

“And you talk rather loudly,” he responded, “very loud actually.”

You shoot him a cold glare before hitting him once more on the arm. 

“Hey!”

“Okay, and what about my backpack?” You questioned. This was your holy grail, there is no excuse that he could come up with now that could prove to you that he isn’t some sick freak. You awaited his response as he stared at you uncomfortably.

“Oh right, I asked your friend to give it to you.”

You looked at him with a blank expression, embarrassment growing in the apples of your cheeks. The tension in the air grew awkward. So he isn’t a pervert. 

He coughed a few times and started shifting back and forth between his feet.

“Anyways, I- I think I’m going to head back now.” He gave you a small nod before heading off.

“Wait Neville,” you called out to him, grabbing his wrist, almost replicating that night in the library, “I’m sorry.” 

You looked down at your feet. You were not only embarrassed, but you were extremely disappointed in yourself and your lack of judgment. For years you saw Neville as this dorky git, who couldn’t do anything right. But here you were apologizing to him, as he has been the one that has been keeping your grade somewhat afloat, and taking care of the plants in the greenhouse. Your high ego failed to make you realize that there was no way you could ever keep those plants alive on your own.

A small laugh cracked the tension in the air as Neville gave you a soft smile. “It’s alright (Y/N),” he insisted, “I know how you are.”

“W-What do you mean? We don’t know each other.” You responded, confused by Neville’s choice of words.

“Six years together and you don’t think I pay attention to you?” He rolled his eyes. You felt a blush creep up to your cheeks at his statement. You were about to politely reject his advances before he spoke up again, “not like that! I- I mean, we’ve always had Herbology together and you were always messing up you know? How could I not notice when you almost burnt the classroom down?” 

“Oh.” Once again, your ego was crushed. You shook your head and watched as Neville began to walk away. You followed him. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when your face fell, or maybe it was the way that he didn’t seem to shudder when your voice got icy, but something about this boy was different; something about you was different. 

“Where are you going?” You asked him, looking up to make eye contact. 

“To the greenhouse.” He smiled at you, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out a small key – an exact copy of the one that you have been using for the past two weeks. 

“But, it’s dinner? Why would you go right now?” You asked once more, as the entrance to the greenhouse reached near. Both of your footsteps echoing in the empty hall, for right now and just this moment, it was only you two. 

He went up ahead and unlocked the glass door, opening it and moving to the side to let you in first. The scent of blooming petals and dirt hitting your nose all at once, the cold air hugging you tightly. But before you brought yourself to complain or shiver, Neville handed you the sweater.

“Trust me,” he laughed, as he went to smooth out the wrinkles from the fabric, your face flushing as he did so, “you need the help.”

There you sat, watching as the brown-haired boy did your work. The ambiance of the greenhouse now soothing you as his voice filled the room. For the first time in your life, you didn’t complain. Even when the dirt got on your hands, and even when Neville went to clean them for you.

Part 2

✧˖*°࿐

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist here

[the-regal-warrior]

Stone and Steel: Part Six

Summary: Lorcan Salvaterre. Hewn from stone, hard as stone. It’s all he’s heard his entire life - which was never easy. After taking a few years off so he could afford university, he’s finally starting his freshman year. He might be a little older, but nothing is going to stop him from changing his life, not even her. 

Elide Lochan. Heart of steel, nerves of steel. After everything she’s been through, university holds the key to her future, to making her life what she wants it to be. She knows what it’s like to struggle, to think her future might never actually be hers. She has no time for distractions, not even him.

Warnings: language - Elide and Lorcan do NOT like each other.

.

Spring Semester, Freshman Year.

He’d had just about enough of the dark-haired woman who lived across the hall and the blonde she-devil she called a roommate. 

Especially the blonde she-devil. 

She and Rowan had been dating for three months - three months - and he’d had to put up with her invading his dorm and being in his space and just generally irritating the hell out of him with everything she said.

However, he didn’t share classes with the blonde menace - thank Hellas - so he’d settled for directing his unhappy glare at her roommate.

Elide fucking Lochan.

Lorcan knew she could feel the way he kept staring daggers at the back of her head, given that she kept turning around to give him haughty questioning looks that just had him gritting his teeth even more. It had been going on for the entire thirty minutes they’d been in class, and every single time Elide turned to face him he could feel his jaw get even tighter. 

She looked like she was getting ready to mouth something at him, probably something not at all polite, but their professor interrupted her before she had the chance. 

“Okay, listen up,” the man said, leaning against the front of his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. “For the rest of class today, just work on your packets - we’ll review them the next time we meet. You can work together if you want, as long as you’re working.” That last part was directed at a group of four students on the other side of the room who had a tendency to do anything but work when given the chance. 

Rolling his eyes, Lorcan settled in for another round of quiet independent work, once again grateful that the professor didn’t force them to work in partners. 

Before he could even start working on the next problem in his packet, a shadow fell over his desk before someone fell into the seat next to him (the boy who usually sat next to him hadn’t shown up for class, and he was enjoying the solitude at the back of the room for a change).

A flash of light blue caught his eye, and he found his eyes falling closed on a groan when he realized it was the exact same shade as the running sneakers Elide owned.

Fuck.

And, no, he wasn’t going to contemplate why he knew the exact shade of her sneakers.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Lochan?” he growled, barely looking her way. “Don’t seem to recall asking to be your partner.”

She snorted derisively. “Just shut the hell up and pretend like we’re working.” Elide stared at him for several seconds, almost like she was trying to drive her point home. “Now, what the hell was so fascinating about the back of my head that you felt the need to stare at it for thirty fucking minutes?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Shooting her a glare so icy it wouldn’t have been out of place in a Terrasen winter, he added, “I find nothing about you fascinating.”

Elide scoffed. “Then what the fuck is your problem?” Though her voice was low to keep their professor from hearing that they weren’t talking about anything close to mathematics, it did nothing to hide the bite in her tone. 

Leaning close with the pretense of showing her something in her packet, he spit out, “I’m just very fucking tired of your roommate prancing around my dorm like she fucking owns it.”

“Are you incapable of thinking of anyone but yourself for one fucking second?” she hissed, pausing and ducking her head back to her packet as their professor walked by. Once he was out of earshot, she continued, “can’t you just be happy for your perfectly nice roommate - who, by the way, I cannot believe puts up with your miserable ass - and the fact that he’s happy with a girl he really seems to like?”

Lorcan couldn’t help the way he recoiled at her words. Think about anyone other than himself? That had been his entire life - thinking of his mom and how much she struggled just to protect him, trying to find ways to make sure she was happy even in their not-so-perfect life, or thinking of his friends and how he was always there for them, even when it wasn’t convenient for him. He knew Rowan saw beyond that miserable exterior he presented to the rest of the world, knew that all of his friends did, actually, but her words still stung. 

Exhaling slowly when their professor dismissed them early for the day, he gave Elide the coldest glare he could muster, hoping to Hellas none of his emotions filled his eyes. “You don’t know the first godsdamn thing about me - you or your spoiled blonde friend. And I can feel any fucking way I want about that she-devil dating my best friend, whether or not I have your permission.”

He shoved his papers in his bag and stormed out the door, thankful that his large frame caused others to give him a wide berth. He was in the process of pulling his headphones over his ears when someone walked right into his chest.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, steadying the woman with a hand on her shoulder as his headphones slid down around his neck.

Releasing a bell-like laugh, she took a step back from him and gave him a once-over, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Anytime, sugar,” she replied, reaching out to drag her nails down his chest. “You look like a man that knows how to show a girl a good time.”

Usually he found lines like that utterly ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny how gorgeous she was. 

Thinking over the question, he gave her the same once-over she’d given him, drinking in her appearance. Long dark hair that reached to the bottom of the tight, cropped tank she was using to show off her obvious assets and stunning violet-hued eyes - he couldn’t decide if they were contacts or if the purple tones of her makeup were making normally blue eyes look more purple. (Somehow, he found himself not caring.) She’d paired her white top with the tightest, light blue, high-waisted skinny jeans he’d ever seen and heeled purple boots.

“Why don’t you come out with me tonight and find out?” He offered her a smirk and a wink, figuring she’d eat it up. “Name’s Lorcan.”

Offering him a coy smile, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Pleasure, darling. I’m Maeve.”

.

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[bestiesenpai]

Lout - Naoya Zenin

Y’all ever seen that movie bad teacher with cameron diaz that would be me as a teacher lol also Naoya is a third year 18+ all that good jazz fun fact I’m actually allergic to minors so yeah even mentioning them breaks me out into hives, it’s disgusting they’re disgusting, would not recommend. 0/10 stars on google review and yelp also femme reader 3.3k words

Content warnings: noncon + dubcon, age gap(reader is obvi gonna be older than naoya lol), teacher x student shit, degradation, choking, noncon video taking, biting, spanking, not a mindbreak necessarily but there’s hints of that here

There was a problem child in your senior class and you weren’t even the main teacher. Stuck as a teaching aid until you could get full certification, it wasn’t even you that really had to bear the brunt of this student's bad behavior should the principal ask. Yet somehow, it was your duty to get him into line before he graduated in a few months.

Naoya Zenin couldn’t even pretend to care about his highschool reputation. All he focused on was being top of the class and making sure everyone knew who exactly was in charge. At an elite private school where his family had been generous donors for generations, Naoya’s behavior was almost expected.

Until he nearly put another student in the hospital after a fight. That was the final straw for disgruntled parents and students alike, causing a massive uproar and demanding action. And of course that call to action fell on your shoulders.

“Seriously? They stuck me with a fucking aide?” Throwing open the door to the office space assigned to you in the meeting, Naoya glared at you. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked you or anything, but he felt slighted that the school didn’t send a real teacher to talk to him.

“Have a seat, Naoya.” Standing up from the desk, you motioned to the lone armchair in the room. Walking in and slamming the door behind him, Naoya rolled his eyes as he flopped into the chair.

“Let’s make this quick, I’ve got a dive team meeting soon.” Looking out at the courtyard below, Naoya squinted against the harsh afternoon sun coming in through the windows. He wasn’t concerned with this meeting at all, wanting it to be over so he can go and impress some Olympic team scouts.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you rustled the papers on your desk. There were pages of notes on what you were supposed to say, how you were supposed to say it and a few forms Naoya had to sign as well, stating that he’d be on his best behavior until graduation.

“Naoya, you know why you’re here.” You started, unable to meet his pointed gaze as it flicked over to you. “You’re behavior has gotten out of hand and-”

“So what?” Letting his head loll back, Naoya shrugged.

“And you need to be held accountable for your actions.” You pushed through the interruption, feeling your cheeks heat up in indignation.

“Yeah? My family’s had the dean in their pocket since this school was founded, I doubt there’s much I need to be accountable for.”

“You can’t throw money at everything, you know?”

“Why do you think I take judo?”

“Naoya, please.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you mimicked him for a moment and leaned your head back. “We’re supposed to be having this meeting to reform your behavior. You did a really bad thing, you nearly killed that other student.”

“Reform? The board sent you to reform me? That’s a fucking laugh if I’ve ever heard one.” Letting out a boisterous laugh, Naoya slapped his knee. “How are you going to change me when you can’t even look me in the eye?”

“T-that’s not important.” Embarrassed, you forced yourself to make brief eye contact with him before shuffling your papers around again. “Look, can you just let me say what’s on these papers? Then you can sign them and be on your way.”

“I don’t think I will.” Crossing his arms, Naoya had the nerve to stretch his legs out and prop his feet up on the desk.

“Naoya-”

“I still think it’s hilarious that you’re here of all people. I mean, just look at you!” Gesturing vaguely to your form, Naoya laughed again. “Not even a real fucking teacher yet. Why don’t you go back to the little corner office you have and let the grown ups handle the big stuff?”

“I’m older than you!” This was bad. He was trying to rile you up and it was working. The control you already didn’t have on the situation was getting worse by the minute and both you and Naoya knew that the power balance between you was heavily skewed in his favor.

“Really? I couldn’t tell, you’ve got about as much gusto as an infant.” Giving you a once over, he sneered. “The only thing going for you is your looks and honestly, they could use a little work.”

“Hey!” Now your face was really on fire. Chuckling at your reaction, Naoya sat up a little straighter.

“Don’t get so upset, I know a pair of twins that would be more than willing to help you improve.”

“Can we just focus on the reason we’re here?” You wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The chances of saving this meeting - and your dignity - were slim to none, but you still had to try.

“Right, right, this nonsense about ‘reforming me’.” Using heavy air quotes, Naoya dragged his feet off the desk and let them land on the ground with a loud thud. Taking another look out the windows, he started to undo the tie around his neck.

“Yes. Now, you’re going to sit there and just listen, okay? It’ll only take a few minutes, then you can go on about your day.” You were foolish to believe that you could possibly do anything to Naoya, let alone change his mind on something like this. All the high hopes you’d scrounged together before this meeting were utterly crushed when Naoya stood up.

“No, you listen.” In one fell swoop, Naoya pushed all the papers off the desk, waiting as they all fell to the ground and drinking in your shocked expression. “It’s almost insulting that you think you have any control over this situation, let alone me.”

“Sit back down, Naoya.” Your voice shook terribly as he rounded the desk. You weren’t able to push your chair away fast enough, and he was able to grab onto the back and spin you to face him.

“But teacher, I don’t want to.” He mocked, wasting no time in grabbing you by the throat and forcing you to stand. Clawing at his hand was no use, Naoya’s strength greatly outmatched yours and in just a few moments he was able to manhandle your arms behind your back and use his tie to bind your wrists together.

“Let me go, Naoya!” Thrashing against the desk you were now leaning on for support, a sense of dread filled you. Even if you managed to undo the tie, there was still the issue of actually getting out of the room and away from Naoya, and if his ease in handling you told you anything it was that that task would be impossible.

“Ya know, (Y/N)- can I call you (Y/N)?” He had a stupid grin on his face, pushing you to lean more on the desk as he stood in front of you. “You’ve talked a lot about reform and changing my behavior, but the only one I see here in need of an attitude adjustment is you.”

“Naoya!” Horror ripped through you as he yanked your top open, popping the buttons on your blouse and letting out a whistle at seeing your bra.

“(Y/N), I think you’re violating dress code right now.” Clicking his tongue, Naoya pulled your bra down as far as it would go. “I’ll have to give you a demerit.” Keeping one hand on your throat, Naoya pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers.

You wouldn’t know it, but Naoya’s heart was beating wildly in his chest. The rush of power he usually got from presiding and dominating the other students was nothing compared to the power he felt now. This wasn’t even something he dreamed about doing, but you’d just given him the golden opportunity to really test his power at this school.

Lurching forward, Naoya sunk his teeth right below your jawline, somewhere he knew you’d have a hard time covering up the mark. The pained squeal you let out went straight to his head and right between his legs, making him bite you in another place and suck harshly on the skin.

Rutting his hips against your thigh, Naoya groaned as he trailed his mouth down your neck, leaving deep teeth marks that he knew would sting when you were alone at night later. Putting one of your nipples in his mouth, Naoya rolled it between his teeth and let drool drip out of his mouth and down your skin.

“Stop it, Naoya! Let me go!” There were strained tears in your eyes that refused to be blinked away. A flurry of slurred protests left your lips as his hand tightened on your neck, enough to have you gasping for air.

“Not until I teach you a little lesson.” He growled, leveling you with a single look. Keeping his grip firm until your eyes rolled back in your head, Naoya let go when he was sure you wouldn’t try to speak again.

Coughing and spluttering, there was little you could do with your fuzzy brain to stop Naoya from turning you around and bending you over the desk. Your face pressed into the hard surface and the wood dug into your face and hips as they were pushed forward.

Grabbing onto your bottoms, Naoya pulled them down until they were at your ankles, unceremoniously ripping off your panties and no doubt shoving them into his pocket. Your heated skin was exposed to the air of the room, making goosebumps pebble on your flesh.

“Ow!” The first slap to your ass was hard and unforgiving, making the tears in your eyes finally fall. “S-stop!” You tried to move your body away from the impending pain but it was no use, Naoya hit your other cheek almost as soon as you started to move.

“What’s wrong, teacher? Never had a bit of corporal punishment?” Laughing haughtily, Naoya grabbed your stinging skin in his hand.

“Ow, ow- N-naoya please, let me go!”

“Not a chance!” Slapping both cheeks in tandem, Naoya could feel the adrenaline going through him. There was no limit to what he could do in this moment, he could walk away and leave you like this, stranded for someone to find. Or, and he liked this option more, he could keep going, and save a few keepsakes for himself.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Naoya opened the camera with no hesitation. Taking a video of your heaving body, groping your ass and hips, spreading your cheeks apart to reveal your asshole, Naoya tried to keep the groan coming forward low.

“W-what’re you doing?” You could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, and your blood ran cold upon realizing what he was doing.

“Say hi.” Shoving the camera in your face, Naoya grabbed your chin to keep you from turning away. “Smile for the camera, (Y/N), don’t cry!”

“No, no, no…” Your career is over. Your life is over. Everything you’d worked so hard for, your education, this job - it was going to be taken away if Naoya decided to share the video. You’d be blacklisted from ever working in a school again and you would definitely face legal trouble for being in this situation with a student.

Leaving you for a moment, Naoya propped his phone up on the windowsill, making sure the camera was capturing the both of you as he went back over. Giving a cheeky little wave to the camera, Naoya turned his attention back to you.

Pushing a hand between your legs, Naoya chuckled darkly at the slick that met the tips of his fingers. It was a miniscule amount, but enough that he could mock you over it. Dragging his fingers through your folds, he presented the fingers to you.

“Who knew Ms. (Y/N) was such a fucking slut?” Rubbing his fingers together, Naoya held his hand up to the camera. “Ms. (Y/N) likes it when I’m rough with her.”

“No...no I don’t.” Sniffling pathetically, you shook your head as best you could.

“Don’t lie, the proof is right here.” Wiping his fingers across your cheek, he made a show of pushing your legs further apart and putting his hand back on your cunt. Pinching your clit, Naoya bit his lip as you let out a high pitch whine.

He knew he’d meet too much resistance if he tried to shove his cock in straight away, so Naoya took it upon himself to prep you a bit. Rubbing your clit in tight circles, he leered over you and watched as you struggled to keep whimpers at bay.

“Don’t be shy, let the camera know how much you like this. We already know how much of a slut you are.”

“I don’t- I don’t like this.”

“Hm? Then why are you getting wet?”

“T-thats-” He had you beat there, the glide of his fingers was getting easier and a distinct wet sound was starting to take shape.

“No need to be shy, teacher. You can tell me you’re just a dumb fucking slut.” Pressing his lips against your ear, Naoya looked at the camera. “I know you see the camera, say it nice and loud for me.”

“No.” Shaking your head, a sharp cry ripped through you as Naoya hit your thigh. From the force of his slap you knew there’d be a hand printed welt on your leg.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m a- a dumb fucking slut!” You sobbed and the strength nearly left your legs entirely. If not for Naoya holding you up you would have tumbled to the floor in shame.

“Now was that so hard?” Standing up straight, Naoya was done stalling. Pushing a finger inside you, he deemed you ready enough to take him and undid the belt on his pants, letting them fall to his ankles.

Taking a second to himself, Naoya ground his clothed cock against your body. This opportunity was something to cherish and he was going to savor every moment of it. Taking a deep breath as pleasure made his spine ripple, Naoya pushed down his underwear and grabbed his cock.

“Teacher, I have a bit of a problem, won’t you fix it?” Naoya teased, rubbing his cock along your slit.

“Wait Naoya, you need protection.”

“Shut up. You’d be lucky to bear a child with Zenin blood, so count this as a gift from me to you.” Putting the tip in, Naoya let his head fall back and gaze down his nose at where your cunt was already sucking him in.

Ignoring your protests, Naoya pushed his cock in all the way, quickly bottoming out and nestling his hips snugly against yours. Planting his hands on the desk to steady himself, he had to take a few deep breaths before beginning to move again.

Putting a hand on the back of your neck to keep you from moving too much, Naoya pulled his hips back, looking at the way his cock glistened with your slick. Breathing hard through his nose, he pushed back in and started a steady rhythm.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He grunted behind clenched teeth, the hold on your neck getting tighter as he focused on moving his body and not cumming too soon. The clap of his hips against your ass was music to his ears, a sound Naoya was sure not to forget any time soon.

The shame of being fucked by a student was heavy enough on your mind but the shame knowing you were starting to enjoy it was even worse. Keeping your eyes tightly closed, there was little you could do as Naoya pounded into you, the full length of his cock hitting places inside you that hadn’t ever been touched before by previous partners.

“Fuck!” The shout that came out of you was unrestrained, you couldn’t contain yourself as Naoya put his fingers back on your clit. Humiliation covered you like a thick blanket, almost choking you as much as Naoya was.

“I knew you’d come around, (Y/N). No one can resist a Zenin.” Smirking at your scrunched up face, Naoya wrapped his hand fully around your throat and pulled you up until your back was nearly flush with him.

The new angle had a loud moan coming from you and Naoya was close to cumming as well, he could feel his toes start to curl and tingle. His mind was starting to get foggy, and the hold he had was starting to slip from the sweat building up between you.

“Make sure not to waste what I give you, okay? It’s special.”

“You have to pull out, Naoya. You have to!” You couldn’t get pregnant by a student, especially one as high profile as him. Humming against your ear, Naoya shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I will. This is the last part of your attitude adjustment, I need to make sure you remember it.”

“N-naoya- pull out-” You stuttered as your orgasm washed over you, making your back arch and angling your ass perfectly for Naoya to cum as well. Making sure his cock was as deep as possible, Naoya let you fall back onto the desk as he rutted into you.

Biting you on the shoulder one last time, Naoya stayed inside you until his breathing went back to normal and his cock went soft. He had sweat clinging to his body and his uniform was wrinkled beyond belief when he stood up.

Fixing his clothes, Naoya undid the tie around your wrists and watched your arms limply fall to the side. There was no doubt you were sore, he’d given you enough marks to last a week. Smoothing a hand over your still stinging thigh, Naoya stepped away from you and laughed as you fell to the floor.

“Ya know, maybe this meeting was beneficial after all. Wouldn’t you say, teach?” Toeing at your spent body curled up on the floor, Naoya drank you in one last time before going to his phone and ending the video.

Gathering his things and answering a few texts, Naoya grinned as you hobbled to your feet. You avoided looking at him, opting instead to try salvage your own clothes and make sense of the world again. The sun was still shining brightly in the sky and if you held your breath you could hear the distant sound of students on a baseball field.

“Well, I’ll be going now.” Naoya threw open the door, startling you.

“Wait.” Reaching out to him, your eyes went straight to the phone in his hands. “That video-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t show it to anyone, I promise!” Crossing his fingers for dramatic effect, Naoya tucked it away into his back pocket. “Stay out of my way for the rest of the school year, and I’ll delete it when I graduate.”

You couldn’t trust his words and you both knew it. There was no way Naoya would let this be a one time thing, now that he’s gotten a taste for it. He would only continue to take what he wanted from you, making your life hell until he left the school - he wouldn’t let you leave before him.

“Fine.” But it was all you had to go on, so you nodded your head and accepted your fate.

“Fine.” Nodding curtly, Naoya stepped out into the hall with a wide smirk on his face. “See you in class later, Ms. (Y/N).”

[softomi]

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen. 

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

[closedafterdark]

Beginning

Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader

9703 words

categories: smut, oral, mommy kink

Read on AFF

The first week of classes was always a struggle. 

You weren’t much of a morning person, preferring to sleep in until early afternoon. But life doesn’t always work the way you want it to. So, you had no choice but to get out of bed at the asscrack of dawn and drag yourself on campus.

You tapped your pencil to the rhythm of your foot as you looked around the classroom. A lot of bright, young faces. Mixed in with them were people you could align yourself with. Seasoned veterans, those who knew to cheat the system by doing the minimum amount of work possible in order to pass. You sat in the very back of the lecture hall, making sure your seat was as close to the doors as possible. Since most people chose to sit in the front, you had the entire row to yourself in the back. Your backpack was plopped on the seat next to you.

Sitting in the back meant you had a great view of the entire lecture hall. You were able to see most people’s laptop and phone screens. Many were focused on the current class or one of their others, while others were texting friends or browsing random videos. Since you have finished almost all of the classes required for your major, this was just to meet a graduation requirement.

“One last quarter, let’s get this over with.” you muttered to yourself as you closed your eyes.

“Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?” a soft voice called out.

You tilted your head up, opening your eyes. You were a bit annoyed, having almost fallen fully asleep. Looking up at the beautiful face smiling at you, your facial expression quickly changed. Her long, black hair flowed neatly down her shoulders. Her large, dark brown eyes could be seen even through her heartwarming eye smile. Her face was extremely symmetrical, milky in color and complemented by full, pink lips. You’ve never met someone so easy on the eyes.  But what really got your attention was her large chest, her bra outlined by a skintight white shirt that showed off her toned tummy. She completed the look with a pair of light blue jeans that highlighted every curve on her body. Wide full hips, powerful looking thighs, and a cute round butt that was begging to be spanked.

“Is anyone sitting next to you?” she repeated, pointing at where your backpack was.

“Oh… n-no.” you replied, taking your backpack and putting it behind you.

“Thank you.”

The beautiful woman takes off her bag and sits next to you. As you watch her take out her laptop and notebook, you can’t help yourself from smiling. She truly was attractive. At the same time, you looked down the row and the one across your left side. Both were completely empty, save for the two of you.

“I don’t mind but why did this beautiful woman sit next to me, of all places? Every other seat here is unoccupied.”

The woman sees your face deep in thought and smiles shyly.

“I sit in this area every time I have a class here, had at least one in the past three years. In this particular lecture hall, it’s my favorite spot. Don’t worry, I don’t have a crush on you or will follow you around campus like a lost puppy.” she teased, having seemingly read your mind.

“This is my favorite spot too. And I wasn’t trying to say you were-”

“Unless…”

“I uh-”

“I’m just kidding. Hi, my name is Kwon Eunbi.” her big, bright eyes shined as she extended her hand out to you. You take it in kind, introducing yourself as well.

“So, what’s your major?” Eunbi asked you.

“Biomedical Engineering, how about you?”

“Wow, you’re so smart! I’m in Broadcasting and Entertainment.” she replied.

You smiled. You just met her and she already made you feel comfortable. Talking to strangers was never your strong suit. Before you could ask her more questions, the professor entered the lecture hall.

“Welcome, all. This is Physics 136, Particle Physics. I’m your instructor for this course. Those of you who expect an easy A or are taking this class as a graduate requirement, I encourage you to leave now.”

The moment the professor stopped speaking, several students got up from their seats and began to exit the lecture hall. You and Eunbi looked at each other, both feeling uneasy.

“I take it you’re not a physics kind of girl?” you whispered to Eunbi.

“I’m not even a math kind of girl. I barely passed Calculus with a C-.” she whispered back. “But you’re good at physics, right?”

“Regular physics and a little bit of quantum for conversational purposes. I have no idea about particle physics” you replied.

You saw Eunbi’s momentarily shocked face before she smiled.

The only reason you took this extra class was because your academic adviser told you you needed a few more units in order to graduate. As it was only a few weeks before the quarter began, most classes were already full. You looked up all available options with open vacancies and ended up choosing this course. You learned Eunbi did the same thing.

The next few weeks came and went rather quickly. Particle physics was the only course you had to try in, all the others were general ed courses that you could have slept in and still passed. You and Eunbi continued to sit in your unofficial assigned seats in the back of the lecture hall. Sometimes she would switch it up and sit in your corner seat. Whoever arrived early would have a snack or drink ready for the other. Her warm smile was something you always looked forward to seeing in class. While you two kept your talking during lecture to a minimum, walks after class were fun as you two complained about the lesson or talked about what was going on in other classes. On a random Friday after class, Eunbi asked for your phone and inputted her number. You then received a text from an unknown number, seeing a simple smiley face. She smiles as she reminds you to save her number. The two of you got to know each other even better through texting. She was extremely witty and fun to talk to, often sending you multiple short messages at once. Most were about how boring her classes were or a photo of what she was currently eating.

The quarter has now entered the halfway point and as such, you no longer dreaded your morning class. Starting your day off seeing Eunbi’s pretty smile and her beautiful face were a great beginning to the school week. Experimental particle physics and the Large Hadron Collider didn’t even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath of air as Eunbi’s weekend beach trips with her friends or the new poses she learned in Pilates class.

You found yourself waking up at the usual time for the morning class, but leaving your apartment earlier so you could be the first one to the lecture hall. You wanted to talk to her a bit more, even if it was just a few minutes. You and Eunbi would meet up after class as well. Study sessions in the library or grabbing a quick bite to eat in the campus dining area. The more you two spent time together, Eunbi began to open up. You learned her mother was hesitant about her major since she wanted Eunbi to choose marketing instead. She worked several part time jobs every summer before a new school year in order to have some money saved up. During this time Eunbi became more physically affectionate, choosing to link arms with you often or finding excuses to softly hit you.

“I’m telling you, there’s no way you’re older than me!” Eunbi whined as you two were sitting under a tree at the on campus park.

“I told you, your brother is only a year older than me!” you said, laughing.

“Prove it.”

You handed her your campus ID. Eunbi smiled, seeing your photo.

“Nice picture..”

“Hey! My friend was with me. He made funny faces which caused the photo to look like that.” you replied.

She looked at your ID and gasped.

“Y-You’re… older…”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing. Plus, we’re only a year apart.”

Eunbi puffed her cheeks and pouted. She was convinced she was older, making you call her noona and being a tsundere when doing nice things for you.

“Awh, is my little Eunbi mad?” you said, pinching her cheeks.

She pushed your hand away. You laughed, Eunbi was always so cute when she sulked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew.” you said, looking at her sincerely.

“It’s just… it was nice being called noona for a change.” she said quietly.

“I can still call you that, you know. Nothing has to be different between us. Noona”

Eunbi looked into your eyes. You smiled, causing her to do the same. What you didn’t expect was for Eunbi to raise your hands and eat the remaining bite of your sandwich.

“What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is noona’s.”

You weren’t willing to admit it out loud, but you began to have feelings for Eunbi.

At long last, finals season arrived. The campus libraries and study centers were filled with students who looked like zombies, not caring about their appearance as the tables in front of them were littered with textbooks and other course materials. One person in particular dozed off with a coffee cup still in hand. You used to be one of these people, feeling like you had eyebags that made you look like a raccoon. You thought of the caffeine fueled all nighters that were pulled, cramming notes and binders full of work that ended up being more of memorization than actually studying the material. Those days are thankfully long gone. Now you only have the physics finals left to take, all you have to do is pass with a C. It’s safe to say, you were hardly under any stress.

Your professor scheduled a comprehensive review session the day before the final. Most finals weren’t for another week, but the entire class powered through the material which benefited both the students and the instructor. You decided to go, figuring you might actually learn something instead of coasting by like you have the entire quarter. Assuming your regular seat in the lecture hall, you look at your phone. It was only a few minutes until class began. You looked around, trying to find any sign of Eunbi. Thirty minutes into the review and she still hasn’t shown up. Never one to be late, you thought of all the possible scenarios for why she wasn’t currently next to you. Did she oversleep? Maybe she decided to just study at home. Is she sick? Maybe you should bring her some food. Or is she on a date? All these thoughts played out like a large film strip. You unlocked your phone and decided to text her.

“Everything okay? The final review is going on right now.”

“Ahh, yes I’m almost there! I��ll see you in a bit!”

As if on cue the moment you locked your phone and put it down, the lecture hall doors swung open and the woman you have been waiting for entered. Eunbi looked different today from her usual outfits. You knew her as someone who would wear tight fitting crop top tees and jeans, showing off her cute midriff and the tiniest bit of love handles. This time she wore a tan cardigan top with a black undershirt, one you were hoping was a spaghetti strap. She complimented the look with a gold bracelet, and rosy red colored nails that matched her tint of lipstick. The outfit was finished with a gray short pleated skirt and black thigh highs with sneakers. But what really caught your eye was her new bobbed haircut. Having grown used to Eunbi having long, beautiful hair, this was a pleasant surprise for you. It gave her even more of a mature and elegant vibe. You also could never get used to how beautiful she looked with and without makeup. Maybe she had an important date after class? You remember her talking about how one of the guys in the broadcasting club was extremely handsome. Jealousy welled inside you, you hated the thought of Eunbi being interested in someone else.

“Sorry I’m so late, slept past four alarms.” she whispered to you as she put her bag on the empty chair next to her and pulled out her notes.

“You’re dressed even nicer than usual, got a big date today?”

Eunbi looked at you and laughed softly before hitting your shoulder. “No, silly. The weather is nice today so I thought it was the perfect time to wear a cute outfit. Haven’t worn any of these since I bought them over the summer.”

A part of you wished you didn’t text Eunbi at all. The review that doubled as a final lecture had everyone’s attention but yours. Most of your time was spent stealing glances at your beautiful seatmate. You eyed the way her powerful thighs looked under a relatively short skirt and how the black thigh highs she wore were your weakness. But what you were really looking at was Eunbi’s large protruding breasts, especially when she removed the cardigan. Most of the time she wore tight fitting crop top tees or long sleeves, only showing the outline of her boobs. But now you are finally given a wonderful view of her cleavage and milky colored skin. You began to fantasize about burying your face with her breasts, or even how your penis would look sandwiched in between her soft flesh. Your eyes remained on her body like a high powered laser, scanning every inch of her body as possible. She’d probably be burned from how intensely you were eyeing her.

Thankfully, the class was finally over. You were happy you didn’t have an erection that had to be covered. You and Eunbi both sighed the moment you exited the class, both of you stretching your arms and bodies. You pulled Eunbi in for a hug, surprising her temporarily before she smiled and reciprocated. Letting go, you pinched her cheeks and waved at her. As you turned to leave, she called out your name.

“Are you doing anything after this?”

“Uh, probably going to the library and studying a bit. How about you?”

“I was too… but noona has a better idea.” she said, skipping towards you as she takes her arm in yours. “Why don’t we study at my place? I know you live on campus but my apartment is only ten minutes away by bus. It’s much quieter and I could really use my best friend to help me out.”

You looked unsure, you liked Eunbi and hanging out with her is always fun. But you wanted to actually do well on tomorrow’s exam. Eunbi tugged on the sleeve of your jacket, causing you to look down. Her bright beautiful eyes were watery as she pouted her lips and gave you the cutest sad expression you’ve ever seen.

“You can’t keep giving me those sad eyes every time.” you teased, pinching her cheeks.

“Please… I’ll even buy you dinner! Please. Oppa.”

Your eyes widened hearing her call you oppa, knowing she only reserves that word for when she really needs to. You were whipped for Eunbi, even if she was just your best friend. The truth was, you weren’t going to study at all. You were going to grab a meal and maybe a few drinks with friends before you went home and browsed through tv shows until it was time for bed.

“Fine. But I expect a really fancy dinner.” you teased, squishing her cheeks together as Eunbi pouted.

Eunbi squealed, happy you could never say no to her. Her stomach had other plans, making loud noises. She placed her hand on it, as you both looked at each other and laughed.

“Why don’t we eat something first?” you said.

“C’mon let’s go, noona knows a wonderful cafe we can hangout at for a bit.” she said as she held onto your hand and dragged you along. As Eunbi hummed and talked about how happy she was the quarter was about to end, you couldn’t help but notice how short her skirt really was. Every step she took showed off her well sculpted thighs and the tiniest bit of her round butt cheeks from where her shorts ended. You felt like they were teasing you, asking to be spanked.

The two of you reached the cafe. It was very modern, a minimalist approach to the interior and shiny countertops and machines scattered throughout. Eunbi’s arm was linked with yours as you two found a cozy table and sat down.

Eunbi pouted at you the moment you two sat down.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

Eunbi remained silent, watching you intently. You looked down and saw her holding her phone.

“Does noona want me to take her photo?”

She nodded, smiling brightly at you.

“I really should be asking payment for being your photographer.” you said, laughing. You decided to take several photos of her, ensuring that she would like at least one. As the two of you scroll through the photos, you hear someone approaching your table.

“Welcome to our cafe, here are your menus. You two look like a lovely couple-” The slightly deep voice of the waitress caused you to look up.

“Oh, oppa!”

“Ting…”

Eunbi looked at the waitress and then you, slightly confused.

“Ahh, this is Chong Tingyan. She’s an old friend from when I took cooking classes a few years ago. We got really close after and her name amongst our friend group is Elkie. Ting, say hi. This is an unnie from oppa’s university.”

“Really? Hello, my name is Ting. Or Elkie as oppa likes to call me.” Elkie says with a laugh. Her husky, deeper sounding voice was a pleasant juxtaposition to her beautiful face and model-like body.

“Ah, yes. Hello.” Eunbi said timidly. She tucked several loose strands behind her ear. You could have sworn you saw the slightest hint of jealousy in Eunbi’s face, but decided not to say anything about it.

“How have you been, oppa? We never see you anymore! The girls always talk about you… and I miss you.” Elkie said, the last part in as quiet of a voice as possible.

“What was that?” you asked, a bit confused on what you just heard.

“I meant… Yeeun misses you! You know how she always hung around you whenever we all met up after class.”

“I miss you guys too. Ask the girls know when they are free, we need to catch up like old times.” you said, laughing softly.

“I will.” Elkie said, laughing as well. “What would you guys like to drink?”

“I’ll take a mocha frappuccino. What about you-”

“Your favorite drink still hasn’t changed, oppa.”

“With everything else changing, it’s nice to have something constant.” you replied.

“I’ll take an iced americano.” Eunbi simply interjected.

“Sure. I’m usually the barista but since one of the girls called out, I’m doing both today. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Elkie said as she gave you a fist bump and walked away.

“Iced americano? You don’t normally drink coff-” Turning to Eunbi, you saw her nostrils flaring as there was a glint of anger in her eyes.

“Oppa. We’re going home after this.”

The two of you drank your caffeine filled beverages in relative silence before you went to the counter and thanked Elkie. This was quickly cut off, as Eunbi dragged you away. The walk to and wait for the bus was filled with more silence. You weren’t sure why she was so jealous of Elkie, deciding you would ask her about it when you were at her apartment.

“The bus is here.” Was all she said as she finally broke the hour long silent treatment. Eunbi boarded without a second glance at you. You sighed, tapping your phone at the digital farebox at the front. Since it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, there were no empty seats available. The ride from the cafe to where she said her apartment was wouldn’t take too long. But with each stop, more people got on than those who would get off.

The ride to her apartment was extremely bumpy, filled with steep hills and pothole laced asphalt. As fate would have it, you had an unexpected erection that would unintentionally rub against Eunbi’s butt through the fabric of both of your clothes. Internally cursing yourself for wearing joggers, you looked down and let out a silent scream as you saw a visibly noticeable bulge. Trying to move your hips sideways and not draw even more attention, you were temporarily successful until the bus running over a giant pothole caused the person behind you to push you onto Eunbi once more.

You were extremely nervous, the tip of your cock repeatedly pressed against Eunbi’s ass through her skirt as the bus continued to toss people around unforgivingly.

“Oppa…” Eunbi whimpered, nervously. “Oppa, I think someone’s poking my butt with their thing.”

As she reached behind to try and find out if it really was a pervert molesting her in public transportation, she swiftly turned around once she gripped onto something. Looking up, she found you extremely embarrassed, your face a beet-colored shade of red. Eunbi was right about someone poking her butt with their penis, but not that it was you accidentally doing so thanks to the rough bus ride. It took her a few seconds to register what was going on, before she released her tight grip on your penis and quickly turned around. Eunbi’s face reflected the same shade of red as yours when you both made eye contact.

Coughing slightly, Eunbi turned around and remained silent for the duration of the bus ride. Both of your faces felt warm as neither of you could do anything about your cock rubbing against Eunbi’s ass. While you were slightly turned on, you were mostly embarrassed of the entire situation.

Fortunately, this only lasted several more minutes as the automated recording message announced Eunbi’s stop. You thought about exiting several times, but worried about leaving Eunbi by herself. How were you supposed to face her now?

“Oppa, it’s our stop.” she said to you.

As the both of you got off, you wore your backpack in front while carrying her bag. Normally, Eunbi would have put her arm in yours by now. But after what happened at the cafe and bus, you weren’t surprised she just walked next to you. Eunbi knew what you were trying to do, but remained silent in order to save you from further embarrassment.

“Is our class the only final you have left?”

You looked over and were surprised, yet thankful she took the initiative and started a conversation after the incident on the bus.

“It is. I already finished my other two a few days ago. What about you?”

“Ours will be my first.”

The two of you smiled, happy to put the awkward situation behind you. Eunbi hit your shoulder softly as she returned to linking arms with you. You ended up laughing the entire walk over until you reached the outside of her apartment door. With one simple press of her passcode that you found out was her birthday, you entered Eunbi’s apartment.

It wasn’t much, but for a young single woman like Eunbi, a cozy one bedroom apartment felt like a house for a university student who relied on part time jobs and a bit of allowance from her parents.

“Make yourself at home, oppa.” She said to you, placing her bag on the couch and went inside her bedroom to change.

This was a foreign experience to you, having never been in any woman’s apartment or dorm room before. You admired the simplicity of her home, the bright colors and minimalist art pieces were a reflection of her personality.

“Let’s get started.” You heard her say from behind. Looking up, you mentally cursed yourself. Eunbi returned to wearing a tight fitting top, showing off her toned tummy as you noticed the words “Unknown Heroes” printed on the shirt that you desperately wanted to rip off. She changed into jean shorts, which still gave you a good view of the bottom part of Eunbi’s buttcheeks.

Her hips swayed with each step before she finally sat on the cool wooden floor. Patting the adjacent empty space, Eunbi invited you to accompany her. You took your laptop out of her bag and placed it on the low table in front of you both.

“Why don’t we study by ourselves for half an hour? And then ask each other questions afterwards.”

“Oh, sure. Sounds good.”

The truth was, you have already been studying throughout the week. You used it as an excuse to spend more time with Eunbi outside of class. Unfortunately, your plans for a wonderful day with her were ruined from the awkward meeting with Elkie and the dreaded dry humping that was still fresh in your mind. Slowly, you began fantasizing about Eunbi and her wonderful body, which caused your penis to become erect once more.

“What, why is this so hard! Oh my god!” you heard Eunbi scream, causing you to stop daydreaming.

“W-What happened…”

“This question is so hard! Can you show noona why she can’t solve this problem to completion?”

You sighed, thinking another incident was going to happen even though you were both sitting next to each other side by side. Eunbi handed you her notebook to review the homework question.

Reviewing what she had written down, you felt Eunbi leaning closer to see. Unfortunately, you felt her large, soft breasts firmly pressed against your arm. She placed her left arm on your upper thigh, rubbing it unconsciously. You were afraid she was going to touch your erection again. Eunbi’s body was so close to yours, you could smell the intoxicating scent radiating from her body. It was a beautiful floral fragrance, one you thought to be cherry blossoms which were a nice compliment to her natural body scent. Your heartbeat began to increase rapidly as you felt a lump start to form in your throat.

“So how do I complete it?” She asked, rubbing your thigh once more.

“To solve the question, you first… uh… get rid of the m on the r-right side and then divide by… uhh… uhm… V.”

“Really? That’s so easy! Thanks, oppa.” Eunbi said with a cheerful smile, returning to her side of the table.

You finally were able to catch your breath again, thankful she didn’t place her hand on your crotch once more.

Eunbi really wasn’t lying when she told you she wasn’t a Physics kind of girl at the beginning of the semester. She had no problem hosting the university’s radio program or talking to strangers, but finding the force at which an object drops was not her thing. She had many more questions for you as the two of you continued studying, and each time she placed her hand on your thigh and rubbed her pillowy soft tits on your arm.

After the first few times, you weren’t sure if Eunbi was doing it on purpose or not. You constantly questioned if this was her way of flirting with you. It was already a bit strange how she liked being physically affectionate with you, but you wondered if she placed her hands on thighs and rubbed her breasts on the arms of other guys before. You wanted to confess to Eunbi, but all the worst case scenarios played through your mind. How would she react to it? Would she think you were getting close only to get in her pants? Trying to decipher every word she was saying and her actions were doing you no good, it gave you more stress than the actual final at this point.

“Oppa, are you okay?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why don’t we take a break? I’m tired of studying.” she said, leaning in close to you. Her soft voice tickled your inner ear as you felt the familiar sensations of her hand on your thigh and her breasts rubbing against your arm.

“That sounds great!” you replied, quickly going to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. The sudden cold rush of air felt wonderful on your hot face and body.

There was no denying it at this point. All of Eunbi’s hints and innuendos pointed to one thing. And although you have fantasized and touched yourself at the thought of fucking Eunbi, you constantly told yourself someone like her was way out of your league. The worst part was, you’ve never been intimate with a woman before. Spending almost all of your time in college cooped up in the library or going straight to work after classes gave you little time for meeting girls at all. You enjoyed fantasizing about her, since it was the only way you could feel like you wouldn’t disappoint her in bed.

“Want anything to drink?”

“I’ll take another iced americano. Thanks, oppa!” She called from the desk, not bothering to look at you. Foraging around her refrigerator filled with various half eaten meals, you managed to find some and create drinks for the both of you.

“Hopefully this is strong enough for you.” You said to her as you handed her the drink.

The short coffee break was enough to re-energize you two to finish studying. Another half hour later, you did just that.

“Thank God, I’m so done with physics. I don’t want to look at another formula again after tomorrow.” Eunbi said, stretching her body as she leaned onto the couch.

The two of you began studying in the middle of the afternoon, looking outside the window to see it is now nighttime.

“Oh man, we studied for that long? Guess we should get some dinner.” you said.

“How about chicken and some beer? I know a place that delivers really quickly. I’m basically on their speed dial.”

“Sure, whatever you’d like.”

Eunbi took out her phone and began scrolling through, asking for your input to make sure she ordered the right flavors.

“Food should be here in about 15 minutes.”

The doorbell rang, indicating Eunbi’s order had arrived.

“Oppa, here’s my wallet.”

“Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be too expensive.”

Thanking the delivery driver, you grabbed the two plastic bags and placed them onto the study desk that Eunbi had cleared out.

Eunbi turned on the television and explained to you how she watched the program being aired every week, not wanting to miss a single episode. This was the first time the two of you shared a meal together. You tried your best to eat quickly while being clean, not wanting to show her how fast you could finish your meal. Eunbi on the other hand had other ideas, aggressively biting the chicken drumsticks and not bothering to wipe her lips.

“Ahh, that isn’t ladylike.” You said, wiping her lower lip with your thumb. Eunbi replied with a mischievous smile, telling you she was at home and as such, didn’t need to worry about others seeing her eat this way. Her cheeks were stretched as she stuffed copious amounts of food into her mouth. Her beautiful smile was pleasant to look at, it always made you smile back in response.

Just then, both of your phones dinged and your lockscreens were brought to life. Both of you had preview messages hidden, the only thing displayed was a new email notification. Eunbi leaned in closer to you, her breasts pressed against your shoulder. You sighed, trying to wipe your fingers clean before opening the message.

Dear Physics 136 students,

Apologies for this email reaching you all so late. It seems I have accidentally reserved the exam hall for this week, and not tomorrow like originally planned. As such, the exam will take place in exactly one week from tomorrow. I’m sorry once again and will look forward to seeing you all.

“I guess we have one more week to study then, huh.” she said.

“It seems so… why don’t we have more beer since we don’t have class tomorrow.”

Eunbi looked at you in pretend shock. “What happened to the oppa who only wanted to focus on studying?” she teased before swaying her hips and going to the kitchen. She returned with two ice cold cans of beer.

“I have a lot more so you don’t have to worry about drinking them quickly.”

As the two of you popped the tabs open, you raised the cans into the air.

“To particle physics!” you proudly stated.

“To particle physics.” Eunbi replied, giggling.

The two of you clinked cans and each took a sip. The cold alcoholic beverage mellowed your tense nerves. Dinner continued on as you both took bites of chicken and alternated pieces of pickled radish in between. The two of you shared stories from when you both first started university. The night was filled with embarrassing moments and fun filled laughter. Eventually, all of the things she ordered were consumed; many empty styrofoam packages were sprawled all over the desk.

“Thank you so much for dinner, noona. I really should be heading home though before the last bus arrives.”

“Awh, don’t leave. The night is still young! And you haven’t finished telling me the story about your roommate. One more beer. Just one more. Please… oppa.” She pleaded, using her giant, sad filled eyes to convince you to stay. You looked at the clock.

“I guess one more can wouldn’t hurt.”

Eunbi squealed in excitement, grabbing two more cans of beer as she listened intently about how your roommate got locked out of your old apartment when you went home one weekend to visit family. She managed to squeeze the truth about the beer only being one can, as the one can soon turns into two and then three.

“Eunbi, I really should get going.” You finally said, slightly slurring your words.

“Hmm… I don’t think you can, oppa. Look.” She said, holding out her phone and showing you the last bus just departed for the night.

“Don’t worry though! You can spend the night here!”

“A-Are you sure?” you asked. The both of you have consumed so many cans of beer, it was starting to affect your decision making.

“This couch is pretty comfortable. I’ve fallen asleep here many times when watching shows late at night.”

Besides being slightly intoxicated, you thought sleeping on the couch would be the best thing for both of you since it meant nothing you both would regret the next day would happen.

“Oppa, let’s have one more can!”

You sighed, before sitting back down and chugging the fermented beverage.

Crushing another can in your hand, the drinking moved onto the sofa as the two of you were feeling uncomfortable sitting on the floor. The alcohol certainly helped you feel more relaxed around Eunbi. The two of you changed topics and suddenly began telling each other secrets.

Leaning her head onto her fist, she turned to you slightly.

“So, oppa. How many girls have you fucked?”

You coughed, almost spitting out your beer. Her tone was a mix of joking and serious. You couldn’t take her seriously as she slurred her words and her cheeks were a deep shade of red.

“I think you should say how many guys you’ve fucked before.”

“That’s not fair! I asked the question first!” she whined.

“And I told you I failed my permit test the first time I took it! No one knows that.”

“Fine.” she said, rolling her eyes before sighing. “I’ve slept with four guys. And one girl, but that doesn’t really count since we just did oral stuff. Now it’s your turn to tell me.”

“I’ve slept with so many girls, I can’t remember off the top of my head.” you said arrogantly, laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Eunbi sensed this in your vocal tone.

“You’re lying!” she said, waving her can of beer in the air.

“It’s true! I can’t remember how many women I’ve bedded. I’d say close to a few hundred!”

She laughed, clapping her hands as her face turned even redder. “You? Sleeping with hundreds of women? There’s no way.”

“But it’s true.”

She suddenly gasped, her facial expression changing from laughter to genuine shock.

“Oh my god… Oppa. Are you still a virgin?”

“N-No! Psh, of course not!”

“Oh my god… my oppa is a virgin! Oppa is a virgin!” she teased, laughing rather loudly at this newfound knowledge.

“Fine, okay! I’m still a virgin! Is that what you wanted to hear? I’ve never fucked a woman before.” you yelled out in anger, annoyed at her teasing.

Eunbi was caught by surprise as you turned away from her and sulked. She felt bad for teasing you so much.

“Awh baby, I’m sorry. I took things too far.” she said, turning you around as her hand rubbed your upper thigh.

“Why don’t we change that tonight?” she whispered in your ear seductively, rubbing your cheek before leaning closer. Your lips pressed against each other as you felt her straddle your lap. She playfully bites your lower lip, giggling when you return the action. Her tongue slipped through her parted lips and into yours, forcefully exploring your cavern past your teeth. She eventually retreated, allowing you to reciprocate. The two of you enjoyed giving each other passionate kisses as Eunbi started to move her hips, grinding against your crotch as you bit on her tongue gently. The both of you could feel your cock becoming erect.

Eunbi continues kissing you lovingly, her hand trailing down your neck, past your chest before finding its way down to your tip and crotch area once more. As she slowly forms a claw with her hand on it, you grab her wrist with enough pressure so that it wouldn’t hurt and release her hold on your lips.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Look, Eunbi. I’m really scared. I don’t want to disappoint you. I really like you and I’m just scared that if we do this, you won’t ever want to see me again after tonight.”

She laughed softly, her rosy red cheeks prominent.

“Baby if I didn’t like you, why would I invite you to my apartment? I really like you too and no, it’s not the alcohol talking. I tried to make it so obvious. I even put on a girly outfit because I planned on today being our first date. But then I ruined it by being jealous of the barista at the cafe. You won’t disappoint me. I think it’s sweet you’re still a virgin. Mommy has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

“Mommy?” you questioned as she pressed her lips against yours once more. She deepened the kiss while simultaneously playing with the tip of your erect cock through your pants, tracing her finger around it.

“Take off your shirt, baby.” she said after breaking the kiss. You quickly do so, tossing it near the kitchen. You helped her remove hers, revealing her black laced bra. Her breasts were even larger than you imagined, a pleasant view which complimented her extremely fit body. Eunbi held onto the waistband of your joggers as she pulled them down to your ankles before removing them fully and tossing them into the void of the living room. Your cock stuck out through your cotton boxers, wanting to be freed from its fabric imprisonment. Eunbi giggled, biting on your tip gently as she noticed a dark stain soaking through.

“Someone seems to be horny.”

“Who wouldn’t be when the woman they like titty fucks their arm during studying.”

Eunbi giggled as she grabbed onto the waistband of your boxers and roughly pulled them down. She is met with a slap to the face of your cock as it sprang free. You were completely exposed in front of her. Eunbi eyed your naked body like a predator who has its sights on its prey. She looked at your cock with hunger, dying for a taste.

Her mouth inched forward, getting closer to your cock. You mentally prepared yourself for her to take you in her mouth, only for her to smirk mischievously as she deviated course and went for your balls. Eunbi’s warm hand gripped onto your shaft as she sucked on each of your full balls. Her strokes were agonizingly slow, trying to draw as much precum out of you as possible. She painted long stripes of saliva from base to tip, swirling her tongue in a counterclockwise motion. Eunbi took her time, wanting to torture you by occasionally stopping and restarting from your base, never fully taking you in her mouth. You tilted your head back on the couch, trying your best to endure the pleasure.

“That’s what you get for not asking me out first.”

Precum continued dribbling out of your tip as she made her way up one final time. As she parted her puckered lips from your shaft, you noticed her lining them up in front of your tip. Giving it a deep kiss, she began taking your cock inside her mouth slowly. You felt her soft, red velvety lips wrapped around your head as she plunged lower and lower onto your shaft. The warmth of her wet mouth and the strength of her suction sent waves of pleasure flowing through your body. She sucked your cock slowly, bobbing up and down at a snail’s pace. Eunbi was testing your limits, never breaking eye contact as she intently watched your facial expressions.

Once the two of you got more comfortable, Eunbi picked up the pace. Her lips started descending lower and lower with each bob of her head. Although your eyes were closed, you felt Eunbi reach for your hands and place them on either side of her head. You followed along to the rhythm she was using to suck your cock. You let out a loud moan as you felt your tip reach the back of her throat. Her eyes started to water as you began pushing her head deeper and deeper. You forced your eyes open, watching as the girl you liked was on her knees and giving you a blowjob. You mentally punched yourself for not having the courage to ask her out.

Eunbi released your cock with a loud pop, traces of her saliva connected to your cock and her mouth. More flowed down her chin and onto the floor below. She smiled, proud of the work she has done. You whimpered, wanting to feel your cock in her mouth even more.

“Don’t worry, baby. This is your reward for being my friend… and soon to be boyfriend by the end of this night.”

Eunbi reached behind and loosened her bra, her soft tits jiggling with each movement. Even though they were covered, you wouldn’t mind staring at them for the rest of your life. She moved slightly towards you. Creating an opening between her bra and tits, Eunbi captured your cock. Both of you moaned as you felt her pillowy soft flesh sandwich your cock in between them.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

She slowly grinds her chest against your lower body, your shaft that was covered in her saliva provided easy access in and out between her breasts. You watched as your head and upper half of your cock appeared and disappeared repeatedly from between the mounds of warm, soft flesh.

You were in awe by the sheer amount of pleasure this brought, all of your desires about Eunbi slowly being fulfilled. She tries to lick your head each time it appears from between her breasts, but is unsuccessful as only her tongue is temporarily able to make contact. This doesn’t bother you at all, as it sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You sat on the couch, completely under Eunbi’s spell as she continued to take your hard cock in between her warm, now wet breasts. Her hands squeeze her bra and flesh tightly around your cock. As she continues to try and suck your cock, the both of you alternate between tilting your head back and making eye contact as she looks at you with heavy, seductive eyes.

“Fuck… mommy, that feels so amazing.”

“It does, doesn’t it baby?” she replied, so absorbed at having your cock between her breasts she can’t focus on anything else.

“Oh fuck… mommy is going to make me cum.”

“Cum for mommy, baby.” she said, her full attention still on your cock but now also on the pleasure she is giving you. She increased the pace, squeezing her breasts even tighter around your shaft as it appears and retreats between her soft mounds of flesh. Eunbi pumps her chest faster and faster, smirking in satisfaction as she sees you about to reach your breaking point.

“Mommy… I’m cumming!”

“Cum, baby. Cum for mommy. Shower mommy’s face and tits with your hot, sticky cum. Cum for mommy!”

Your orgasm causes you to groan loudly, as you feel every single semen from your balls erupt from your shaft. The first shot releases while your head is still covered by Eunbi’s large breasts. It sent hot, thick semen into her cleavage and lubricated her breasts with each consecutive thrust. Eunbi tilts her face down as you feel the rest of your semen paint her chin and face, drawing streaks across her cute and innocent features. Some even managed to get in her hair.

You were a bit sad your first ejaculation wasn’t inside her mouth or pussy, but the pleasure she gave you could not be described with enough words. You were awestruck, staring at Eunbi’s cum stained face as the last few thrusts of your cock between her tits released leftover amounts of semen on her upper chest and neck. She grinded her chest on your cock as your orgasm slowly winded down.

Eunbi regretfully releases your cock from her warm, wet cleavage. She returns to her knees, running her tongue on the underside of your base until she reaches your tip. This causes your body to shiver as she pleasures your cock post-orgasm. As she sucks the last few dribbles of your cum, she stretches her body and lets you fully see your artwork on her body. Your semen was sprayed all over her breasts, the soft milky colored skin the perfect canvas for your sin. Her giant, beautiful eyes smiled sweetly at you which contrasted you defiling her face. She smiled, rubbing your cum into her skin, giving it a shiny appearance from the light coming from above.

“Good, you’ll be able to last longer when you fuck me.” Eunbi said, licking her lips as she traced your cum on her face with her fingers before consuming it.

Holding onto you by your cock, she led you to the bedroom. Removing her bra, you were finally blessed with her massive breasts in all of their glory.

“Take off mommy’s shorts, baby.”

One swift unbutton and unzip later, you were met with a matching black thong. She had a noticeable wet spot like you did earlier.

“Someone seems to be horny.” you teased, repeating her words from earlier.

“What girl wouldn’t be when the guy she likes dry humped her on the bus. Now enough, take this useless piece of cloth off mommy.”

You chuckled, the vulgarity of her words a pleasant yet welcomed juxtaposition to her sweet and innocent face. As you slid the poor excuse of fabric off her creamy, wide hips as you were presented with her bright pink pussy. You couldn’t help but stare at how beautiful she was.

“Baby… why are you staring? Aren’t you going to taste mommy?” A hint of neediness in her voice as her juices began to flow out of her cavern.

You rubbed her thighs gently, massaging her before spreading them apart. As all of this is a new experience for you, the only frame of reference you had for performing oral sex on a woman was from watching porn. All the male, and sometimes female, performers would like the receiving woman’s pussy like it was freshly scooped ice cream. Using that mental image, you sank your head into her wet pussy and stuck out your tongue. Parting her lips, you licked her slit from bottom to top, gradually increasing the pace. You looked like a dog that had been dehydrated for weeks. Expecting to hear moans, you were surprised that Eunbi giggled from you attempting to pleasure her pussy.

“Awh, baby. You really are a virgin, aren’t you?” she joked, still giggling. “My pussy isn’t a popsicle or ice cream. Why don’t you try this. Try drawing the letters of the alphabet with your tongue. Try to guess when to change the speed and pressure as you go along.”

Wanting to pleasure her the same way she did to you, you started off slow. Your tongue went between and all around her warm and wet folds. You even managed to kiss the inner creases of her thighs. As you began drawing the alphabet with your tongue, Eunbi giggled as you recited each letter. A-G was Eunbi still laughing but the further down you went, those giggles turned into moans, especially when you drew the letter V. Her skin started to dampen as you heard her breathing become heavier.

“Baby… oh my god. Baby…!”

Her right hand squeezed her tits, massaging them as she pinched her erect nipples. While her left hand pressed against the back of your head, pushing you deeper as you tasted the juices escaping her dripping wet pussy. Eunbi’s moans evolved into soft screams as you felt her back arch and her toes curl from the heightened pleasure you were giving her. Feeling her orgasm was fast approaching, she pulled on your hair to withdraw your head from her pussy.

“I want you inside me…” she moaned when you gave her a confused expression.

Your cock recovered from your intense orgasm earlier and the act of performing oral on her as well as Eunbi constantly yelling out your name caused it to become erect once more.

You rubbed your cock against her outer pussy lips, feeling her juices stick onto your tip.

“No foreplay, please baby. Just stick your cock inside me.”

Eunbi moaned as you spread her legs and pushed yourself inside her slippery cavern. The sheer warmth and tightness of her pussy felt a thousand times better than using your hand to stroke yourself. Her pussy lips wrapped around your shaft as you slowly thrusted inside her. Eunbi was painfully tight, as the nerve endings on your tip light up in delight from the new sensation.

Eunbi played with her nipples, as her left hand stimulated her clit. You massaged the breast that she wasn’t currently fondling as you thrusted deep inside her. Her tits jiggled from the motion as her body moved up and down. Eunbi was moaning out your name, but her facial expressions weren’t giving the impression that she was enjoying it. Noticing this, you slowed down your thrusts.

“Are you okay, mommy?” you asked.

“I’m really glad you gave me your virginity and I’m happy we’re finally having sex.”

“But?”

“But it doesn’t feel as good as I want it to be.” she panted, trying to catch her breath as you continued slowly fucking her. “Maybe we should try a different position. What do you think?”

“Why don’t you lay down on your tummy?”

Eunbi giggled, giving you a kiss as her back was now facing you. Her elbows and knees were on the bed as she pressed one side of her face onto a pillow. Arching her back high, she gave you a clear view of her perfectly round ass and strong back muscles. As you slide your cock inside her once more, this newfound position allowed you to enter her even deeper. Starting off slow before gradually increasing in rhythm, Eunbi’s moans became louder and more intense.

“Oh fuck, baby… this feels so good.”

You rammed your cock as hard and deep as her tight lips would allow, making sure to cover every inch of your cock with her warm and wet cavern. You joined her, moaning from the pleasure as she panted, trying to catch her breath as her ass smacked against your body repeatedly.

“B-Baby… slow down. There’s a-another position I want to try.”

Removing herself from your cock, Eunbi gently pushed you down onto the bed. You anticipated her next move. Watching Eunbi straddle your legs, she knelt over your cock before using her hand as a guide to slowly lower herself onto your cock. A loud, satisfied moan escaped her lips as your tip once again parted her warm, tight pussy lips. She firmly planted her hands on your chest for support as she began riding your cock.

In this position, Eunbi had all of the control. Not that it made any difference from the rest of the night. Eunbi got more confident the longer she rode you, increasing her pace and going faster than you did. You watched as her large tits bounced up and down along with her, hypnotizing you in all of their fleshy glory. Her moans became louder and louder as your cock disappeared into her slit.

“Mommy, that feels so good.” you managed to moan out when you feel her unconsciously tighten her muscles around your cock, providing you with a euphoric feeling.

“Oh fuck…” you exhaled. “Do that again, mommy.”

Eunbi listened to you, clenching her vaginal muscles hard. She is rewarded with your cries of pleasure.

“Baby, mommy’s going to-” Eunbi is unable to finish her sentence as her orgasm takes over her body. She tilted her head back as the waves of pleasure coursed through her body and into her core. She squeezes your thighs tightly as her toes curled from the ecstasy she was feeling. Eunbi’s body violently shakes as her pussy juices flood your cock. She continues bouncing on your cock as she rides her orgasm down.

“B-Baby, that was amazing. Now it’s your turn to cum. Can you do that? Can you please cum for mommy?”

This time, all her attention and energy was focused on you. She continued riding your cock, looking you straight in the eyes as you noticed a seductive and lust filled gaze as well as a naughty smile. Every bounce of her body on your cock provided you a tingling sensation as you felt your shaft entering and exiting her tight, wet walls. It didn’t take very long for your own orgasm to arrive.

“Mommy, I’m going to c-cum.” you panted.

“You can cum in my pussy later. Right now, I want you in my mouth.”

Eunbi dismounted you, causing you to whine at the loss of her pussy. She made you stand up on the edge of the bed as she got on her knees. Taking your throbbing cock and slapping her tongue with it several times, she alternated between sucking your tip and stroking your shaft in order to get you to cum.

“Baby… cum for mommy. Give mommy all of your hot cum.”

As you grabbed onto Eunbi’s head and forced her to take your cock all the way to its base, you repeatedly bobbed her head up and down as she eagerly awaited your hot load. Unable to hold out any longer, you let out a loud groan as you felt your cock exploding inside her mouth. Your body shakes with each spurt you release, your orgasm filling Eunbi’s wet mouth. You opened your eyes and looked down, seeing the pure enjoyment in her face that she was able to make you cum so much. Eunbi hadn’t swallowed any of your load yet, opening her mouth to show you the abundance of the creamy white present you graciously gifted her. She playfully gargles your cum in her mouth before tilting her head up and swallowing it all, letting you see it travel down her throat and into her stomach. She smacks her lips together and lets out a loud satisfied hum as you collapse back onto the bed. Your entire body was exhausted after Eunbi gave you one of the most intense orgasms you have ever had.

“You taste so good, baby.” Eunbi hums as she wipes the remaining traces of cum and saliva from her chin and mouth. You gather the last remaining bit of energy and raise your head, watching her clean her hands and fingers as her gaze returns to you. As you struggle to catch your breath, Eunbi climbed back onto her bed and rested her head on your chest.

“H-How did I do, mommy?” you asked.

“Well…” she said, cutely pouting as she placed a finger on her temple. “You definitely made mommy feel good. But since it was your first time, you were still lacking in certain areas. I’ll give you a C+.”

“Awh, a C+? I wanted an A.” you pouted, pretending to be hurt.

Eunbi smacks your chest softly, asking for a kiss.

“It’s okay, baby. You know what they say, practice makes perfect.”

Eunbi plants kisses on your chest before swinging her legs on your lap, leaning down to give you passionate kisses once more. The newfound relationship that blossomed between you two was made official on this night. And as Eunbi guided her pussy back onto your cock once more, the two of you moaned as she planted her hands on your chest and began slowly riding you. 

It’s a good thing the final was next week, you were certain the two of you wouldn’t be able to make it to class the following morning.

[equustenebris]

New drabble! This kind of just poured out basically all at once, lol. This is for modern Topolino Newton, I've got his first story translated here for the unfamiliar: https://equustenebris.tumblr.com/post/658572502503735296/hello-duck-community-i-come-bearing-a-gift-so

Newton Gearloose has a bully. For Whumptober 2021. Prompt: "Who did this to you?"

Three. Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But...

He gave a final sniffle as he rounded the corner to his uncle's house, trying to pull himself back together before his uncle saw him crying. The punches and kicks had been painful, sure, but it was the humiliation more than anything -- and the overwhelming fear of facing Jax again tomorrow.

He'd always known there was no way he'd win in a fight. He was Newton Gearloose, inventor, not -- like -- Newton Gearloose, boxer, or something. He just wasn't built for it, and besides, he'd always firmly believed brains were better than brawn any day. Still, when Jax snatched him out of the hallway to shake him down for his chemistry project results, he'd made his very best attempt to fight back, but Jax was built like an eighth grader, and all he'd really managed to do was make him angrier. He gingerly touched his fingertips to his swollen eye, hoping it didn't look nearly as bad as it felt.

He didn't have any idea what he'd done to get on Jax's bad side -- they only had one class together, and despite his natural aptitude for it, it wasn't as though Newton was particularly well-liked by their chemistry teacher anyway. (A few too many beakers shattered, chemicals spilled, labs blown up -- frankly, he was amazed they still let him do the hands-on work.)

But for whatever reason, Jax had apparently decided that Newton was his new target -- and he evidently had a lot of free time to spend making Newton's life as miserable as possible. It had started off with little things, stealing his pencils, getting in his way in line at the water fountain, knocking the books out of his hands -- all of that was manageable, and honestly Newton was often so distracted by his own ideas for new inventions that he barely noticed. But when it went from the annoying to the physical -- snatching him from the hallway just after the last bell to rough him up -- well, that he noticed.

He opened up the front door slowly, peeking around in the hopes that his uncle was down in the lab, and he'd have a chance to try to clean himself up before his uncle saw him. Apparently, today was really not his lucky day, because Gyro was at the sink, washing up some dishes.

"Hi, Newton," he chirped brightly, "how was sch -- Newton?" He dropped the dish back into the sink as he caught sight of his nephew's black eye, immediately swiveling around. Newton cringed, hunching his shoulders as if he could make himself small enough to disappear. "Your face! What happened?"

"Nothing, Uncle, I'm fine," he tried, attempting to slip away to the bathroom.

"You certainly are not! Who did this to you?"

Little Helper was already at his side with an ice pack, holding it up above his tiny head for Newton to take. Embarrassed, he only looked away instead.

"Nobody, Uncle, it's -- it's fine," he tried again, cheeks flushed and burning. But Gyro wasn't so quick to give up, quickly kneeling in front of him.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else? Your arms? Your tail?" he asked, lifting Newton's shirt to check his belly, gently snatching his wrists to examine his arms, and just generally not helping the utter humiliation burning in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm fine," Newton snapped again, pulling his arms away.

"Newton." Gyro took him by the shoulders, gazing into his eyes. Reluctantly, the boy looked back to him, biting his lip to try to hold the persistent tears at bay. "You can tell me. What happened?"

Despite his best efforts, a single hot tear slipped down his cheek -- and then it was all over, the floodgates wide open as he wrapped his arms around his uncle's neck, trying to choke back sobs as he explained: all the multitude of small things he ignored for months, one after another, and now finally, the big things he couldn't. It came tumbling out at once in a flurry, months of pain and fear he hadn't realized he had been carrying. Gyro just held him, gently rubbing his back, occasionally giving him soft, preening nips, trying to calm him down.

When he was finally finished, Gyro nodded firmly, intent. "We'll go to the principal." Newton immediately shook his head, wincing.

"No, Uncle! It'll just get worse if you tell anyone! Principal Schnauzer doesn't even like me, he doesn't care, and even if he did he can't watch me all the time! It wouldn't be safe."

"Well, we at least have to tell your mom and dad," he mumbled, rubbing Newton's back again.

Again, Newton shook his head. "Oh, please, no, Uncle! This is already humiliating enough, I don't want them to know, too!"

"We have to do something, Newton! I can't send you back to school like this!"

"I can handle it myself," Newton mumbled, gazing vaguely over his shoulder towards his treehouse, and his own secret lab, hidden away from his uncle. He had no idea what, exactly, but surely he could come up with some sort of invention to deal with this on his own. His uncle, however, seemed less than convinced.

"Maybe I could invent something for you? You know, something that could keep you safe, maybe like some sort of...repelling ray, or maybe a robot bodyguard, or --"

"I'll be fine, Uncle," Newton mumbled, cringing. The last thing he needed was his uncle interfering -- whether his inventions worked or didn't, either way, it could only add to his humiliation. Really, showing up the next day with a robot bodyguard? "I can just -- I'll handle it."

Gyro stood, scratching the back of his neck. "Are you sure, Newton?"

The boy said nothing, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. On the living room wall, unnoticed, a large bee -- too large -- softly beat its wings.

---

The next morning's bike ride to school felt more like a death march. Newton and the triplets walked the last stretch, coming up on the bike rack just outside the school.

"Are you sure you don't want us to help you, Newton?" Huey asked, frowning worriedly.

"Yeah, we're pretty tough -- we can take him on!" Dewey offered. Newton only shook his head, polishing off the last of his breakfast apple.

"No, I don't want to get you guys caught up in this too," he muttered, tossing the core into the garbage can as they locked up their bicycles. "Besides, it's just going to get worse if I can't handle him on my own."

"Huh? What's going on over there?" Louie wondered aloud, finally noticing the large crowd of students on the school's front lawn. Curious, the boys pushed their way forward, slipping through the crowd to approach the large oak tree that everyone seemed to be gathered around.

"--do you mean, you have no idea how he got there? Someone did it! He must have been here since last night! You've got camera footage, don't you?!"

"I can't explain it, Principal Schnauzer, but I already reviewed it and there's just...nothing. It looks like it's all been scrubbed clean somehow."

"Well cut him down from there, and get his parents and the police on the phone! And get these kids out of here, already! Oh, this is going to be such a mess... You! Get to class! There's nothing to see here!"

Newton and the triplets finally pushed their way to the front, stumbling out in front of the oak tree. It took no more than a split second for Principal Schnauzer to spot them in the crowd, and with a fury Newton hadn't seen before (which, frankly, was saying something for the schnauzer), he abruptly whipped around, pointing directly at him. "You!"

The other students immediately backed away, leaving Newton standing on his own, frozen in shock as the principal stomped closer. Snarling, voice low and dangerous, he shoved his snout nearly against Newton's beak. "I don't know how you managed to pull this off, but I know you're behind this somehow. This fell out of his pocket."

He shoved a slip of paper into Newton's grip, but Newton's attention was elsewhere -- slowly, his eyes trailed up to the oak tree, finally seeing what everyone else had been staring at. There, Jax dangled from a branch at the top of the tree, still dressed in pajamas, hogtied, terrified sobs muffled by the thick gag in his mouth.

He just stared for a moment, slack-jawed. A tiny yelp from Dewey, evidently reading over his shoulder, brought him back to reality and he looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. There, scrawled in his uncle's tell-tale handwriting, was a hastily written note.

He won't be bothering you anymore, Newton.

Let me know if I need to pay anyone else a visit.

--MD

"This isn't over!" Principal Schnauzer raged, swiping the paper back out of Newton's hands before storming away. The triplets exchanged worried looks, but Newton just stood at the base of the oak tree, too stunned to move, as his (now former, he supposed) bully dangled helplessly above his head.

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (6)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 7,3K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?), A dickhead on a party

Notes: Being honest here, I don’t know what happened to my writing on this one. I didn’t actually like how I wrote this but I can’t think of how to re-write it either, so I’ll let my appologies here.

Oh yeah, I removed the #fluff tag because I think that some later chapters may be too suggestive to put a #fluff. Anyway, I prefered to remove it. But it will still have fluff moments, so I let it on genre.

Updates: I’ll update it once a week [Tuesdays] because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

                                                     ///

   You stood there, arms crossed, no one to be seen.

   Hyunjin promised he would show up during your shift so you could finish your part of the project, which he didn’t, as anyone could see since you were standing there alone, closed library behind you in silent mockery. You tapped your foot, anxious, eyes wandering around the place, searching for any signs that he would be coming, even though at this point you were pretty sure he ditched you.

  You checked your clock, 8:03 PM, exactly six hours and three minutes late. Well, not exactly six hours, since he could have shown up at any time on your shift… You began to bounce your leg, restless, wondering where the hell he was. All you wanted right now was to go home, lie on your bed, and sleep in peace, ignoring all of your assignments you promised yourself you would be doing tomorrow since Monday at this point.

   There was something about Thursdays that kept you happy, though.

   It wasn’t as great as a Friday but it wasn’t as awful as a Monday, so you held on to this pleasant feeling as you decided to give him ten more minutes before you gave up on him and call it a day. You heard fast steps from your right, eyes trailing there to recognize a tall figure running in your direction, breath uneven, indicating he had been running for a while.

   “Oh, thank Lord!” You looked surprised at him, his voice sounded relieved when he finally reached you, hands resting on his knees to recompose himself “I swear to God, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting! I had to talk to Professor Kim and he just kept me waiting forever, I’m so sorry” He sounded sincere enough for you, so you waved your hand, shrugging it off.

   “That’s okay, Mr.Kim can be an asshole sometimes” You acknowledged, getting a surprised look from him “Yeah, I have classes with him, and God… He sucks” You chuckled when he beamed, agreeing eagerly with you.

   “Yeah! Doesn’t He have anything better to do than making us suffer or something?!” He laughed, straightening himself as he felt better after his run, suddenly realizing who he was talking to and clearing his throat “I mean, that’s not the point… Where should we go to resume our project?” He asked, trying to keep the subject strictly professional.

  “Well, I don’t know about you but I could eat a whole cow right now” You confessed, starting to walk, expecting him to follow you, which he did “I really need to have something right now, so I suggest the dining hall” He scrunched his nose, making you cock your brow.

  “No way! Let’s eat somewhere else” He didn’t sound like he was asking you, so you sent him a look, disdain all over your face “Come on, it’s rowdy there! Also, the food sucks, let’s go to a Café” He pleaded, making you roll your eyes, stopping in your tracks and turning to him with your hands on your hips.

  “You have to be kidding me” You scoffed “You never went to eat there! Also, I don’t have money to go to a Café right now! And they won’t serve anything that feeds me” You argued, making him roll his eyes. He picked up his wallet, holding his credit card between his fingers, waving it in the air, a smug smirk on his face.

  “I can pay for both of us, you can have whatever you want until you’re full” He offered but you shook your head, displeased by his idea. You would never let him pay for you. He would totally believe you owed him something or whatever.

   “What about the food stand?” You suggested “I know a place that has like the best hot dog on campus” He eyed you suspiciously, pondering “Come on! It won’t be rowdy and I can pay and actually full my stomach” You stated, proud as he seemed to really think about your suggestion.

  “I mean, I like hot dogs” He agreed, and you smiled, satisfied with your little win “If I’m nauseous later I’ll blame it on you” He warned, following you anyway, looking kind of stiff as he did, probably uncomfortable to be alone with you.

  “I heard rich brats get nauseous when they eat at non-fancy places... You should blame your weak stomach” You teased, smirking as he scoffed at you. You couldn’t really say that you liked Hyunjin yet but knowing he wasn’t actually as bad as you pictured him was enough for now. You walked side by side, silently, an uneasy atmosphere between you two as both of you wondered if you should be saying something. You never had been alone like this except for Saturday, when you met for the first part of the project.

   You kept silent, hands in your pockets, looking to the ground as you walked sloppily, both of you trying to match each other paces and failing greatly. Relieve washed over you as soon as you spotted the stand, a smile getting to your lips as you pointed at it, mouthing a Right There, just to break the ice, glancing at him to check his reaction.

  “It looks rowdy to me” He mentioned, and this time he was right. Usually, your stand would be almost empty or at least comfortably occupied by two or three people but now there were a bunch of people standing and sitting around it.

  You could recognize some of them as Han’s teammates and a few other players you met because of him, which was enough for you to assume all of the people there played some kind of sport. You shrugged, approaching the stand anyway, waving and smiling to the friendly man that always attended you, making your way through the tiny crowd, bumping now and then in someone.

  “Hey, Mister” You greeted as usual, which made him smile at you, throwing the dishcloth over his shoulder before nodding in your way “The usual, please!” You asked, feeling Hyunjin reaching you warily, clearly disgusted by all the people around “Oh, make it two!” You added, getting a knowing look from the man.

  “Rowdy” He muttered next to your ear, annoyed. You looked around as you waited, ignoring him, noticing that one of Han’s teammates, Minho, was there and approaching you, a teasing smile on his lips as usual.

  “Hey! Waiting for your boyfriend?” He asked with a knowing tone that made you roll your eyes. Minho wasn’t really your friend but he seemed to like you just enough to tease you from time to time, so you just ignored him when you could, especially since his jokes were pretty much suggestive of a nonexistent relationship between you and Han.

   Hyunjin seemed to notice your annoyance because he placed his hand on your shoulder.

   “She’s not interested, Buddy” He said firmly, and you shot your eyes to him, surprised.

   “Oh?” Minho seemed as surprised as you, looking at Hyunjin questioningly “Han didn’t mention you got a real boyfriend…” He frowned, confused “Aren’t you Hyunjin?” He cocked his brow, tilting his head “I see…” He nodded, eyes narrowed. They kept glaring at each other, suspicious and completely misunderstanding everything, so you decided to speak up again.

  “Why are you guys here?” You changed the subject, and Minho averted his eyes from him to look at you, his normal features back to his face.

  “We were practicing” He said as if it explained everything. You kept looking at him, waiting for something more, and he looked back at you, expressionless until he decided you didn’t get him “Well, We usually starve after a practice” He added, and you nodded in understanding.

 “Oh, yeah!” You exclaimed, seeming to remember something “Han told me about the Match… Hm… Good luck with it” You stated awkwardly, expecting him to just leave after the small talk but he stood there. You watched the stand, waiting uncomfortably for your food, the three of you standing stiffly and silently.

  “You got yourself a boyfriend, Miss?” The man asked, smiling at you as he handed both hot dogs, nodding at the hand he kept on your shoulder, both of you oblivious to this. He took it away in a flash, straightening up and coughing, which just fueled the man’s suspicion, his smile widening as he wiggled his brows suggestively.

  “I’m not her boyfriend—“    

  “He’s not my boyfriend—“

  You looked at each other ─ uneasy by the idea ─ as you spoke at the same time, both of you clearing your throat and averting your eyes to look at the man again. You handed him your money, holding the food as Hyunjin paid for his, giving him his hot dog as soon as he finished, gesturing for him to follow you before you waved goodbye at Minho and the man, who gave you a thumbs up in approval, making you cringe.

  You sat down as soon as you got to the stairs, pleased by the silence and lack of people.

  “Well, it was awkward” You mentioned, looking at your food as you ate, getting a snort from him as he sat down “Anyway, now it’s not rowdy and we can talk about our project, it’s not so bad after all” He analyzed his food, seeming suspicious about it, sniffing it before trying to take a bite. You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief as you bit your own food.

  “Oh! It’s good” He blurted, amazed “Actually, it’s really good!” He said mouthful before taking another bite, this time way more confident about it, looking like a happy child as he chewed.

  “I told you” You grinned, amused “Who knew rich brat would be enjoying a stand’s hot dog?” You teased, making him roll his eyes, though he was too invested in eating to retort you “If someone told me I would be sitting on the stairs someday, eating my favorite food with you, I would tell them to fuck off” You laughed, taking another bite. He chuckled at this, his eyes twinkling as he covered his mouth with his cupping hand.

  “Hm… I disagree, I expected it somehow” He stated after swallowing his food, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turned his head to you and dropped his hand. You looked at him bewildered, raising your eyebrows in genuine surprise, a silent question hanging in your eyes “I always knew me, you and fuck would be in the same sentence one day” He joked smugly, and you had to swallow your food before whining at him.

  “Really? It was going so well” You nagged, making him laugh.

  “Stop it! It was a good one!” He whined back, making you shake your head in amusement.

  “It was literally awful” You retorted, chuckling “I guess you’re not much of a funny guy” You mocked, and he raised his hand ─ gesturing as if the hand could talk while he grimaced ─ to mock you back. You stood there, silently eating, not as awkwardly as you thought it would be, until you noticed him glancing at you now and then. You tried to ignore it, pretending you didn’t notice until it got to your nerves “What?” You grumbled, looking at him annoyed.

  “No, it’s nothing… It’s just…” He eyed you, pensive “I mean, you usually kind of bitchy to me…” He pointed out, cautious “What happened?” He asked curiously, his eyes back to his food while you thought about what to answer, and you noticed how he glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

  “Well, I realized you’re a jerk but not the kind of jerk I thought you were” You explained, and he nodded laughing, amused by your answer “Paris said you’re not as bad as you seem and she’s your psychologist so she would know” You joked, and he snorted at that, looking at you.

  “Hm… So now you can see how awesome I really am” He teased, your eyes rolled again, a sigh leaving your lips.

  “Let’s focus on the project before I give up on you, Shall we?” You pleaded, finishing your food before trying to get your notebook. The motion was interrupted by a high pitched voice, though. You raised your head to meet an anxious Han in front of you, his eyes darting between you and Hyunjin, breath uneven. He closed one of his eyes and scrunched his nose, catching his breath, before he leaned on the handrail, apparently trying to look cool, which was nothing but funny.

  “What’s up” He said not so smoothly, smiling awkwardly, eyes finally setting on you “I heard you were close so I came to check you out” He said, shaking his head profusely “No, I mean! Check on you” He corrected promptly and you cackled up.

  “Yeah, I heard you guys were practicing… How was it?” You asked, and he shrugged.

  “It was fine, I guess… Speaking of which, I met Minho after the practice and He told me you were around, so I thought of asking if you will come to my match next Friday” You frowned, confused. You were pretty sure he asked it on Tuesday when you had lunch together and you said you were going to go with Paris…

  “I’ll be coming for sure” You reassured him anyway, silence falling upon you three, the awkwardness of the situation made you cringe, hands clasping on your lap as you looked at Han, expecting someone to say something or at least for him to leave so you could finish your project.

  “Great…” He smiled half-heartedly, looking at both of you in wonder “I mean, it will be a great Match” He added, apparently thinking about what he was going to say next “So… What are you doing?” He sat beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer to him, making you scoff. You opened your mouth, ready to answer him when Hyunjin decided to join the conversation.

  “We’re getting to know each other” He said with a sickeningly sweet smile “We have a lot to talk about so…” His sentence hung in the air, hinting he wanted Han to leave, and you closed your eyes, sighing, knowing he would take this in the wrong way. Were you ready to listen to Han complaining about Hyunjin again? Not after a long day, on a Thursday night, when you just wanted to finish your obligations and go home.

  “Oh? She mentioned you’re doing a project together” You sighed in relief, opening your eyes again, glad it seemed to take a good direction. Han exclaimed, apparently remembering something as he looked at Hyunjin “Sorry for the punch, man… I was so sure she cried because of you… I mean, we all know you’re kind of a jerk to girls, right?” Okay, so it wouldn’t take a good direction at all. You sighed, averting your eyes to Hyunjin, who arched his brows, head dropping a little, hiding his amusement “Also, thanks for not making a big deal out of it” He added, more friendly.

   “That’s okay, man… You didn’t hurt me at all” He smiled obnoxiously “Also, I get it… It must be hard for you to worry so much about a friend getting hurt and have me around them, right? I know it seems like I’m a jerk but Y/N herself said I’m not that much of a jerk, right?” He looked at you, smile plastered on his face, and you nodded warily, confused why they were bringing you into their silly argument “I can assure you I’ll treat her well from now on, no need to worry” Han scoffed, turning his head away and shook his head in disbelief.

   “I sure hope you do” He rolled his eyes, tightening his side hug “She can take care of herself though, so I trust she won’t even need me to beat the crap out of you” Both of them looked at each other in feigned friendliness. It was like a solid block of uncomfortableness was settle between you three, a few moments of silence and their glare were enough to raise it to the point you had to clear your throat.

   “I guess that’s enough, don’t you think?” You spoke up, making them look at you “Han, I understand you’re worried about me but I have to finish this project with Hyunjin and, as you said, I can handle myself just fine” Han averted his eyes, embarrassed “You both have a damn tangible fragile masculinity if you think fighting over if a punch hurt or not can make you win an argument” You rolled your eyes, and Hyunjin scoffed “Also, don’t bring me into your arguments” You added, looking at them disappointed.

  “Well, he was the one who started it” Hyunjin argued, raising his hands in surrender “I wasn’t even talking to him! I’m being friendly enough just by not hitting him out of nowhere” You sighed, tired “Especially since at least I would have the decency of not knocking you behind your back” He gave Han a tight smile, raising his eyebrows, emphasizing his point.

  “Stop it” You asked, hand sweeping your hair “Look, Han is our friend, Hyunjin… Paris and I hang out with him all the time, okay? Han, Hyunjin is our partner and he will be hanging out with us at least for a week, so you guys can just endure it or get along instead of pissing me off” You suggested, getting up “It’s pretty late anyway, let’s call it a day, I’m tired” You decided, ready to walk away from them.

  “You’re right” Hyunjin agreed, getting up “We should be friendlier, Han… I mean, who knows what could happen after this project? I think Paris is a sweet girl and I’m almost getting along with Y/N here” He patted your shoulder, and you narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious “You know what?” He asked, hand over his mouth as if he had just realized something but his eyes gave him away, he was trying to be an ass “I love volleyball!” He clasped his hand “What about I watch your match with them? It would be such a bonding time, right, Y/N?” You could tell Hyunjin was being sarcastic, so you scoffed at him, nodding.

   “Absolutely, Hyunjin… I think you will love it! You should even bring Chan along, see if we can form a gang or something” You mocked but Han grimaced, low key disgusted.

  “No need, we can just ignore each other until your project is done” He suggested, making you laugh at that. The poor boy couldn’t even think about getting along with Hyunjin, maybe he disliked him even more than you did. You looked at Hyunjin, waiting for him to laugh and let it go but he didn’t, he smiled to Han, scorn dripping from his lips.

  “What are you talking about?! Aren’t you worried I’m with Y/N and Paris all the time? Let me show you how I can be great for them” He threw his arm around you, bringing you closer “Next Friday is the deadline for our project, so it’ll be great to hang out and celebrate that we did it, right? We can even go out to eat after it! I’ll pay it” He offered, and you couldn’t believe your own ears. How could they be so freaking ridiculous?

  “I can eat a lot” Han warned, jaw clenched as he gave a fake smile at Hyunjin.

  “I have a lot of money” He smiled back, mockingly “So that’s it! You walk her to her dorm or should I do it? Are you comfortable with it?” He sneered, a fake sympathetic grimace over his face. You sighed, getting his arm off of your shoulders and starting to head to your dorm on your own.

  “I’ll let you two being despicable, don’t follow me” You grumbled, walking away from them.

                                                                      ///

   Your head throbbed like someone had hit it with a bat.

   You closed your eyes; your head rested against the wall, the sinking feeling of relative silence on your brain relaxed your body and enhanced your senses, making you realize how deafening the blasting music was. The newfound “silence” sounded like a whistle, it felt like your brain was trying to push your skull away and somehow it blocked your ears, clouded your thoughts.

  You hated parties.

  You opened your eyes, studying the green grass in front of you, few people standing or laying down there, as tired as you by the excruciating loud music and crap experience that college parties offered for their dear students. It wasn’t like drinking and dancing were the worst things you could do in this world… The problem was that people didn’t seem to care about everyone around them while they did this.

  You would be getting some bruises tomorrow morning.

  Why couldn’t one just dance like a normal fucking human being? Why they must spread arms and legs and hit everything around them? Why can’t people just go away and kiss normally? Why they must try to swallow each other’s face right there in the middle of the way, obliging you to walk next to dancing people that liked to hit things around them? Why didn’t you just elbow everyone around just to get your way out there to the front yard?

  Too many questions to your tormented mind.

  It would be easier to have stayed home, doing the damn essay.

  When you arrived home earlier, weighing your options and considering deeply how it would be better for you to just stay there, you should just have listened to yourself. You could be sleeping right now. All of this was extremely pointless as Paris was somewhere dancing like a tube man and Hyunjin was somewhere else probably fucking like a rabbit.

  Which wasn’t any of your business, of course.

  You sighed.

   It wasn’t easy to let go of your grudge against him.

   If you were honest with yourself, it was way easier just to feel disgusted at Hyunjin forever, let your disgust for yourself sink into him as if he was you, and never deal with it. Although it was easier, it wasn’t right. That was exactly the reason why you were trying to take it easy on him, trying to let go of all your previous feelings for him. So what if he didn’t need to work as hard as you to get the same results? Chan didn’t need it either and you loved him. So what if he wasn’t considering people’s feelings when he just left them behind?

   You didn’t consider it either.  

  From Tuesday, when you had your talk to Paris, you had been thinking about it.

  You thought about it all Wednesday, brooded it on Thursday, and here you were pondering about it on a Friday night. Paris was right when she said you were being childish. She was even more accurate when she made you realized you were projecting things on him so you could deal with it, denying what you really felt. You felt like you were a monster. And you couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t know it.

   You had to face it.

   And you didn’t want to.

   That was exactly one of the reasons why you were there, in the front yard, sitting by yourself without a single drop of alcohol on your body… Afraid you would rely on it to run away from your problems like the coward you were. You swept your hand through your hair, trying to get the heavy thoughts away, looking slightly to the side, catching a glimpse of long legs making their way to you.

  “Hey” You lifted your chin, eyes meeting Hyunjin’s mocking smirk and amused eyes “Having fun tonight?” You scoffed, nodding half-heartedly, watching as he sat down beside you, bent knees serving as an armrest for him.

   “Didn’t find someone to fuck yet?” You retorted, making him laugh.

   “Do you think I’m some kind of needy bitch or something like that? I don’t need to fuck 24/7” You laughed, nodding in wonder. So he could just enjoy a party? Well, that was incredible considering you couldn’t find a thing to enjoy in this damn place “And you? Didn’t find anyone to roast yet?” You scoffed, turning your head away, tongue pressing the inside of your cheek in annoyance.

  “I’m roasting all of them right here” You pointed out to your head, tapping your finger on your temple, looking at him as if it was obvious “Also, do you think I’m some kind of annoying bitch or something like that?” You whined, and he shook his head, seeming to think about it.

  “Not really, now that you have acknowledged my amazingness, I think we’re cool” He joked, making you snort. Hyunjin had this kind of horrible humor that reminded you a bit of Chan, a lot of teasing remarks that made you want to pinch the bridge of your nose and leave them talking by themselves. However, at least not feeling like fighting him every time he opened his mouth, even though he kept being kinda jerky to you, was a victory you would take for today.

 You ignored him, intending to keep your good job at being a responsible human being.

 “See? Usually, you would be roasting me at this point, I’m impressed” He teased again, seeing you were still cool with it.

  Well, he did make it hard to befriend him.

  “Just shut up” You rolled your eyes “I can’t believe Paris convinced me to come… I should have obliged Chan to come, he would stay with me” You whined, resting your head on the wall, eyes wandering in the starry sky, a sigh leaving your lips.

  “Two old hags complaining in the yard, it would be hilarious” He agreed, looking around, eyes attentive to some girl who walked through, intending to go back to the party. You scoffed as he bit his lip, eyes scanning the girl from head to toe “Hm… I think you’re right, I’m a needy bitch” He stated bluntly, and you laughed at him wholeheartedly.

  “Your words, not mine” You reminded him before he got up, winking at you before he tried to make his way to the girl.

  When you said ‘tried’ you meant you made him stop in his tracks as you jolted fast as lightning, your voice sounding loud and clear as you rushed forward to the second reason you didn’t have a single drop of alcohol on parties like this.

  Drunk Paris.

  “Noooo” She whined, a random guy held her wrist firmly, dragging her as she staggered, trying to free herself “I don’t want you!” her voice slurred and she stumbled as she tried to pull her arm back, wailing when his hand didn’t move an inch. You didn’t lose your time and grasped his shoulder, hold firm enough for him considering looking back at you.

  “Let her go” You demanded, voice cold as steel, eyes burying into his “Now” You emphasized but he scoffed at you, his free hand grabbing yours and tossing it away, a scorn grimace painted his features, which didn’t help you to placate your anger.

  “Or what?” He challenged you, pushing you lightly but you didn’t budge an inch; feet firmly stuck on the ground and eyes burying bullets through his brain “She was throwing herself at me!” He uttered “Don’t get in the fucking way if you can’t get laid” You prepared yourself to fight him, fist raising as you intended to hit him right on the face, interrupted by someone gently grabbing your wrist.

  “Let her go, dude” Hyunjin sounded calm, but you could feel his grip tightening, clearly upset by the situation. Oh? So he gave up on the chance of fucking some cute girl to defend Paris? You were impressed.

   “Are you her boyfriend or something?” The guy furrowed his brows, and that was it. Why the hell he couldn’t respect your demand but he asked if Paris was his damn girlfriend? You raised your leg, a straight kick to his crotch making him let go of Paris, hands shooting to his little friend.

   “Holy-! Oh, damn!” Hyunjin squeaked, startled at your sudden outburst. You ripped your hand from his grip, guiding Paris to his arms as you approached the guy, pushing him to the ground and grabbing him by the collar.

  “No, she’s my girlfriend, dickhead!” You spat, pulling him closer to your face “Take a girl’s word when they give it to you, jackass! Why does it fucking matter if she has a boyfriend?!” You shook him, letting him go as you saw his scared eyes, rolling your own.

  The guy was a joke.

  “Come on, Hyunjin!” You shot a look at him and he quickly took Paris in his arms, like a princess, following you eagerly as you stomped out of the place, making your way to the car “Did you drink something?” You asked angrily and he shook his head promptly, denying any alcohol in his system.

  You both walked in silence, your mind stressed about the jerk who tried to take Paris away like this. That was what you hated about parties! All of them were like this! You would have to take care of a drunken Paris in the end, trying to get her out of the grip of all kinds of jerks. Hyunjin, on the other hand, seemed to worry about your capability to kick someone’s dick, which made you want to laugh for a split of a second but you didn’t.

   “Hm… Does this always happen?” He asked when you finally reached the car, searching for the keys in your pocket ─ even if the car was his ─ because you didn’t trust him enough to be with it and bail on you to go away with some random girl.

     Where the hell was that damn key?

  “Is it with you?” You asked, ignoring him, hands groping your pockets, fingers trying to find any lump that could suggest the presence of his keys “And what do you mean? Paris being taken away by some random jerk? Yes, every single time” You huffed “I swear to god… Where is that damn key?! Argh!” Hyunjin eyed you cautiously.

  “Maybe you forgot it back there?” He suggested, clearing his throat when you glared at him, pissed off.

  “Great! Now I have to go back there to get the damn keys” You whined, head dropping back, eyes looking at the sky, hoping for some mercy “Lovely!” You spat sarcastically to whoever wanted to listen to you up there. Paris perked at this, eyes looking for you, glossy, giggling like she was having the time of her life, totally lost in her own world.

  She looked at Hyunjin.

  Not like eyes wandering around, like really looked at him.

  Hyunjin straightened himself, uncomfortable under her gaze, and she nudged into his chest, humming as she rested her head in the crook of his neck, letting a satisfied sigh leave her lips. Okay, you never saw Paris nudging on someone. One of the things you were very aware of Paris was that even though she looked bubbly and sociable she never touched anyone that wasn’t you and Han, and even so, she didn’t hug you or things like this… She grabbed your hand, she let Han’s arms around her shoulders, and that was it.

  She would never nudge someone even if she was drunk.

  “I love you…” She whispered, and both you and Hyunjin widened your eyes, shocked.

   You knew it!

   Of course, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Paris wanted you to bond with Hyunjin! She liked him and… No! She loved him! Holy Shit! What the fucking hell was happening?! You looked at Hyunjin, looking for any signs of reciprocity on him but he looked horrified by the idea of someone loving him. Maybe he was horrified Paris loved him. He looked back at you, pale as a ghost, mouth agape trying to say something on his behalf.

  “… Han” Paris grinned, happy with her confession, and tightened her grip around Hyunjin’s neck.

   Wait- What?!

   When the hell did it happen?! This time your mouth fell agape, eyes still connected to Hyunjin’s, which seemed relieved like she just took the entire world from his shoulders. He chuckled, sighing, his eyes softening as he tried to not laugh straight into your face.

  “We didn’t hear a thing” You stated, noticing Paris seemed to fall asleep in his arms, eyes darting to her and then to him “She’ll freak out if she knows we know it” You put your hand on your head, taken aback for the turn of the events. Paris liked Han?! Since when? Why didn’t she tell you? Actually! Why didn’t she tell him?! He was totally into her! What the bloody hell?

  “She won’t remember anything in the morning, she’s wasted” He reassured, still relieved he wasn’t the target of such huge affection. You rested your hand in your chest, trying to reorganize your thoughts, feeling a strange object right there between your breasts.

  The keys!

  You buried your hand inside your shirt, startling Hyunjin, who took a step back, shocked at your sudden behavior, and this time you chuckled, fishing the keys that rested inside your bra. You tinkled them in the air, a proud smirk on your face, and he furrowed his brows, confused by the sudden catch.

  “Why?” He asked amused before you finally opened the door, opening the back door for him so he could lay Paris on the back seat, closing the door and sitting on the passenger’s seat right after as he made his way to the driver’s seat.

   “So I wouldn’t lose it” You answered as soon as he came into the car. He put the keys on the ignition, starting the car “The guy made me mad for a moment, I totally forgot it” You admitted and he laughed.

 Then it was silent.

  You didn’t realize before how much Paris talked on your way to the party, making sure the mood was light as you headed there, joking around and mediating the conversation, preventing you both to get quiet or fight over useless things. The silence hung there heavily, both of you sat straight up, eyes fixed ahead, body stiff as the car moved smoothly, not a sound to complain or be enough to use as a subject.

  Maybe you should comment about how silent was the car? Like a… Good car? You didn’t know much about cars to be fair. You glanced at him discreetly, his eyes focused on the road, lips tight, hands gripping the steering wheel firmly. You opened your mouth, ready to say anything to break the ice but Paris beat you to it.

  Out of nowhere, she snored, startling both of you.

  You chuckled, finding fun on how she made sure to help you bond even in her sleep, and it seemed to make Hyunjin more relaxed, his hold on the steering wheel loosened up, mouth opening for few seconds before he shut it, unsure if he should try to say something. He glanced at you, noticing you stared at him silently, waiting for him to voice his thoughts, so he cleared his throat, averting his eyes.

   “So… Han, hm? Who knew she liked him” He said nonchalantly, eyes focused on the road again “How do you feel about it?” He sounded curious like he was thinking about something, more like he was trying to gather information than talk to you friendly.

  Maybe you were just defensive.

  “Nop” You popped, crossing your arms, tapping your foot quickly “We’re not talking about this, she doesn’t want us to know or she would have told me this while she was sober” You stated, decided on dropping this subject.

  “Avoiding the talk, hm?” He said knowingly “I didn’t think you liked him too” You frowned, narrowing your eyes at him. You didn’t like Han, not like Paris, he was strictly a good friend. You opened your mouth but changed your mind, not wanting to give him what he wanted “Oh? No denying? I guess I read you wrong…” He contemplated and you rolled your eyes.

  “I don’t like him” You said simply, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to shut him up. Surprisingly, he did shut up, and you felt glad everything was going the way you wanted. Maybe it was better if you didn’t talk… Too soon for being too friendly? Probably. You would take it as a win if you could just not fight him for now.

  Good enough for you.

  He didn’t seem to agree though.

  “You’re right” He agreed, smirking “How can I assume you like someone? Sometimes I doubt you even like your own mother” He joked but you couldn’t find it amusing. You sent him a glare. It was cold enough to express your disliking and you decided to give him a few seconds, a silent chance for him to apologize to you but he didn’t. He shrugged. He shrugged it like he didn’t see your disapproval, even though you knew too well he saw it in your eyes.

   He focused on the road again, simply choosing to stay quiet as if he didn’t just offend you, as if he wasn’t trying to offend you in all your interactions until now. You scoffed, amazed by how he could be a jerk even though you were treating him well, going out of your way, and being friendly enough to not snap at him. You looked away, focusing on the blurring figures outside, the sudden silence sounded like a kettle’s rattle inside your mind, triggering you as your thoughts seemed to gurgle in your brain.

   “Okay, that’s it” You snapped, looking at him “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your tone was challenging, and you felt how your face twisted, the anger boiling on you “I’ve been trying to be friendly to you and all you can do is being an ass! Care to share your thoughts?” You grimaced, clasping your hands together, waiting for his answer.

   "Well, shall I remind you that you were the one who started it all?" He grimaced, glancing in your way for a split of a second but his eyes returned to the road. Well, was that his defense? You should know he would be childish about it and get stuck to this for the rest of his life.

   "Yeah, and I am the one who's trying to stop this!” You argued, fixing yourself on your seat, the urge to gesture and shout at him increasing but you tried to think about Paris on the back seat, sleeping peacefully, “And you are being a jerk even though I'm being more than friendly to you but you keep being an ass!” You hissed, trying your best not to raise your voice.

  "Oh?!” He sneered “You call this being more than friendly? Well, such a nice friend you are! I must have missed so much by not hanging out with you before" He pouted, eyes in mock sadness and tone in feigned disappointment. You scoffed, nodding to calm yourself, trying to let part of your anger fade by moving your head.

   It didn’t help.

   "See? That's exactly what I'm talking about! How the hell Chan can put up with you?!" You complained, gesturing angrily, and for the first time in the conversation, he seemed to be taken aback, his silence giving him away. Did you hit a nerve? You suppressed a victorious grin, watching as he opened and closed his mouth, thinking about what to say.

    "Well, I know him far longer than you so I’m the one who should be asking this!" What a great retort. You snorted, giving him a pointed look, a smirk adorning your lips, the smugness gushed from you as you grimaced at him.

   "No, you don't” You grinned obnoxiously “I'm his friend since high school,  and you're just a freak roommate that somehow he got to like even though you're a fucking jerk!" You tightened your lips, eyes scrunching as you sent him all despise you had inside you. He scoffed, averting his eyes off the road and looking at you dumbfounded by your boldness.

  "Get your head out of your ass!” He rolled his eyes, averting them again. At least he was a responsible driver… Something good had to come out of him “I know him since we were kids!" He bragged, smirking as if he had won something with this statement.

  "Hm, such a great friend you should have been if he didn't talk about you once" You scorned, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms again, keeping your eyes on the road, fed up with him. He went silent once again, brows furrowed, a serious look on his face before he finally spoke up again.

  "He didn't talk about you either" He retorted quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to say this… Like he was lying right into your face and felt ashamed by this. You scoffed, sensing you were about to win your argument, the side smile you gave him threw him off.

   "Maybe he just didn't talk to you that much… I’m sure he talked a lot about me, I’m his best friend” You gave the final blow, getting off on the feeling of superiority that sank into you, his snap was the signal you needed to know you messed with him just like he liked to do with you.

  "I don't give a fuck" He spat.

   He totally gave a fuck about it.

  "Yeah? It doesn't sound like you don't give a fuck" You teased, the side smile was now impossible to hide, almost turning into a grin. You leaned back on your seat, relaxed, the anger that overflowed of him made your night.

  "I don't care what you think, I don't give a fuck about you" He barked. You stared at his hands, knuckles turning white with how strongly he held the steering wheel, his stern look told you that was enough but something within you needed to show him he didn’t win this.

  "Really?” You taunted “Because it looks like I hit a nerve… Is little Hyunjin scared he's not as much of a friend as he thought he was?" You mocked, and that was it. He braked abruptly, making your body jolt forwards, the seat belt holding you back. He hit the wheel, eyes turning to you with nothing but rage. You heard Paris whine on the back seat but she didn’t speak up, probably going back to sleep.

  "Fuck it” He shrugged, laughing humorlessly “Get the fuck out of my car" He ordered, voice unwavering and cold, not a single doubt in his eyes. You let your mouth fall agape, astonished by his sudden snap. Well… Not that it was that hard to imagine, you kind of set him off here.

   "You gotta be kidding me” You blurted, looking around, the darkness outside was enough to make you feel lost, not recognizing where you were, your eyes shot back to him “Are you going to drop me in the middle of nowhere?!" You asked shocked. Even though he was mad, you didn’t really expect him to leave you to die here.

   He looked at you intensely, almost searching for your soul.

   You kept quiet, looking back at him.

   "Fuck” He sighed, averting his eyes, hands wandering to the keys, starting the car again “No" He answered tiredly.

  It was needless to say that both of you stayed quiet for the rest of the trip.

[rosy-cheekx]

“You’re such a dork.” for the emotional writing prompts! I don't know anything about critical role, really, so for TMA :)

I spy, with my little eye, Bryce’s attempts to shove her own interests into her fics. Anyways, I am an American in college so I was basing this on my own experiences oops. Enjoy!

Date night was Wednesday evenings. Jon and Martin both found it preferable for a variety of reasons; it was the most likely nights for happy hours at the pubs in town, guaranteeing a cheap drink, and keeping to a weekday night minimized the chance of Jon seeing one of his students out. He hated seeing his students. Not that he hated them of course, he really rather liked them…not that they would ever know that. Being a professor, of parapsychology of all things, was rather rewarding. He knew the content inside and out (it felt good, using the mark of The Eye to actively work against it, to pass along information instead of consuming). And they didn’t seem to mind him either.

That was the thing about university students. They really didn’t care about who he was or where he came from. The fact that he was a scrawny, scarred Englishman in a lecture hall in Scotland didn’t matter to them. In the classroom, all they cared was whether he taught the material well (he did) and was kind to those with late assignments (he was. He had been a university student once too; he remembered the anxiety and depression that took him and his mates in waves). He was a good professor; Jon knew that objectively in the marks his students received. But in the subjective? His student had decided they liked him.

This had dawned on him at the end of his first semester; when he was inundated with emails of sincere thank-you for a great semester, for being such a helpful teacher, for taking the time to help review, et cetera. Martin had grinned at him, poking a tongue out his mouth and making some remark about teacher’s pets coming full circle (Jon was never a teacher’s pet though. He had always asked too many questions. He welcomed those questions with open arms now, to be the teacher he hadn’t had.)

The next semester it had been more obvious that students liked him now that he knew where to look. It was in the open “good-mornings” and questions about his weekend plans, and in the fact that he had the best attendance records of his department. It was in the way they asked genuine questions about his material and the waitlists miles long to get into his sections. Later on, it was in the gentle ribbings about his looking tired and the grey hairs even as they celebrated his fortieth birthday with him, bringing in cupcakes and sneaking in between lectures to decorate his office and the sincere questions over his scars, his life, his relationship with Martin (his introductory lecture always featured Martin and Her Regency, their thick orange tabby). To make eight wonderful semesters short, he was familiar with his students, and they weren’t afraid to be familiar back. Which was wonderful in the classroom and all, but not when he was trying have a relaxing evening with his husband.

Which brings them back to Wednesdays. Wednesdays were the days least likely to have students out in town, he had learned from Dr. Kerrigan, the positive psych professor, because Thirsty Thursdays started off the weekend’s partying and drinking for the undergraduates. Wednesday was the day students, in theory, buckled down to finish homework and give themselves a free weekend.

So here they were, Martin in a collared shirt, printed with tiny flowers, and jeans, hair bleached white from the Lonely and curling softly at his temples; Jon in a slouchy ribbed turtleneck and high-waisted pants, his own thick curls half-piled atop his head. Jon was listening intently as Martin spoke animatedly, talking about his own day as a guidance counselor at the local primary school.

“…and I swear Jon, if it wasn’t bad enough that Kimmy has decided never to speak to Lawrence again, now Lawrence has confided in me that he is positively in love with her.”

“Did he say that verbatim? In love, I mean.”

“I mean, no, but he said he was willing to give her all his Squishmallows for a playdate. Squishmallows. That’s real eight-year-old commitment, right there.”

Jon barked out a laugh and put on a puppy-eyed expression, grinning all the while. “Martin Blackwood, do you hereby take Jonathan Sim’s stuffed animals, to have and to ho-”

A gentle swat to the knee with Martin’s shoe cut Jon off. “Oi! Respect my children. They may be fools but its not their faults their brains aren’t developed yet. And yes, I know, ‘they’re not developed ‘til twenty-five and you can argue that your students’ brains aren’t developed either.’ But it’s different. They’re babies.”

“And I’m the All-Knowing One,” Jon mused thoughtfully around a forkful of food, earning him another love-filled kick.

“Speaking of,” Martin pointed to Jon with his glass, eyeing him deliberately. “Midterms next week, yeah? How do you think it’ll go?”

Jon shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “Alright, I hope. First exam went well but could’ve been better. I’m worried about Avonni, honestly, he’s nodded off a few times in class and I’m not confident he has someone to get the material from.”

“He has you.” A pointed, snow-white eyebrow.

“Right, but sometimes students don’t want to ask for notes because they think I’ll say no. Maybe I should email him. Speaking of email! Did I tell you what Suzanne sent out?”

“Oh no, what?”

They carried on like this through their meal and into dessert, and not for the first time Jon was struck by the sheer normalcy of it all. His greatest concerns were Suzanne’s passive-aggressive emails and his students, not the inevitable destruction of reality as they knew it to be. They were scarred, inside and out, everyone who had escaped The Magnus Institute was, but they were safe and free and happy. In defiance of everything that had happened to and because of them.

“Dr. Sims!”

Uh oh. Spoke too soon.

Bite of lava cake halfway to his mouth, Jon squeezed his eyes shut, rolling his eyes back in his head and willing there to be another professor with the surname Sims in the restaurant. When he opened his eyes, Martin was valiantly trying to suppress a smile as he eyed something, someone, over his head. Jon twisted awkwardly in his seat to see—

“Parker. What a surprise.” His voice was warm but carefully measured, and the dark-skinned boy waved, shit-eating grin on his face. “I have told you that you can call me Jon.”

“Yeah, I know, but you earned that doctorate! And “Doctor Jon” sounds awful, like you should have your own show or something.”

He hadn’t earned that doctorate, actually, but Martin’s expertise in lying and the disastrous apocalypse that had left everyone disoriented meant it had been easy to exaggerate some of Jon’s CV and manufacture a fake diploma.

“I do have my own show. Monday and Wednesday mornings, where I teach a bunch of caffeinated undergrads parapsychology,” Jon replied easily. “You’re welcome to tune in.” He liked Parker; he was a bit of a class clown, liked to ask off-topic questions or pretend to sneak a look at Jon’s answer sheets, but he was sharp and knew his stuff. Jon respected that. He reminded Jon of someone he dearly missed.

But Parker had already turned his attention to Martin, who was watching the interaction with mirth in his eyes. “Hello sir! I’m Parker McMichael, Jon’s favorite student.” Martin shook the extended hand and nodded in mock seriousness.

“Of course. Pleasure to finally meet you. Are you the one with the essay on ESP or the one on psychokinesis?”

“Neither,” Parker shook his head proudly, short dreads swaying gently with the movement. “The Validity and Continuity of Near-Death Experiences,” he made a mock marquee with his hands, arching curved fingers to indicate the title hanging in the air. “Researching any consistencies in near-death experiences stories, whether they’re legitimate, and what they mean if they are. But-” Parker shook his head and turned his attention back to Jon. “That’s not why I’m interrupting.” He took his phone out of pocket idly as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ve come to settle a dispute among the 11 a.m. section.”

Oh no.

The Ceaseless Watcher whispered to him, unbidden, the dispute in question. Jon generally knew how to suppress the powers, and they were weaker than they had been, once upon a time, but when he’s caught off guard with the desire to know, to Know, it could still overtake him.

“This you?” A blurry screenshot of a Youtube video is shoved under his nose, a part of a text chain titled Sim’s Spoopy Spirits, captioned by many text bubbles expressing disbelief and objections and a variety of emojis. Jon took the phone and examined it, the truth already sure in his chest. Yes, that was him, dressed in his Jonny d’Ville costume, eyeliner streaked and eyes closed, mid-ballad. God, he wished he could be rid of those Youtube videos.

Jon’s gaping silence must have been enough of an answer for Parker because he whooped a little too loudly for the restaurant they were in and pumped his fist to his chest before typing very quickly on his phone. “I knew it! Take that Sabina,” he was mumbling to himself, lost in his texts for a moment.

Martin took the opportunity to clear his throat. “Sorry, uh, no one’s asked so I will. How did you know to look for him-us-here?” Jon frowned, He hadn’t thought about that.

“Oh, a couple of my mates work here and mentioned seeing Dr. Sims and his husband here a lot on Wednesdays and I dunno about you so much, but Dr. Sims is pretty habitual. Figured it was as good a guess as any. Some things can’t wait til Monday.”

“..an email. Parker. You could’ve sent me an email.” Fingers ran over scarred face, as if he could wipe the irritation (and Martin’s poorly-hidden laugh) from existence.

“But then I couldn’t do this.” His phone was back up again, level with his own face and he twisted so both his own and Jon’s faces were in the shot. “I’m here at 7:02 pm on Wednesday the 26, here to make a very important announcement,” Parker spoke to the camera with confidence. “Dr. Sims just confirmed to me that he is the one, the only, Jonny d’Ville.” Parker held the camera to Jon’s voice. “Anything to say to your adoring fans?”

Jon sighed and tugged on an errant curl. “Don’t forget, reading due Monday.” He wasn’t genuinely upset with Parker, just filled with fond embarrassment.

Parker sent the video off and clapped the back of Jon’s chair. “Well, Dr. D’Ville, its been a pleasure. Everyone’s really excited to get a confirmation on your status of coolest teacher. Any plans for the evening?”

Jon sighed through his lower lip, stray curls framing his scalp flying upward in the sudden burst of wind. “Watching a documentary and trying to forget—wait. What?”

“Oh yeah no, everyone thinks it’s badass. You’ve got a super nice voice and the stories you told were really interesting, if a little buckwild.”

Jon felt his cheeks flush and Martin grinned slyly at him from across the table. “Y-Yes. I guess we were rather good.”

Parker gave his farewells and Jon’s shoulders sagged (he had immediately righted his posture on seeing Parker, his grandmother’s voice in his ear reminding him of his manners), turning his full attention back to his husband. Martin had maintained that grin and was eyeing him intensely, like he expected Jon to say something.

“What, Martin?”

“God, you’re such a dork.” The words were soft, expression fond, and Jon could feel the radiation of unadulterated love Martin gave off in his smile, the one only ever used for Jon. “You really love your students, don’t you? You know how much they love you, right?”

Jon grumbled, but he couldn’t quite sweep the smile off his face either as their waiter made his way over with their check.

“No comment. But we are switching to Tuesday date nights.”

[danifics18]

↪  Tutor Sessions  (M)  ↩

Tags : Mature//Dirty Talk//switch! Reader//switch! Hongjoong//Slight throat grabbing//Slight Hair Pulling//Dorm Fucking//PWP//

Word Count : 3042

    General Masterlist    Ateez Masterlist

 A/N : This is my first requested, so I do hope it’s meeting expectations. I only speak one language, so I hope i’m not playing too much into bi-lingual stereotypes. Things said in English will only be bold, and things in Korean will be bold and in italics. Ngl this has a bit of a porn type of cheesiness to it. I don’t know why, but I got major switch! vibes when I was planning this out, so if anything seems a bit odd, please keep in mind that I am a bratty sub trying to write something that is way out of my league 💕

  “Mom, I know, I know. I’m really having a nice time here, and I feel like I enjoy it a lot more than I would’ve if I’d stayed back closer to home,” You say into your phone before briefly pausing to take a sip of your quickly cooling coffee “Mom, I’d really like to keep talking, but I do need to make it to my class. I’ll call you before I eat dinner, yeah?”. After a few more I love you’s, and a promise to go home for Christmas, you finally say your final good-byes before hanging up the phone.

   Your family never quite understood your need to move away for college, them preferring if you stayed closer to your small hometown. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around your family, you just took the first chance you could, to explore the world a bit before you felt like you really had to settle down. And while that was easier said than done, you had made the plan to move away for college since your first teenage job at a Korean Market, in the town next to yours. You’d been quite close with the owners, since you and their daughter had grown up together as best friends- you would be staying at each other’s houses multiple times a month since you guys were eight years old. As you’d gotten older, and had stayed around your best friend’s family, you ended up learning quite a bit of the Korean language yourself. It wasn’t until you got into high school that your friend’s grandma moved in from South Korea, and had decided that she would help out at the store by counting inventory in the back ( although that really meant getting invested in a Korean show, until someone walked back to check on her ). She didn’t know any English, and you only knew basic Korean, and feeling rude for not being able to effectively communicate with her, you enlisted the help of your best friend to help you learn. It took a lot of work, but you got a hold of the language eventually. And from that point on you were able to really connect with your best friend’s grandmother ( not to say you didn’t have a few language slip ups, because you definitely did ), but soon enough, one of your favorite past times became watching Korean daytime shows, and listening to your friend’s grandmother talk about her past time in her native country and all the places you should visit if you go. In your third year of high school, she unfortunately past on, but your past conversations sparked a need to travel in you, although you didn’t know how to make it happen. It wasn’t until your best friend brought up that she felt the same way, that you two made final plans to attend college in Seoul.

   Years later, and you two were in your second years of college, living in a dorm together ( even though you guys were excited to have a roommate, you were even more glad that you didn’t have to share any space with another person ). It was difficult learning how to live in a new country, but it kept you on your toes in a way that you learned to enjoy.

   Tossing your head back to down the rest of your now cold coffee, you walk to your last class of the day. Your counselor had convinced you that even though you were a foreigner who knew English, you should still take the English Language class for some easy credits- and it really wasn’t a hard class. You obviously knew everything, although, you did forget some words occasionally, due to speaking only Korean most of the time.

   Sitting down at your seat and pulling out your laptop for notes, you look to the side as your seat neighbor sits down, pulling his earbuds out from his ears. As he glances over at you, you smile and give him a small

‘Hello’

, smiling even wider when he does the same. Kim Hongjoong was a boy you didn’t really know personally, mainly because of how quiet he was, but you heard about him from the way people usually talk about him. At any of the good parties, you would hear both the cheers and complains if he would show up. The cheers due to the fact that people felt like they had a chance to get with the handsome and charming Kim Hongjoong, and the complains due to how he and his friends would be the only ones getting most of the female ( and some male ) attention- supposedly taking it away from any other men at the party. You didn’t really understand it, yes, he’s handsome, and you have no doubt in your mind that he could probably be charming, but he never asked for attention at parties. Most of his time would be spent helping his drunk friends not cause too much chaos, or just generally looking like he’s having a good time with his friends- you’ve never seen him talk to anyone else, unless it was to help a random drunk person from stumbling over as they walk by him.

  Shaking out of your thoughts, you focused on your professor and the topic of this week- human anatomy. You knew you really didn’t need to take notes, but you decided to anyway when the professor started showing slides that were titled with the scientific words of body parts- although they mentioned that you wouldn’t lose points on the test if you couldn’t remember the scientific words rather than the non-scientific.

  As class ended and you were packing up your bag you heard a soft “Excuse me,” from the seat next to yours. Turning your head to look at the blue haired boy, you raise your eyebrows with a small “Yes?” “I don’t mean to bother you, but you’re the only person in this class that already knows English, and I really didn’t understand these notes at all. If you have the time, do you think you could help me review?” he asks with a small hesitation before continuing his ramble “If you don’t have the time that’s fine too, I could probably find someone who could help, I thought it would just be easier since we sit next to each other,” He finishes with a slight hue of pink on the tips of his ears.

  Giving a small smile at his shy state, you tell him of course you’d have time to help him. Other classmates have asked you for help before as well, so it really wasn’t anything new to you. After exchanging numbers, you both decided to meet up the next day at your dorm, since your friend had work and school until later on that night- and his apartment would be way too noisy since he shares it with three other boys.

  The next day, you’d woken up at a decent time, and immediately cleaned around the house and got ready for your guest to come over for the day. By noon, you had a knock on your door, and you walked over to let in Hongjoong with his laptop, bag and two cups.

  “I hope you like fruit smoothies, because I feel bad that you’re helping me without any payment I would've got you a coffee, but I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured that most people like fruit,” he said while handing you the smoothie and kicking off his shoes. “Thank you! I really like fruit smoothies, I haven’t had one in a while, especially since I usually drink coffee to keep me up,” you retort,” Here, we could study in the living room if you want, but since we don’t have any extra plugs here, we’ll have to move to my room if we need to charge anything.”

  The first hour of studying went well, you both had taken pretty good notes, and your previous knowledge helped out quite a bit as well- so you two decided to order some food, and by the time it would make it to your apartment, you’d both be ready for a break from studying. The extra thirty minutes of the food arriving made you both restless, both shuffling and readjusting yourselves on the couch- occasionally brushing arms and thighs together- both getting up to get the food at the door. Chuckling at how eager you both were for not only the food, but for a break as well, you told him to wait at the table while you got the food.

  Settling everything out, you guys began eating and talking. You learned that Hongjoong is a music major, and he works at a local radio station, which explains why he comes into class with dark circles under his eyes at times.

  “You know, I’m actually really glad that you asked me for help. I haven’t had the chance to talk to you yet, and you always seem really friendly,” You tell him while taking a bite of your food. He looks up from his plate, with evident surprise in his eyes “Really? Well I’m really glad I talked to you then. You’ve always seemed a little bit intimidating because of how unbothered you act, but I like that...,” He trails off, eyes following the your fork leaving your lips, a stain of red sauce next to your lip,” Oh, you have a bit of..,” He gestures to the side of your lip, eventually just licking his thumb and gently wiping the sauce off your face and resting it on your bottom lip for you to lick off.

  With wide eyes, you wrap your lips around his thumb, licking it clean, with a heat rushing through your cheeks and core. Hongjoong cuts the groan erupting from his throat off with a cough and pulls his thumb out- letting the groan out when he sees the string of saliva from his digit to your mouth. As you both gravitate towards each other slightly, you rest your hand on his upper thigh and ask “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”, “I mean we do need to study, but I think I figured out a way we can study, and I can repay you for your kindness,” he replies with a devious glint in his eye.

  And with that, you put your hand on his jaw and guide him to your face to meet in a searing kiss that leaves your head reeling. Pulling back to leave a few pecks on his bottom lip, you catch his lips into a proper kiss, catching his lip with your teeth. The whine he lets out goes straight down, causing you to clench on air.

  After a few moments, he finally pulls back from you, chest heaving, and strokes your head. Humming in thought, you get up and pull his hand to follow after you to your room. You lead him to sit on your bed, while you stand in the middle of your room, with a hip cocked out to the side, as you eye each other with a hunger in your eyes. Running his tongue over his lips, he decides to speak, “Are you going to do something, or are we just going to stare at each other all day?”, “Depends. Are you going to be good for me?”, Seeing him vigorously nod his head, you continue “Good. This is how it’s going to work. I’ll ask you questions about the names of body parts, if you get them right, I’ll undress. Get them wrong, and I stay dressed. If you’re really good, I might even let you touch. Got it?” , “Yes ma’am,” He replies, now sitting forward on the edge of the bed, leaning his hands on his knees.

  Moments and a few items of clothing later, you were down to your lacy bralette and underwear, nipple piercings glinting through the see-through fabric, in the dim lighting of your room. Hongjoong was leaning back against the head board of the bed- clad in boxers only, after him whining about it being unfair that you were undressed but not him- with a hand poorly covering his covered hard on; while you sat on the foot of your bed, resting on your knees, legs spread enough that your arousal could be seen starting to run down your thighs.

  “Okay baby, here’s the last pieces. Since you’ve been so good for me, I’ll let you touch me once they’re off,” Once the words come out your mouth, Hongjoong jumps up, resting in front of you on his knees as well. Reaching your hands down, you cup your breasts, slightly teasing your nipples through the fabric. “M-mammary glands?” He hesitantly questions, before speaking with more confidence, “Most people call them breasts, or tits,” he finishes, face lighting up at you slowly taking the bralette off.

  Quickly pushing your hands away, he reaches around your back to pull your chest closer to his. Thumbing your nipples, he gently pulls on the metal barbell, relishing in the moan that leaves your lips. Clearing his throat, he begins “These are nipples. Fuck, I didn’t expect you to have piercings, you’re so fucking hot,” he finishes before leaning down to wrap his lips around your nipple, other hand gently pulling on the other. Letting out a whine as his teeth graze your nipple, you run your hand through his hair, feeling your resolve slip the more attention he gives you.

  Opening his eyes to peer up at you, he detaches from you before pushing you onto your back, and straddles your thigh, his leg against your hot core. Grabbing his face, you bring him into a kiss, sucking on his tongue while your hips move to grind on his leg. Swallowing your moans, he pulls back, hand resting on your neck to keep you from following him, “Sweet girl, you aren’t done helping me, are you?,” Watching as you dumbly shake your head with blown out eyes, he chuckles “I’ve barely touched you and your this fucked out? Poor thing. Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you come on my cock,” You let out a groan, not expecting him to sound this good while saying dirty things to you.

  Rutting against his legs, you beg for him to touch you, and you quiet down once he places his hand over your core. “Right here? You want me to touch your little pussy?” He mockingly asks, smiling at the gasp that leaves your lips. He tears the flimsy material off your body, and spreads your thighs, sitting back to get a better view of you. “What do you want me to do, little one?”, “Please just fuck me, I need your cock,” You plead, hips raising up to search for friction.

  He looks at you for a brief second, as if he were debating saying something, but chooses not to as he takes his remaining clothing off, his member slapping up against his lower stomach. Saliva fills your mouth as you realize how much you want to taste his leaking shaft, but you push that thought to the side as you whine for him to hurry.

  “You don’t want me to prep you baby? You seem so small, and I don’t want to hurt you,” He starts before you cut him off “Please just fuck me, I know I’m wet enough for you. Just really need your cock to split me open,”. With your final plead, he grabs his length, pushing into you with a groan. You moan out from feeling the delicious burn of his cock stretching you open. As he bottoms out, you feel his cock twitch in you, clenching around him, and you reach forward to pull him down to kiss you.

  Feeling you relax, he starts to pull out slowly, just to thrust back in with enough power to make you breathless. Leaning back up onto his heels, he increases his pace, one hand snaking down to rub your clit, the other being pulled by you to wrap around your throat. With the change of his angle, his cock hitting your sweet spot, you let out a loud whine, which makes him in turn thrusts faster into you while grasping the sides of your neck enough for you to see stars.

  “Fuck baby I’m so close, be a good girl and come for me. Let go for me,” He huffs out, sweat on his brow, somehow making him look even hotter than what he already was. The knot in your stomach felt different that it had any other time you’ve came, and although you were sensitive, you were curious to see how this would make you feel. Grinding your hips up, you didn’t know if you were trying to chase this high or get away from Hongjoong’s stimulation.

  “Stop running from me baby, c’mon, take what I have to give you,” the blue haired man says, his hips going at an even faster pace, his thumb following suit. Just as you feel him twitch inside of you before releasing, he slaps your clit- you cry out at the feeling, the knot in your stomach erupting, and your vision going white. Breathing unevenly, you come back to, seeing Hongjoong’s form looking down at your shaking body, giving you a tired, blinding smile. “You with me sweetheart? You did so well,” He says as he helps you sit up to sip the water bottle that was on your nightstand.

  After calming down, you finally look down, noticing that not only was Hongjoong’s lower half soaked, but so was your bed sheets. “Holy shit Hongjoong, you made me squirt,” you exclaim out in shock, “It was really hot, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He retorts before laying down next to you, wrapping his arm around you. “Like I’m the only one?” You huff out a laugh, “What happened to you needing help with English? You’re definitely a lot better than what you claimed you were,”, “Hey I needed some type of excuse to get to talk to you, alright?”, he explains as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Rhythm Section {Poly BakuJiro}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Again, something different that I tried but still the self-indulgent train keeps a-rollin’ choo choo ya’ll

Class A’s contribution to the culture festival in their first year had become the stuff of legend at UA. By the time the next culture festival was approaching, they were all but told that they would be putting on another concert for their second-year program. Another hit song by Jiro and great routine by Mina might’ve been even more successful than the first depending on who was asked.

Third year was the same but not as much of a surprise—A Band would be taking the stage for the final time as UA students. As expected it was spectacular, cheers and compliments raising up from the audience before them while they stood in awe at the reaction.

Well, she stood in awe at something different. She was in awe at the sight of Bakugo and Jiro, both sweaty but energized from the performance and looking amazing. Handsome, pretty, beautiful, attractive… all of the above on both accounts really. That night had been the one that made her realize that she had two crushes.

She was okay with crushing on both a guy and a girl—she’d known about that aspect of herself for a while but hadn’t shared it with anyone quite yet—but did it have to be on the two people in the class who were effortlessly cool in everything they did? It was like they were both trying to kill her at every turn.

Studying with Jiro? She’s twirling one earphone jack around her finger mindlessly and biting her lower lip as she concentrates on the material in front of her. The wide neck of her ripped tshirt slips down her shoulder slightly to reveal smooth skin that she just knows is as soft as it looks.

Training with Bakugo? The muscles in his arms are flexing as they practice traditional hand to hand and the smirk on his face is wild. When they finish and he lifts his tank top to wipe sweat from his face she can see every ridge of abs and has to move away before he lifts it higher and makes her stop breathing.

It was difficult having crushes on the two hottest people in the class and having zero chance with either. No one knew she liked girls (did Jiro even like girls?) and stepping in the way of becoming Number One seemed like a death sentence.

“This is hard,” she groaned, dropping her face into her arms at one of the common room tables.

Jiro laughed. “Music theory can be, even if you’re a musician. I only know it because of my parents.”

“Do you think the greats struggled with it too?” she asked as she raised her head to look at her. “Like was Jimmy Page as done with this as I am right now?”

“Ohh someone knows her classic rock icons,” she teased.

“He was just the first name that came to mind! I should’ve said Bonham instead.”

“What, you’re not into guitarists?”

“I mean I don’t think I’m not into them?” she replied. “I just prefer the rhythm section, that’s all.”

Jiro raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Well yeah, they’re generally hotter. Bonham is case in point.”

“Any other data points to back that up?” she asked curiously.

“There’s a lot but think Fall Out Boy, All Time Low, Zeppelin like I mentioned…” she trailed off as she locked eyes with the girl across from her.

Was this—was this an opening? Could she even…?

“And, you know,” she finally continued, “A Band.”

A smirk took over her lips and she tapped her pen against her notebook as she looked over her, the smirk growing every passing second.

“I think Kaminari would be a little sad to hear that,” she mused.

She shrugged. “Kaminari’s not exactly who I’m trying to impress.”

Jiro dropped her pen and crossed her arms on the table, leaning forward with interest sparkling in her eyes. She was grinning and looked like someone who couldn’t believe the luck they’d had. And the fact that she’d done that to her? Incredible.

A hand landed on Jiro’s shoulder making her jump, and when she whirled around in her chair she saw an annoyed Bakugo. His scowl deepened when Jiro tried to smile at him and from across the table she could see the muscle in his jaw jump.

“We need to talk,” he ground out through clenched teeth, squeezing her shoulder in warning. Then he let go and stomped towards the hallway to the elevators.

“Uh, sorry,” Jiro said with a blush as she began gathering her things. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting and knowing him it’s gonna be awhile. Sorry to cut this short, but can I text you later?”

“Oh, yeah, totally! I hope everything goes okay with Bakugo.”

She gave a weak smile as she stood, lifting two fingers in a wave before she went towards the elevators.

Watching her go made her frown as she too began grabbing her materials to head to her room. That was quite possibly the bravest she had ever been when talking to a crush and of course it had to be interrupted. It was likely for a good reason if it was Bakugo doing the interrupting but still.

‘At least she’ll text me later,’ she thought.

With a sigh she clutched her textbook and notes to her chest and started toward the elevators. But as she neared the corner she could make out a conversation that made her pause.

“…said I was sorry!” Jiro whispered. “She’s the one who—”

“Oh sure, blame her!” Bakugo snapped in a low voice.

Were they talking about her? Were they—was this a couple’s argument? Was she getting between them by essentially telling Jiro she was trying to impress her?

Her two crushes getting together and her inadvertently driving a wedge between them was the absolute worst-case scenario she could imagine. She was ready to faint.

“She brought it up, okay? I didn’t say ‘hey, who do you think are the hottest members of our class band? It’s totally me and Bakugo, right?’, she just said it and then it got flirty! Doesn’t it at least help to know she thinks we’re attractive?”

"That’s not—I thought we agreed that we would both be cool and not lay it on so damn thick? What happened to seeing who she likes more? You just took a fifty-meter head start and now I don't even know if she likes guys!" Bakugo hissed.

“I like both.”

They had both turned to look at her, surprised at her sudden appearance and declaration. Beneath that there was something else that she couldn’t quite place—hope?

“I… I like guys and girls. I’m bi,” she said for the first time out loud. Then, with a bite to her lip, she added, “And more specifically, I like the both of you.”

“Damn,” Jiro mumbled as Bakugo looked off to the side.

She had no idea what she was doing and was internally panicking. What was she supposed to say now? Should she say anything? Yeah, yeah she should. She had to.

“I do like you both,” she repeated softly, “but I also know you two are close. Don’t… don’t make it a competition. I don’t want to choose because you’re both amazing.”

Bakugo looked up at her, his eyes calculating. “Then don’t.”

Jiro went wide-eyed but covered it as she turned to her. “Maybe we should all talk privately. This isn’t something the class needs to hear.”

She nodded, following behind them as they made their way into the elevator.

As they stepped out on the third floor she could feel something shift between the three of them. With each step down the hall it got warmer, and she wondered if she was the only one who felt it. Bakugo’s clenched jaw and Jiro’s constant glances between them both made her think that no, it wasn’t.

It was only after they were all standing in Jiro’s room that Bakugo began to speak, his voice not as harsh as it usually was.

“You don’t need to choose,” he said again. “I like you and so does she. You like me and you like her. She and I get along just fine.”

“So by not choosing you mean…?

“I mean you can have both of us. Or neither of us. If you don’t want competition it’s an all or nothing type deal.”

She looked between him and Jiro. “You two have talked about this? And you’re both okay with it being all or nothing?”

“Yeah we uh, we’re good. Not like he and I haven’t done everything already, you know?” Jiro chuckled nervously, pulling her sleeves down over her hands.

“Okay,” she replied. “Then I’m all in.”

“Oh thank fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad,” Jiro sighed, starting towards her.

Bakugo grabbed the back of her cardigan and yanked her back to his side, glaring at her when she squirmed to try and make him let go.

“Keep your fuckin’ legs closed for five minutes,” he snapped, dropping his hand from the fabric.

She bit her lip, not sure what was going to happen now that the decision had been made. Plus she was a little disappointed; she wanted to kiss Jiro too.

“Listen, we gotta get some shit straight first alright?” Bakugo said. “This ain’t exactly the norm, so if we gotta start small, we do. First thing’s first, do you want us both at the same time or are we workin’ up to that?”

That had been the shift: sexual tension. And yeah, she definitely wasn’t the only one who felt it judging by the subtle tensing of Jiro’s thighs and the not at all subtle outline in Bakugo’s pants.

“Same time is what I want. I’ve… never done it with two people before and I’ve never been with another girl but I want you. Both of you.”

He nodded. “You been tested? You on anything?”

“Work study tests us all for literally everything imaginable each month so yeah, three weeks ago and I’m good,” she said, her skin hot. “I’m on the pill but I would really prefer you use a condom too.”

“Same,” Jiro offered with a smile. “On both accounts.”

“Tested last week and I’m good too,” Bakugo said. “Hard no’s for this first time?”

“Grabbing is the only thing that happens to my ass and if anyone hits me they’re losing whatever limb made contact.”

“No problem,” he shrugged.

Jiro laughed. “I think that tonight we keep it tame, yeah?”

With a smirk on his face Bakugo stepped out of his slippers and came towards her, laying a hand on her waist before stepping around her and pressing himself against her back. “Tame as a threesome can be.”

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and she shivered, closing her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them, Jiro was in front of her.

Smiling, she brought her hands up to cup her face and kissed her. Lips pressed against the side of her neck too and she realized that stepping around that corner on the first floor was the best decision she could’ve made. If she hadn’t she wouldn’t be enjoying the two sets of hands slowly roaming her body or the two tongues that were sliding past her lips and tracing a reddening mark on her jaw.

Her shirt was gently pushed up and bunched around her stomach as large, warm palms slid across her skin and tried pulling her slightly away from Jiro, but her grip on her hips held her steady enough to not break the kiss. The hands dragged up to cup her ribs just below her bra and Bakugo rolled his hips into her from behind, making her gasp into her kiss with Jiro.

She smiled, eyes half lidded as her fingertips brushed against her cheek. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

“Wanna make you two feel good too,” she murmured, feeling the bites to her neck pause.

“Y’already are, just let us have our fun,” he mumbled before pushing her top up over her head and dropping it to the side. He pulled his own shirt off quickly and let his hands roam the newly bared skin of her back.

Shakily, she reached forward to tug at the hem of Jiro’s cardigan, receiving a smile and an easy shrug to remove it. A moment later the undershirt followed and she pulled her into a kiss again as the hands at her back lightly snapped the band of her bra.

She jumped, breaking the kiss. “Bakugo!”

“Tch, pretty sure we can go for given names now, right Kyoka?”

“Katsuki’s right,” she giggled, kissing her once more.

She felt overwhelmed in the best way. She was on a first name basis with both of her crushes and was between the two of them, holding Kyoka close and kissing her with everything she had while Katsuki ground himself against her and unclipped her bra.

With more gentleness than she expected, he guided the straps down her arms and lightly tugged her arms from around Kyoka so the loosened fabric could fall to the side. Kyoka took that time to step back to undo and shed her own which allowed Katsuki to spin her around to face him for the first time. He smirked, fingers gliding up her sides until he was able to cup her chest in large palms.

She cradled his jaw and brought him forward to press her lips against his, surprised at the lack of roughness she’d expected when he kissed back. Was it testing the waters or savoring the first taste? She was willing to bet both.

Cool hands smoothed over her back and slow, careful kisses trailed down her spine. The drag of lips against the curve of her lower back made her shiver and the nudge of fingertips just below her waistband made her heart race even more. Fabric slid down her legs to leave her completely bare and she felt her face heat up, self-conscious of being the only one, until a moment later she heard the soft sound of clothing hitting the floor behind her and felt bare skin against her back.

Breaking apart from Katsuki to breathe she leaned forward to press open mouthed kisses to his collarbone, the definition like he had been chiseled from stone. Her hands fell to his hips and hooked her fingers into his sweats and underwear, tugging them down to pool at his feet. She traced over the ridges of muscle across his stomach as she continued kissing up his neck, careful not to leave marks where his costume couldn’t cover.

She felt Kyoka rest her chin on her shoulder, then a brush against her arm and a twist of muscle beneath her lips. When she glanced up she saw her kissing Katsuki, one hand on his cheek to keep him turned towards her. One hand dropped from her chest and moved behind her, knuckles at her back and a soft gasp coming from Kyoka making it obvious where it had gone.

Then the hand still on her chest slowly slid down her body before settling between her legs and the hand at her back returned to her hip. Cooler hands would around her to cup her chest, a shudder running through her at the temperature but her fingers traced down the sculped stomach in front of her.

Two fingers pressed into her as she wrapped her hand around Katsuki, a soft gasp escaping her and a low groan coming from him. Kyoka’s light laughter followed and she began pressing kisses across her shoulders, mouth free from Katsuki’s head tipping back as more groans were drawn out from the slow stokes.

She bit her lip as the fingers between her legs curled perfectly and his thumb drew firm circles on her clit.

“Good with his fingers, right?” Kyoka whispered.

She could only nod with a whimper as she felt her thighs tense. Her strokes grew faster and she rocked her hips forward slightly to chase the feeling, her back arching at the two pairs of hands treating her so well.

She whined loudly as the fingers between her legs withdrew and the solid warmth disappeared from in front of her, but she couldn’t dwell on it as she was turned around once again and pressed against Kyoka. Their lips found one another’s easily and she felt those cool hands on her cheeks, her own fingertips tracing the soft skin of the curves of her chest and stomach. Even with inexperienced nerves tingling in the back of her mind she ventured lower to the apex of pale of thighs and reveled in the pleased hum into her mouth. Knowing what she liked for herself she rubbed familiar patterns and curled her fingers just so to keep the noises flowing, swallowing them proudly as they grew louder.

“I like how you sound,” she murmured breathily as they broke apart and dark hair tickled her chest as Kyoka rested her forehead against her shoulder with a gasp.

“And I like the view,” Katsuki chuckled from behind her, the crinkling of foil lost to the low timbre.

Hands came around to cup her chest from behind once again and those lips were back on her neck, the rhythm of her fingers stuttering slightly at the sensations.

“Let… let me show you what I’m good at,” Kyoka panted, kissing her cheek before pulling back. Their eyes stayed locked as she kneeled down, her palms gently widening her stance to make room between her thighs, and it was only at the first brush of her tongue on her clit did she close her eyes.

Her fingers dropped to thread through the dark hair that was just as silky as she’d always imagined, tightening slightly as fingertips trailed closer to where her lips and tongue were working her closer to cumming faster than she could comprehend. The teeth scraping against her neck and jaw gave just the right amount of pain to combine with that pleasure and her legs started to shake from the effort of standing.

Katsuki noticed immediately, the mark he’d been working on abandoned as he ordered, “Bed, Kyoka.”

The hum of agreement between her thighs nearly sent her over the edge right then, but the promise of experiencing even more was too alluring to succumb to it so soon and she let herself be guided to the bed on weak legs by her two partners. It was a bit difficult for the three of them to lie together in the small dorm bed but they managed to arrange themselves well enough to be comfortable and continue.

She was one more kissing Kyoka as they laid on their sides facing one another and Katsuki’s chest was pressed against her back, smooth latex brushing against the back of her thigh. Familiar rough hands parted her thighs, lifting one leg slightly, and she felt him move against her to position himself before rolling his hips forward.

A soft moan escaped her as her hand trailed down the soft skin in front of her, the fullness she felt something she wanted to share at least somewhat with Kyoka. She traced her tongue along her bottom lip as she pressed two fingers into her and began to draw firm circles on her clit, her pattern hesitant and uneven as Katsuki started to move. It took a few moments for them to sink into a rhythm that suited all of them but once they did it felt like everything had fallen into place.

Deep groans vibrated against her shoulders as he mouthed more bites along her back, the sting of his teeth and the soft pinches to her nipples from Kyoka giving her more sensations than she could comprehend. She had to break the kiss to rest her head against her collarbone, panting breaths making her chest heave and muscles clench as their newfound rhythm amongst the three of them sped up.

“That’s it,” Katsuki mumbled, his fingers ghosting over her hip to find a place on her clit.

One hand left her chest and a whisper of, “Katsuki,” over her shoulder let her know exactly what happened next when he shifted higher and so did Kyoka, her chest now directly in front of her. She took advantage, curling her fingers just so and laving her tongue over her left nipple; her free hand came up to knead and pinch her right.

Katsuki dutifully swallowed her moans but the trio each silently hoped that the rest of the class were still in the common room because there was no possible way for them to hold back the gratified sounds. As their rhythm grew steadily faster and the muscles coiled even tighter the louder they were surely becoming.

It was Kyoka who came first, tossing her head back and cupping the back of her neck to keep her to her chest, her hips rocking into her hand as she rode out the pleasure with breathy moans.

“Fuck!” Katsuki grunted, his fingers adding more pressure to her clit to bring her over the edge just before he himself toppled over, the tightness around him almost unbearable with how amazing it felt as he ground his hips into hers as they came.

The three of them collapsed into one another breathing heavily and weakly clinging to each other, willing their heartbeats to slow and their pleasure to linger. Easy kisses were shared between them and fingertips traced sweat-damp skin as they laid together for a few peaceful moments.

Kyoka nudged both her and Katsuki. “We gotta clean up.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, getting to his feet and helping them both up and into Kyoka’s bathroom.

Within ten minutes they were semi-dressed and piled back in the bed with Kyoka spooning her and her head on Katsuki’s chest. Fingers tangled in hair and lips pressed to exposed skin let that bliss continue in a sweet way as they laid with one another.

She giggled, thinking back to hours before in the common room when she wasn’t sure what was going to happen in regard to her crushes yet here she was cuddled between them after what was most definitely the most pleasurable night of her life.

“Oi, the hell you laughin’ at?”

“Yeah, no secrets between boyfriends and girlfriends,” Kyoka teased.

She smiled. “Just thinking about how this morning I had crushes on the two hottest people in the class and now I’m dating them.”

“Weird how that shit works out sometimes but I can’t complain when I got the two hottest girls in the class,” Katsuki smirked.

“I’m with you, babe,” Kyoka said with a kiss to her cheek. “I’m just excited I got the drummer and the groupie.”

Damn, she was lucky.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! So yeah I love rhythm section members irl and no I’ve never written a threesome before, why do you ask?

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications: literature

synopsis: phone dead, laptop gone, guess it’s an old fashioned having to sit down and talk to the boys who apparently are interested in the position of being your boyfriend. first; you just have to make it to your literature class. 

series: now accepting boyfriend applications

previous: now accepting boyfriend applications

next up: intro to business 

series taglist: @kyomihann @chesley-cant-deal @bluearmufs @your-consulting-fangirl @itsmeaudrieee @winunk @aegiseterna @katelyns-stuff @mochipk @3rachachoo @kyuudere

*bold means I wasn’t able to tag you*

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsumue @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen @waitforitillwritemywayout

Your phone was still charging, it’s in your bag plugged into a power bank and you’re hoping it’ll charge enough soon. You’ve made it to campus with five minutes to spare, you can already see Akaashi through the windows of the class. He’s absolutely cute and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him, but you were so blissfully in love with your ex that you never took the chance to fully indulge yourself to fantasize.

And while he’s in class looking like he just walked right out of a manga in a university setting; you look exactly as it would sound like, as if you just woke up and ran to campus. Your hair is a mess, you tried running through campus attempting to put it up in a bun, it’s lopsided and you’re using the hood of your sweatshirt to try and cover up the mess of a mop it is. It doesn’t help that the only reason you’re wearing a sweatshirt is because you didn’t have time to put on a bra so yeah, you’re walking around campus with no bra on and the ugly sweatpants with wine stains on it doesn’t do you justice either. You’re even decked out with a pair of sandals.

Honestly, how were you going to walk into class, look at Akaashi in the face, and just act as if he didn’t send you a boyfriend application. When he sees you, he’ll definitely retract his resume.

There’s two minutes left and you’re awkwardly poking your head in. No one is giving you the time of day but it feels like all eyes are on you when you step in. Perhaps you shouldn’t be too ashamed of your looks as you’re nearing the end of the semester and most girls have switched out their cute skirts for tracksuit pants.

You’re slowly going towards your seat, Akaashi diligently writing in his notebook and he finally looks up. Through his glasses, he meets your gaze, his lips slowly part and he’s blinking as if wondering if you were really you. As you pull into your seat, he stares down at his notebook, he’s stopped writing and everything in you is just screaming at you to not scream out loud because there was no going back on this weird friendship type relationship that you two have developed.

Akaashi shuffles in his seat, his body is turned to face you and he’s so close to opening his mouth when the teacher’s voice makes his thoughts stop. He turns back to face the front, no words exchanged as you pull out your notebook, pencil, and charging cell phone that’s just reached fifteen percent. For the first time since the beginning of the semester, you’re going to take notes and listen intently to this hour and fifteen-minute long lecture.

Only ten minutes have passed and your professor has done nothing but decided to review on what the difference between a primary article and a secondary article is because some people just don’t understand why Wikipedia is not an official source. You peek a look over at Akaashi. He, too, seems incredibly bored but his hardworking nature has him at least trying to focus on the professor despite the pen in his hand drawing circles on his notepad.

When he looks over at you, a small smile on his lips, you’re quick to turn away with a blush on your cheeks.

At thirty minutes, your phone is dancing on the edge of thirty percent. It’s enough to get you to start looking through your phone and you find yourself once again clicking on Akaashi’s email. You lean your arm onto the desk, tilting your body just enough that you think he wouldn’t be able to see that you’re looking at his boyfriend application.

You’re skipping passed official details, instead ceasing the scrolling when you reach his skillset. It’s all very professional sounding despite him referring to relationship and dating. It makes you crack a smile, you want to laugh out loud and not because it’s funny but because it’s actually really cute.

One of my skillsets is my height, considering your shorter height, I will be able to provide assistance whenever needed. While I may once in a while enjoy your smaller stature, I will try not to bring it up repeatedly to spare you of your feelings.

You bite down on your lower lip, suppressing the immense grin that wants to grow on your face. Through the strands of your hair, you peek another glance at him. This time he’s removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes slowly, a small yawn falling through his lips.

My biggest weakness is my busy schedule. I spend most of my days working part-time at the campus library and studying. As a literature major, I have multiple readings, essays, and assignments which may hinder my time to have a steady relationship but I believe that this weakness will later play a role as a strength in how devoted I am to what I love.

Well, that just made your heart skip ten beats.

My future goals include working as an editor, but right now my shorter-term goal would be to graduate with my literature degree on time. Another short-term goal I had developed over the semester was to ask you out on a date.

Your stomach spirals, you’re internally groaning at how cute this actually was.

“There’s twenty minutes left of class, during this time I’d like you to discuss with your revision partner about your last draft.”

Shit. You’re screaming in your head because this was not happening. Now you had to talk to Akaashi. The voices of students have now taken over the classroom, when you turn to look at Akaashi, a meek smile on you as he’s staring with his head tilted.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking so nicely, his voice soft and genuine. It feels like forever since someone has been so sweet to you.

Your hand reaches to scratch the back of your neck, a weak curve on your lips, “It’s been a pretty hectic twenty-four hours.”

Akaashi leans on his desk, cheek pressed against his palm and he’s asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your lips fall into a small pout because he’s just so sincere. He’s always been. Maybe that was why you had just the teeniest of crush on him earlier in the semester because he remembered the small details. When he noticed you switched from coffee to tea, you ranted to him for five minutes about how your boyfriend was adamant on you changing your lifestyle by switching to healthier options. The next class time you had together, Akaashi brought you coffee because as long as your boyfriend didn’t know then it was alright.

“Are you sure you want to listen to me?” You quirk a brow at him, “Because I’ll talk for the rest of the time.”

Akaashi sits up straight, flipping his notebook, pen ready in hand, “I must have forgotten to list listening as one of my strengths.” Your face burns all of a sudden, he has the smallest smirk on his face when he turns back to you, “I’ll take notes, tell me what’s wrong.”

You’re not used to someone listening to you, you’re used to someone interrupting you. It felt awkward at first, just letting everything roll off your tongue, and your eyes keep darting to the way his pen moves against his notebook. Was he actually taking notes of your rant? When you finish, he’s smiling, there’s a warmth to his grin that has you internally groaning.

“What did you write down?” You’re leaning over now, trying to get a good look at his notebook and you don’t even notice that the embarrassment in you has lifted. You’re no longer plagued with awkwardness like you were an hour ago.

Akaashi tilts his notebook for you to clearly see his handwriting. A wide smile taking over your expression. She’s cute when she’s talking. He was indeed more straightforward than you had imagined, you pictured him as shy and cute, while he was definitely the latter, he came off boldly.

“If I have to be honest.” He states suddenly, “My friend threw together that application and then sent it to you and then messaged you.” Your expression falters but he’s adverting his eyes just slightly, “I was too shy to try and message to ask if you were alright and well, my friend tends to get a little out of hand.” He’s grinning once more, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess it sort of worked out in the end.”

The professor’s voice draws your attention, “Once you’re done discussing with your partner, you’re free to leave.”

You look at the time, sparing a glance to Akaashi, “I’m sorry, I have to get to my next class.” You’re shoving your stuff into your backpack and he also quickly packs up.

“I’ll walk you.” He’s so eager that he almost knocks over his coffee cup, “I mean if it’s alright with you?”

“Sure, my next class is.”

Akaashi interjects, “Intro to Business, across campus.”

You’re surprised he remembers, a little impressed that it feels like he’s leading the way to your next class. For a moment it’s silent, you can tell he’s a little nervous but heck you’re also very nervous.

“You said two other guys sent you an application?”

Slowly you nod, “I mean one’s definitely a no, he’s just so cocky, definitely not my type. The other?” You think for a moment, “He’s really nice, funny, and we’ve kind of built up a friendship over the semester.” You notice how silent Akaashi has suddenly fallen.

“So.” Akaashi is quiet, “Then you would say that I’m up against him?” The two of you have stopped in front of your class, Akaashi staring down at you; the look in his eyes suddenly changes. He was getting competitive, “I’ll make sure to win you over.”

Your cheeks dust with a blush. He’s suddenly digging in his bag; he pulls out a baseball style cap. His hand tugging back your hood, undoing your sloppy bun to let your hair fall down. Your heart races at the way he sneaks in a stroke through your hair before fitting the cap onto your head. It’s loosely hanging until he leans into you, he smells of a deep forest and you’re tempted to just wrap your fingers on his t-shirt and pull him in a little bit more.

“You’ll probably be more comfortable with a hat than a hood.” He pulls away once he’s fixed the strap but his scent lingers momentarily, “You should get to class.” He states sweetly, taking in the cute way you’re trying to hide your face with his hat.

“I’ll message you.” You say as you slowly hang around the doorway to your class, “To return the hat.” And possibly more. You think.

The moment you turn away, a blushing grin on you with your heart beating rapidly; everything stops when you come face to face with Kuroo Tetsuro. He’s got a cheeky look on him, slightly eyeing the man still lingering outside of the classroom. The two men meet gazes and there’s a sharp sting between the two; an acknowledgement of an opponent.

[ashketchup119]

Musicality

Ok I LOVE this story!! I made a whole story based off a lil convo @jemtoka and I had, and I made oc’s based off each of us and went to town. It was very fun to write, and I got to combine my music knowledge with my writing skills.

Enjoy!

When Benji had first set out to find the ghost of Beethoven, he wasn’t actually sure that he’d be able to do it. His brother had once called him “all bite and no bark”, a reference to the fact that out of the four brothers, Benji had been the only one to not outgrow his infant habit of biting things- or people- when stressed. But in this situation, he definitely felt like he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

He absentmindedly chewed on his chewing necklace as he drafted a grant proposal with his friend, Mujika. Muji was drawing in a notebook, something for his art classes, though he looked up when prompted to review the words that had appeared on Benji’s screen. Muji had done his fair share of research, and though he did want to help with the writing of the research paper, it had been agreed that Benji was the more… academic writer. The two of them had met through social media a couple of years ago, and once they’d started direct messaging, had become close friends quickly through a mesh of shared interests, similar humor, and a half-baked scheme to take over the world.

Which led them here, to a table in the back of a 24-hour McDonalds, Benji chewing the head off a stiff chewable bat pendant and Muji using his nocturnal tendencies to do things like “make sure his friend drank water and didn’t forget that he was a person.”

“Fo you fink ish bit avou duh Immoruhl Bewuved ith done? Ish kinda duh hoh vashis of arr puhposal so…” Benji trailed off, jaw absentmindedly moving over the poor bat, whose head was holding on by sheer force of will to the rest of its body.

“What?” Muji asked. He did not speak bat-in-mouth.

Benji pulled the pendant out of his mouth with an audible pop. “Y’think this bit about the Immortal Beloved is finished? It’s like, the whole basis of our proposal n shit.”

He turned the laptop towards Muji, who closed his notebook, set it to the side, and pulled the laptop in front of him. He read it quietly, and Benji began to tap out the beat to the song playing on low volume in his earbuds. He began to hum, too, murmuring lyrics under his breath as he stared off into the distance.

“I think it looks good.” Muji finally replied, turning the laptop back toward Benji and grabbing his notebook again. “I can’t think of anything else we could add to that section.”

Benji gave a little half shrug. “I guess you’re right.”

The two of them once again worked in solitude, only broken by Benji ordering fries at about 1 AM. At 3, they decided to call it quits, though Benji seemed more wired than ever and voiced some apprehension about “going to sleep when there’s so much work to be done, Muji!” Muji chastised him slightly and promised that they could come back the next day- or rather, later that day- to finish up. There were only slight revisions to be done, then it could be sent off to the Music Master Scholars, an organization dedicated to the care and keeping of the ghosts widely considered Music Masters, which included household names like Mozart and Beethoven, but also lesser-known composers like Joseph Bologne and Francesca Caccini.

Ghosts were, of course, a commonplace occurrence, though one could theoretically live their life without interacting with one. That was rare, though; ghosts had a tendency to wander, though they could only appear in places that held significance to them in life and graveyards, but even living in a house increased the average person’s chances of encountering a ghost exponentially.

But these ghosts were special, because of the knowledge they possessed and the lives they’d lead. The Music Master Scholars were the only people in the world who both knew and had access to the location of every ghost, and to join their ranks, one had to find the location of one of the ‘hidden’ Music Masters- of which Beethoven was the most hidden. Their non-administrative members were unknown, but said to be most, if not all, of the foremost music scholars in the world. How could they not be, with the Masters themselves guiding their research?

Benji and Muji really, really wanted to be Music Master Scholars.

When he was 10, Benji had been given some sort of “young musician” scholarship to visit Europe for a month. He was a double bassist, a dying breed in the modern age, and the fact that he had progressed from monotonic exercises to Baroque sinfonias in the span of four months had impressed his teachers.

His parents had gone along, too, mostly because they knew their child, and Benji did have a propensity to get into trouble. Devil’s luck, his mother had tsked, and that had been that.

He’d managed to escape the group in the middle of a museum, though he didn’t wander far. He just wanted to look at everything without feeling like people were constantly breathing down his neck.

Well. HE didn’t consider “the park near the museum” to be far. His parents did, though, he found out later.

At the park, he found a man. Well, not a man. A ghost. The ghost was staring wistfully at the museum in the distance, and started when he noticed a small child staring at him.

“Hi! Who are you?” Benji asked, clutching the stuffed animal his parents had gotten him at another museum the day before.

The ghost cleared his throat. “I’m uh…” He started in a raspy voice before pausing and clearing his throat again. “I’m,” He sighed. “I’m Johannes Brahms.”

“Yo-hahn Brahmzzzz.” Benji repeated, drawing out the last “s” sound. “Oh! You did music, right?”

Brahms smiled slightly, and nodded.

The two of them talked for a while before Benji’s parents arrived, harried and frustrated. They apologized profusely to the ghost, who insisted it hadn’t been a problem.

The whole experience left Benji starry-eyed, and with the help of a friend he’d made in Germany, he would call and converse with Brahms for hours, asking about counterpoint and meaning and technique and just in general picking his mind. The composer took this with grace, and seemed more than happy to answer the young musician’s questions. When he’d told Benji about the Scholars, Benji had immediately decided that he was going to be a Music Master Scholar.

Muji had played violin until he’d dropped out of high school to take care of his mom, and hadn’t resumed it until after him and Benji had been talking for a while. He didn’t know much about composition, but he loved music history, and after getting his GED and enrolling in college, had even majored in it. Plus, he just kinda just thought the whole thing was cool.

They’d been researching for a year and a half, with pointers from Brahms, and tips from a professor Benji’d had two years ago, a Classical scholar named Dr. Chang. Benji had once emailed her and asked, point-blank, if she was a Music Master Scholar, but she’d only sent back a cryptic winky face emoji in response.

The next day, after three more hours of sitting in McDonalds, revising the proposal (most of which was Muji saying “Benji it looks fine!” and Benji responding with “No, no, this comma in paragraph seven just makes it sound better! Ties it all together, don’t you think?”), it was sent off in an email, and Benji resolved not to think about it while Muji resolved to mention it at the most inopportune moments, just to mess with his friend a little.

They were approved a month later, and three months after that day at McDonalds, they were sitting on a plane heading to Austria, Benji mouthing practice phrases in German as Muji slept. They had about a month to traipse all over Europe in search of a ghost very few people had been able to find, and they were excited to start.

The first week was spent in Austria, visiting Beethoven’s own grave (a nonstarter; the ghosts there hadn’t seen Beethoven since he was buried, and none knew where he’d gone), his childhood home and the area surrounding.

Nothing.

The second week was spent in Vienna. There, they visited the ghost of Mozart, who was a fidgety, flighty sort. He was known for being somewhat immaterial, and often took to jumping on top of objects in a manner that caused the people around them to panic for a few seconds before realizing he was too immaterial to do anything more than whisper vaguely about his childhood. He’d tried to pet Muji’s hair and got annoyed when nothing happened, so it wasn’t a particularly long visit.

They tried to visit Haydn, but while the location of Haydn’s ghost was well-known, only Music Master Scholars were allowed to see him, as he claimed the crowds exhausted him, and he wanted to be able to give his full attention to those visiting him. It made sense, since ghosts used massive amounts of energy to communicate and interact with the world around them, and the more energy they expended, the less time they were able to spend on earth. Despite this, the two  of them did make an effort, but were summarily barred from entering.

“Next time!” Benji declared confidently as they walked to their next potential Beethoven hot spot.

They visited Brahms, who had resolved to meet them in Vienna upon learning they were coming, and spent a whole day with him, visiting locations which had been important to him and letting his impromptu history lessons wash over them with a look of awed reverence.

Beethoven wasn’t in Vienna, and by the third week the two friends were feeling the threat of rejection hot on their heels. They began keeping odd hours, trying their hardest to figure out their next move.

“Maybe we should reread our proposal? Clearly the Scholars saw something in it, right?” Muji theorized from the bed he’d claimed as his their first night in the hotel.

“Mmmm.” Benji responded from his position on the floor at the foot of his bed, still feeling the after-effects of a well-deserved mental breakdown.

“Come on, Benji!” Muji tried to motivate him. “We can do it! You’re a super cool music spy, remember?”

Benji huffed at the reminder of an old, inane conversation between the two. “I don’t know, Muji. I think it’s kinda pointless.”

“Come on, Benji!” Muji tried again. “This is like, your dream! It’s now or never! Put our mutual brain cell to use so we can find Beethoven!”

Benji sighed and got up. “Fine, fine.” He murmured as he got off the floor, grabbed his copy of the proposal from his bag, laid down on the bed, and stuffed another chewable pendant into his mouth. “Wet’s fee.”

Silence reigned for a few, brief seconds, before Muji suddenly exclaimed, “Hey! We never checked out anything about the Immortal Beloved, right?”

Benji sat up straight on his bed and spit out the pendant. “Holy shit, we never checked out anything about the Immortal Beloved.”

After a quick Google search, two train tickets, a couple of sandwiches, and a dash through the rain, they arrived at the Frankfurt Main Cemetery. There, they asked after the name they’d listed in their proposal as the possible Immortal Beloved, and the ghosts pointed them towards the back of the cemetery.

In a ghost grotto, they found a woman, calmly humming the tune from one of the Diabelli variations, though in their excitement neither Benji nor Muji could name the tune.

“Are you-“ Benji paused and took a couple of deep breaths. “Are you the Immortal Beloved?

The woman stopped humming and smiled at them.

“Ah, that is a moniker I have not heard in some time.” She arose and walked away from them, lifting her skirts elegantly in a manner which conveyed a sense of class. “Come; I think you are the ones I’ve been expecting.”

The two followed after her eagerly and looked confused when they stopped at a mail office in town. There, she reached into a P.O. box, pulled out a silver envelope, and gave it to Benji.

“This is yours.” She murmured. “Please do come to visit; it’s rare that I receive visitors.”

With this, she disappeared.

The two stared at the envelope for a couple of seconds before Benji eagerly opened it, accidentally ripping the envelope in half. He then read it, brow furrowing in confusion.

“What’s it say?” Asked Muji, eagerly, from over his shoulder.

“It says… it’s just numbers? I don’t get it.” Benji gave him the paper, trying to puzzle out what it meant.

Muji frowned, then plugged the numbers into Google.

“It’s a location!” He burst out, excitedly shoving the phone in Benji’s face.

The two of them hurriedly called a taxi, listing the location Muji’s phone had given them. They were dropped off in front of the building, and saw someone standing at the entrance. They showed the person (a Scholar!) their letter, and with a large smile, they were taken inside, their guide walking confidently as Benji and Muji trailed behind them. The interior of the building was long and winding, which left the two feeling as though they’d been deceived by the outward appearance of the building. The building had looked small and unassuming, and this place was built like a maze. They were sure they’d be lost if they tried to head back without a guide.

Near the end of the path they heard the sound of a piano playing, and warm light spilled into the hallway. They eagerly rushed ahead, much to the amusement of the Scholar.

There, facing the wall, conducting half a beat behind the sound coming from the recorder behind him, stood Beethoven.

Benji gasped, and clutched Muji’s shoulder. He pointed ecstatically at the figure in the room. “It’s Beethoven!!!” He stage-whispered.

Muji smiled widely as he nodded back. “Yeah!!”

The two of them turned around when a voice behind them cleared. The Scholar gave them each a thick letter with the recognized seal of the Music Master Scholars on the back, and the two of them stared at it, unsure of what to do.

“Well?” The Scholar prompted, rocking back and forth on their heels. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Benji ripped into his envelope first, completely abandoning the flap as he tore the side off. His hands shook as he pulled out a letter on creamy white stationary. He skimmed the words and began crying, clutching the letter and envelope to his chest.

Muji was slightly more careful, removing the letter from the envelope via the flap and pulling out the other contents of the envelope. A laminated membership card, a list of locations of other ghosts, and an alphabetized list of other Scholars with contact info and a small bio were also in the envelope. He pulled out each one, looked at it, and put it back in the envelope. He then stopped and held the envelope in his hands, staring at it.

After about ten minutes, the guide worriedly asked Muji, “Is Benji alright? He’s been crying for a while.”

Muji nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, he cried for like two hours after I finished streaming Crisis Core for him.” At the guide’s look of confusion, he added, “Video game.”

The guide made a small noise of understanding and nodded.

When Benji’s sobs finally faded into sniffles, the three of them began the trek out of the building.

“Sorry this route is so long.” The Scholar apologized. “Oh! Also! I forgot to introduce myself.” They paused and turned, offering their hand. “I’m Soraya Cham! I was the last person to find Beethoven’s ghost. When I heard about you guys, I got excited, really. I was rooting for you!”

The two of them shook her hand and nodded, unsure what else to say.

Soraya continued, then hailed a taxi when they reached the road. They waved goodbye to Benji and Muji as the two of them got in the backseat.

“We did it!” Benji shouted once they were back at their hotel.

[threeminutesoflife]

Manipulation Station

Pairings: Snowpiercer Dark!Curtis x Dark!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Snowpiercer movie (movie line*) spoilers, unprotected sex, poisoning.

Summary: Curtis accepts Wilford's offer to lead the train and selects the Reader, the resident executioner for the first class criminals, as he wife.

Written for @jtargaryen18​ Dark Curtis Holiday Challenge. The way she writes is an absolute favorite. Read and enjoy her pieces- she's a gifted lady!

Prompt: “I don’t owe you patience or trust.”

Word Count: 10.5k

“Do you think you’ll be safe when I’m gone, dear girl?”

“I can take care of myself, Wilford. I have most of my life.”

“Yes, but you’ll need to sleep sometime.”

Wilford rose from the chair and made his way to the rolling drink cart along the office wall, “You’re great at what you do. You’re an investment to order.” He smiled proudly at you before turning his back to mix a dirty martini. “But when I’m gone, there may be family members looking for revenge. That worries and saddens me deeply. To think I can no longer protect you. Especially after everything you’ve done and all those times you’ve kept order on our sacred engine.”

One.

Two.

Three olives plopped into the glass.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, remembering how many past punishments and executions you carried out in Wilford’s name. The many times you were requested to maintain control for him and administer repercussions on the first and second-class passengers.

You were good at it. Maybe too good. Without Wilford’s protection, you’d have to be on constant watch until someone relieved you from your executing position permanently.

“This may not even come to pass, but if it does- I need to know you’ll agree. I need you. He’ll need you. Between you and me, Gilliam reassures me you’re a shoo-in. And I don’t doubt you for a moment, dear,” Wilford raised his glass to toast you before sipping the drink. “Curtis’ll want you on the spot. You’re an extremely important tool. Trust me. You’re more his type than even he realizes.”

“I do trust you,” you replied automatically. “I always have. You’ve protected me and allowed me the pleasure of administering your final word to those ungrateful, sir.”

“Exactly, dear girl. You understand my picture,” Wilford patted your shoulder as he passed by to take a seat. “Our picture. I need you to keep being that important tool. Keep the train on the right track, so to speak.”

He winked at you before biting into an olive.

Lifting a silver dome cover off the platter, Wilford offered you a warm chocolate chip cookie.

“You, my girl,” he said while waggling his selected cookie in air, “know the right kind of structure. And that kind of structure is our right kind of order. Things must remain as they are, the order must remain as it is. But most importantly, you respect it. You’ll teach Curtis to do the same. I need you at his side. Connected in all ways.”

“But marriage? I don’t understand the purpose, Wilford. It seems unnecessary, we’re forever on this train-”

“He’ll have too much power if he makes to the front. I need you to harness your husband, show him how good things are up here. Let him see what he’s been missing, let him feel like you and him are a united front. You two will be the face of what structure must be, an example and reminder of what was and should be. To keep the structure, you must be structured.”

You coughed slightly around the cookie locked between your lips. Working with someone upon Wilford’s request was one thing, but annexing yourself to another person… What was the purpose of that? But there was a small voice growing louder in your head, reminding you that you needed to be on Curtis’ side if you wanted to survive longer than Wilford’s burial rites. Still, having to give up your freedom completely…

“Why marriage when I can simply work for him- like I do for you, sir?”

“Call me old fashion or an engineer of the future,” Wilford explained further, chucking regally at his choice of words. “Either way, I want you both devoted to each other and the train. Standards and images must be upheld, dear girl. You two will be married and form a united front- for generations to come. We need a little more Norman Rockwell than Kathe Kollwitz.”

Only receiving your silence to his humor, Wilford could tell you were not entirely on board with the marriage role. Why would useless established legalities of marriage be necessary in the confines of a wayward world? It wouldn’t.

Yes, he could easily weave the loom to have you aligned with Curtis as a business partner, but Wilford always liked a bit of extra flair. One extra churn from the pepper grinder for his food. You giving in and agreeing to an unnecessary marriage to Curtis, especially forgoing all reluctance to do so, would reassure Wilford of your loyalty to the train even when he’d no longer be in charge.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

He was determined to present the marriage to you in a way you wouldn’t be able to refuse for long. And fear was always a great motivator.

Classics were classic for a reason.

Wilford needed you linked with Curtis. He needed you alive. You were the key; one easy twist in a locked situation that would open resolution. Wilford needed to reward Curtis’ efforts for his revolt and still ensure his ideal vision of the train remained steadfast. You would be the soothing balm to both their burns.

Making sure you were taken care of when Wilford retired was not an act of deep affection or fatherly love, but rather an earned promotion.

A reward for your years of service and delivery of results. Your safety and success would be ensured if you remained in a powerful position. With you safe, you would continue to reap and sow order throughout the train. Your results exponential.

Wilford knew everyone’s history aboard his train. It was his way to keep all things in place, all order- organized and properly named.

Before Wilford gave you passage on the train, you were a gifted student winning science awards and scholarships; catching Wilford’s attention with your potential by winning one of his sponsored grants. Years later when he reviewed your file, the idea of an executioner position bloomed in his brain. He knew you would do perfectly, a vixen face with a delight for mixing chemicals.

Wilford knew human nature had its moments of people falling back to their more animalistic tendencies. But he thought the front end-ers still deserved a more humane and posh way of dealing with crime. Executions did not have to be so graphically unappealing.

Imagine is everything, and who better to administer those punishments than a charming lady? Afterall, the first-class passengers did pay an absorbent amount of money for the privileged to ride his train. Fine taste should be given and enjoyed- even until the final stop.

“Dear girl, this inconvenient uprising may not even become too successful. More than likely, it will end shortly after it’s begun, or when the tallies add up to the necessary sum. However, if there’s a hail mary of achievement, I need to know you agree. When you do, I’ll tell him to allow you to keep your position as executioner. That your role is needed as a giver of dignified death. Besides, I know you, dear girl. I know how much you need that outlet. How that power sings to you and helps ease your cabin fever. That hobby allows you to slip away for a moment- I don’t want you to be denied that peace in the future. Besides, a gift like yours? A gift like you? It would hard for Curtis to deny you much.”

“Is that all though?” Frowning at your cookie and picking away at a chip, smearing and streaking the soft chocolate across the pristine plate. “To keep-”

“You’ve known about the train’s unique replacement parts and protein bars. The careful balance needed to keep the wheels running on this godforsaken frozen track. The balance needed to be kept order between the tail and front ends. You see how kronole is supplied to keep residents distracted. You’re the someone who knows what really goes on, and most importantly, you’ve always reacted positively to my orders and vision. Don’t let me lose you, I want to keep you safe. I need you to do this for me, my dear girl. Agree and marry Curtis. If he makes it- you are my backup plan, my little piece of salvation. Protect him, so I can in turn protect you when I’ve retired. Humor an old man with his old ways.”

“Why not Claude?”

“She’s not the right choice for this. He won’t choose her, especially since she’s the one who measures the parts. You’re my ace in the hole, dear girl. Gilliam and I both agree. Curtis is going to favor you out of the others.”

You took a moment to think of Wilford’s proposition. Keep the order, help steer the new conductor- do what you’re always enjoyed. After all, Wilford just wants you to remain safe. There was a part of you still unsure about the arranged marriage. The idea of it being legal or not, it was unnecessary but you knew Wilford liked to make a show of things. You were tempted to ask more questions, but then you looked Wilford in the eyes.

This was your protector.

His benevolence and care saved you. His vision kept you alive.

Wiping your hand across the linen napkin, you agreed, “I’ll do it. I owe you my life and safety. You’ve allowed me to test my poisons and feed my creativity, sir. The train will remain balanced. First-class shall remain proper, even in their deaths as you’ve always said.”

Wilford winked at you before biting into the soft treat, “Excellent. We shouldn’t be savages to our own, dear girl.”

~~~

When rumors of the impending revolt drew closer, Wilford reminded you of your role in the contingency plan.

When the revolt birthed as fact, Claude collected you with a bit of blood still on her face as she told you Wilford needed to discuss what was happening immediately.

There were no warm chocolate chip cookies offered this time as you asked what spurred the revolt on quicker than what was anticipated, “Why now?”

Claude scoffed behind you, “Idiot. As if animals need a reason.”

The two of you always were odd acquaintances; a mutual honor among thieves that was heavily seasoned with mutual dislike. Stiffening in your seat and gathering your tolerance in with a deep breath, you waited for Wilford’s answer.

“It escalated when Claude went to measure and retrieve a new part.”

“So, he claims ownership of the part?” You quickly inquired. You didn’t think to ask Wilford earlier if Curtis had family of his own before you agreed to all this.

Wilford’s smile stretched broadly at your phrasing, claiming ownership. Yes, he was very pleased you had the right mentality.

Claude’s eyes darted between you and Wilford, hating how he viewed you a blue ribbon breeding bitch for his soon-to-be prized stud.

Trying to regain ground and favor, Claude chimed in confidently, “They are nothing, they own nothing. Wilford is the sole owner.”

Intrigued to see where this potential debate may lead, Wilford picked up his spoon and returned to enjoying the decadent chocolate mousse he started before your arrival.

Dinner theatre, he mused to himself. How he missed attending those outings.

Not bothering to correct or address Claude to her face, you stared straight ahead in Wilford’s direction, “They are not nothing, Claude. They have a role and a purpose. Perhaps, they have even more importance than a glorified bed warmer? Or even a polite poisoner? Without them fucking like animals, as you said, we wouldn’t have replacement pieces. Without their role and purpose, the sacred engine would fail and we would perish.”

Her silence gave you a small satisfaction.

Turning in your seat, you looked at her now, “Tell me Claude. If the sacred engine ever stops due to lack of replacement parts and you’re frozen, when your vagina’s as cold as your heart, who’s bed could you possibly warm then?”

Claude shot out of her seat, fully intending to warm the surface of table by smashing the side of your face down onto it as she stalked over towards your direction.

“Sit down, Claude!” Wilford pulled the silver spoon of his mouth and pointed it at her.

“But she-“

Wilford steamrolled over Claude’s protest, “Better yet, make better use of yourself. Get me and my guest another serving of dessert. Wait in the kitchen until I phone for you.”

Silence hung in the air as you felt Claude’s stare burn into the back of your head.

Finishing off the last bit of dessert, Wilford gave her another pointed look as the spoon knocked against the glass bowl, “Kitchen, Claude.”

With every stomp echoing out the boxcar, you knew she was plotting your demise.

“I’m almost looking forward to retirement. Refereeing you two is a task in itself.”

“Sorry, Wilford.”

“Nevermind about that, just remember our deal.”

“Always, sir.”

“You never did ask what he looks like,” Wilford stated.

You quirked an eyebrow, “Who?”

“Curtis, Mrs. Everett.” Wilford supplied with a wink.

“Loyalty’s blind. It doesn’t matter, I’ll do what you asked.”

“Hmm, love is also blind, dear girl,” Wilford pulled a piece of paper out from his coat pocket and slid it across the table. “Had this sketched for you, but details aren’t the best with it being done over the broadcast screen. Meet your husband.”

Unfolding the paper, you held no expectations. Hope was a stranger in a make-believe land at this point. But your hands stilled at attempting to flatten the page’s creases as you looked down at a pair of fierce, cutting eyes.

So this was Curtis Everett. The artist drew him in several different poses. Some standing and talking, while in other sketches he was sitting and silently watching. Each piece displayed an attractive man with an air of determination and raw intensity. Albeit a bit broken.

Nodding a thank you to Wilford, you refolded the sketches and placed them in your lap.

~~~

As Curtis began his venture to the head of the train, you and six uniquely different women were gathered in a designated boxcar to wait and see if the Curtis Revolution proved to be successful.

“You’ll remain here until further notice,” Claude informed the women in her care. “Don’t think about leaving. If something happens to you, you’re on your own.” Claude held her gaze on you specifically with that last part. “Wilford had the seamstress supply fancier dresses, pick one from the racks to wear later if things progress. Here are your numbers, pin them on yourself when the time comes. We’ll need to differentiate you somehow.”

“Because names wouldn’t help with that?” you asked dryly.

“Be quiet,” Claude hissed back.

Number Six squeezed her paper namesake with excitement, “Oh, new clothes. Magnifique! Look at how luxurious those evening gowns are. Oh, so dreamy! It’ll be like we’re on the red carpet for an awards show.”

You looked at Six in disbelief, how were you supposed to survive being cramped in this small room with people like her?

Hurry up, Curtis. Win or lose- make it quick.

“Red carpet?” asked number Three, the only train baby of the group.

“Be quiet, I don’t have time for stupid questions and even dumber people,” said Claude.

“Always so pleasant to be around you, Claude.”

“Shut up,” she sneered back at you as the other ladies silently slipped away.

You weren’t sure if the other women ignored your exchange with Claude because everyone was familiar to the open hostility between you two, or if they simply weren’t interested in anything that didn’t concern them directly. With the upper class mentality, you assumed it was the latter.

Blowing a kiss at Claude, you picked up one of the books that were put out beside the drinks and cheese tray.

Everything you’ve known for the last seventeen years hung in the balance, and the six other ladies didn’t have a single fret line across their foreheads. Here you were, waiting to see what the train’s fate might be and the others couldn’t tear themselves away from the servings of special occasion Gouda. Perhaps you weren’t much better, you thought as you ran your hand along the book’s embossed hardcover.

Boiling at the air kiss you threw, Claude cut through the racks of delivered dresses. Kicking an extra box of high heels out of her way, she ripped the book out of your hand.

“My, my, Claude. I see you’ve been working out. Manhandling baby-sized parts really improved your strength,” you antagonized while sitting down and crossing your legs.

Openly laughing at Claude’s temper only set her anger off more as she spat out her next words, “You’re a fucking bitch. I can’t wait to see him fail. When he doesn’t make it, you’ll be left behind right where you are. A discarded napkin on top a dirty pile of dinner plates. Stuck to remain a polite poisoner until you’re ended.”

Mocking your earlier words to her, she smirked at you for what she deemed a clever line. With your nose in the air, you blatantly eyed her from head to toe without responding. You slowly uncrossed your legs and gracefully leaned forward, a look of predatory smugness to your features when you saw her tense up. Suddenly, you snatched the book back out of her hands. Keeping your eyes locked on her, you opened the book and cracked the book spine into submission. Slowly, steadily you raised the book from your lap until it fully covered your chin, then your nose, and then your eyes from her view.

Behind the book’s binding you called out, “Claude, why do you continue to test me when you’re fully aware of how potent my poisons can be- and how well I can mix them into your meals? Don’t make me poison you at your next tea party.”

Claude was about to deliver a counter-threat when the phone hidden behind the wall seal rang. You both knew Wilford was watching, he always was.

“Ah, that ringing bell would be for you, dear Claude. Try not to slip on your saliva when you run to answer your master’s call, little dog,” you teased behind a copy of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

As Claude left, you listened to the other women gossip around the snack table. Wilford enjoyed keeping certain cards to his chest and your competition was a hand he didn’t want to show entirely. He said you’d be Curtis’ pick, so why give away unimportant details?

But you liked to be more practical. Knowing details, even little ones, helped you aim for the artery when plotting.

As they conferenced around the snack platter, you overheard why they agreed to participate in Wilford’s selection game and become a tail end-er’s wife. Some needed to repay their family’s debts or their own, others wanted to climb up in rank and gain as much power as possible. A shared answered was wanting a change of scenery on this limited-option train.

They were all lovely women in their own right. If Curtis ran the gauntlet successfully, he’d be rewarded with choosing one of you seven, shiny-eyed brides-to-be.

But as you looked over the options, you couldn’t help but think that your train deserved better. Especially since their only concern at the moment was to consume more Gouda.

The sounds of guards rushing down the aisle of the waiting car snapped you out of your dairy assessment. There was a part of you hoping Curtis would be successful. A small side tempted by the curiosity of what it meant to have a new conductor responsible for the sacred engine. But you were more worried on how a new conductor might not have the same vision as Wilford.

Wilford assured you Curtis would view the world as he did. Wilford believed Curtis to be his successor. So you reminded yourself: Trust in Wilford, so you can trust in Curtis.

But with your curiosity peeked, you left the room of selected women to check-in with the closest guard post. Frowning when you found the post empty, you were about to return to the waiting room when the monitor screen caught your eye. Figures on the grainy monitors showed guards wearing tactical attire as the train barreled to the bridge and into a new year. Masks covered their faces, minimizing human features so their anonymity would be more threatening.

The broadcast feed was not the best quality but you saw a tall man in the middle of the rebel pack on the other monitor. He matched Wilford’s sketch. The size of the group by him was much larger than you expected. Knowing the outcomes of the earlier revolts and rebellions, you thought this revolution would be another failure. Even with those determined, intense eyes of his. Internally scoffing at the idea you would become a widow before you were even married.

Honestly, despite Wilford’s backup plan for Curtis, you didn’t actually think it’d be possible for a tail end-er to make it this far. But there on the screen showed a massive number of rebels. How many more backend boarders were there?

Even with soil and blood-encrusted on him, the man was an attractive leader. You couldn’t help to grin slightly at the feral look plastered across Curtis’ face. Perhaps you had more in common with the third-class revolutionist than you realized.

Leaning into the screen as the attack played out, your breath fogged the monitor as you watched Curtis decide between obtaining his goal to capture Mason or save a fellow man. At the end of the slaughtering and witnessing Curtis’ choice of fatality, you were content with your agreement to Wilford’s chess game of marriage.

Turning away from the monitors, you slipped back into the waiting room to enjoy some Gouda.

Time seemed to pass slowly until Claude dropped off another tray of fruit and ordered everyone to get ready immediately, “Don’t leave this room. It’s too late to stop what’s happened, and now it’s your turn to help the train. I’ll be back shortly to lead you to the selection.”

The sound of the door closing behind her was like a gun sounding the start of a race. Six ladies frantically ran around the room crashing into one another, ripping garments off hangers and knocking items on the ground.

Rolling your eyes at the costume change commotion, you slipped out the door in hopes to eavesdrop on Wilford. After seeing Curtis on the monitor, you fantasized how or if he would accept his new role. Would he be curious and interested in the idea of being able to select a wife, or would he decline it?

---

“’…hold a woman with both arms…*’” Wilford jested.

Curtis looked so broken, nerves and bones exposed. The look of pain filling his eyes and the wordless shock of betrayal and disbelief across his face was not how you pictured this moment for him. Well, you pictured there would be shock, but not this level of absolute destruction.

Something happened to you then as you absentmindedly rubbed your breastbone, a dull ache starting to grow. This man, who was glorious and furious only a short time ago, now looked lost and lifeless. The dull pain continued along your bone and you could almost ignore the pain until he looked over at the wall you were spying behind. It felt like he knew you were there, pinning you in place with his agony as your own discomfort bloomed in your chest. The longer his eyes were in your direction, the more your chest hurt.

But that was crazy, you thought, of course he couldn’t see you. None of them knew you were there listening. Turning away from the hiding spot, you continued to rub your sternum as you made the way back to the ladies.

Reentering the room and seeing the group of potential wives was surreal; how the state of him and his clothes compared to the state of this self-indulgent mock harem. You knew Curtis’ story from Wilford’s files and the small-time you saw his takeover on screen. But to see the vast difference and pain of someone you might align yourself with while they stood before your own eyes- that was somewhat stomach-churning. Even for you.

Normally, you would capitalize on weakness. But Curtis’ pain had the opposite effect on you. Instead of the urge to squeeze, you wanted to hold.

Sitting down before the vanity, you observed the girls behind you in the mirror. Only two looked anxious about the upcoming selection. The other numbers looked like they were having an afternoon away, a short reprieve from the pressures of planning a charity fundraiser.

Number four looked high, kronole you suspected. Thank goodness she was wearing slip-ons. The state she was in you weren’t sure if she’d able to tie her own laces.

Looking at the candidates and remembering Curtis’ grief, your chest dully ached again. For a moment, you thought perhaps the two anxious girls understood the weight of the situation. But the longer everyone stayed in the waiting room, the more you overheard that their nervous whispers were only reservations in having to be in close quarters with a tail end-er.

None of these “I’ll write you a check” girls would do. They wouldn’t last against how feral and pained Curtis seemed. The train wouldn’t benefit with any of them by his side.

You clutched the lipstick case tighter in your hands as your thoughts swirled- none of these lunching ladies could steer Curtis the way the sacred engine deserved.

Despite Wilford’s promise of the selection being in your favor, seeing what Curtis could possibly select instead filled you with enormous dread for the train’s future. These women’s lack of ability and influence over Curtis would never do. They wouldn’t be able to protect him, wouldn’t be able to keep order on the train; Wilford’s vision would flatline.

You were not going to let one of these girls take your place with Curtis and squander the responsibility to keep the train stable. If Wilford believed there was something special about Curtis- that was enough for you to believe, too.

Looking over the inadequate girls, you selected Curtis for yourself.

Wilford reassured you were already Curtis’ type through Gilliam’s late-night chats and catching Curtis’ eye would easy, but you knew holding Curtis’ attention was another matter entirely. A man covered in filth day-in and day-out with limited choices and harsh conditions. You couldn’t imagine how overwhelming everything new must be to him. How everything shiny couldn’t be trusted.

Squinting at your appearance in the mirror, you pondered and planned. Reevaluating the competition, you examined yourself- clothes pressed, hair styled, makeup freshly painted- just like them.

Dropping your lipstick, you wiped your lips harshly and removed your eye makeup. Wetting a towel you wiped your neck, freeing your skin from the perfume. Fresh and clean-faced, you were slightly different than the other artistically painted ladies. Perhaps more approachable? You changed into the most modest evening gown you could find.

Claude opened the door and called for the seven of you to line up.

Taking the fifth spot in line, you waited for her next instructions. Claude surveyed over the seven offerings she was about to bring Wilford and stopped when seeing you. Running her eyes over you, she pursed her lips together.

Spinning on her heels, she called out while leaving the room, “Follow me, hurry up.”

~~~

When you floated in single file into the boxcar and lined up before Wilford, Curtis noticed you immediately. Weak from the fight, or from seeing you- a reminder of a life before the snow and ice, he stumbled slightly when stepping forward. You embodied the type of woman he fantasized about before CW-7 wiped out the world. And he began to feel an attraction he didn’t think he’d feel again.

As he walked closer to the numbered selection, Curtis stopped in front and looked each woman in the eye to see how they’d react to a lowly, dirty, tail end-er. A tail end-er who was now demanding respect. Counting the beats, he stared them down and waited to see if their movements gave way to any hints of judgment.

Option One seemed to be uncomfortable in her own skin, nervously rubbing the long sleeves of her dress. Was she nervous about the situation or him? Regardless, she wouldn’t do.

Number two was not his type, although she did hold her head high and make eye contact with him for the full time. Perhaps she’d be a civil option.

Three’s nostrils flared as soon as Curtis leaned into her view. Eliminated.

Four, well, he wasn’t sure if Four even knew what day it was, let alone where or why she was here. Discounted.

Five, Curtis tried to remind himself not to show how he already favored you from across the boxcar. Because up close, he wasn’t sure he could remain stoic in front of you for long. An odd feeling of being lost and found was stirring around his gut at the moment.

This foreign, mixed feeling made Curtis frown slightly before he was able to school his features. Seeing Curtis’ frowned reaction to you, Wilford made a small step forward towards the lineup. His own worry slightly showing before he was able to place back his mask for benevolent indifference. Claude gripped the gun in her pocket tighter, gleeful that you might fail Wilford and not gain a higher position.

Curtis never had any use for poetry but here you were right in front of him, something so incredibly unattainable that was now so easily in his grasp. The accessibility to having you made him unsure of himself. He was drawn to you when you entered the room, but having you so close, he knew he’d choose you. Fresh-faced and different from the others, you quirked an eyebrow and tilted your head slightly at him as if you ask, “yes?”

Curtis bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ground himself and not give away his interest. As he did with the earlier numbers, he crowded into your personal space and stared, hard.

His mistake, because that was the instant a voice whispered in his head, mine.

That forgotten feeling of sexual possessiveness slowly started infecting Curtis. At least that was how he related this estranged desire, an infection. A limb waking after being denied blood flow for too long, pins and needles racing across his skin. A drop in the middle of a pond, causing ripples to fold out to opposite sides of the banks. Seeing you from afar and now smelling your light, teasing scent sent a sensation of twists and turns to his stomach making him light-headed and his cock twitch.

He became lost in the thought of you laying next to him. Your lips bruised from kissing and your scent on his clothes as he’d tell you to dip your hands inside your panties for him. He’d praise you as you’d moan next him, watching you pleasure yourself.

You were drawing Curtis in deeper into the web of the sacred, eternal engine. And Wilford looked on you both like a proud matchmaker and smug creator.

Stepping away from you reluctantly, Curtis moved to number Six and looked her in the eyes as well. From the corner of his vision, he watched your reaction as he brought his hand up to fix the strap of Six’s dress. Uninterested in Six’s hitch in breath, he concentrated on how you kept yourself facing straight ahead but narrowing your eyes in annoyance. Satisfied on seeing a reaction from you when he touched another, he moved to number Seven and repeated his action by fixing her shawl.

Turning away from Seven, Curtis never looked back at you or the other candidates. Instead, he made his way to the chair he sat in before you entered.

After Claude escorted your group back into the waiting car, Wilford sat down across from Curtis and pulled out seven numbered files, “I’ll let you review.”

“Five,” Curtis stated without touching any of the folders.

Nodding at Curtis’ choice, Wilford fixed the lapels of his robe and leaned forward to rest his clasped hands on top of the desk. “Excellent choice, dear boy. But in the sense of honor and one passing the so-called baton, you’ll need to know your soon-to-be wife’s job aboard our, well, your sacred engine.”

Wilford watched Curtis’ reactions closely as he explained how you helped maintain order and delivered a well-mannered serving of absolute punishment to any upper class rule breakers.

Wilford spoke poetically; Curtis listened intensely.

“I’ll give you a moment to think it over. But remember what I said, it is a marriage. The contract between you both will be followed because we need structure, social form. There’s an image to uphold. Once you select who you want, that’s it. They’ve all agreed to this.”

“So why did she?” Curtis asked before he could think better not to.

Wilford knew this question had been bouncing around in Curt’s busy little head for a while, “She enjoys her job and she enjoys your train. She knows how people are.”

“She likes to murder and punish.”

Wilford tsked and rolled his eyes, “Stop being dramatic, Curtis. She enjoys order and knows responsibilities. She is a good person to have on your side, especially in our high position of power.”

“So you want me to use her as protection?”

“She is structure. Besides, you can’t deny she’s more than easy on the eyes. More importantly, dear boy, she’s someone you can trust. And it’s sad to see you without anyone to trust nowadays.”

Curtis cut a sharp glare at Wilford, “And who the hell played me the whole way?!”

Sighing noisily, Wilford rose from the table and came around to Curtis’ chair.

“I understand you’re upset about Gilliam. But she didn’t have anything to do with his choices. If anything, choose something in the opposite direction of what I’m offering then. Number Four seems like an easy girl to mold,” Wilford patted Curtis’ shoulder ready to leave and allow him some time to think alone. “Is number Four the type you want to be saddled with? Do you have enough kronole?”

Curtis ignored Wilford’s baiting question as he read your file history and achievements. “Why is she the executioner?”

“'It’s easier for someone to survive on this train, if they have some level of insanity,*’” Wilford shrugged casually.

Curtis frowned slightly at that understandable line, absentmindedly rubbing the scar on his arm.

“Think it over, Curtis. You two would be amazing together. You went with your gut and made it to the front end. You went with your gut and picked the best girl out of the seven. Make the best choice for yourself and your sacred engine. Would you like some water while you decide?”

Curtis ignored Wilford’s question. He looked at your old photo from when you boarded and a more recent sketch of you now. Running a dirty finger across your detailed sketch, his cock twitched in his pants again as he traced your painted lips.

Wilford set the tall glass of water down in front of Curtis, and with a flare that only Wilford possessed, dropped a single ice cube in the drink.

“Are you fucking serious?” Curtis growled after seeing a bullet frozen in the cube.

“Take your time to think it over. Read the note. The choice is yours, my dear boy. I’ll be back after it melts.”

The door closed behind Wilford and Curtis’ breath hitched in his chest.

Alone, quiet.

Curtis tried to compose himself in the eerie solitude. When locked in the tail section, he prayed for solitary confinement. A moment of silence. Now alone, he wasn’t sure what was worse.

Curtis raised the water glass up to the light and watched the prism paint the walls, choking out an uncomfortable laugh deep within. Gulping down the water, he spat the ice cube into his palm. Dirt began to run and channel along the lines of his palm.

Having enough of Wilford’s games, Curtis threw the ice cube on the floor and stomped on it.

He twisted the bullet casing apart and stilled his hands for a moment before unrolling the note to read the message.

Blank.

Asshole.

Curtis looked over at Wilford as he came back into the room. He didn’t say anything about the blank message, determined not to give him any more entertainment.

“Number Five,” Curtis stated, pushing the closed folder back across the table. Your pictures safely tucked inside his pocket.

“Excellent! Wise choice. Wait here and I’ll call Claude to show you to your new living quarters, there’s a private bath and a large bed for the soon-to-be-married couple. You’ll find out soon enough, but your soon-to-be misses and Claude aren’t the best-,” Wilford chuckled at the memories. “-Well, you’ll find out that detail out for yourself. What’s the fun in hearing everything secondhand?”

Curtis ran his hands over his face, not sure what to make of all that’s happened within these last days aboard the eternal engine.

Wilford snapped his fingers, making a show as if he forgot something and patting the pockets of his robe, “A piece of marital advice, dear boy. Your soon-to-be wife is more clever at making you feel welcomed than you know.”

Wilford pulled a tube of lipstick out of his pocket and rolled it across the desk. Curtis eyed the cylinder, trying to understand what Wilford was hinting at.

And then he knew.

Your sketch burning a hole in his pocket with your painted lips. Tapping the end of the lipstick on the table, it was that small detail he favored about you over the others. You were the only fresh-faced lady in the bunch.

---

The soft, classical music became a white noise as you looked out the dining car window and allowed yourself to relax. White noise, whiter scenery.

Dabbing the crisp linen napkin to the corner of your soft mouth, you arched a sleek eyebrow in anticipation.

Across the table, the slumped body finally lost to gravity and fell hard against the lace tablecloth as the train jostled and creaked itself out of a turn. The heavy weight of the fresh corpse shook the table causing a melody to play out on the fine China, vibrating a song of disturbance.

Huffing softly at your former dinner companion’s poor manners for falling face-first into his plate, you placed your hands on the table to settle the dinnerware’s rattling tantrum. Taking in the accomplished sight of your fresh kill, you gracefully held the teacup and saucer and brought the warm liquid up to the cold smirk on your lips.

Before settling back into the plush chair, you grabbed a cookie and closed your eyes to enjoy a moment of unsupervised silence.

“What did I tell you the last time you asked to do this?”

Shit.

Opening your eyes, you saw Curtis slide the dining car door close behind him, locking both doors on the keypad. His boots echoing loudly with each step as his eyes pinned you in place. His barely concealed anger immediately caused irritation to run down your spine.

“I don’t recall, please be more specific,” you couldn’t help but douse your words in annoyance before taking another sip of tea.

Why did he have to visit the dining car so soon? He was supposed to be having meetings with the security and maintenance departments. Swirling the remnants of tea, you couldn’t help but feel cheated that Curtis walked in and stole a bit of your alone time away.

The more you thought about the peace and quiet now lost, you rolled your eyes in the direction of the slowly chilling body across from you. Why did he always have to ask questions to obvious answers? Anyone would have known what you were doing here, the dead body gave it away for christ's sake. There was not much to deduce. He had always known what your tastes were like when he selected you- that was part of the deal. So for him to keep stifling your gifts over the last several weeks had become unacceptable. Looking over at the dead man’s ruffled hair you couldn’t help but snicker how things finally came to a head, so to speak.

Curtis narrowed his eyes at the sound of your soft laughter, “Watch yourself.”

Keeping in a sigh of vexation, you placed down your teacup and crossed your arms over your chest. Maybe if you restrained yourself, you could keep the displeasure you felt with Curtis about his lack of action concerning the poisoned body in front of you.

And then the thought dawned on you, “Seems your meetings ended earlier than I anticipated.”

Curtis shook his head at your blasé attitude of being caught doing something he specifically told you not to do.

“So sorry to interrupt your time with such a wonderful conversationalist,” he mocked, waving a disinterested hand at the body, “Things worked out better than you anticipated?”

“No, not as well as I anticipated,” you added back, giving him a pointed look. “Obviously didn’t have enough time to move the body before you found me.”

“I’ll always find you what you’re doing, you’re mine. My responsibility,” Curtis stated seriously.

Before you had time to enjoy the way his claim warmed you, he moved on and mentioned how Claude was currently overseeing the maintenance meeting.

You realized then Claude must have known what you had planned for your dead dinner guest, Vardo, and squealed to Curtis.

Seizing a bread roll from the basket, you roughly tore off a chunk between your sharp teeth. The longer you pictured Claude’s face, the harder you chewed. Your resentment for the woman mixed itself in with the taste of butter and sesame.

Claude liked to be an accessory to anyone with power. She only remained loyal to a person with sturdy purse strings, climbing the social ladder within the front end until she was able to get close enough to catch Wilford’s eye. You remembered how Wilford’s open position for a parts measurer was between her and another woman, Livia. Claude received the promotion and Livia avoided everyone for the next two weeks.

Shy and quiet, Livia didn’t speak a lot. Which seemed like a winning trait for someone who would measure humans to fill the role of replacement parts to the grand machine. But the reality of how the train was able to still run after these long 17 years was too much for Livia.

Upon finding out, she suffered hysterics and refuse to eat; crying for hours and mumbling incoherently about locks and gears, tumblers and bolts, little bodies and broken bones. Wilford was becoming increasingly agitated that her outbursts might happen in public and upset others. He said something needed to be done to ensure the grand secret of the sacred engine would not be revealed. During all this, Claude was increasingly delighted how Livia’s breakdown worsened each day.

Before the end of the second week and with Wilford’s concerns in mind, you convinced Livia to visit the club car and have a girls night with you. In between dancing, she told you how Claude was leaving notes with measurements and little tools on the food trays she brought to Livia’s room. Becoming so upset, she wouldn’t be able to eat. Even high on kronole, she didn’t give away details of what she saw or had to do during the job interview.

But her fate was all too late.

She mumbled once too much wine, “Never sanitize soul, not clean.”

Frowning at her jumbled words, you poured her more wine, “You’ll find peace soon, dear girl.”

The poison took her mercifully quick.

The bread roll circled and wobbled around your plate after you tossed it aside. You would never allow Claude to get too close to Curtis. You did care for Curtis, probably more than you were comfortable to admit. Besides, there was limited space for suggestions in Curtis’ head. Your voice held residency along with Wilford’s, and even Gilliam’s, words. You weren’t about to give any elbow room for Claude to whisper ideas to Curtis also.

When the train first started its maiden voyage, you tried to remain civil to Claude but she always gave off an air of unearned self-righteousness. And after what Livia told you, civility was barely hanging on.

Growling at your stubbornness, Curtis came closer to your side of the table. “I told you to give me time. Trust me like you trusted in Wilford. I would have given you what wanted soon enough.”

The memory of Livia still fresh in your mind, you snapped back at him, “Loyalty is what you were promised, but I don’t owe you patience or trust.”

Curtis narrowed his eyes at your attitude. He knew he overindulged your unique desires, but disrespect was something he would not allow. “Knock it off, dear wife. Act like a loving spouse and not a mediocre black widow.”

“Mediocre,” you scoffed at his comparison, “I could knock you off, you know. But what good would that do me, Curtis? I’m not sure I have enough poison for everyone on this train. At the moment.”

“You’re acting like a damn brat,” he muttered, annoyed and bitter at the thought you were still only with him for protection.

“I’m not the one continually breaking promises and then asking for the other spouse to keep believing in them,” you countered back, stomping your feet under the table and crossing your arms over your chest again.

“What, did Claude scurry over to you and rat me out?” You slapped your hands on the table and pitched your voice nasally high to mock, “'Oh, I’ll help you great and powerful ruler. I’ll run the meetings for you.‘”

Sneering at what you imagined Claude’s words might have been to him.

“I took out the garbage for you, Curtis. Vardo’s rumors would have hurt you. You could thank me instead of reprimanding me on how you didn’t sign off on this.”

You truly were a murderous brat.

Most passengers didn’t bother to recognize or question that the shiny new conductor next to you was also the dirty blood-covered rebel monster, who smashed through their glasshouse.

Truthfully, most didn’t care as long as their food was warm and their shit was flushed. Some believed so much in Wilford’s vision, they’d never question Wilford’s prophetic news that Curtis was their new conductor.

But some others did want to question. However, they knew better than to ask; except one, your dead dinner companion, Vardo.

Most believed the revolution was squashed and the rebels snuffed out. That the rebellious end-ers were tagged and placed back in their cages.

So when your freshly deceased guest started making inappropriate advances and asking too many questions at too many tables, you invited him to sup at yours.

Because if there was something you knew how to do, it was to tie up loose ends with a soft smile and a kind offer of something to drink. Every time you asked Curtis if you could take Vardo out for dinner, he would only reply- 'Soon.’

You finally got tired of waiting for Curtis’ permission and listening to Vardo’s rumors about the lack of skills the new conductor possessed.

And Curtis’ current lack of thankfulness towards you was pissing you off, “If you want out of the marriage, let me know.”

Curtis frowned at your obscene words, “What are you fucking talking about?”

“I’m not ignorant or daydreamy, Curtis. I know everyone on this train has a purpose and when that purpose or if room runs out, so will my usefulness. Besides, I’m already a shit listener if that dead weight across the table counts for anything. Maybe what I offer isn’t purposeful enough? Maybe we run out of room on the train again and I don’t make it past the cutoff number? Sure I could be safe if the number was 73% like last time. But there’s so many hypothetical questions. Wait, what was that deduction percent again?”

“74.” Curtis answered without a thought but then immediately looked harder at you.

Smirking slightly you carried on, “Ah yes, that’s correct. 74%. See, there wouldn’t be enough room for me. And the inevitable would happen again for Wilford’s wish of order to remain.”

Curtis’ jaw shifted at your words, he knew you were damn well aware the number was 74%. You were always off to prove a fucking point, but he wasn’t about to entertain the idea of you not being by his side. The notion that you could be separated from him brought a jab to his stomach he wouldn’t ignore.

He was owed this companionship, he was owed you.

He owned you.

He knew there was more to you that day during the selection. No hesitation or disdain when he leaned into your proximity. The silent challenge you gave him. There was something behind your expression, something he was still curious about exploring.

When Wilford revealed to him what your role was on the train, Curtis knew he found the connection, a shared portion of darkness. You offered a safe harbor to him for what he had done in the past and an understanding of what he’d have to do in the future.

He swore he wouldn’t lose you to any conflict- mathematical, mechanical, or man.

Curtis called your name as he calmly stacked the dishes in front of you and moved them aside.

He looked too calm to you, especially after walking in on you with a dead body. His features were cool as he nodded for you to give him the teacup sitting out of his reach.

As he continued to pile the dishes down the table towards Vardo’s body, you remembered how well acquainted Curtis was with death. Surviving all those years in the end section and massacring his way up to the front, one mere non-bloodied body wouldn’t give him much pause. It was you not waiting for his permission concerning the execution that soured his mood.

“I want an answer. Why did you do this, when I denied you my approval?”

“There was nothing to approve, I didn’t ask for your consent… this time,” you grumbled softly with admission.

“Oh, I know that dear wife,” he clicked his tongue at your retort. “You’ve been a goddamn worm in my ear about him for weeks but suddenly go radio silent about him? I knew you were up to something.”

“How did you even know I was here working?”

“A few things. The first, Claude mentioned you were having an intimate dinner with someone who wasn’t your husband.”

“Busy-bodied bitch,” you mumbled. “Hardly intimate. As you can see, it was work.”

Leaning forward and removing a sugar cube from the bowl, you tossed it at your dead dinner guest.

Watching it land down the back of his collar, you continued, “It’s been riveting conversation, too. What were the other few things?”

“She isn’t the only busy body here. Don’t waste food,” Curtis picked the sugar cube out of the man’s collar and tossed it in the air, catching it in his mouth.

“It looks like it was plenty intimate to him,” Curtis kicked Vardo’s chair leg with his heavy boot. “Asshole’s sporting a fucking death erection.”

“What?” Sliding your gaze under the table, you saw Vardo’s pants tented. “Pft. That’s just the poison, not the conversation.”

“I still don’t fucking like it, y/n.” Curtis stated darkly.

You shifted in the chair suddenly uncomfortable on where this conversation may lead, especially with the tone he just used. Recalling what he said shortly ago, you tried to move on, “What did you mean about Claude not being the only busy body?”

“I find it surprising you have to ask that, especially when you’re so busy keeping such thorough records of everyone’s conduct.”

Surprised by his discovery, you tried to figure out when he may have found your notebooks. You knew you never mentioned the records you kept concerning the passengers to him, the scorecards on who should receive punishment when they tallied up too many transgressions.

“Wilford told me. Relax, I can hear the gears moving in your head so loudly, they’re drowning out the sound of the train’s.”

“...Why did he?”

“You already know how Wilford explained what your job was to me before I was allowed to pick you. But he told me other things I didn’t mention to you. He said you’d record events, a little homicide journaling. He described it as a dear death diary on why you wanted someone removed. But more fucking importantly, dear wife- he said you always ran punishments by him before carrying them out. But this one, you didn’t run by me.”

Not yet ready for Curtis to know how sincerely you cared for him, you opted for a vague reply, “This was because of personal reasons.”

“Yes, murders usually happen due to those.”

Huffing at his dry reply, you couldn’t help but feel exposed after hearing Curtis read your records. “When did you find them?”

“Two months ago, after Wilford’s death,” he smirked down at you. “I can keep secretes, too. Glad you finally did Vardo in. Took you long enough though.”

“What?” Your head snapped up from shock.

“I read about the inappropriate comments he made to the men and women in the working section. How he made similar comments to you. How they were increasing, making others more uncomfortable. I was pissed to read the fucking things he said to you, but even more when you didn’t come to your husband and say what was happening.”

“Nothing happened, this was work. Trash removal.”

“Oh, I know that dear wife,” Curtis ran his finger down the column of your neck and over your shoulder.

You could feel yourself respond to his touch, goosebumps and tingles.

Curtis leaned into the shell of your ear as he confessed against your skin, “I made sure to encourage him.”

Breaking out of the soft lull his touch put you in, you slapped his hand away and stood. “What are talking about, encouraging? What did you do?”

“I encouraged Vardo to pursue you. Told him to spread the rumors and concerns about me. Told him if he was able to get my wife to cheat on me and expose your lack of loyalty, I’d reward him for exposing the snake in the garden,” Curtis stepped in closer to you, moving his hand back to your neck and tracing the length of your soft throat with this thumb, “He was the snake. Not you, never you.”

You couldn’t believe what Curtis was admitting. “Why would you do that? I haven’t given you any reason to think I’d break my marital agreement to you, Curtis.”

“Not for that reason.”

“Then what reason?!”

“A wedding present.”

“What.”

“You enjoy doing what you do, so I let you, dear wife. Everything you do, I let you do. I read how little you could stand him. Anyone could tell how much you disliked Vardo, except Vardo.” Curtis watched your shock take over as you tried to process everything. “Vardo was stupid. Stupid enough to think he’d gain anything by going after us. After you. I told him to spread the rumors, prove to me how my dear wife wasn’t faithful. He objected, in the beginning, believed it was a trap. But when I offered him the chance to sleep with you- he agreed greedily.”

“…You set him up to see if he would sleep with me?”

“No, sweetheart. I set you up... to see how loyal you’d be to me.”

Snarling at his words, you smacked his hold on you, “Aren’t you just fucking splitting hairs, husband?”

Moving his hand tighter around your neck, you felt his thumb press into your windpipe. “Mind that bratty attitude. Vardo was fucking stupid, not knowing how tail end-ers are possessive. No one gets to covet my wife.”

As he pushed his thumb harder in your skin, you dipped your head back to gain a breath to speak, “You orchestrated all this?”

“You’re welcome,” Curtis lifted his thumb, relieving the pressure on your windpipe as he dropped his lips to your clavicle.

His touch and confession slammed into your core. Gasping at the feel of his lips, your hands wrapped around his wrists, squeezing them to encourage him to keep the pressure on your throat. Lowly moaning when he did.

Curtis knocked his knee between your legs and grazed your center with his thigh. Moving his thigh back and forth against your clothed clit, you bit your lip when you heard him say, “Rub.”

Rolling your hips against him, Curtis chuckled at your pleasure.

“Good girl.”

He dipped you back against the table as he sucked your neck harder between little sharp bites and kisses, “How wet are you, sweetheart? Grinding that pretty pussy against my thigh. I want to see how desperate you are.”

Your hips jolted up, lost in the smooth and steady twisting of his words.

“Fuck,” you gasped out.

Freeing a hand from your neck, Curtis ran his touch down along your body. Sliding his hand under your skirt, he bunched the material up your hips and licked his lips when he saw the large wet spot on your panties. Moving the damp material aside, he grazed his finger along your slick folds.

Your breath hitched at the contact and the darkness in his eyes.

Curtis teasingly twirled his fingers around your inner thighs, lightly circling your clit. “Can you purr?”

Not waiting for an answer, Curtis kissed you and dipped a finger into your pussy.

He bit your lip and hungrily moved to swirl his tongue over yours. Everything was vibrating in you, a fight of dominance and battle for acceptance.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let some of that tension go,” he encouraged, sliding a second finger into you.

Your resistance weakening, the grazing of his thumb circling your clit- you wanted to melt for him.

Bringing a leg up off the table, you hooked it around his waist and mewled at the sensations he was creating in you by the furious rate his fingers worked you.

Curtis began to slowly scissor you, only pausing his kisses to see your reaction better, “Fuck. You’re so beautiful. That’s it, sweetheart, squeeze my fucking fingers.”

“Please,” you whimpered, extending your other leg out as you tried to gain more friction.

He held your hips down against the table, “Look at you, so beautiful and wet. All fucking mine. My fucking reward.”

“I’m going to cum,” you squeezed the words out past your lips as your walls tightened around Curtis’ fingers.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.” Pulling his fingers away from your pussy, Curtis chuckled deeply at your forlorn expression. “I want to be inside you when you do.”

Bringing his wet fingers up to his mouth, he groaned in pleasure from the taste of you before pulling you off the table.

Kissing you possessively, Curtis’ tongue willed for access to your mouth again. You could taste yourself as you feverishly returned his kiss.

Without warning, he turned you around and bent you over the table. Your stomach seizing from the cold surface while your ass was fully on display in the air.

Yelping in surprise you felt Curtis kick your legs farther apart. Stepping between your soft thighs, Curtis grabbed your legs off the floor as your torso warmed the table underneath your skin. You heard him free himself from his pants and groan deeply.

He ran his hands up and down your legs unable to touch enough of you as he moved your knees back. Praising and kneading your ass cheeks, your heels hovered over your bottom as Curtis locked your folded legs underneath each of his arms. You felt his tip run along your slit, the head of his cock parting your wet lips. Grabbing your hips and with one strong thrust without warning, Curtis buried himself into you.

The table shook with every claiming thrust as Vardo’s body rocked against the fine china on the other side of the table. Curtis pinned his eyes on the corpse before dropping his gaze on your back.

Curtis railed into you harder, “Say you’re mine.”

Moaning at his command and losing yourself in him, you only whimpered in reply. You never felt like this before. You moved your hand behind yourself, trying to feel his hips, his hands, anything.

“No.” Curtis grabbed your blindly-reaching hand and covered his over yours, bring them down on the table. Locking you in place again, his stomach brushed against your back. The sounds of his balls slapping against you echoed throughout the dining car. Perched over you with more leverage, Curtis moved faster in and out of your tight cunt.

“Say it,” another snap of his hips, another long hard drag of his cock along your pussy. “Fucking say you’re mine!”

“Yours,” you finally panted out, your face flattened against the tablecloth that was crumpled in your fists. “Always.”

Curtis almost lost himself when he felt you squeeze your walls around his cock, throwing his hard thrusting off.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum right that fuck now. Fucking milk my cock.” His soft-toned, harsh words made you close your eyes as you screamed his name out in release.

Feeling your pussy tighten and flutter around his cock made Curtis bit his lip and drop your legs. Smacking his hands down on either side of your head, he encased your body with his grunts. All you could focus on when you opened your eyes were the muscles of his forearms flexing in your view as he rutted into you.

The sounds of Curtis fucking and using you to chase his release caused your body to tighten up again. Dropping his weight on top of your back, he snapped and slammed his hips into you. His primal moans set a ripple through you, your eyes rolling back as another orgasm took over causing your tight count to flutter around him again.

Growling out your name, he coated your walls, “Mine. You’re mine.”

Opening your eyes with sigh, you laughed softly at the window you and Curtis managed to fog up next to the table.

After catching his breath, Curtis propped his weight onto his forearms and kept himself within you. He wasn’t ready to pull out and let you go just yet.

The cool air hit your skin when slightly move off your back. Bowing down gently, Curtis kissed your sweaty shoulders making you shudder when he rocked against your sensitive core.

Basking in the aftermath of Curtis slowly softening within you, you realized how much you were willing to do to protect your husband. It was no longer just about the train.

“No more secrets between us. Understood, dear wife?”

“Understood, dear husband.”

“Good. It might be time to invite Claude for dinner,” Curtis said before kissing the back of your neck.

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day three

Prompt #3: “You did this?”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Scott McCall, Lydia Martin

Words: 1559

Author’s Note: A reaction fic to the combination of Scott’s placement in AP Bio in 5x02 and his attempt to drop it in 5x06, because I have a lot of feels about that. Scott POV.

>> hope is in the sometimes

It’s not that strange for Lydia to make an appearance at the clinic, but usually when she does, she has either Prada or the latest supernatural disaster in toe. Since Scott doesn’t see Prada and he really doesn’t need any more disasters right now, he thinks he’s allowed the rush of unease that fills him at sight of her sitting in the waiting room.

“Lydia?”

She doesn’t immediately look up from her phone, instead holding up a finger to let him know it’ll be a second. Scott takes her lack of urgency as a positive sign—at least until she puts her phone away, stands, and pulls out a drop form to AP Bio instead.

The one with his name on it. 

He stares at the paper and tenses his jaw, muscles in his neck jumping with the strain.

“Mrs. Finch didn’t get a chance to talk to you after class today,” Lydia says, casually swinging the gate open and walking into the employees-only area. “Said you dropped this off but didn’t sign.”

Lydia’s voice sounds like she’s testing him, but for what, he doesn’t know. A wave of shame crests over him and thrashes wildly in his chest.

He clears his throat and wipes his hands on his pants.

“Yeah. I um, I got a little distracted when I was handing it in. I can, um—” (don’t say um) “—I can sign it now if you want. Just give me a sec.”

Lydia doesn’t say anything in response, but he’s keenly aware of her eyes on him as he shuffles papers around on the desk, hunting for a pen—clients are always taking them by accident, and Scott doesn’t have the heart to point it out. He usually just buys the cheapest pack he can find every few months to cover it.

He could probably just tell the Doc about it, but it seems too minor to worry someone else.

Lydia clears her throat. "Scott—”

“Oh, here we go!”

Scott snatches a pen out from under a box of dog treats, interrupting whatever Lydia was about to say.

“Sorry about that,” he says, uncapping the pen and holding his hand out for the paper. “Didn’t mean to keep you hanging. I can just—”

“Scott,” she repeats, more insistent this time. “I didn’t come all the way over here just so you could sign some stupid drop form.”

Scott stares at her. She tosses her hair back.

“…Oh,” he says, because he’s not quite sure how he’s supposed to take that. He waits a beat, but Lydia still doesn’t offer him the paper, or an explanation. “So what did you—”

“Why are you dropping?”

His chest seizes, and the fact he recognizes it as panic instead of an asthma attack is not nearly as reassuring as he’d hoped.

He hadn’t really expected anyone to ask. Even then, he definitely hadn’t assumed it’d be Lydia.

He turns away, starting to sort the already sorted PPE on the counter. “It’s like I told Mrs. Finch. Scheduling conflict.”

Scott doesn’t see Lydia frown, as he’s busy looking anywhere but at her, but he feels it anyway. “I thought Finch said you can’t get into UC Davis without it.”

He slides a fast food container into the trash. “I’ll just take it next semester.”

“It isn’t offered next semester.” Lydia makes her point flatly, like she already suspected he knew it. Which, he did. “And even if there were, magically, a special section, it’d be too late to go onto your transcript to apply for the fall.”

Scott closes his eyes, for once wishing away red hair instead of red irises.

(He thinks of red pens and this isn’t yous and all of the C’s and D’s littering his sophomore transcript; all the people that died, red blood spilling everywhere, because he couldn’t figure out how to squeeze enough hours in a day.)

“The material’s just a lot more than I thought it would be,” he tries. “Maybe I’m just not cut out—”

“Bullshit,” Lydia snaps, the sudden ire startling Scott. “You have more highlights in the first chapter of that textbook alone than Malia has in her entire planner. And you got one of the highest grades in the class on Finch’s surprise exam.”

“Yeah, and then I missed the next night’s reading entirely.”

Scott hadn’t really meant to say that out loud, and this time, it’s Lydia that looks startled.

“That wasn’t your fault, Scott,” she says. “I didn’t read it either. There were extenuating circumstances—”

“There’s always extenuating circumstances!”

In the backroom, several dogs start barking irritably, distressed by both the tone and volume of Scott’s voice. For her part, Lydia just arches her eyebrows at his outburst.

Scott backtracks.

“Look, I just… I can’t afford to fail any more classes,” he says. “I’m not... like you. Dropping AP Bio might mean I can’t get into UC Davis. But if I don’t drop it and it tanks my GPA—and let’s face it, it will—I can’t get into any college. It’s just… It’s not worth the risk.”

The disappointment on Lydia’s face throbs painfully in his chest. It reminds him of exactly why he hasn’t told his mom about his decision yet.

He tries for a wobbly smile. “I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t worry have to about me. It’s—it’s okay.”

Lydia shakes her head. “It’s really not.”

“Okay,” Scott concedes, because he’s never been good at lying, “then maybe it just is.”

Lydia bites her lip. Scott’s both hopeful and saddened by the idea that she might be letting it go.

He holds up the pen. “Can I…?”

The second Scott reaches for the paper Lydia twists away from him, not far enough that it could physically stop him if he tried.

“Wait,” she says, scrambling to grab her phone while still keeping the paper away. “You can have it in a moment, okay, I just—I just want you to see something first.”

Scott gives her an exasperated sigh. “Lydia…”

She fixes him with a glare and then shoves her phone in front of his face, effectively bringing a halt to both his argument and his movement. “Look, Scott.”

It’s rarely worth trying to argue with Lydia when her mind’s made up, and Scott’s saving that good fortune for when he manages to end the conversation overall.

He humors her.

It’s a simple photo: a young white girl with blonde hair smiles up at the camera, giggling as a black and white wirehaired mix wriggles playfully in her arms. He looks at Lydia curiously, unsure as to why she’d been so insistent he look at it, before it clicks: they’d been at the clinic a few weeks ago, during which he’d administered the dog’s monthly intramuscular injection. He feels a flush of pride at the memory of the girl referring to him as Dr. McCall—only for it to sour when he remembers it’ll never come true.

He swallows down that emotion, too.

“Where did you get this?”

“Social media,” Lydia says, tapping the screen so the like and share options appear.

“…You follow Stephanie?” He reaches for the phone, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is she even old enough to be on—”

“It’s her mom’s account, Scott, geez.” Lydia snatches the phone away and clicks out of the photo view, displaying the comments below. “And no I don’t follow her, but I do track the Beacon Hills Clinic tag. Maybe you should, too.”

Scott feels even more lost by the apparent non sequitur, until Lydia slips the phone into his hand and gestures for him to scroll.

Most of the comments are fairly general reviews—what the cleanliness is like, speed of service, price comparisons, and so on—but there’s also a very particular human factor. Alongside the praise for Dr. Deaton, which doesn’t surprise Scott in the slightest, there are overwhelmingly positive comments about how the vet’s assistant had helped them, their pet, or their child through the visit.

Scott scrolls through the comments in silence, surprised by how many people and pets he remembers. And even more surprised by how many remember him.

Eventually, he closes out of the thread, and the picture of the dog and the girl comes back into focus.

They look… happy. Really, really happy.

“You did this, Scott,” Lydia says, gently taking her phone back. “You. Not Finch, or me, or anyone else. I know what I said when you showed up in class, but I was wrong—you couldn’t have been in a better place. Biology, being a veterinarian —it’s all about helping people. That’s what you do.”

Scott can’t help but push back. “I don’t always get to help people the way I want to.”

“No, not always,” Lydia admits, and the flash of guilt that crosses her face is such a perfect copy of his own that he knows she means it. “But I don’t think that means we should give up on the sometimes.”

Scott considers her words for a long moment, then nods, slowly.

“I don’t get off for another half hour,” he says, finally putting the pen down, “but if you wanted… maybe we could read that chapter together.”

She hands him the drop form, finally. “I think I’d like that.”

Scott takes it from her.

He drops it in the trash.

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Two: Clip #2

Note: I’m sorry for the late post. I finally got home.

master list previous

...

Zondag 13:14

When Robbe stepped into the flatshare, holding his empty coffee cup with one hand and his keys in the other, he was met with the fresh smell of food. Closing and locking the door, he toed off his shoes, placing them between Milan’s sneakers and Zoë’s sandals. After he put his keys on the small metal shelf by the door, he heard Milan call out, “Robbe, is that you?”

“Yeah. It’s me,” Robbe replied, moving into the flat. He stopped outside of his bedroom and opened the door. He placed his skateboard inside, tossed his backpack on his bed, and headed to the kitchen, where he found Milan bent over the stove. His roommate glanced up from the cookbook as Robbe stepped into the kitchen. Giving him a half-nod, he turned back to the pot, which had a bright red sauce. Robbe tossed his empty cup into the trash. “What are you doing, Milan? Trying to burn the house down?”

Milan turned to him, offended. He held a hand over his heart and Robbe chuckled. “First Lucas doubts me and now you? My baby gays are uprising against me.” Robbe laughed, pushing himself onto the counter. “And, for the record,” Milan added, pointing dramatically with a sauce-covered spoon. “I’m cooking for Jonathon. We’re supposed to be having dinner and a movie.” 

“Oh, so you’re trying to poison him?” 

“Hey!”

“It’s a shame,” Robbe said and chuckled. He snatched a bag of chips from the brown basket on the counter and ripped it open with one hand. “I really liked Jonathon. I’ll start preparing his eulogy. He shall be missed dearly. Died when Milan tried to cook him food and failed miserably. So sad to see another person killed by Milan’s disastrous cooking skills—” 

Milan glared, the corners of his lips pulled up. “Shut up, Robbe, or I just might make you taste it,” his roommate said. “I want to do something nice for Jonathon. However, should I fail, we do have a wide array of take-out menus for him to choose from and I just have to hope that he doesn’t dump me for my immense failure.” Robbe laughed, shaking his head, because Jonathon would never do such a thing. “How was the library with Yasmina? Did you guys have a good time studying?”

Robbe shrugged, sighing. “We did as much as we could. There is only so much we can do when our teacher is incapable of giving a proper review. But there are still a few more days until the test, so there’s time to study more if we need it.”  

“It could be worse,” Milan said. “The test could be tomorrow. At least there’s more than a week for you to study some more. Plus, you and Yasmina are brilliant and you will be amazing.” Robbe nodded. As silence drew over the kitchen, Robbe shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. As he moved to pop a few more in his mouth, Milan sent a cautious glance over his shoulder. “And how was your guy’s night out?” 

“Huh?” Robbe asked. 

“Did you have a good time?”

“I… uhh…,” Robbe trailed off. He bit down on his lip before letting out a sigh. He could hear Milan gently stirring in some ingredients, but he knew that his roommate, his self-appointed guru, was listening. “When we were at the bar that Senne suggested, I was having a really great time. I felt like it was time for me to move on from Thomas, but…” The words got lodged in his throat and Robbe couldn’t get them to spit out. 

“But?” Milan asked.

His friend sent him an encouraging smile but didn’t push him. Robbe let out a shaky breath, biting down hard on his lip and nearly breaking the skin. “But at one point, I… I heard his laugh, then all I could see was him—him and some guy he could have been on a date with. I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I left to get some fresh air, had a small therapy session with a random stranger… a hot random stranger—”

“Oh,” Milan spoke up. A devilish grin spread over his features. “A hot random stranger, you say?” 

“—and Jens said we were leaving and we left the bar for the club and then I found that stupid watch on Saturday,” Robbe continued. He didn’t bother acknowledging Milan’s interruption. Robbe sighed, leaning back against the wall. “To be honest, Milan, I’m just having a hard time with it. With Thomas. With everything. It’s like everywhere I turn, there’s something there that reminds me of him.” He could see Milan nodding, silently urging him to continue. “And Mama tells me that I have to mourn the relationship, but I can’t help the feeling that I… that I wasn’t—” 

The words stuck to his throat again.

He couldn’t say it. 

Thankfully, Milan didn’t need him to say it. The look painted over Milan’s face told Robbe the truth. He knew exactly what Robbe was going to say. His roommate moved the sauce to an unused burner before moving closer to Robbe. Once the small distance was closed, Milan wrapped him into a tight hug. Robbe melted into it. Milan squeezed him tighter for a second before pulling back. 

“You are worth it, Robbe,” Milan said matter-of-factly. His hands slid to Robbe’s shoulders, holding them tightly. “Any guy in Antwerp would be lucky to call you their friend and especially their boyfriend. You care so much about everyone around you. Robbe, the fact you are questioning your worth so drastically in terms of your relationship with Thomas shows that he wasn’t good for you.”

Robbe blinked. “What do you mean?”

Milan paused, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he stared at the ceiling. Then, he said, “Robbe, there are always general anxieties and everyone has doubts about themselves. But the guy you should be looking for is someone who makes you feel worth it, someone who makes you feel loved and cherished and seen, someone who sees those anxieties and tries to soothe them the best that he can. From what I’ve seen, especially before the breakup, Thomas didn’t do that. Sometimes, he didn’t even notice. You deserve someone who notices and helps you.” 

Robbe nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “It’s just hard because he’s…”

“Your first love, your first real love,” Milan finished for him. “And it’s completely understandable that you feel that way. You love him and he was a vital part of your life, but you both had to move on. When you find the one, Robbe, the one that you should be with, you won’t have to ask him to stick around or change yourself to keep him.” Shame filled his body like a hot flash, burning beneath the surface of his skin. “He will stick around and he will love every part of you. The good and the bad. That’s the person you should wait for, Robbe.”

Robbe let out a breath. “Do you really think that person exists?” 

“Of course he does,” Milan said, grinning. “He’s out there somewhere in Antwerp, waiting on you to find him—when you’re ready to find him, of course. And, if I can find mine, you can find yours.” Robbe grinned at him as Milan headed back to the stove. “Speaking of which, I need to get back to cooking before he shows up early like he always does and the food isn’t ready. Are you streaming today?” 

“Yeah,” Robbe said. He jumped off the counter and threw away his trash as he left the kitchen. “It should only last two hours. Maybe three. If I need to vacate the apartment after, please give me an hour warning.”

Robbe moved to step into the hallway, but Milan said, “Wait, wait, one more thing, I promise.” When Robbe turned back to his roommate, he had his eyes raised suggestively and a wicked smile crossing over his face. At that moment, he looked so much like Lucas van Der Heijden that Robbe had to blink several times. “Before you go and do all the things related to your stream, how hot was this random stranger outside the bar exactly?”

“Milan!” 

“What? It’s important information, Robbe!” Milan protested. “He might be a good rebound! It’s been so long since we’ve been able to talk about how attractive men are and I miss it!”

Robbe snorted, turning to leave. “I’ve never been the rebound or one-night-stand type, Milan. You know that better than anyone.” Milan nodded. When Robbe was sixteen, Milan had been the first person Robbe had cautiously come out to, admitting to having feelings for another guy in his class. Once Robbe was more comfortable, they had talked about sex and attractive guys and they hadn’t stopped since. “And, even if I was, I wouldn’t know how to find him. I only know his first name and vaguely what he looks like. I wouldn’t be able to find him anyway.”

Milan shrugged. “So, how hot was he?”

“Now that I’m not an emotional, slightly buzzed wreck: hot,” Robbe stated bluntly. Milan laughed, covering his mouth as he stirred the sauce. “Tattoos, sharp jawline, tanned skin.” He mimicked an explosion which caused Milan to laugh more. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a stream to prepare for.”

“Good luck!” 

“Don’t poison Jonathon. I like him!” 

“Robbe!”

next (Maandag)