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meganegatari · 1 year ago

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before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS

ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc

apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.

covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.

you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.

watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.

the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”

you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.

“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”

she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.

she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?

you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.

she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.

“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.

“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.

“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.

you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.

your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.

you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable.

your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.

she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord.

“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her.

you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.”

she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.

flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away.

you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip.

“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman.

you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.”

you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”

some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?”

and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense.

you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-”

your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.

after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.

you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.

she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.

she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.

she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both.

your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.

she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.

fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.

trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?

you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times.

ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place.

“holy shit.”

im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)

yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr

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sillymommy6969 · 5 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄ES, ANGEL ᝰ! KATSEYE

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ summary: if each katz (excluding yoonchae) is a tease and how they would react while they’re jealous/how you would react to them being a total brat > lowkey just turned into daniela and lara being jealous lmao

disclaimers: slight!nsfw, making out, harsh language, teasing, fem!reader, suggestive/sexual content (minors/men dni)

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Sophia Laforteza - Brat Tamer

You groaned at the foot of Sophia’s bed, slamming your phone into her duvet. You were beyond bored out of your mind. The Filipina laid just inches away from you, her laptop in her lap and her eyebrows furrowed. Her expression was stern, her eyebrows furrowed. Her focus never once pulled away from the “official Katseye business”, she called it, on her screen.

You mentally cursed her for the outfit she had on; a black pair of glasses and a big grey hoodie. The way she was sitting had the edge of her hoodie risen up just the slightest, leaving her slim figure exposed, and little to the imagination.

“It’s been hours, Fia, am I just chopped liver here, or what?” you whined, “Why did you even call me if you were busy?”

Sophia sighed, taking her glasses off with one hand. “I told you to be patient, baby. This is supposed to be in by tonight, and I’m almost done.” She leant forward slightly, enough to peck you on the temple. “Give me a couple more minutes, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, watching her go back to her laptop.

“But you’ve been working forever, and I only get to see you so many hours a week,” you groaned. When no reaction could be instigated, you grabbed her laptop, slamming it shut and slid it towards the foot of the bed. She clicked her tongue, but before she could protest, you rose a finger to her lips. “Your job is your mistress, Laforteza, and I’m sick of you putting it above me. You’re gonna pay attention to me now, or I’m leaving.”

She stared back at you with curious eyes, her lips gradually moving from a scowl to a smirk when you’d hoist yourself over her lap to straddle her. “Okay, where did this come from?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“I’m tired of you putting your work before me… If you paid half the amount of attention you did your work to me, maybe I wouldn’t have to literally pry it out of your hands.” You pouted, running your fingertips up her neck and into her hair. One of your hands drew lines along her jaw, down to her chest. “You love work more than you love me.”

Her face immediately fell, her hand raising to brush your hair from your face. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that, mahal, but you know it’s not true.”

She wrapped her arm around your waist, and for a second, you really believed you finally had your girlfriend back--until she swiftly pressed you flush against her, your front against hers as she grabbed her laptop. Her chin found the crook of your shoulder, her glasses tipping off her nose as she read off her now lit again screen of her computer. “But I’m sorry, I really do need to finish this, or I’ll get in a lot of shit with Geffen.”

You let out a loud sigh, your body slumping in her arms.

Fine. Guess you were gonna have to do this the hard way.

Sophia hated playing this game, but when she did, she always won. You always loved to test how far you could go before she cracked and gave in, but it always ends with you begging for her instead. Alas, it was your favourite game to play.

The fast, soothing typing from her was the only sound that rung in the room. Slowly, step by step, you began removing items of clothing from Sophia.

First, off came her glasses. You easily removed them from her nose and she didn’t put up much of a fight.

Once her glasses were tucked snugly into her bedside table, you began playing with her hair draped over the hood of her sweatshirt. Sophia was very good at concentration, and like you’ve mentioned, she was very good at this game. She didn’t give in easy, not even when she knows what you’re trying to do. Your greedy hands grabbed at the hem of her hoodie, tugging them upwards as she continued typing through you.

“You’re really gonna do this?” she questioned, her voice low and demanding, “I’m warning you, mahal, this won’t end well.”

You were just more encouraged by the nickname.

“I’m not doing anything,” you smirked, “It’s getting warm in here, I’m helping you get cool.”

She scoffed in amusement, eyeing you with those beckoning eyes of hers. When you wouldn’t look away, challenging her, she turned back to her computer. “Okay, then. Let’s play.”

She let you strip her off her hoodie, but didn’t entertain your hands travelling up and down her back. You were growing impatient, grabbing at the straps of the tank she was wearing.

“Fuck, how’re you still working right now?”

She laughed at your evident frustration, her hands hovering over her keys. “I warned you, mahal. You always try and do this, but end up losing really bitterly. You still tryna play?”

You were determined to get her to abandon that damn laptop.

“Yes,” you grunted, adjusting yourself over her lap to shield her eyes away from the screen. “You’re an asshole, y’know that?”

“Mmh, really?” Sophia hummed, “You always try and play this game, but you never win, baby. Are you really that desperate?”

When she refused to let you strip her down anymore further, you adjusted yourself so she couldn’t see the screen anymore. “Fine, Fia, you win. Are you done now?”

She scoffed, closing her laptop and setting it on her bedside table. Finally, her eyes laid on you, her hands gripping your hips so you wouldn’t move around in her lap. “Oh, I’ve been done for a while. I was just tryna see how long you’d last.”

You rolled your eyes, stripping out of your own top.

“I hate you,” you murmured, “You’re the worst person ever.”

“Oh, yeah?” she smirked, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your lips. One on your lips, one against your jaw, one on your collarbone. You let out a soft sigh. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that after I’m done with you.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Manon Bannerman - Brat Tamer/The Brat

Manon is a true tease. She will get you all hot and bothered with those cursed eyes of hers. Today, she invited you to the girls’ dance practice. She felt bad for cancelling plans for last minute rehearsal for their opening show in the Philippines in a week, so, with the approval of their team, you were welcomed to sit in on the last ten minutes.

Now, sitting across the practice room as the girls moved their way to Touch, you could sense the looks Manon were throwing your way. She was a show-off, giving 110% of herself into the choreography. Throwing smirks and winks your way.

By the end of practice, you were ready to jump her bones, right then and there in the middle of the room.

Manon bid their choreographer goodbye, grabbing her things from the corner of the room and quickly dismissing herself.

You were standing beside one of the staff members, but whatever he was talking about going in one ear and out the other. You watched as Manon swayed her way over to you, innocent smile spread across her lips.

She leant in, greeting you with a quick peck. “Hello, my love.”

You didn’t reply, biting back whatever venom you had building in your throat. For a moment, when her hand came in contact with your waist, you almost let out a lewd noise.

“Hey, y/n!” Lara called, the other girls approached you.

You managed a quick greeting, paired with a smile. You were hoping Manon would make up some excuse so the two of you could just leave and get some time alone, but when you looked over at her, she only gave you a knowing smirk.

“We’re having dinner at the dorm tomorrow night, Sophia’s cooking. My sister’s coming, I know some of Dani’s friends are coming if you wanna join!” Lara invited, earning a couple hums of agreement from the others.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you replied, watching Lara’s expression turn awry when you shuddered slightly at Manon’s cool hand slipping up your shirt and caressing your back.

“y/n, are you okay?” Yoonchae asked, concern evident.

Manon chuckled, “Yeah, honey, you okay?”

You felt her fingers reach down, slipping past the waistband of your pants. You gulped, “I’m fine. It’s--just been a long day.”

“Okay… anyway, bring soda if you can, Sophia won’t let us do sugary drinks.” Daniela leant in to whisper, only to earn a hard hit to the head from the leader. “Ow! I didn’t say anything!”

“I heard that,” Sophia scolded, “No soda, y/n.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together to keep yourself composed. Manon could go all day if she could, but she was really hoping to relax a little… with your help.

“Okay, I’ll see you guys at home.” she announced.

You followed her outside to her car. Once you slid into the passenger seat, she shut the door and started the engine.

"Are you insane? That was so close, I was so sure we were gonna traumatize Yoonchae or something,” you scolded, leaning over to nudge her shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Manz, I know we haven’t seen each other in a bit, but you can at least keep it in your pants until we’re alone.”

“Like we are right now?” Manon glanced at you, her eyes narrowing. She leant over, stealing a kiss from you. She chuckled when you leant in further for another, pulling back with a smirk. “Can you blame me? I finally get you in my hands and you think I’ll wait? Do you even know me?”

"Oh my God, how are you an adult?" You scoffed, but the teasing glint in your eye gave you away. "You truly have the sex drive of a sixteen year old boy."

Manon laughed, her eyes softening as she glanced at you again. "You want sex drive? I can give you sex drive." She shifted in her seat, and before you could even process what was happening, she leaned over and kissed you quickly, just enough to leave you breathless.

You blinked, momentarily stunned, before shaking your head. "That’s not what I meant, we’re still in the parking lot.”

She pulled back slightly, grinning. "And that stops me, how?”

"You’re such a tease," you scoffed, still smiling. "I’m surprised you’re controlling yourself so well right now."

Manon gasped, slamming a fist against her chest dramatically. "You don’t know how much this guts me, to not be able to fuck you in the middle of my work parking lot right now."

You couldn't help but laugh at the idea, even if the thought of her dancing just for you had your heart racing a little.

"Drive, Manz, we’ll test that teenage boy sex drive of yours.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Daniela Avanzini - The Brat

Daniela is a jealous, jealous, jealous girl. She cannot stand, even the thought of you getting close with anybody without her there to supervise you.

The last time you laughed around your friend, Heeseung a little too hard at dinner, you woke up the next morning with every inch of your skin aching with bruises spelling out Daniela’s name, whom slept soundly with her arms and legs wrapped around your body. Though, she was also the Queen of double standards, because she loves flirting with anybody--and everybody--in her line of vision when she’s in need of attention.

Today, you came to pick her up from a schedule, because you thought, “it’s not everyday I get to see my girlfriend, it would be a nice little surprise for her”.

But oh, no. You just had to start chatting with the new guy.

Luke was the new security guard standing at the front desk. He was a tall, clean-cut guy with the most innocent features. He carried a bright smile for whomever passed his doors, and you were no exception. When you registered yourself a guest, he begun stirring a conversation about Katseye.

He asked you about Daniela, and when you began talking, you just couldn’t stop.

Unfortunately, that’s what Daniela saw too. When the elevator doors opened, the last thing she expected was to see you. For a moment, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of your familiar head of hair. You were standing in all your glory, the light at the end of a long tunnel of media schedules.

But her heart sunk when she heard your heavenly laugh.

Just as Luke started talking about some new shift schedules, you saw Daniela striding toward you. There was an instant shift in her posture when she saw you and Luke talking. Her smile, usually so warm, turned into something more neutral, and you could tell she wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“Hey, honey,” you greeted her, but she didn’t quite meet your eyes, her attention on Luke instead.

“Hey,” she responded, a little more curt than usual, before offering a tight smile in his direction. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Luke said, flashing a grin at her. “Looking great as always, Dani.”

Her expression flickered for a moment, her lips tight, but she didn’t say anything back. It felt like the air in the room shifted, and you felt an odd tension building between the three of you. You tried to ease the situation.

“Well, we should get going,” you said quickly, wanting to break up the awkwardness. “I got us dinner reservations.”

But Daniela didn’t move, her eyes flicking between you and Luke for a second before she reached over and took your wrist firmly, pulling you toward the hallway. You raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden change in demeanor, but she didn’t give you a chance to ask anything.

The two of you quickly found your way into the nearest bathroom. Once the door clicked shut behind you, Daniela turned to face you, her jaw tight, her lips pressed together in a way that made your stomach tighten with nerves.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong.

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she moved closer, her hands settling on your arms as she looked you in the eye. You could see the frustration in her gaze, and the way she took a deep breath before speaking made your heart race.

“I don’t like it,” she muttered, her voice low but serious.

“Don’t like what?” you asked, feeling confused.

Her grip tightened slightly, her voice soft but firm. “Luke. He’s always checking you out. I don’t like it.”

You blinked, processing her words. “Dani, he wasn’t checking me out, we were just talking. He was just trying to make conversation. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She seemed to struggle for a moment, her face softening a bit, but there was still a trace of jealousy in her eyes. “Yeah, well, if you get to eye fuck Luke, maybe I should find someone too.”

You reached up, cupping her face gently with both hands, trying to calm her down. “What? What the fuck?”

For a moment, she just looked at you, her expression conflicted. Then, she exhaled, clearly trying to calm herself. “I’m saying, what about I go have a chat with Justin, huh?”

Justin was a young intern on Katseye’s team. It was obvious to anyone with eyes he had a fat crush on Daniela. You’ve had a conversation with her about it, and she assured you there was absolutely nothing to worry about with Justin.

You stepped closer to her, grabbing the back of her neck with a hand, her waist with the other. Your lips locked in a fast, hot kiss. She pulled away, catching her breath. “Wanna say that again, Avanzini?”

She toyed with your hair, and she smirked.

You were exactly where she wanted you to be.

“Why don’t you go ask Luke, I think I have Justin’s number in my phone…” When she goes to grab her phone from her pocket, you grabbed her wrist, slinging it around your neck. Your grabbed her hips, propping her onto the counter.

“Get his number off your phone right now.” you demanded.

“Why, you don’t like ‘Luke the security guard’ anymore?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned her head to look away, but you grabbed her cheeks gently, turning her back to you.

“No, he’s out of my mind. And by the time we leave here, Justin will be out of yours.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Lara Raj - Brat Tamer

Lara was a very accepting, easy-going girlfriend. She didn’t care if you went out clubbing with a bunch of guys who were obviously into you, or get jealous when the barista at your local cafe kept writing her number on your coffee. But if there was one thing Lara did not tolerate was you talking to your ex.

A complete stranger flirting with you? Whatever, it’s not that big a deal. This person who’s seen you butt naked before her? Absolutely not, she’s launching every nuclear missile she can.

You and Minji didn’t date long, it was more of a high-school sweetheart kinda relationship.

When Minji graduated a year before you, the two of you kinda broke it off. And by kinda, I mean she promised she would come back and marry you one day when she’s earned enough to take you around the world, so--yeah, it was safe to say Minji was not over you, even now, years after the two of you had called it quiets peacefully.

Even at the mention of her name had Lara boiling with anger.

She absolutely hated how obsessed with you Minji was--and still is. She wouldn’t even care this much if she wanted you physically, if she just missed hooking up with you, but this was love we were talking about. Feelings. Lara hated feelings, especially when they were from another woman for her girl.

You promised Lara one day you would meet her at home, just going out to grab a quick coffee after your morning jog. She hadn’t woken up yet, and you wanted to get your run out of the way so you could spend the day with her.

Once you placed your order, and once again turned down the barista’s persistent advances, you waited for your name.

“I see you’re still a screenager,” a voice pointed out softly in front of you, your head shot up to see Minji’s familiar features. She had a small smile on, “I was hoping I’d run into you here.”

You scoffed, immediately accepting her invitation for a hug.

“Oh my God, you’re back in town! Last time I saw you, you were off in Korea getting famous,” you beamed, “I can’t believe you’re here, and you didn’t call me!”

Oh, did I mention the two of you were best friends first?

“Yeah, well, I was hoping to surprise you. I’m off on break, and my sister really wanted to come to Cali, so here I am.” Her hands slid into the pockets of her jeans. “Since you’re here already, would you like to join me for a coffee? Are scones still your favourite breakfast pastry? I’ll get you one.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“I’d love to, but… my girlfriend’s waiting at home.”

Your name was called before she could answer, you thanked the runner, grabbing the two cups of coffee from her. You held them up for Minji to see, “I’m surprising her with her fav.”

She nodded, gulping. “Girlfriend? Cool… what’s her name?”

“Lara. She’s super busy, so I don’t get her alone most of the time--I’d love to catch up some other time this week though, how long are you staying for?” You almost felt bad when you noticed the slight falter in her expression. It was like kicking a little puppy. But you were really exited to see your girlfriend.

Little did you know, said girlfriend was awake and wanting to surprise you as well. She was hoping she would go in and out of the cafe and have you come home to breakfast.

But to be greeted by the sight of you talking to, none other than, the legendary Kim Minji.

Two cups of coffee in your hands, smiling and talking with Minji. You were hunched over her phone, held out so you could read her calendar. She watched as Minji’s eyes turned from her phone to your cheek, inches away from hers.

Oh, Lara was ready to blow the place up.

“Great, you’ll text me this time then?” you joked, earning a light chuckle from Minji. She hummed, “Yeah, I will.”

A hand palmed the small of your back, a taller figure looming over your shoulder. You looked down, seeing familiar rings on a hand you would only assume to be your girlfriend’s. Your body relaxed, tense shoulders easing upon looking up to see Lara.

“Oh, hey, baby, I didn’t know you’d be awake.”

She kissed your forehead, ignoring your statement. Her eyes focused solely on the woman standing inches away from you. Minji swallowed thickly, intimidated by the woman’s dark aesthetic. The eyes, it was always the eyes. If two people were to look at the both of them, they would never be able to tell you dated both these women.

“You must be Lara then,” Minji said, clearing her throat. “y/n was just telling me about you. I’m Kim Minji.”

You smiled at the Korean’s polite introduction. You looked up at the Indian singer, whose jaw tightened, her eyes dull and judgemental. Your smile slowly faded at the rising tension as neither of them spoke, before Lara broke the silence.

“The Kim Minji you dated?”

You swatted her arm, “Lara--!”

“Actually, Minji, I appreciate you being so nice to my girlfriend, but I don’t think she’ll be able to make it this week,” Lara threw her a smirk, “She’ll be too busy hanging out with me. Have a good time in LA though, it’s a very nice city.”

As she ushered you out the cafe, you threw Minji a quick mouthed apology before gesturing for her to text you.

The gesture didn’t escape Lara’s hawk eyes.

“Really? ‘Oh, Minji, your phone is so far away, let me lean in and look at it closer’, ‘Oh, Minji, I’m sorry my girlfriend doesn’t like you, you’re still giving me heart eyes like you’re about to get on one knee in the middle of this shitty cafe’.”

“Hey!” you barked, “You love that cafe.”

“Who cares about the stupid cafe, you were flirting with your ex--who should go back to Korea ‘cuz I don’t want her here.” Lara snarled, looking past your shoulder through the windows of the cafe outside to see Minji trying her best to avoid either of your gazes.

“Okay, first off, that sounded like there were hella racial undertones,” you pointed out, crossing your arms, “Second of all, I was not flirting with Minji, we ran into each other while I was trying to grab you coffee--mind you, exactly the way I know you like it before I got ambushed by you being rude to the poor girl. Seriously, if I was flirting, you’d know, Lara, ‘cuz she’d be on her knees already.”

The older’s face grimaced at the statement.

“Oh, yeah? You think you’re that irresistible?” she scoffed, her tongue sticking against her inner-cheek.

“You sure think Minji thinks so,” you teased, “So why don’t I go in there and prove you right?”

Just as you were about to re-enter the cafe, Lara grabbed you and spun you so she’d stand in between you and the door. “Absolutely the fuck not, you’re not seeing this woman under any circumstances, you hear me?”

“Why is that, Raja, think you’ll lose to Minji?” you taunted.

Taken aback, Lara grew silent with widened eyes. She never pegged you for the lippy type. You were always much more lax with things, and it was something she admired greatly about you. The new side of you was foreign, but not unwelcome.

“Really?” she scoffed, amused at your sassy attitude.

“Really,” you nodded. “Shall we go, or not?”

“Okay, baby, why don’t we go get some real breakfast?” she smirked, and before you knew it you were speeding home in her black BMW. She got a real good munch is all I have to say.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Megan Skiendiel - The Brat

Megan was the most bizarre human being you have ever met--and you absolutely loved the fact you never got bored around her. You could tell at the very beginning of your relationship, she was trying hard to be “normal” so she wouldn’t scare you off, but she would then find out you were, if not worse, just as bad as her at being nonchalant.

She tries not to show when something bothers her, but it’s usually so obvious she’s trying to hide something that you notice immediately. She had zero poker face.

So when you had to go off and do whatever it is you had to do with your busy schedule, especially on a rare day off for her, she was evidently down. Her texts were growing shorter and more melancholy, and as bad as it made you feel for not being able to just lay in bed at home with her, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself at her puppy persona.

meggerz <3 Okay then

meggerz <3 Text me when you’re otw home

meggerz <3 I miss you pretty

Eventually, you had to avert your attention back on your work before you sidetracked too far. But the consistent buzzing of your phone kept pulling your gaze towards the screen.

meggerz <3 I miss youuuuuuuu

meggerz <3 The bed feels so empty rn

meggerz <3 Please just come home

meggerz <3 If I called them and told them there was a bomb hidden somewhere in the building will you get sent home?

meggerz <3 Ignoring me is crazy work

meggerz <3 Ugh need my sexy hot gf right abt now

Your fingers hovered over the keys, typing and deleting responses in an attempt to steer her into a quiet zone. But no, that wasn’t her style. She wasn’t the type to settle for a simple conversation, and you knew that.

meggerz <3 What are you working on?

meggerz <3 How is it more important than me :((

meggerz <3 Please pretty? I miss you…

You groaned, pulling a hand through your hair. You wished you could shut your phone off, but you also didn’t want to hurt her feelings. You knew your girlfriend just needed some love.

You bit your lip, glancing at your work. You really should finish this last report, but her message made your chest tighten. You missed her, too. You were practically aching for her touch, her presence. A small part of you wished you could be done with work already, but you still had to finish.

But come on, did you really think it was about to be simple?

But your phone kept ringing, and each ping of the texts dug into your concentration, chilling away at it like Michelangelo to marble. After an eternity of distractions, you finally hit send on the last report. The moment it was out of the way, you let out a breath of relief and immediately grabbed your things.

You couldn’t wait to get home. You couldn’t wait to see her.

When you walked through the door, you found her sprawled on the couch, her eyes glued to her phone. She looked up and grinned when she saw you, but there was a softness in her expression too, like she had been waiting for this moment all day. You smiled, feeling your heart race as you knelt beside her. Her eyes curved, but you could tell she was tired. You’d barely sat down before you scooped her up, pulling her into your lap.

“Baby, you’ve been texting me all day,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “What do you need?”

She sighed dramatically, nestling into your chest. “I just missed you,” she mumbled, voice thick with longing.

You kissed her forehead, rubbing her back softly, and soon, the chaos of the day began to melt away. “Okay, you have me, ma’am. Wanna go take a bath and get some Thai?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around you. “That sounds like exactly what could make up for your stupid work.”

౨ৎ author’s note: lowkey might make the lara one a full blown two-part fic cuz i just got inspired but idk…

560 notes · View notes

growthhyp · 6 months ago

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Amazing stories! Would be hot to seem some dad/son stories.

The Milk Carton

James, a 40-year-old male with a skinny flat body, standing tall and straight as an arrow, reflecting his strong and unwavering sexual preference. He is dressed casually in a baggy pink shirt that complements his bright skin color, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thin arms, showcasing his meticulous nature and attention to detail, much like the work he does as an accountant. His short, blonde, straight hair is neatly styled, framing a gentle smile that lights up the room. In the background is a cozy living room, filled with the warmth of home and a hint of his organized lifestyle. Sitting across from James on a comfortable sofa is his son, Elijah, who shares the same bright skin tone and blonde hair. At 18 years old, Elijah is also slim and fit, mirroring his father's physique. He wears a gray hoodie and jeans, his youthful energy and curiosity visible in his posture. With his eyes slightly cast down, Elijah is absorbed in a conversation with James, displaying his shyness but also the deep love he holds for his father. Both of them are engaged in a heartfelt moment, with a sense of understanding and mutual respect, as Elijah follows in James' footsteps, pursuing a career in accounting. The room is adorned with subtle hints of their shared interests, creating an inviting and harmonious environment that celebrates their bond. Despite their different sexual preferences, the unspoken connection between them is palpable, as they share a passion for numbers and a love for each other that transcends any labels or expectations.

After the discussion, Elijah retreats to his sanctuary, his bedroom. He closes the door with a gentle click, the sound echoing through the corridor. His room is a stark contrast to the rest of the house, a cocoon of his own personality, filled with vibrant colors. The walls are lined with bookshelves, their contents revealing his love for fantasy and adventure. His computer, a gateway to his digital world, sits on a neatly organized desk, surrounded by notebooks and textbooks, a testament to his academic pursuits.

With the door closed, Elijah feels a sense of liberation. He opens his laptop and logs into his Tumblr account, his heart racing with anticipation. The screen flickers to life, displaying a dashboard filled with images of muscular men in various states of undress. His eyes widen, and his breath quickens as he scrolls through the feed, each picture more enticing than the last. The men are chiseled, their bodies sculpted by what seems like the gods themselves. The sight of them fills him with a warmth that spreads through his body, igniting a spark of desire in his loins.

He pulls off his shirt, revealing his own flat chest and slender frame. Elijah's gaze lingers on his reflection in the mirror, a silent reminder of the physique he craves. He runs his fingers over his chest, imagining the feel of solid muscles beneath his fingertips. He takes a deep breath and lets his hand drift down to the waistband of his jeans. With trembling fingers, he unbuttons them and slides the fabric down his legs, stepping out of them with a sense of urgency.

Elijah's hand wraps around his cock, stroking it gently as he sits on the edge of his bed. His eyes remain glued to the screen, watching as the men in the images flex and pose for the camera. Each stroke is a silent plea for transformation, a wish to embody the strength and dominance that he sees in the men before him. His cheeks flush with arousal as he picks up the pace, his breaths coming faster and more ragged. The room is filled with the sound of his hand moving against his skin, a rhythmic dance that matches the pounding in his chest.

His body responds with a spasm of pleasure, and with a soft and quiet groan, Elijah ejaculates, his seed spurting onto the fabric of his favorite pillow. The sensation is overwhelming. He collapses back onto the bed, his body shaking with the intensity of his climax. The room is quiet once more, the only evidence of his passion the sticky mess on his stomach and the soft, satisfied smile on his lips.

As he cleans himself up, Elijah's mind wanders to the outside world. He opens his phone and logs into his social media account. Scrolling through the feed, a vibrant poster catches his eye. "CARNIVAL COMING SOON!" it reads, with images of flashing lights and thrilling rides. His heart leaps at the sight of it. The carnival is opening just a short bike ride away. It's an opportunity too tempting to ignore.

With newfound excitement, Elijah walks out of his room, the scent of his desire still lingering in the air. He finds James in the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Hey, Dad," he says, trying to sound casual. "Could I go to the carnival tomorrow afternoon?"

James looks up from the stove, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. He wipes his hand on his apron, leaving a smudge of flour on his cheek. "The carnival, huh? What's the occasion?"

Elijah shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just thought it'd be fun to check out the new rides and stuff."

James nods, his expression a blend of amusement and concern. "Alright, be safe. And don't let those carnies sweet-talk you into anything, you know how they can be."

Elijah laughs, the sound light and carefree. "I'll be fine, Dad. I've got street smarts," he says, flashing a grin that James can't help but return.

With a nod of approval, James goes back to cooking, his mind drifting to the pile of paperwork waiting for him in his home office. Meanwhile, Elijah heads to the bathroom, the anticipation of tomorrow's adventure buzzing through him like an electric current. He brushes his teeth, the minty toothpaste a refreshing counterpoint to the lingering scent of his desire.

===

The next morning, Elijah wakes with a start, his body heavy and his thoughts immediately drifting to the carnival. He glances down and notices the familiar outline of his morning erection pushing against the fabric of his briefs. With a smirk, he reaches down to adjust himself, his hand grazing the sensitive skin. His thoughts of the carnival and the men he'll see there only add to his arousal. He quickly takes care of his morning routine, eager to get dressed and set out for the day.

The sun is high in the sky when he arrives at the carnival, the air thick with the smells of popcorn and cotton candy. The vibrant colors of the rides and games assault his senses, and the laughter and music create an intoxicating symphony that fills his soul. The crowd is a sea of people, all shapes and sizes, their faces alight with excitement and wonder. Elijah weaves through the throngs of visitors, his eyes darting from one attraction to the next, searching for something fun to do.

And then he sees it. A tent, standing tall and proud, with a sign that reads "The Greatest Sebastian - Your Wishes, Our Command!" Below the words is an illustration of a wizard, his muscles bulging as he holds a staff adorned with a crystal that seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Elijah's heart skips a beat, and without a moment's hesitation, he strides toward it. The flap of the tent opens with a flourish, and he steps inside, his eyes widening in amazement.

Before him is Sebastian, the very embodiment of masculine perfection. He's a towering figure with a body that seems to have been carved from marble by a master sculptor. His long, curly brown hair cascades down his broad shoulders, and his piercing yellow eyes seem to see into the depths of Elijah's soul. He's dressed in a velvet magician's robe that hides his incredible physique, but Elijah can't help but imagine the rippling muscles that surely lie beneath. On the table in front of him sits a single, glowing white orb that seems to pulsate.

Sebastian looks up from his crystal ball with a knowing smile, his teeth a dazzling white against his tanned skin. "Welcome, young man," he says, his voice a rich baritone that sends shivers down Elijah's spine. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Elijah clears his throat, trying to find the right words. "Well, I… I've heard that you can grant wishes," he stammers, his cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and hope.

Sebastian's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Ah, a young soul seeking change," he says, stroking his chin. "What is it that you wish for? Riches, fame, perhaps a lover's heart?"

Elijah's gaze lingers on the wizard's bulging biceps, and he swallows hard. "I… I want to be like you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be strong, muscular, and… dominant."

Sebastian's eyes narrow, and he leans in closer, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "A noble aspiration, indeed," he says, his smile turning into a smirk. "But such transformations are not for the faint of heart. They come with great power, but also great… changes."

Elijah's eyes light up with determination, his voice steady. "I'm not faint of heart," he says firmly. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, his smile never wavering. "Very well," he says, his tone dripping with amusement. "But remember, once you embark on this journey, there is no turning back."

Elijah nods, his heart pounding in his chest. "I understand," he says, his voice strong and steady.

Sebastian rises from his chair, his movements fluid and graceful despite his towering frame. He gestures to a shelf behind him, where an assortment of bottles and jars glint in the soft light of the tent. He reaches for a bottle that seems to call out to him, its crystal surface shimmering with an ethereal glow. It's filled with a white liquid that swirls hypnotically when he holds it up to the light. The potion is contained in a simple glass bottle with a cork stopper, sealed with a crimson wax that matches the color of the wizard's robe. The muscular man's hand dwarfs the container as he holds it out to Elijah.

"This," he says, his voice low and serious, "is a potion of transformation. Drink from it, and you shall become as I am: a man of great strength and power." His eyes dance with mischief as he adds, "But remember, young one, with great power comes great… attraction to those of your kind."

Elijah takes the bottle with trembling hands, the weight of the potion seeming to echo the gravity of the decision he's about to make. "What do you mean by 'those of my kind'?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Sebastian's smirk deepens, his yellow eyes gleaming. "The potion has a peculiar side effect," he says, leaning in to whisper in Elijah's ear. "It tends to… enhance one's attraction to the same gender. You, my dear, will crave the touch of men as you never have before."

Elijah's eyes widen, but the excitement in his voice is clear. "I'm okay with that," he says, his voice barely audible. "I'm… I'm already…"

Sebastian's smile softens, his eyes filled with understanding. "You're already aware of your desires," he says gently. "That's good. The potion will simply amplify what's already within you. But remember, young man, it's not just about physical changes. The transformation will also alter your very essence, shaping your identity in ways you can't begin to imagine."

Elijah nods, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. He takes the bottle from Sebastian's hand, the cool glass a stark contrast to his warm, sweaty palm. "Thank you," he murmurs, the words thick with emotion.

"Ah, but nothing in life is free, my young friend," Sebastian says, holding up a hand to stop him. "The price for such a transformation is steep. I require your payment in cold, hard cash."

Elijah's stomach flips, but his desire is stronger than his doubt. He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out his wallet, counting the crumpled bills with trembling fingers. "How much?"

Sebastian names a sum that seems exorbitant, but to Elijah, it's a price he's willing to pay for the body of his dreams. He hands over the money without hesitation, his eyes never leaving the potion. The wizard takes the cash, his grin widening as he counts the bills. "Ah, the currency of desperation," he says, tucking the money into a velvet pouch at his side.

Elijah pockets the bottle, his heart racing. He thanks Sebastian and practically sprints out of the tent, the sound of the carnival fading behind him as he makes his way home. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more exhilarating than the last. He can't wait to be alone in his room, to drink the potion and finally become the man he's always envied.

===

Once home, he slips into the kitchen, his eyes immediately drawn to the refrigerator. He opens the door and glances around, ensuring that James is nowhere in sight. The milk carton is exactly where he left it that morning, almost empty but with enough room for the potion. He opens the bottle and carefully pours the swirling white liquid into the remaining milk, watching as the two blend together. The potion's glow dims slightly as it mixes with the milk, but the energy it radiates is undeniable.

Elijah's heart races as he seals the carton and puts it back in the fridge. He glances at the clock; it's almost dinner time. He needs to get cleaned up and pretend that it's just another ordinary evening. With a deep breath, he heads to the bathroom, the bottle now a distant memory in the trash. The hot water of the shower cascades over his body, washing away the sticky sweat from his journey. The scent of the potion lingers on his fingertips, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

James, on the other hand, is in the throes of a marathon cleaning session. The weekend has arrived, and he's determined to get the house in tip-top shape. He's scrubbed, dusted, and vacuumed every nook and cranny. His eyes are red from the dust, and his throat is parched.

He stumbles into the kitchen, his shirt sticking to his sweaty back. The fridge is a beacon of cold relief, and without thinking twice, he opens the door and grabs the milk carton.

James tilts his head back, the cold liquid cascading down his throat, quenching the fire that burns from his exertion. He pauses, his taste buds catching a hint of something peculiar, something different from the usual blandness of the milk. But thirst is a powerful motivator, and he dismisses the thought, chalking it up to the heat of the day playing tricks on his senses.

As he returns the carton to the refrigerator, the cold air hits his bare chest, causing his nipples to pebble. The room spins for a brief moment, and he sways on his feet, catching himself before he topples over. He chuckles at his own clumsiness and wipes the bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The carton feels heavier than before, the remaining 1/5 of the contents sloshing around like a silent taunt.

James stumbles towards his bedroom, his legs feeling like jelly. He's not sure what's happening to him, but the sensation is unlike anything he's ever felt. The warmth spreads from his core, radiating outward, enveloping his entire body in a gentle heat that's both comforting and disconcerting.

Suddenly, his legs seem to come alive, swelling and stretching before his very eyes. His feet feel massive, the skin taut and unyielding as his calves balloon to almost comical proportions. His blue pants are now nothing but shreds of fabric, clinging to his rapidly growing limbs. He looks down in shock, watching as his legs morph into powerful, muscular pillars of strength that resemble nothing of his former self.

James' hand fumbles to his crotch, feeling the fabric of his underwear strain against his growing cock. He gasps as it swells, the pressure building until the waistband snaps, the briefs falling away to reveal his new, massive erection. It stands tall and proud, thick veins pulsing with the potion's power. His testicles, now heavy and full, hang low between his legs. He can't help but touch himself, the sensation overwhelming. His hand wraps around his shaft, and he groans in pleasure as he feels his body respond to his own touch.

The transformation isn't finished yet. James' torso starts to expand, his chest puffing out as if inflated by an invisible pump. His ribcage widens, and the skin stretches taut over the burgeoning muscles beneath. The white sando he's wearing strains to contain his newfound bulk, the fabric stretching until it finally gives way with a resounding rip. His abs, once a sad six-pack, now form a perfect 10-pack, each muscle clearly defined and rippling with power. His pectorals balloon outward, pressing against his skin. His back muscles spasm, the tendons standing out in stark relief as they swell with newfound power. His shoulders broaden, making him seem even more Herculean.

As his arms begin to grow, James can feel the potion coursing through his veins, a tingling sensation that's both exhilarating and terrifying. The muscles in his biceps and triceps swell, bulging with newfound strength. His forearms thicken, the veins becoming more prominent as his hands grow to match his new frame. His fingers elongate and thicken, each digit now a testament to the power within him. His newfound biceps and triceps stand out like rounded boulders, begging to be touched and admired.

The potion's effects soon reach his face, and James gasps as he feels the skin around his eyes tighten and the lines around his mouth fade away. His cheeks plump up, giving him the youthful glow of an 18-year-old. The stubble on his chin retreats, leaving behind smooth, hairless skin that seems to glow with vitality. He runs his hand over his face, the touch of his fingers alien on the youthful contours. His eyes widen with shock as he looks in the mirror, seeing the reflection of a man who could be his own son. The only hint of his true age is the hint of curiosity and fear in his gaze.

James' body is now a masterpiece of masculine beauty, and he can't resist the urge to explore it further. He starts jerking his huge cock, the motion slow and deliberate. The feeling is unlike anything he's ever experienced, the potion amplifying every sensation. The veins bulge and pulse as he works his shaft, his moans growing louder with each stroke. His balls are heavy with cum, and the anticipation of release is almost unbearable. His hand is a blur, moving up and down with a mind of its own, driven by a primal need that's been unlocked within him.

But as he tries to think of the women he's been with, their faces and bodies failing to arouse him. His mind is a blank canvas, until images of muscular men start to flood his thoughts, their sculpted forms and piercing gazes igniting a fire deep in his soul. He tries to push them away, to focus on the familiar, but the potion's power is too strong. His hand moves faster, his strokes more urgent, as he imagines the touch of those men's strong hands on his body, their lips on his, their cocks inside him. The very thought sends a shockwave of pleasure through him, and he feels his body respond, his cock growing even harder in his grip.

Elijah finishes his shower and wraps a towel around his waist, the steam from the bathroom clinging to his skin. He walks into the kitchen, he opens the fridge, his hand reaching for the milk carton on autopilot, when something catches his eye. It's lighter than before, almost empty.

A muffled sound of pleasure reaches his ears, echoing through the hallway from his father's bedroom. Curiosity and confusion swirl within him as he tiptoes towards the door, straining to listen. The moaning grows louder, unmistakable in its urgency. It's definitely a man's voice, but it's not his father's. Elijah's heart races as he gently turns the doorknob and peeks in.

What greets him is a scene he could never have anticipated. There, in the place where James should be, lies a muscular 18-year-old boy, his skin glistening with sweat, his body a sculpted work of art that matches the men from Elijah's fantasies. The stranger's eyes are closed in ecstasy, his mouth open in a silent scream as his hand moves rapidly over his thick, erect cock. The sight is both mesmerizing and terrifying.

Elijah stumbles back, his mind racing. This can't be his father. The man before him is too young, too perfect. Panic sets in, and he retreats to his bedroom, his heart hammering in his chest.

He locks the door behind him, his thoughts spinning wildly. He must be dreaming, or maybe he's hallucinating. But the sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echo through the house. They're real. The intruder is real.

Elijah's eyes dart around his room, searching for anything he can use as a weapon. His hand closes around a heavy book, but he knows it won't be enough. Then he remembers the potion. If Sebastian's claims are true, then he too can become a tower of strength. He rushes to the kitchen, his heart in his throat, and grabs the milk carton from the fridge.

The liquid inside is barely a quarter of its former volume. He quickly downs the remaining potion, the sweet taste of milk mixing with something else, something potent and powerful. He feels a warmth spread through him, starting in his stomach and moving outwards to his extremities. His body begins to tingle, and he knows that the transformation has begun.

Elijah retreats to his bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't lock the door. What if the intruder comes in? But the potion's magic is already working, and he's too focused on the changes happening to his body to worry about anything else. He sets the carton on his nightstand and watches in the mirror as his reflection starts to shift.

The towel around his waist feels tighter, and he looks down to see his cock growing, thick and hard. It's as if it has a mind of its own, reaching for the fabric as if to break free. He gasps, his hand moving to cover his mouth, as he watches his abs ripple and multiply, forming a perfect 10-pack that he's always dreamed of. His chest swells, filling out the space between his pecs and stomach, the muscles growing more defined with every second that passes. His skin stretches and tightens, the towel now a mere strip of material clinging to his burgeoning physique.

Elijah's legs, once skinny and unremarkable, now balloon with muscle, pushing him back onto the bed. He feels the mattress sink beneath the weight of his new body. His legs, now thick and powerful, are a work of art, each muscle clearly defined. He runs his hand over his newfound bulk, the sensation foreign and exhilarating. His calves bulge and his thighs thicken, the fabric of his towel giving way to reveal his massive cock and balls.

His arms follow suit, growing longer and more muscular. He watches, his eyes wide with wonder, as his biceps and triceps swell with power. His shoulders broaden, the towel slipping away to reveal a body that's no longer his own. His skin stretches taut over his newfound muscles, the veins standing out like rivers of life beneath the surface. His fingers elongate, the sensation strange and thrilling as he flexes his hands, feeling the strength that now courses through them.

The tingling sensation in Elijah's back intensifies, and he feels his spine stretch and realign. His shoulders pull back, and a defined V taper forms, highlighting the stark contrast between his narrow waist and broad back. He gasps as his ribcage expands, the sound echoing through the room. His face, once a reflection of his youthful curiosity, now takes on a more mature, angular structure, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His nose becomes more aquiline, and his lips fuller, framing a smile that promises both strength and sensuality.

But it's the sudden onslaught of testosterone that truly overwhelms him. His mind is bombarded by a deluge of sexual desire, so intense it's almost painful. Every nerve in his body is alive with new sensations, each one more electrifying than the last. The potion's power courses through his veins like molten lava, setting every inch of his skin alight with arousal. He can feel his cock growing even thicker, the weight of it heavy and demanding against his abs. His balls swell, the ache of impending release growing more insistent by the second.

James can't fight it anymore. He gives in to the potion's power, his hand moving faster and faster over his shaft. He feels the orgasm building, a pressure that threatens to consume him. His moans grow louder, and his hips buck involuntarily. His body is no longer his own, a marionette dancing on the strings of his newfound desires.

With a roar that echoes through the house, James climaxes. Cum spurts from his cock like a geyser, painting the walls and floor with his thick, white seed. The force of his release sends waves of pleasure throughout his transformed body, each muscle contracting in ecstasy. He collapses onto the bed, panting and spent.

Elijah, still in the throes of his own transformation, can't ignore the commotion. The intruder's moans of pleasure have turned to gasps for breath, and the smell of sex fills the air. He clenches the book tightly, steeling himself for what he might find. He opens his bedroom door and tiptoes down the hall, his newfound muscles flexing with each step.

The door to his father's room is ajar, and through the crack, he sees the figure of a man sitting on the edge of the bed. His heart stops as he recognizes James' bed, the bed he's slept in countless nights, now stained with a puddle of cum.

James sees the shadow in the doorway and turns, his eyes locking onto Elijah. For a moment, there's confusion in his gaze, as if he's seeing a ghost. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He tries to stand, his muscular legs protesting the sudden movement. "E…Elijah?" he finally manages, his voice a mix of wonder and fear.

Elijah's heart skips a beat. That's his father's voice, but the body? It's the stuff of his wildest dreams. "Dad?" he whispers, the word barely making it past the lump in his throat. The man before him looks up, and in those piercing blue eyes, Elijah sees the unmistakable spark of recognition.

James' eyes widen, taking in Elijah's new form. "What…what's happened to us?" he stammers, his voice a mix of shock and awe. The potion's power seems to hum in the air between them, a palpable force that neither can ignore.

Elijah swallows hard, his hand tightening on the book. "I… I don't know," he says, his voice shaking. "But… I think we should talk."

James nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the book in Elijah's hand before lifting to meet his son's eyes again. "Yeah," he says, his voice a gruff whisper. "Talk."

But talking seems to be the last thing on either of their minds as the potion's power surges through them, drawing them closer together. Before Elijah can say another word, James is on his feet, his massive frame towering over his son. The younger man's hand falls away from the book, his arm muscles flexing involuntarily as he watches his father approach.

Their eyes lock, the tension in the air thick with unspoken desires. Without warning, James leans in, his newfound strength and confidence driving him forward. His hand cups the back of Elijah's head, and their lips meet in a kiss that's equal parts tender and hungry. Elijah's eyes flutter closed, his body responding instinctively to the touch of the man he's always admired.

Their tongues dance together, exploring and tasting, as their hands roam over each other's transformed bodies. Elijah's strong, muscular arms wrap around James' broad back, feeling the heat of his newfound power. James' hands glide over Elijah's sculpted chest, the muscles flexing beneath his touch like living marble. Each caress sends sparks of pleasure through them, the potion's magic amplifying their senses to an unprecedented level.

Their kiss deepens, growing more urgent as the desire between them builds. Elijah can feel James' cock, now fully engorged and heavy, pressing against his stomach. It's a sensation that sends a jolt of excitement straight to his own groin, his cock pulsing with need.

James breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with passion. He gently pushes Elijah back onto the bed, the mattress groaning beneath their combined weight. His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of his son's newfound muscles. He can't believe this is happening, but the potion's power is too strong to resist.

Elijah's body responds to James' touch, his cock standing at attention as his father's fingers trace a line down his chest and stomach. The anticipation is agonizing, a sweet torment that makes him ache for more. He watches, his breath hitching, as James' hand wraps around his shaft, the older man's grip firm and sure.

James's gaze never leaves Elijah's face, his eyes searching for any sign of fear or hesitation. But what he sees instead is a hunger that matches his own, a need that's been stoked by the potion and their shared transformation. With a gentle tug, he guides Elijah's cock to the side, exposing his puckered hole.

The tip of James's massive cock, now slick with precum, hovers at the entrance to Elijah's ass. Elijah feels a mix of terror and excitement as he prepares to accept his father in the most intimate way possible. The heat of James's shaft sends shivers down his spine, and he can't help but arch his back, offering himself up.

With a low growl, James lines himself up and pushes in, the potion's magic allowing him to breach Elijah's tight hole with surprising ease. Elijah gasps as he's filled to the brim, his body stretching to accommodate his father's girth. James takes a moment to savor the feeling before pulling almost all the way out, only to slam back in, his balls slapping against Elijah's ass with a wet smack.

Their bodies move in a rhythmic dance of passion, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through Elijah, his moans growing louder as James hits all the right spots. James' muscles flex and bulge with every movement, the potion's power evident in every powerful thrust. Elijah can feel his father's strength, the weight of his new body pressing him into the mattress.

Their breaths mingle, both men lost in the moment, the only sounds the grunts and gasps of their shared passion. James' hand wraps around Elijah's cock, the friction of his palm against the sensitive skin driving him closer and closer to the edge. Elijah's eyes roll back in his head, his hips bucking up to meet every thrust. The potion's power is a drug, a heady mix of arousal and confusion that only seems to make the sensations more intense.

James feels it building within him, the pressure in his balls reaching a fever pitch. He can't hold back any longer. With one final, powerful thrust, he lets out a roar that shakes the room, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside Elijah. The warmth and wetness of his cum fills the space between them, a testament to the bond that's been forged in the crucible of the potion's magic.

At the same moment, Elijah's body tenses, his own orgasm ripping through him like a bolt of lightning. He cums in thick ropes, the sensation so intense that his vision blurs. The potion has not only transformed their bodies but also their very beings, stripping away any remaining barriers between them.

As the aftershocks of pleasure begin to fade, the reality of what they've just done sets in. James pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, and they both lay there, panting and staring at the ceiling. The silence is deafening, the weight of their actions pressing down on them like a heavy blanket.

Elijah is the first to speak, his voice a soft whisper. "Dad, what have we done?" The tremble in his tone betrays his fear and confusion.

James turns to look at his son, his new muscular body a stark contrast to the man Elijah has known all his life. "I don't know," he admits, his voice gruff with emotion. "But it's what the potion did to us."

Elijah nods, his own muscles still quivering from the intense pleasure of their union. They need to clean up, to process what's happened.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his body feeling both new and unfamiliar. He walks to his father's dresser, his muscular legs moving with a newfound grace. He opens the drawer and pulls out a pair of black shorts, feeling the soft fabric in his hand. The sight of them sends a thrill through his body, a symbol of the power and masculinity he's always envied in the men he desires. He steps into them, the shorts hugging his muscular thighs and accentuating his now prominent bulge.

James watches, his eyes taking in Elijah's new form, the potion-induced changes making it clear that his son is no longer a boy. The white shorts Elijah throws to him seem to glow in the dim light of the room, a stark contrast to the black Elijah has chosen. He sluggishly rises, his legs feeling like they're made of lead. He pulls the shorts on, the fabric stretching to cover his own massive thighs and the heavy weight of his cum-covered cock. The shorts fit surprisingly well, hugging his new body in a way that makes him feel both exposed and powerful.

"We need to talk," James says, his voice still unsteady. "We can't just…go on like this."

Elijah nods, his heart racing as he looks at his father's transformed body. "I know," he whispers. "What do we do?"

James takes a deep breath, his mind racing. "We can't tell anyone," he says, his voice firm. "We'll say I'm your cousin."

Elijah nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Okay, from now on, you're Joe."

"Joe," James repeats, testing out the name that now fits the youthful, muscular form he finds himself in. The lie feels strange on his tongue, but he knows it's a necessary one.

"Elijah, your dad had to leave for an overseas job," Joe says, the words feeling more real with each passing second. "We're all alone in this house now."

Elijah nods, the lie a protective shield around their new reality. "Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes still glued to his father's transformed body. "It's just you and me."

Their smiles are tentative, a blend of relief and the beginnings of excitement. They're in this together, two men who share more than just a surname. Joe runs a hand over his new abs, feeling the ridges and valleys of muscle that now define his physique. Elijah's gaze follows the movement, his own smile growing a little bolder.

#muscle growth stories #jockification #jock tf #personality change #male transformation #straight to gay #father/son #de aging

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 18 days ago

Note

I BEG YOUR PARDON, IM GONNA NEED A PART TWO TO THAT FIC YOU JUST WROTE TO SLEEP PROPERLY

-sincerely, same person who requested it

A/n: This is not late at all right on time don't lie to yourself I'm practicing my gaslighting

Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, use of toys, daddy!kink, degradation, phone sex, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1

You found the nearest camera, the one in the living room, but then you had a better idea and went outside to the front porch. You still had James on your cell, he was doing whatever on the computer to find you.

"Come on now, sweets, tell daddy where you are." He urged, flipping through the camera's he had throughout the large property.

"Come find me~" You purred, stripping while watching the camera closely, waiting for it to find you.

You heard it the moment James saw you, the camera turned to you and James let out a heavy sigh, a roughness to the sound. "Oh, sweetheart... what a good girl for me." He could already feel his cock twitching back to life, hand finding it fast and gripping the base. "Sit your ass down." You smiled and took his order, sitting in a nearby chair.

There was a cool breeze, you wouldn't lie and say James and you had never done anything around the property, you'd just never done anything by yourself outside, and definitely not in view of the road where people could just drive by and see you.

"So fucking wet, I can fucking see it on the camera." James groaned, stroking himself real slow, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop. "Use two fingers, do your best to stretch yourself out, just like you're prepping for daddy to come home." You nodded, hooking your knees over the armrests of the chair and bringing your hand to your cunt, pushing two slender fingers past your needy opening.

They got sucked in with a soft moan, James watched your lips part as the noise left you. You knew your body well enough, curling your fingers and finding that good spot, the spongey one that had your vision going white. "That's good... Go slower." James instructed. You whined but listened, slowing down the pace your fingers were pumping in and out of you. "Slower, sweetheart." Your eyes widened slightly and your brows knit together.

"Jamie, I-"

"Jamie?" He asked. "Come on, do you even want to cum? Say my name right." His voice was harsh, sharp and threatening.

You huffed. "Daddy, I can't go any slower or my fingers won't move..." You whined, lips pursed into a pout. You couldn't see it but James's grin widened, his cock twitching as he watched you sit there, all helpless and alone.

"And I said go slower, you wouldn't want to disrespect daddy now would you?" He knew you'd listen and shake your head. "Sit there with your fingers inside, don't fucking move."

Cockwarming him was one thing, you never lasted more than an hour and even that was one time because he was working on something so you couldn't do anything. James was big, thick and veiny, girthy, he made you needy and when he would twitch inside you you'd lose it and start bouncing on his cock until he flipped you over, pinned you to the nearest surface, and blew your brains out with his load.

Your fingers did nothing. You had a hard enough time getting yourself off, that's why you loved James because he was experienced and he knew how to touch you, just what you liked. His fingers were thick and calloused, yours were slim, manicured shorter than his. They didn't do much when they were moving, just sitting with them in you in the cold with cars passing by...

James watched you get progressively more pissed off as he groaned into the speaker, watching you sit there all huffy and bored, uncomfortable even. "Alright, sweet girl, go to the bedroom and then wait for my instructions, can you do that?" You nodded eagerly, pulling your fingers from your cunt and racing into the house, running straight to your shared room. James chuckling in your ear the whole way up only fueled your need. "Get that clear toy I like."

You flicked the lights on and went to the closet, pulling out the small box of toys James kept for you for when he was away and you were missing him, of if he wanted to have a little extra fun with you. You pulled out the clear toy, only six inches and much slimmer than James, not what you were used to at all but it would work.

There was a camera in the corner of the room by the door, so it could see the whole room when it was aimed properly. Now it was aimed at the foot of the bed, the floor. "Sit pretty for me." He instructed, hand moving along his length once more, a little bit faster now. "Stick that pretty toy on the ground, get on your knee, and you're going to listen very close, do you understand?" He watched you nod but it wasn't good enough. "Use your words, slut! Daddy needs to hear you."

You suctioned the toy to the ground and looked to the camera, holding your phone to your ear. "I understand..." You paused, nearly forgetting a very important part of that statement. "Daddy."

James chuckled lowly over the line and nodded approvingly. "Good girl, now look at the camera and you're going to take all of it slowly." You kneeled over the toy, cunt hovering over it and then sinking down, obeying James's command. "Good... and up all the way.... good, back down." You followed his orders for what felt like forever, the painfully slow pace infuriating you.

"Please, daddy, let me go faster?" You begged, looking up at the camera with your best pout and beadiest eyes. James was following your movements, his hand moving with you on his cock so he could pretend. It felt much better for him than it did for you.

"No, this is good for you, maybe it'll teach you to be a good girl." You chewed your cheek, something snapping in you at that. He wasn't here, you wouldn't have to deal with the fallout for at least another month or two... however long it was until he came back.

You dropped yourself on the toy, a moan falling from your lips. "Bitch!" James barked. "Do yourself a favour and listen." You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head and riding the toy like you wanted to ride him, fast, picturing his rough hands holding your hips and guiding your movements up and down, hips snapped against his.

As angry as he wanted to be with you your defiance was hot to him, not nearly as hot as watching you get yourself off, but definitely hot. "Fuck, you're just asking for it when I get back, huh?" He asked, hand moving faster along his length. He could feel another high approaching him, his third while you were barely reaching for a first. "Both know you're not getting yourself off, just gonna spend all day on your knees for nothing, begging daddy to come back." His words were helping, he knew they would and he could hear your moans getting higher.

"In the nightstand, baby." He muttered, making you pause to think for just a moment. You got up and grabbed the bullet vibrator he kept in his nightstand and went back to where you were. You bent over, giving him a good view of your ass before pushing the toy into your pulsing pussy and turning it on. Immediately it had an affect on you, making it hard to stand.

You went back to the toy on the ground and resumed your pace, though it was harder with the toy. Each time you took the toy in it pushed the bullet deeper, hitting all the best spots. Your movements became erratic, James's groans followed the pattern, his hand losing its rhythm as well as he held back his orgasm. "C'mon, pretty girl, cum for me, cum for daddy." He was on the verge of begging, he needed this so bad. Pre was leaking out of his tip and dripping down his hand. "Be a good girl for daddy." Spurts of cum were already shooting from his cock onto the screen when you finally came, chest heaving and eyes rolling back as loud moans ripped from you.

James swiped a finger across the screen, gathering his cum and licking it off his pointer. "Go on and crawl back into bed, ok?" He muttered, it was nearly noon for you now, you'd not done much all day and your eggs were waiting for you downstairs, probably cold now. "Just wait for daddy to get there, I'll get a flight back tomorrow. Be ready."

#metallica #metallica rp #metallica fic #metallica family #metallica fanfiction #metallica imagines #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield imagine #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield x you

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smellslikemultifandomimagines · 1 year ago

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can you do a Stiles Stilinski version of squirting I loved the Theo one

☾ stiles stilinski x afab!reader

smut warnings: p in v, afab!reader squirts, dom!stiles + sub!afab!reader, begging.

word count: 1.2k

fluff masterlists - 2024

smut masterlists - 2024

Stiles sat in his desk chair in his bedroom. His laptop screen sat open on his desk. Stiles wore a dark blue flannel button-up and slim-cut jeans with Vans sneakers. Stiles tilts his head and stares outside of his window. He doesn’t even hear you enter into his room, his mind so zoned out that he doesn't even register the sound of your footsteps or the files you drop onto his desk. There was another missing person in town, which the pack knew it was supernatural-related.

"Jesus... have you even slept?" you ask, breaking stiles out of his own little world.

"Huh? Oh, uh... nope." Stiles's voice was barely audible over the sound of his fingers rapidly typing on the keyboard. He turns around in his chair to face you, surprised but not exactly shocked to see you standing there. His eyes widens slightly before returning to his computer screen with a sigh. "Just trying to find something new about this case. Maybe you missed something important."

He rubs his eyes tiredly before rising from his seat and stretching his arms overhead, arching his back. The movement accentuated his toned abs and strong legs clad in his jeans.

"So, what brings you here at this hour?" he asks casually, walking over to his mini fridge and grabbing a water bottle. Taking a sip, he leans against his desk, crossing one leg over the other revealing his well-defined thighs.

"Your dad put together files of suspicious activity over the last week that might be related to this case," you tell him, eyeing his frustration.

"You know you can take it out on you, right?" you remind him casually. This whole 'fucking it out' situation we've got going on is still new to Stiles. He hasn't done anything like it before, and yet, finds it far better than going for a drive - his usual M.O for when he's stressed and needs to step away.

"Oh, absolutely," Stiles mutters nonchalantly, setting down the water bottle on his desk. He crosses his arms over his chest, revealing his toned upper body and broad shoulders.

Walking towards you slowly, he presses his body against mine intimately, their breaths mingling as they stood close. Stiles leans in closer, his lips brushing against mine passionately. His tongue slips past your teeth, exploring every corner of your mouth hungrily.

As soon as our tongues intertwines, Stiles deepens the kiss, his hands moving upwards to cup your ass firmly, pulling us even closer together. His hips rock slightly against yours, rubbing his growing erection against your crotch. The sensation was both familiar yet foreign, sending electric currents through his entire body.

Stiles pulls away from your lips and trails kisses down to your neck, sucking a sweet bruise on your supple skin. He slowly backs you towards the bed, gently guiding your body down. The soft linen of the duvet presses against the back of your thighs for a short moment before your legs wrap themselves around his waist. you whine softly when he grinds his hardening jean-clad cock against your core, pussy already throbbing with such need.

Stiles chuckles softly, his voice husky with desire. "You're quite the tease, aren't you?" he murmurs against your neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive area before trailing kisses downwards along your collarbone and onto your cleavage.

With one swift motion, he rips off his shirt exposing his toned torso covered in various scars from battles fought both supernatural and otherwise. His hands moves to undo your buttons, freeing you from your restrictive top piece by piece until you’re standing there in just your lacy bra and matching panties. He ran his fingers over your bare stomach, tracing slow circles around your belly button before moving lower, brushing against your erect nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

Reaching between our bodies, Stiles unbuckles his belt and starts to slide down his pants revealing his hardened member straining against his boxers. As it springs free, he groans lowly, eyes locking on yours as if mesmerised by your body, despite how many times you’ve done this before.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs appreciatively, running his index finger along the wet folds of your pussy, tracing lightly over your sensitive clit. "Tell you what you want, baby girl.”

"You..." you breathe, almost breathlessly like he had taken every bit of oxygen out of you. "I need you."

Stiles smirks, his teeth showing in a predatory grin. "Then you're in luck." With one swift motion, he yanks off the rest of your clothes, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze. He reaches down between our bodies again, this time grabbing hold of his own cock and rubbing it against your entrance teasingly.

"Tell you how much you want this," he growls lowly, his voice husky with need. "Beg for it like you mean it."

"Stiles please," you whine, hips grinding up against his cock that he keeps pressed against your slick folds. "Please fuck me, please.”

Grinning widely, Stiles finally relents and positions himself over you. He lines up his tip with your entrance and slowly pushes inside you inch by agonising inch. His cock pops past your tight ring of muscles, sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through your entire body.

Once he was fully embedded inside you, he pauses momentarily while you adjust to the invasion. "You're so fucking tight," he groans, his hands cupping your face roughly yet tenderly as he looks into your eyes.

With renewed determination, he began to thrust in and out of you rhythmically, each powerful stroke causing our bodies to slap together in syncopated harmony. The sound of their combined moans echos throughout the room, filling the silence left behind by their heavy breathing.

"Oh god," you whine, tilting your head back against the bed. Your nails scratch his back, digging feverishly down his spine. With each thrust of his hips, every breath of air is knocks out of you and expelling in high-pitched moans.

Stiles reaches between our bodies, his fingers rubbing slow and big circles on your clit, which only makes you cry out louder.

"Stiles! Oh my god!" you whimper, tilting your hips and rocking along with his rhythmic thrusts.

Stiles moans deeply, his pace picking up speed as he felt you getting closer to climax. "Tell you you're mine," he demands between heavy breaths. "Say it."

With every thrust of his hips, his cock hit your G-spot perfectly, sending waves of euphoria coursing through your body. His fingers works magic on your clit, driving you wild with pleasure. you could feel the edge of orgasm creeping closer and closer, and you couldn't deny him what he wants to hear.

"I'm yours! I'm yours!" you cry out, gasping for air as the sweet release washes over your body. Your mind is hazy, barely allowing any sensory information in as you tremble beneath Stiles.

"Stiles," you squeak, chest heavy quickly as you struggle for breath.

"I know, I'm here. You did so well," he praises, impressed that you just squirted. his hips slowly grinding into you. "Goddamn, [y/n]..." he groans out, his own orgasm building up inside of him. His hips buck upwards one final time, driving his cock as deep into you as possible before holding it there, pulsing against your sensitive walls as he both rode out their shared climax together.

“Did I just squirt?” you ask, feeling like your brain is finally coming back to its senses. Stiles laughs softly, chest rising and falling deeply as he pants.

“You sure did.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf smut #smut night

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floorbacon · 28 days ago

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Ahahahhaah everyone else feeling fine after that last Amphoresous update? I certainly didn't stay up til 3am playing and then staying up until 4am to scream at my friend (love you Emmy, thank you for putting up with me) about it. Nope. Anyway, my decision was that clearly nothing bad ever happens to Phainon or Mydei and that they should just get to visit Anaxa in a University AU

“Phainon, why are we here?” Mydei had to hit the lock button easily twenty times before his car beeped and finally locked. Phainon gave him one of his shit-eating grins.

“Just wanted to check in on a few people!” He tugged Mydei up the stairs into the college, leading him through the halls to what Mydei assumed was some kind of facility lounge, given that the people scattered around a massive table all seemed a little too put together to be students.

The one with a literal eyepatch on looked up from the computer screen he was squinting at, pale green hair twisted back from his face in a messy bun with easily three pencils sticking out of it. “Phainon? What are you doing here you brat?”

Mydei blinked.

Phainon’s grin widened. “Good to see you too Professor Anaxa!!”

“Don't call me Anaxa.”

“Love you too. Mydei, this is Anaxa—or Anaxagoreous but you can just call him Anaxa,”

“Don’t you dare call me that.” The one eyed man leveled a glare at Mydei that sent a shiver down his spine. The mint-haired man might be slight and slim, and even sitting down clearly shorter than most of the people in the room, but Mydei got the sense he’d prefer to not try and test his luck against him.

“My adoptive dad and one of my favorite professors during my time here.”

“You keep ditching family dinner.” Anaxa said.

“I’ve been busy!!”

“You’ve never been too busy before this. You think I’m enjoying listening to that golden spider’s prattling every Friday night?”

“This is a place of learning.” The purple haired man snapped, looking up from the thick book he was reading with a glare. “Not social hour.”

The woman with the long, dusty grey hair and massive hat sipped at her cup of tea. “Aventurine is currently throwing away your lunch.”

The purple man didn’t have a reply to that, and gave her a flat look for a second before going back to his book.

“Prof. Anaxa, this is Mydei,” Phainon pulled him forward, though he much rather would have preferred to let Phainon keep the attention. “My boyfriend. I told you about him, remeber?”

“Of course I remember, I’m not you.” He snapped. “So you’re Mydei.”

“Hello.” Mydei tried to keep his expression neutral.

This was Phainon’s adopted father? The one that he had been trying to consider the best way to approach for months now? How to show him that he—a high school dropout—was fit to be with his university-graduated son?

And Phainon had told him nothing about what they were doing when he dragged him here, and left him zero time to prepare anything to say.

Anaxa looked him up and down, his one eye narrowed slightly. “Tell him to stop missing out on family dinner.” Was his only comment before ignoring them completely and returning to his laptop.

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specialagentlokitty · 2 years ago

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Amy Santiago x reader - keep the place clean

Could I please request Amy Santiago x reader, where Amy discovers that reader (for whatever reason is completely up to you) stays late and cleans the precinct while no-one is there. No matter how messy the precinct is, it will always be clean in the morning. Everyone thinks that it's Marge, but Amy (being the detective that she is) suspects otherwise. - Anon💜

Yawning a little, you padded over to your desk, setting your cup and bag down as you wiggled your mouse to turn the screen on.

“Up late?” Charles asked.

Glancing at him, you nodded your head.

“Yeah, just the normal thing really, you know what a Sargents life is like.”

“If you’re a Sargent why’re you always on this floor?” Jake asked.

You laughed a little at him, glancing over.

“My office is right upstairs, but I don’t really use it unless I have a meeting, but I also need to speak to Holt so.”

“You just miss us.” Jake grinned.

“You? No. Everybody else? Absolutely.”

“Come on!” Jake whined.

Grinning a little at him, you scribbled something down on a post-it note and put it on the screen of the computer before picking your stuff up.

“Later Peralta, Charles.”

You left the bullpen and Amy watched you go.

You were organised, meticulous in everything you did.

You always had everything well thought of, everything always in place and ready to go.

You were single handedly the most organised person in the entirety of the NYPD.

So the fact that the usually messy precinct was nearly spotless to her was suspicious but nobody else noticed.

They all assumed it was Marge, but Amy knew better. Marge wouldn’t clean the precinct like this, not to this extent, it was even a slim chance she came in time to take the trash out or clean after a mess.

She had a plan to catch whoever it was, and she just hoped that it was going to work as she waited for the end of the day to come around.

As it did, she quietly left, going to find somewhere to hide before waiting.

She had put her all into this and she really hoped it was going to pay off.

Humming to yourself, you left your office and headed back to the floor below, unlocking one of the draws in your desk to pull out some cleaning supplies.

With headphones on you quickly got to work, humming to yourself as you cleaned the area.

Amy looked up from her paperwork to the laptop screen to see you going around cleaning, and quickly she put everything away to go and confront you.

While you were clearing some of the desks, you saw movement out the corner of your eye.

Setting everything down, you took your headphones off.

��Shouldn’t you be at home now?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

You smiled a little.

“I will.”

“Are you the one who keeps this place spotless?”

“Yup, someone has to do it, this places is a state and I used to be able to smell it from my office.”

Amy looked mortified.

“It was that bad?”

“You have no idea, but I like it it’s kind of calming actually.”

Amy nodded, walking over she grabbed some of the cleaning wipes and walked to a different desk to help as you both carried on talking

#Brooklyn nine nine #Brooklyn nine nine x reader #Brooklyn nine nine x you #Brooklyn nine nine imagine #Amy Santiago #Amy Santiago x reader #Amy Santiago x you #Amy Santiago imagine #b99 #b99 x reader #b99 x you #b99 imagine

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howzitsa · 2 months ago

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Slim 15.6" 1920x1080 30 Pin Glossy WXGA HD LED Screen Panel for laptop right connector ORIGINAL MODEL NUMBER S-156-30WLED1920R-BOE, 0DH091, LP156WF1(TP)(B1) SUITABLE MODEL DELL PRECISION M4500

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corviiids · 1 year ago

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[death note spoilers]

The night Ryuzaki dies, L appears in Light's bed.

In Light's arms are a towel and a pair of pyjama pants, neither of which belong to him. L sits cross-legged in a standard king, hunched over a slim notebook computer which is creasing and no doubt heating the sheets to a fire hazard. The desk is mere inches away. Light had lost the fight for a four-poster with a canopy, which might have granted him some meagre protection from the blue light of L’s ever-on laptop, but it hadn't mattered anyway, because L had soon after migrated to the bed they shared given it had no impact on his horrendous posture anyw

Whose memories are these?

L glances up.

“You can shower first,” he says, zeroing in on his towel and pyjama pants in Light’s hands. “I’ll be a while.”

“I can't find my loungewear.”

“It's in the hamper. You can borrow mine.”

“Thanks,” says Light, and wakes up.

lawlight, 3.8k, a fic i wrote on a plane about light having nightmares in which he is in a romantic relationship with the recently murdered L.

#death note #death note spoilers #lawlight #rookposting #rookfic

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strljaem · 1 year ago

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“i’ve appreciated the way you appreciated my hard work”

as an oxford student.

The sun was barely a smudge on the horizon when I left my dorm, the sky painted in shades of gray that mirrored my mood. Oxford’s cobblestone streets were slick with morning dew, each step sending a shiver through my shoes. As I crossed the quad, I felt the centuries of history staring down at me from the towering spires, their solemn stone faces whispering tales of brilliance and struggle.

I walked briskly to my first class of the day—Discrete Mathematics. It was a small lecture hall, but the pressure within was anything but diminutive. Rows of students sat hunched over laptops, the blue glow of their screens casting a ghostly light on their faces. The quiet murmur of hushed discussions floated through the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the communal pot in the corner.

The professor's voice cut through the room, each word carrying a weight that seemed to sink into my chest. The content was dense, complex, and required more concentration than my caffeine-addled brain could muster at this hour. I scribbled notes, trying to keep up, but the pace was relentless. I glanced at my classmates; they were absorbed, their fingers flying over keyboards, their eyes fixed on the projection screen where diagrams and equations blurred into a dizzying dance.

Between classes, I made my way to the computer lab, where the steady hum of computers filled the air. Here, the stress became palpable. Students hunched over their workstations, faces creased with concentration. I saw friends exchanging worried glances, their voices hushed as they discussed the latest assignment—another mountain to climb, another impossible deadline. It was a constant grind, a relentless barrage of tasks that seemed designed to test our breaking points.

I felt the weight of my laptop in my bag, the weight of the assignments stacking up like a Jenga tower on the brink of collapse. My calendar was a sea of red, each block of time filled with deadlines, study sessions, and meetings with professors. I couldn’t afford to slack, not with the constant reminder that everyone here was exceptional, and the competition was fierce.

As I left the lab, I caught a glimpse of the ancient college buildings bathed in a faint morning light. They were beautiful, but their beauty felt distant, almost mocking. I wondered how many students before me had walked these same paths, felt the same stress, and questioned whether they could ever measure up to the legacy of Oxford. I took a deep breath, knowing that I had to keep pushing, even as the assignments threatened to drown me in a sea of anxiety.

I entered the next class, slipping into a seat beside my best friend, Emily. The lecture hall was buzzing with energy, the usual chatter and rustling of notebooks echoing off the stone walls. Emily looked up and gave me a quick smile. "Hey," she said, sliding a stack of papers into her bag. "You survived Data Structures, huh? How brutal was it today?"

"Brutal doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied with a dramatic sigh. "The assignment load is insane. But hey, at least we've got coffee to look forward to afterward."

Emily chuckled, flipping open her laptop. "I'm holding you to that. Double espresso, here I come."

I nodded, taking out my own supplies and arranging them neatly on the desk. The lecture was about to start, and I was mentally preparing myself for another hour of high-intensity learning. But as I looked toward the door, the chatter died down, and everything seemed to shift into slow motion.

The lecturer walked in, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining things. He looked quite young. Maybe we weren’t that much gap in age. I’m 21, he might be around 24?? He was tall and carried himself with a confidence that was almost ethereal. His attire was impeccably stylish—tailored navy trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a slim-fit blazer that looked like it was made for him. He had a casual elegance about him that set him apart from the other lecturers, who usually wore more traditional academic robes.

But it was his eyes that really caught my attention. They were a striking shade of brown-black, so vivid they seemed to capture the entire spectrum of my life. They were deep and expressive, capable of conveying a world of meaning with a single glance. As he scanned the room, his gaze met mine for a fleeting moment, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

His hair was another story altogether. It was jet black and fell in soft waves that framed his face, adding to his allure. It seemed to move with a life of its own, bouncing gently with each step he took. I had never seen a lecturer like him before—someone who could blend intelligence with such effortless style.

I felt a strange flutter in my chest, a mix of nerves and curiosity. It was unlike anything I'd felt in a classroom before. The room was silent as he reached the podium, his presence commanding attention without a single word. As he spoke, his voice was smooth and rich, filling the hall with a calm authority. I couldn't help but be drawn in, mesmerized by his every word.

Emily nudged me, a smirk on her lips. "What's with that look? Someone's got a crush on the new lecturer, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool. "Oh, please. I'm just... appreciating the scenery, that's all."

But deep down, I knew that this lecture was going to be different, and not just because of the content. This lecturer had a way of making everything seem more intriguing, more exciting. And as I took notes, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, my mind racing with questions and my heart pounding in a way I hadn't expected.

Then he spoke, and my world stopped spinning. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a husky, deep voice that seemed to reverberate through the lecture hall. “My name is Mr. Na Jaemin, but you can call me Mr. Na. I’m the new lecturer for this course.” His voice was so smooth, so rich, that it seemed to wrap around each word, adding an almost hypnotic quality to everything he said.

The chatters around the lecture hall faded into silence. My attention was glued to him, the way his words seemed to flow effortlessly from his lips. It was as if he had this magnetic pull, drawing all eyes to him without even trying. I felt my brain shutting down, like it was too overwhelmed to process anything but the sound of his voice.

He continued to speak, introducing the course and outlining what we could expect in the weeks to come, but I barely registered any of it. I was too busy watching the way his lips moved as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he glanced around the room. It felt like the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to this lecture hall, to him.

Emily nudged me, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you listening to anything he’s saying, or are you just lost in those eyes?”

I gave her a weak smile, my voice barely a whisper. “What? Oh, yeah, totally listening.” But I wasn’t, not really. I was caught in a trance, and it felt like I might never want to break free.

The class ended, just like that. I snapped out of my daze when Emily nudged me again, laughing softly. I looked down at my notebook—blank, not a single word jotted down. This was unusual for me. Usually, I'd be scribbling furiously, trying to capture every important point. But today? Nothing. The entire lecture passed in a haze, and now Mr. Na was gone, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion.

Emily was packing her things, a grin stretching across her face. "Looks like someone wasn't paying attention," she teased, stuffing her laptop into her bag. "Did you even hear anything he said? Or were you just too busy daydreaming about those eyes?"

I gave her a sheepish smile, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What? No, I was totally listening. Just... you know, processing." I tried to sound convincing, but even I didn't believe my own words. My brain was still replaying Mr. Na's entrance, his voice, and those captivating blue eyes.

Emily laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Right. Processing. Sure, we'll go with that." She finished packing and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's grab that coffee. We can work on our assignments together before the next class. You might need a little help catching up."

I sighed, closing my notebook and shoving it into my bag. "Yeah, coffee sounds good. Let's get out of here." I stood up, my legs feeling slightly wobbly, as if my entire body was still reeling from the effect of Mr. Na's presence. It was like I had been hit by a tidal wave of charm, and I was just now starting to find my footing.

We made our way out of the lecture hall, the chatter of other students gradually filling the hallway. I spotted a couple of our friends and waved them over. "Hey, we're heading to the coffee shop. Wanna join us?"

They nodded, and we all headed toward the exit, the crisp Oxford air hitting my face as we stepped outside. It was refreshing, grounding me a bit after the surreal experience of the lecture. Emily leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, love at first sight, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, come on. Don't start with that."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm just saying. I've never seen you this spaced out after a lecture. I mean, you've got a reputation for being the note-taking queen."

I chuckled, finally feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Just had a lot on my mind, that's all." But even as I said it, I knew the truth. Something about Mr. Na had thrown me off balance, and it was going to take a lot more than a coffee to get me back on track.

The night settled over Oxford, the city’s ancient architecture casting long shadows under the dim streetlights. I was back in my dorm, a small but cozy room with a single bed tucked into a corner. The walls were adorned with posters and notes from various classes, but tonight, none of them held my attention.

I sat on my bed, my laptop propped up on my legs, pretending to study. My eyes kept wandering, staring at the ceiling or through the small window that offered a glimpse of the college quad. The usual buzz of student life filtered through the walls, faint voices and laughter from the common area down the hall, but it all felt distant.

All I could think about was Mr. Na.

His face appeared in my mind, as if etched there permanently. Those striking blue eyes, the kind that seemed to see right through you, and the way his fluffy black hair framed his handsome face. His voice—deep, smooth, and soothing—kept playing in my head, each word lingering long after he'd left the classroom.

I closed my laptop, knowing full well I wouldn't get any more studying done tonight. Instead, I got ready for bed, changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth. As I moved around the small room, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to see Mr. Na again the next day. Would he remember me? Would he smile in that way that made my heart skip a beat?

As I climbed into bed, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. It was ridiculous—I had only just met the man, but something about him had completely thrown me off my usual routine. I was known for my discipline, my focus, but now all I wanted was to be in his class again, to hear his voice, to watch him command the room with that effortless charisma.

I pulled the blankets over me, my mind racing with what-ifs. What if he taught more classes? What if I had the chance to talk to him after a lecture? I knew it was all a bit fanciful, but I couldn't help it. There was something about him that made me feel like I was in the middle of a daydream.

As I closed my eyes, I hoped I would dream of him. Maybe we’d be in a classroom, his voice echoing off the walls, or maybe it would be something else entirely. The possibilities seemed endless, and I drifted off with a smile, eagerly awaiting what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, I woke up with a sense of excitement that felt almost tangible. It washed over me in waves, making my hands tremble with anticipation. I got ready for the day, my thoughts racing through the upcoming lectures, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Na again. Would he remember me? Would he say something that made my heart flutter?

As I walked down the hallway, I was practically bouncing on my toes. My backpack felt lighter, and even the morning chill couldn't dampen my mood. But then, as I turned a corner, I saw him. He was standing at the far end of the corridor, talking to a student—a girl with long, dark hair and a bright smile. They were laughing together, his voice low and warm, and her laughter light and melodic.

My heart skipped a beat, then sank like a stone. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, a sudden burst of anger and jealousy that was as unexpected as it was intense. He was smiling at her, really smiling, like he was genuinely enjoying their conversation. And I hated it.

It was ridiculous, I knew that. He was my lecturer, not someone I could claim ownership over. Yet, the sight of him laughing with her felt like a punch to the gut. I had no right to be upset, but the feeling was there, sharp and cutting. I told myself to calm down, to not let this childish jealousy take over, but it was hard to ignore the tightening in my chest.

"Get it together," I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to look away. "You're just being stupid. It's just a crush. A stupid, ridiculous crush."

I tried to push the feelings down as I headed to my first class. It was him—Mr. Na. As I entered the lecture hall, I was determined to focus on the lesson, to act like everything was fine. But the sight of him earlier still lingered in my mind, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.

He walked into the lecture hall, calm and composed, like nothing had happened. Like he didn't just tear my heart into pieces with his smile. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let my emotions get the better of me. This was a classroom, and I needed to act like an adult. This wasn't high school; I couldn't afford to be distracted by a silly crush.

As the lecture began, I forced myself to take notes, to focus on the content. I wrote down everything he said, my pen moving quickly across the paper. The childish thoughts and jealousy were pushed to the back of my mind. I needed to be mature, to concentrate on what mattered—my studies, my future.

But even as I pretended to be focused, a part of me couldn't help but glance at him from time to time, wondering what it was about him that had such an effect on me. I told myself it was just a passing fancy, that I would get over it soon. Yet, deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.

It had been a few weeks since the initial flutters and jitters of my crush on Mr. Na. I'd decided to focus on my studies, to keep things professional, and, frankly, it was working. The excitement had faded, and he was just another lecturer in my eyes—at least, that's what I told myself. I was more focused, my notes were detailed, and I was catching up on all the assignments. But then, one day, everything shifted.

Mr. Na stormed into the lecture hall, and everyone knew something was wrong. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a furious energy that crackled in the air. He was wearing glasses today—thick-framed and sleek. With them on, he looked even hotter than usual. He wore a white tee, a black tie, and slim-fit black trousers. But it wasn't his style that caught my attention. It was his mood. He was angry, really angry, and he made sure everyone knew it.

He slammed a stack of assignments on the table, the sound echoing throughout the hall. "What is this?" he exclaimed, pointing at the pile of papers. "These are ridiculous! This is not what I expect from Oxford students! You are capable of much better than this!"

His voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. I could feel the tension in the room; everyone was on edge. Mr. Na paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with frustration. He was passionate about his subject, that much was clear, but his anger made it seem like he was ready to combust.

He grabbed a book and banged it on the table for emphasis. "This isn't high school! You're here to learn, not to slack off and turn in half-baked work. I want perfection. I demand it!" His voice echoed off the stone walls, sending shivers down my spine.

I was just staring at him, mesmerized by the intensity of his rage. It was understandable—I'd be mad too if I were in his shoes. He cared about the quality of our work, and he wasn't shy about expressing his disappointment. But still, it was unnerving to see him like this.

The lecture hall was silent. Dead silent. No one dared to make a sound. Mr. Na continued his tirade, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey. And then he called my name.

I felt my heart skip a beat. The room seemed to close in around me as I stood up and walked toward him. My hands were sweating, my pulse racing. He looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes, and I knew I was in trouble.

He opened my book and paused for what felt like an eternity. The silence stretched, and I could hear my own breathing, heavy and ragged. I was sweating bullets, my nerves frayed to the breaking point. What would he say? Would he tear me apart like he did the others? My mind was a whirlwind of fear and anticipation.

Finally, he spoke.

Mr. Na opened my book and paused for a moment that felt like an eternity. His eyes scanned my work with a critical yet calm focus. But then, something changed. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile. It was subtle, but it transformed the entire atmosphere in the lecture hall. The tension seemed to melt away as he began to speak.

"Excellent work," he said, his voice warm and filled with genuine praise. "This is exactly the kind of detail and sophistication I expect from my students. Thorough, precise, and insightful. Keep it up." He continued to speak, listing the aspects of my assignment that he found impressive, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This was the recognition I needed after all those late nights and long hours.

Around me, I could hear the murmurs of approval from my classmates. Emily gave me a discreet thumbs-up, and even some of the usually more reserved students nodded in acknowledgment. It was a rare moment of triumph, a fleeting victory in the midst of the rigorous grind.

But not everyone was pleased. I caught a glimpse of the girl from the hallway, the one Mr. Na had been smiling and chatting with earlier. She was sitting at the back with her group of friends, and her expression was anything but approving. She was glaring at me, her eyes narrowed in a mix of jealousy and disdain. Her friends seemed to pick up on her mood, sharing looks and whispering among themselves.

The intensity of her stare was unnerving, but I tried to ignore it. After all, Mr. Na was praising me in front of the entire class, and I didn't want to let anything spoil the moment. But the girl's glare was like a laser, sharp and unyielding, as if she was trying to burn a hole through me. What was her problem? Did she think I was trying to steal the spotlight? Or was she just angry because her own assignment didn't meet his expectations?

Mr. Na continued with the lecture, his voice steady and authoritative, but I could feel the eyes of that girl on me the entire time. It was hard to focus, but I reminded myself that I had earned this praise, and I wasn't about to let anyone take it away from me. I took a deep breath and returned to my notes, pretending not to notice the looks from the back of the room.

Emily leaned over and whispered, "What's with her? She looks like she's ready to explode."

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Maybe she didn't like the critique. Or she's just having a bad day." But even as I said it, I knew there was more to it. The girl's glare held a bitterness that couldn't be explained away by a bad grade. It was personal.

As the class continued, I resolved to stay focused and not let the jealousy get to me. But I knew I'd have to keep my guard up. Mr. Na's praise was a double-edged sword—it brought recognition, but it also attracted unwanted attention. And from the looks of it, I had just made an enemy.

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Na had just highly praised my work in front of the entire class. The very same Mr. Na who, not long ago, had made my heart race with a single glance. The same man I had spent sleepless nights thinking about, only to force myself to focus on my studies and let those feelings fade away. But now, here he was, smiling at me like I had done something extraordinary.

A mix of emotions swirled within me. There was the undeniable sense of pride—I had worked hard on that assignment, and it was gratifying to have my efforts recognized. But there was also something else, a lingering echo of the crush I thought I had put behind me. Hearing his voice, seeing that smile, it all felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten melody that suddenly played again.

It was almost surreal. I had once daydreamed about moments like this, where he'd acknowledge me in a special way. And yet, I had moved on, hadn't I? I had decided to focus on my studies, to let the feelings of my "first love" fade away into the background. But now, standing there in the lecture hall, it all came rushing back.

It was as if my heart couldn't make up its mind. I was thrilled to have impressed him, but part of me was uneasy, knowing that these lingering feelings might lead me down a path I had resolved to avoid. This was a classroom, not a romantic novel. I had to keep my emotions in check.

And yet, his words of praise echoed in my mind, refusing to be ignored. His voice had a way of making everything seem brighter, more vivid. It was like being drawn into a familiar orbit, one that I had consciously left behind. The challenge was to keep my focus on the important things—my studies, my future—and not let the swirling emotions distract me from my goals.

As I sat back down, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I couldn't let a moment of praise from Mr. Na throw me off course. But the memory of his smile, the warmth in his eyes, lingered like a whisper I couldn't quite shake. It was a reminder that first loves, even those you thought you'd moved on from, had a way of reappearing when you least expected them.

The class ended, and the lecture hall erupted in a flurry of activity. Everyone was gathering their books, shuffling papers, and heading for the door, eager to get on with their day. I was packing my things slowly, my mind still processing what had just happened. Mr. Na's words of praise echoed in my ears, leaving a warm sensation in my chest.

Emily was already at the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. She waved at me, gesturing for me to hurry up. "Come on! I've got another class in a few minutes," she said, her voice carrying over the din.

I waved back, indicating for her to go ahead. "You go. I have a couple of hours free before my next class. I'll head to the library and do some research." She nodded and left, her footsteps disappearing into the crowd.

I was almost done packing when I heard it—my name, called softly but with a tone that instantly caught my attention. It was Mr. Na, his voice like silk and velvet, low and smooth. It was the kind of voice that could stop anyone in their tracks, and it certainly did with me. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around to find him standing at the lecturing desk, his eyes locked on me.

He'd taken off his glasses, letting them dangle from his shirt's neckline. The look suited him, adding an edge of casual confidence to his usual professional demeanor. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it in frustration, but it only made him look more appealing. I couldn't help but think that he had never looked this hot before.

"Could I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of invitation. The lecture hall was mostly empty now, with just a few stragglers left gathering their things. I nodded, unable to find my voice at first. It took me a second to remember to breathe.

I walked toward him, my bag slung over one shoulder. My steps were hesitant, like I was walking into unfamiliar territory. What could he possibly want to talk to me about? The compliment earlier had already thrown me off balance, and now this? It was like a whirlwind of unexpected events, and I wasn't sure if I was prepared for whatever came next.

As I approached the desk, I noticed how his eyes seemed even browner up close, a shade that could just warm up the cold weather of Oxofrd. I tried to act casual, to hide the nervousness that made my palms sweat. But the way he looked at me, with that gentle yet intense gaze, made it hard to keep my composure.

As I reached the lecturing desk, Mr. Na was already watching me with those striking brown-black eyes, a slight smile on his lips. He motioned for me to stand closer, his voice low but clear enough to be heard over the diminishing noise of the other students leaving. It felt like the whole room had shrunk to just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into a blur.

"I've been keeping an eye on each of my students," he began, his tone serious yet warm. "It's part of my job to ensure everyone is progressing and engaged." He paused, letting his words sink in. His gaze was steady, sharp, like he was reading every detail in my expression. It was the kind of look that could pierce through walls, the kind that saw everything.

"But you," he continued, his voice softening, "you caught my attention. You've been fully focused in class, your work is consistently excellent, and you ask insightful questions. I'm proud of you." The way he said it, with that mix of authority and genuine warmth, sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he saw me, really saw me, beyond the grades and assignments.

I felt my cheeks flush, heat rising to my face. His words were more than just a compliment; they were a validation, an acknowledgment that my hard work wasn't going unnoticed. The silence between us grew, stretching into a long pause. He seemed to be waiting for my response, his eyes holding a gentle yet expectant gaze.

It took me a moment to find my voice. My mind was racing, struggling to come up with something intelligent to say, something that wouldn't sound too awkward or forced. My heart was pounding in my chest, the pulse echoing in my ears. This was more than just a simple "well done"—it felt like he was reaching out to connect on a level that went beyond the classroom.

Finally, I snapped back to reality, realizing that he was still waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you so much, Mr. Na," I said, my voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "It means a lot coming from you." I wanted to say more, to express how much his words had impacted me, but I didn't trust myself to speak without betraying the rush of feelings I was experiencing.

He nodded, a smile spreading across his lips. "Keep it up," he said, his voice carrying an encouraging warmth. "I have high hopes for you." With that, he turned back to his lecturing materials, leaving me standing there, my heart still racing, trying to process what had just happened. The tension was still there, but now it felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to keep my focus and live up to the expectations he'd just set. But the warmth from his words lingered, a quiet reassurance that seemed to fill the room even after he had turned away.

As I turned to leave the room, my cheeks were flushed with a warmth that spread through my entire body. I couldn't help but glance back at Mr. Na, watching him as he gathered his materials for the next class. He was so composed, so self-assured, and yet his words to me were gentle and full of praise. I felt a surge of pride and a touch of something else I couldn't quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or a rekindled admiration. Whatever it was, it made me walk a little taller as I headed for the door.

But as I stepped out into the hallway, my confidence faltered. The same group of girls who had been glaring at me earlier during Mr. Na's praise were standing off to the side, throwing me dirty looks. There were four of them, and they seemed to be waiting, as if I had unknowingly stepped into their territory. Their ringleader was the girl from the hallway, the one who'd been laughing with Mr. Na before. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

It was one against four. A part of me wanted to turn around and find another way out, but I knew that would only give them what they wanted—a sign that I was afraid. Instead, I kept my cool, squaring my shoulders as I walked past them. I was taller than most of them, which gave me a slight advantage. If nothing else, I could use my height to project confidence, even if I felt like my stomach was doing somersaults.

As I passed by, the ringleader couldn't resist a snide remark. "Look who's suddenly the teacher's pet," she said, her voice dripping with sarcascastic mockery. Her friends snickered, each throwing me a glare that felt like daggers.

The ringleader, the girl who had been talking to Mr. Na in the hallway earlier, was hard to ignore. Her outfit was designed to draw attention—a cropped top that showed off her midriff and tight jeans that hugged her figure. She had a confident, almost cocky air about her, and her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves. It was the kind of look that seemed intended to impress, and judging by the way she stood with her arms crossed, she knew she was being watched.

When I saw her speaking to Mr. Na earlier, she had been all smiles and charm, clearly trying to make an impression. And why wouldn’t she? Mr. Na’s laughter had been genuine, his eyes lighting up as she spoke. But now, it seemed like her pleasant demeanor had melted away, replaced by a scowl that she aimed directly at me.

It was almost laughable. Trying to impress Mr. Na with ridiculous grades and revealing outfits? Keep on dreaming. This was Oxford, not a fashion show. I knew I had earned Mr. Na’s praise through hard work and dedication, not by batting my eyelashes and hoping for the best. If this girl thought she could gain favor with him by dressing provocatively and flashing a smile, she was in for a rude awakening.

But even so, the sting of jealousy was unmistakable in her eyes. It was like she had expected Mr. Na’s attention to be hers alone, and my success had disrupted her carefully laid plans. I wasn’t going to let her or her gang of friends intimidate me, but I knew I’d need to keep my guard up. People like her could be unpredictable when they felt threatened. And I had no intention of becoming her next target.

I took a deep breath, refusing to let them get to me. "Jealousy doesn't suit you," I replied, my voice even and calm. I kept walking, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. My heart was pounding, but I knew I had to maintain my composure. The last thing I needed was a confrontation in the hallway.

As I turned the corner, I could still hear them laughing, but I didn't look back. I had more important things to focus on, like my studies and the praise Mr. Na had given me. Besides, I wasn't about to let a group of mean-spirited girls ruin my day. I walked with my head held high, reminding myself that I had earned my place here. If they wanted to throw shade, that was their problem, not mine.

A few weeks turned into months, and life at Oxford settled into a steady rhythm. The initial excitement of my first encounter with Mr. Na had given way to a determined focus on my studies. I was no longer the daydreamer I once was; instead, I was known for my diligence and attention to detail. I threw myself into my coursework, attending every lecture, meticulously taking notes, and diving deep into research projects. It paid off in ways I hadn't anticipated.

When the results for the first mid-term test were released, I was nervous but hopeful. The rumors had been circulating that this would be the most challenging exam of the term, and many students were on edge. I opened my email, my heart racing, and saw the score: 4.00 GPA. It was perfect. I couldn't believe it. All those sleepless nights, the endless hours in the library, and the pressure I had put on myself—it had all been worth it.

The list of top students with a 4.00 GPA was proudly announced in every student's email inbox, on Oxford's main board, and even in the daily campus newsletter. It was everywhere, and my name was the first on the list. I was thrilled but tried to keep my excitement in check. I didn't want to come across as boastful, even though I was bursting with pride.

I immediately called my parents, who lived far from Oxford, and their voices were filled with joy and pride. "We're so proud of you!" my mom said, her voice cracking with emotion. My dad chimed in, "That's our girl! We knew you could do it!" We talked for a while, discussing my studies and the vacation we were planning for the next summer holidays. It felt good to share my success with them, to hear their enthusiasm for the future.

Emily and the rest of my friends congratulated me with genuine happiness. "You're amazing!" Emily said, giving me a big hug. "We need to celebrate! Let's throw a party after all that studying and cramming. You deserve it!" I agreed, grateful for the support of my friends. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone in this journey, that I had people who cared about me and wanted to share in my achievements.

But even as the celebration plans took shape, I was already looking ahead. I had set my sights on something bigger—a Ph.D. I knew the road ahead would be challenging, but I was ready for it. The 4.00 GPA was a significant milestone, but it was just the beginning. I was determined to push further, to explore new horizons, and to make a mark in the world of computer science.

Oxford had given me the tools, and I intended to use them. The party was just the beginning of a new chapter, one that would lead me to greater heights. I was excited for the journey ahead and eager to see where it would take me.

The end-of-semester party at Oxford was the event everyone had been looking forward to. It was held at a grand hotel, a place known for its opulent decor and lavish events. The hotel stood tall and regal, with its stone façade and large glass windows reflecting the city lights. As we approached, I could hear the soft strains of music floating out from the ballroom, the distant hum of voices and laughter filling the night air.

The entrance was adorned with elegant drapes and twinkling lights, leading into a grand foyer where guests were mingling, dressed in their finest. The ceiling was high, with elaborate chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the entire space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the movements of the guests as they moved about, greeting friends and lecturers alike.

I had chosen a long, flowing evening gown for the occasion. It was a deep emerald green that complemented my skin tone and brought out the color of my eyes. The dress had a delicate lace overlay that added an air of sophistication, and it cinched at the waist to give me a flattering silhouette. I wore my hair in loose curls that cascaded over my shoulders, and my makeup was subtle but accentuated my features. A pair of silver heels completed the look, adding just the right amount of sparkle.

As I stepped into the ballroom, the environment was alive with energy. A live band was playing soft jazz, adding a touch of elegance to the evening. People were chatting, laughing, and dancing on the grand dance floor at the center of the room. The lecturers were there too, dressed in their finest, mingling with students and colleagues.

The decorations were exquisite. The tables were adorned with white linens and elaborate centerpieces, and the walls were lined with ornate tapestries. The hotel staff moved gracefully among the guests, serving hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The entire scene felt like something out of a fairytale, a perfect setting to celebrate the end of a long semester.

I moved through the crowd, greeting my friends and exchanging pleasantries with my lecturers. It was a night to remember, a moment of relaxation and celebration after months of hard work and intense study. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and the music provided the perfect backdrop for an evening of fun and camaraderie.

The host of the party stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention. The room fell into a quiet murmur, then silence as all eyes turned toward the stage. The moment everyone had been waiting for—the announcement of the "Main Girl" of the batch, the one who excelled in academics and co-curricular activities—was finally here. The tension was palpable, the air buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was hoping to hear their name called, and you could feel the excitement mixed with nervousness throughout the grand ballroom.

I wasn’t expecting much, so I was busily chatting with my friends, enjoying the night. It was a party, after all, and I was here to celebrate the end of a long semester. But then, suddenly, I heard my name. It took me a moment to register what had just happened. Was that really my name? I turned to see everyone looking at me, their eyes filled with surprise and admiration. The applause started slowly, then grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. People were cheering and clapping for me, their voices filled with genuine joy.

I was in disbelief. I stood, my legs feeling wobbly as if they might give out beneath me. The cheers grew louder, and my friends rushed to my side, hugging me tightly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, the emotion of the moment washing over me. It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

As I hugged my friends, I glanced across the room and saw Mr. Na standing in the corner among the other lecturers. He was clapping for me, his smile wide and genuine. There was a look of pride on his face, a mix of happiness and satisfaction that warmed my heart. I felt a surge of gratitude, knowing that his encouragement and guidance had played a significant role in my success.

I made my way to the stage, still in a daze from all the attention. The host handed me a small crown, a symbol of my achievement, and I bowed in front of everyone, feeling the heat of the spotlight. The applause was deafening, but it felt like the perfect culmination of all my hard work. I had worked tirelessly throughout the semester, and now I was being recognized for it. The cheers, the clapping, the smiles—it was a moment I would never forget.

The party ended with a burst of applause and cheers, the ballroom slowly emptying as students and lecturers headed back to their dorms. The energy of the evening had been palpable, but now it was time to say goodbye and pack for the summer holidays, which started the next day. The hotel lobby was filled with laughter and goodbyes, everyone sharing stories from the night and making plans to meet up during the break.

I waved goodbye to my friends, hugging them and kissing them on the cheek, thanking them for one of the best nights of my life. "This was amazing," Emily said, squeezing me tightly. "We'll have to do it again soon!" I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement for the holidays and sadness that the semester had come to an end. It felt like a chapter closing, with so much more yet to be written.

Some of my friends were waiting for me, asking if I wanted to walk back with them to the dorms. I appreciated the offer, but I had other plans. "I need to use the bathroom," I said with a sheepish smile. "I think I drank a little too much tonight." They laughed, waving me off and heading toward the exit.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling ballroom. The lights were dimmer here, casting soft shadows on the walls. As I made my way to the restroom, I passed a few lingering partygoers, their laughter fading into the distance as they left. It was a moment of solitude after a night filled with noise and celebration, and I welcomed the brief silence.

Inside the restroom, the sound of running water echoed off the tiles, a soothing white noise after the chaos of the party. I took a moment to collect myself, splashing some cool water on my face to calm my nerves. It had been an incredible night, filled with unexpected surprises and moments I knew I'd cherish forever. The memory of the announcement, the cheers, and the crown made me smile. But now, it was time to return to reality and prepare for the journey ahead.

As I washed my hands, the soothing sound of running water helped to calm my nerves after the night’s festivities. But then I heard the chatter of a group of girls entering the restroom. The voices were familiar, but I tried to push the recognition aside. I knew exactly who they were—the same group that had been giving me dirty looks earlier at the party.

I quickly grabbed my bag and headed toward the exit, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But as I turned the corner, I bumped into them, nearly knocking one of them over. It was the same girl, the one who had tried to outshine me in front of Mr. Na, the one with the revealing outfits and the fake smiles. Her friends crowded around her, their expressions already set to mock me.

"Well, well, well," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. The 'Main Girl' herself." Her friends laughed, nodding in agreement.

I tried to ignore them, to keep my composure, but it was hard. The words stung, each one like a sharp needle pricking my skin. I decided to fight back with a simple comeback. "Just shove all your jealousy up your ass, instead do something better? something like getting better on your academic performances, yeah?" I said, looking her straight in the eye. It was a small victory, but it seemed to hit a nerve. Some of the girls glared at me, while others whispered angrily among themselves.

The main girl pretended to keep her cool, but I could see the anger in her eyes. She hated that I had the spotlight, that I had earned the admiration of our lecturers, especially Mr. Na. It was a constant reminder of her failure to stand out, and she couldn’t hide her resentment.

One of the girls in her group was holding a cup of iced chocolate. Before I could react, she flung it at me, the cold liquid splashing across my dress, my hair, and my face. The others burst into laughter, their voices echoing off the bathroom tiles. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, feeling the sticky mess dripping down my dress. It was humiliating. The beautiful gown I had chosen for the night was ruined, and my hair was a tangled, chocolate-covered mess.

The laughter grew louder, the girls enjoying my discomfort. I felt a surge of anger and shame, but I knew that reacting would only give them more satisfaction. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite the overwhelming humiliation. It was one of the worst moments I had ever experienced, and I knew it would be etched in my memory for a long time.

The laughter and mockery filled the restroom as the cold, sticky chocolate dripped from my hair and dress. The girls continued to sneer, their eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and triumph. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but beneath the humiliation, I felt a surge of anger bubbling to the surface.

I bent down and grabbed the half-empty cup of iced chocolate from the floor. Without hesitating, I threw it back at the main girl, the contents splashing across her shirt and into her hair. Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth forming a perfect "O" as she staggered backward, hitting the wall. Her friends gasped, their mocking laughter turning to disbelief.

I didn't wait to see her reaction. I stormed out of the bathroom, my footsteps echoing in the hallway as I rushed toward the exit. My heart was pounding, a mix of adrenaline and indignation fueling my steps. I could still hear the girls' voices behind me, now raised in anger and surprise, but I didn't look back. I had given them a taste of their own medicine, and I wasn't about to stick around for the aftermath.

As I pushed through the door and into the hotel lobby, the cool air hit my face, a refreshing contrast to the heat of my anger. I knew I would have to deal with the consequences later, but at that moment, all I wanted was to put as much distance between myself and those girls as possible. It was a relief to be away from their toxic presence, even if it meant walking through the lobby covered in chocolate and embarrassment.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the party and the support of my friends, reminding myself that I had earned my place at Oxford. No amount of mockery or bullying could take that away from me. I was determined to hold my head high, even as I left the hotel, the night air offering a sense of calm after the storm.

I was glad to find a quiet corner in the hotel lobby where I could clean up the mess from the iced chocolate. It was a small alcove behind a decorative pillar, and I felt relieved that no one had seen me storming out of the restroom. My bag had a pack of wet tissues, thankfully, and I pulled out several to wipe away the sticky mess on my dress and hair. The chocolate had splattered everywhere, and I was trying to salvage what I could without making things worse.

As I was cleaning up, I heard a voice call my name with a hint of curiosity. It was deep and husky, the kind of voice that could make anyone stop in their tracks. I looked up, and there he was—Mr. Na. My breath caught in my throat. I was in disbelief. Why now, of all times?

He was dressed in a sleek black tuxedo that fit him perfectly. His black hair was slicked back, giving him a polished and sophisticated look, yet his eyes were soft and kind, with a hint of worry. He looked at me with an expression that was both gentle and concerned, as if he was unsure of what he had just walked into.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. It was the kind of voice that could ease anyone's nerves, but at that moment, I felt a rush of embarrassment. Of all people to find me in this state, why did it have to be him?

I stood there, holding the damp tissues, my face flushed and my heart racing. I could see the reflection of the chandelier lights in his eyes, and it made him look even more striking. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. Despite the sophistication of his attire, his gaze conveyed genuine concern, as if he truly cared about what had happened.

I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, my voice shaky. "Just a little accident, that's all." I gestured to my chocolate-stained dress, trying to play it off, but it was hard to hide the embarrassment.

Mr. Na took a step closer, his eyes scanning the scene. "Are you sure? That looks like more than just a little accident," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Do you need any help? Maybe a jacket to cover up or something?" His concern was genuine, and it made me feel both grateful and self-conscious at the same time. I knew he was trying to be kind, but his presence only made me feel more aware of my disheveled state.

I pushed my hair back, trying not to cry from the sheer humiliation of it all. My hands were still damp from the wet tissues, and my heart was racing. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the chocolate-stained fabric of my dress to avoid meeting his gaze. I didn’t want him to see the embarrassment in my eyes, or worse, the tears threatening to spill over.

“It’s fine, really,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked slightly. I was still in disbelief that it was Mr. Na standing there, concerned about me. This was the same Mr. Na who was fierce and strict during lectures, who could command a room with a single word. But now, he was completely different, his demeanor soft and caring.

He took a step closer, his expression gentle but still filled with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay if you’re not. I can help you find something to cover up, or we can find someone to give you a ride home.” His kindness felt almost surreal, given how he usually commanded respect with his strictness and high expectations in the classroom.

I shook my head, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” I said, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. “It’s just a little mishap, that’s all. I can handle it.” I didn’t want him to go out of his way to help me, not when I was feeling so vulnerable and exposed.

But he didn’t seem convinced. His eyes lingered on my chocolate-stained dress, then returned to my face, where he seemed to read the emotions I was trying to hide. It was strange to see him like this, so different from the stern lecturer I was used to. His voice was calm and understanding, his usual intensity replaced by a softness that made me feel like I could trust him.

Mr. Na looked at me with concern, then glanced at my chocolate-stained dress. He hesitated for a moment, then without a word, he removed his jacket and gently draped it over my shoulders, covering the worst of the mess. I felt the warmth of the fabric and the comforting scent of his cologne. It made me feel a little more secure, even as my eyes welled up with tears. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the anger and humiliation were hard to contain.

He gestured for me to follow him, his touch light but guiding. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's find a place where you can clean up." He led me away from the crowded parts of the hotel, toward a quieter bathroom in a different wing. It wasn't the same one where I had encountered those mean girls, which was a relief.

He waited outside while I cleaned up, his presence a calming influence in the otherwise empty corridor. I used the wet tissues to wipe the chocolate off my face and attempted to tidy my hair as best as I could. The stain on my dress was mostly hidden under his jacket, but I could still feel the sticky residue on my skin. It was uncomfortable, but knowing that he was just outside made it easier to deal with.

When I stepped out, Mr. Na smiled gently. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. I didn't want to break down in front of him, not after he'd been so kind to me.

He led me back to the hotel lobby, which was now almost deserted. It was late, and most of the guests had already left. I glanced outside, hoping to find a taxi, but the streets were empty. Mr. Na noticed my hesitation and offered, "I can give you a ride home if you need it. It's no trouble."

I hesitated, not wanting to impose, but the thought of walking back alone in my current state was daunting. "Are you sure?" I asked, trying to hide my excitement. He was my crush, after all, the one I had fallen out of love with, or so I thought. But now, those old feelings seemed to be resurfacing, and I could feel my heart racing.

"Of course," he replied with a reassuring smile. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I'd feel better knowing you got home safely." His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made me feel at ease. I nodded and agreed to the ride, my excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

As we walked toward his car, I couldn't help but think about how much had changed. I thought I had moved on from my crush on him, but now, it felt like those feelings were emerging again, stronger than ever. It was a mixture of excitement and nerves, a reminder that sometimes, even when you think you've moved on, the heart has a way of finding its own path.

The car was immaculate, with a faint scent of leather and a hint of cologne, matching the scent of his jacket. I slid into the passenger seat, feeling the coolness of the upholstery against my skin. It was a luxurious vehicle, clearly well-maintained, reflecting his meticulous nature.

Mr. Na got in on the driver’s side and started the engine, the soft purr breaking the silence of the night. The dashboard lights cast a gentle glow, illuminating his face in a way that made his features stand out even more. The air inside the car was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night outside.

As he drove through the mostly empty streets, I felt a mix of emotions. Part of me was still embarrassed about what had happened, but another part was grateful for his kindness. The soft music playing on the car radio, combined with the gentle motion of the car, created a surprisingly relaxing atmosphere. I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be obvious, but he seemed focused on the road, his expression calm and composed.

“Do you live far from here?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was gentle, lacking the sternness he often had during lectures.

“Not too far,” I replied, giving him directions. I felt a bit nervous, unsure of what to say or how to act. This was my strict lecturer, the one who usually commanded the classroom with an iron will, yet here he was, giving me a ride home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The conversation was light and casual as we drove through the quiet streets. He asked about my studies and how I was planning to spend my summer holidays. I answered with simple responses, still trying to gauge the situation. There was something about the way he spoke, the softness in his tone, that made me feel at ease despite the awkward circumstances.

As we approached my dorm, I pointed out the building. Mr. Na pulled up to the entrance and parked the car. Before I could thank him, he turned to me with a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit interior.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle gaze. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I want to make sure my students are taken care of.”

His words were kind, but they also carried a weight that I couldn’t quite define. I thanked him, my heart racing from the unexpected kindness and the warmth of his smile.

But just as I was about to step out, he reached across and gently pulled my hand. His touch was light but firm enough to stop me from leaving. The sudden contact sent a jolt through my system, my heart skipping a beat as I looked at him in surprise. There was something in his eyes—an intensity I hadn’t seen before.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and steady, but I could hear the underlying tension. He didn’t let go of my hand, his fingers wrapped gently around mine. The moment felt electric, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t quite define.

I was in disbelief. What was he doing? This was Mr. Na, the stern lecturer who was always so composed, so in control. And now, he was holding my hand, looking at me with an expression that seemed to speak volumes. The tension between us was palpable, the space within the car suddenly feeling much smaller.

“There’s something I need to say,” he continued, his eyes locked on mine. His grip on my hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know he was serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”

My mind raced. What was he talking about? Was he about to say what I thought he was going to say? The possibility seemed impossible, yet the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. I could feel my pulse quickening, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn’t just a casual conversation—it was something more, something that could change everything.

“I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than just as a student. I know this is unexpected, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.” His words hung in the air, the silence that followed heavy with anticipation.

I was stunned, my mind struggling to process what he had just said. My first reaction was disbelief—this couldn’t be real. But his eyes were sincere, and the way he held my hand suggested that he meant every word. I felt a rush of emotions—confusion, excitement, uncertainty—all swirling together in a dizzying whirlwind.

“What?” I finally managed to say, my voice shaky. It was all I could think of, my thoughts racing too quickly to form coherent sentences. The tension between us was almost unbearable, the space in the car feeling like it was closing in. I knew that whatever I said next would have consequences, that this was a moment that couldn’t be taken back.

Mr. Na waited, his gaze unwavering, his grip on my hand a constant reminder of the connection between us. I had no idea what to do or say, but I knew that this was a turning point—one that would change everything.

He held my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and I could feel the rising tension between us. His eyes were soft yet intense, conveying a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I appreciate the way you appreciate my hard work," he said, his words measured but filled with sincerity. "I know I can be strict in class, but you were always fully focused. You worked hard, and it showed in your academic performance." His eyes never left mine, and I could feel my heart racing as he continued. "And the way you smile when I pull out those silly jokes during lessons—it flutters my heart. It really does."

I stared at him in disbelief and nervousness. This was the same Mr. Na who commanded respect in the classroom, and yet here he was, speaking to me like we were equals. It was almost surreal, the way his demeanor shifted from stern to affectionate. The tension in the car grew, a palpable charge in the air, and I knew he was waiting for my response.

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to proceed. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable," he said, his voice softening. "But we're not that far apart in age, and I just started my career as a lecturer earlier than most. I don't want to pressure you, so if you can't agree with my feelings, just ignore what I said. We can just stay as—" He didn't get to finish his sentence.

I leaned in and kissed him. At first, it was gentle, almost tentative, but then it grew more intense, our lips pressing firmly together. His surprise melted into warmth as he responded, the kiss becoming deeper, more passionate. The tension between us exploded into a rush of emotion, and I could feel the heat building as our kiss grew steamy.

We pulled away, both of us breathless, our faces close, our eyes locked. He smiled, his expression a mix of joy and relief. It was clear we both knew the signs—this wasn't just a fleeting moment. We liked each other, and the kiss had confirmed it.

He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I think you might need to take a shower," he said, gesturing to the chocolate stains on my dress. I laughed, the sound filled with warmth, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Thanks again," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight," he replied, his smile never fading.

I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye, watching as he waited until I entered my apartment building. The night had taken a surprising turn, and as I made my way to my room, I knew that this was just the beginning of a story I couldn't wait to see unfold.

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