#and like i knew grad school would be hard and I knew this semester would be hard and i can get through it and i will get through it

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

hands and knees begging myself to be responsible tonight bc i have so much to do but i can feel in my heart irresponsible brain is going to win and im gonna end up drawing and making myself more behind and stressed but like i spent 8 hours researching and writing art history texts at my internship do i fucking want to research for my history class tonight even tho i should so i can let the professor know if my topic is viable? no i want to draw. and like even research aside i need to do dishes and laundry and pack

[marigoldenblooms]

An Important Lesson - One-Shot

Pairing: Professor!Wanda x Fem!Reader (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Prompt: After years of rigorous study, you were nearing the end of your graduate program. Companionship had become a figment of your imagination, until your film professor caught your eye. Taking something from her desk, you hope you could catch hers- and you got more than you bargained for.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Who is Y/N I don’t know her, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Porn with plot, teasing, orgasm denial, vibrator use, thigh riding, Mommy kink, Professor kink (sparingly), no aftercare, slight dub-con, dumbification, praise, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance (professor/student), age gap (Reader is 26 while Wanda is 34), brat taming if you squint. 

A/N: Holy balls, I did not realize smut was so hard to write. Major kudos to all who seem to do it so effortlessly! I know I envy ‘em. This is my first foray into writing this kind of fic (my university’s spring break has brought a lot of writing firsts), so if you have any feedback I’d love to hear it! This is also vaguely proofread! Wanted to do some practice before the evental sex in Unica Sempter Avis (Because USA is certainly an Abbreviation of All Time), and other ideas I’ve got cooking up. I'd love to write another part to this, if y'all would be down! Thanks y'all again!  Edit: An Important Lesson is getting a second part! Read a teaser here! >:)

Word Count: 2.5k - Read length: 9 minutes, 5 seconds.  Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners! ~~~ 

The pen hadn’t been worth stealing, and yet here you were. 

Professor Maximoff’s classroom was overwhelmingly quiet, dark and empty with familiar rows of tables curved in a half arc around her desk, pushed off to the side. She’d always pace within the front few rows where you sat, and you’d have to crane your neck to keep her in view when you weren’t scribbling down paraphrases of what she said. She taught Advanced Film and Media Critique, which generally lended itself to analyzing the shit out of old TV shows. Maximoff was a difficult professor, but you weren’t looking for easy, especially in your graduate program. After a few years of working your ass off to make enough money, you’d wiped the floor with your bachelors and now you were vying for your masters, in your last few weeks of grad school. And you knew Professor Maximoff liked you, which didn’t make it so bad. 

You knew other things about her too - for instance, there was no way she wasn’t a lesbian. Whenever you’d raise your hand her eyes would snap to you, and you swear her face would curl into a smile that was beyond professional. You’d catch her staring in your direction during exams on multiple occasions (to be fair you did the same when she wasn’t looking, but that’s besides the point), and you swear up and down that she winked at you during your midterm. She’d hold onto your hand a little too long when you turned in papers, and always offered ‘tutoring’ sessions which you humbly declined in the beginning of the semester, your grade being nigh perfect in her course. Between that, the short nails, tailored suits, and the rings- oh, so many rings- there was no way your professor wasn’t gay, and possibly had the hots for you. Your studies had been your priority over companionship for so long,  And now, within a few weeks of your final, why not make a move?

Heist films had been the topic of last week’s lecture, and so nicking something small would be a good segway, right? You’d return it to her tomorrow after class, mention something flirty (perhaps about stealing her heart), and see where it went. If you were lucky, you’d have her number by the end of the course, and perhaps take the older woman to coffee after your final exam. You’d bring her to the movies, but that might turn into more of a lesson than a date. 

As you’d pluck a pen from one of her desk drawers, you notice that it was slightly heavier than most. You clicked it once, then a second time- and nothing happened, so it went into your pockets. You’d move to exit the dim room, before a plaque caught your eye- her degree. It was neatly pressed into its frame: Wanda Maximoff, Masters of Arts in Film and Media Studies. You remembered her mentioning she was working on her doctorate, a proud grin sparking at that. Perhaps you’d get to know more about her dissertation and herself shortly. ------------------------------------------

Class went by faster than most, although it didn’t help that you were anxiously awaiting the end of Professor Maximoff’s lecture. She had worn a trim fitted sleeveless blouse and buttoned pants, both beautiful shades of burgundy. A myriad of gold rings decorating her hands as she’d motion with them through her talk. You’d have to keep your eyes off her fingers, nose deep in notebooks as you’d scramble to collect her words before your incoming final exam. 

“And what is the significance of I Love Lucy’s laugh tracks?” Wanda would ponder aloud before your hand immediately shot up, the lone attempt out of your fifty or so classmates. She’d grin at you, “Yes, dear?” 

You almost forget what you were about to say, holding onto the vestiges of it as you’d sputter, “Oh, uhm- yes, well, I Love Lucy didn’t have laugh tracks, mostly- they were the first sitcom to have a live studio audience.” Her eyes would crinkle with mirth, and you could tell immediately that you had the right answer. You tuned out her words as your mind would swim, thinking back to the weighted pen in your jeans pocket. The pet names were new, settling a joyous fuzz both in your mind and between your legs. It was things like this that had you on the back foot- this was your chance to get her back.

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

“And I’ll see you all in two days,” Wanda would return to her desk, sitting atop it rather than in the chair behind it. One of your classmates had asked why in an icebreaker towards the beginning of the semester, and if you remembered correctly she said ‘Just like the view from up here,’ or the like. If you’d been on the same track mind as now, you probably would have noticed how she stared at you during her spiel, a detail only discovered in hindsight. Now, you had all the pieces. 

You pack up slowly, shimmying your belongings into your overly stuffed bag. Hanging back until there were few students left, you flag her gaze with a hand and an upturned smile, “Professor, I was wondering if I could..” Your words would halt in your throat, thoughts thickened and syrupy as she’d look down to you, head tilted a degree off kilter. Would it be embarrassing to admit you’d never been this close to her before? Her lips would be pursed, but would break into a wild grin, and you felt yourself melt right there. You weren’t a teen anymore goddamnit, focus- “Talk-” you’d squeak, clearing your throat hastily to camouflage the blunder, “Talk with you, after class. Professor.”

Her brows would raise, and you could almost see the cogs rotating in there. Her eyes would dart within the now-empty room, adjusting her position on the desk- and it’d become increasingly obvious (you can deny it no longer) that you were standing directly in between her slightly parted legs. This wasn’t how you were expecting it to go, but here you were. She’d start taking off her rings. “Of course, darling,” she’d tease again with a roughened lilt. Those damn pet names. “What do you need?”

“I think I have something of yours, Professor-” Your mouth would open a few seconds before you’d speak, and you swear she’d smirk at how she had you, devoid of any thought. Something about her had you smiling and kicking your feet, and boy did she know it. Without any further bravado, you’d pull out the pen, “I hate to say it, but I think you’ve stolen-”

“Oh,” She’d breathe, Wanda’s face tinting with a pinkish hue, yet her smile only grew larger. Her gaze would narrow, voice dripping with a sultry air that almost knocked you off balance, “I didn’t let you borrow that, did I?”

“No Professor,” you admit, beginning to launch into your story, before she’d shush you- shush you, words piling up into a lump in your throat. 

“And do you know what it does, darling?” She asks, her tone a breathy whisper now. You swallow, shaking your head no. She fucking giggles. She takes the pen from your hand, clicking it three times, and it’d start to buzz. Oh, my god. It was a fucking vibrator.

“Too dumb to even recognize what this is? And I thought you were so smart..” She’d tease, a flush forming on your face in tandem with a shiver down your body. You open your mouth to speak, and yet her warm, calloused fingers would clasp your jaw shut. “Shhh, don’t want your pretty little head to even think, darling. How about Mommy show you how it works, hm?” 

You’d nod immediately. She’d abandon the toy, clicking it off as her hands would slip beneath your shirt, and it felt like time had frozen. She was so soft, and your mind glazed over. Your breath hitched as she’d trail upward, palming your skin before running her fingers over your bare breasts. You’d watch as Wanda’s pupils would blow in seconds, a devious smile bubbling into view, “No bra?” She’d murmur lowly shaking her head as she’d start to knead your flesh, “Just couldn’t remember it, hm? My precious student, too busy thinking of me to get dressed, were you?” You nod again, a pitiful mewl escaping your throat. 

“Yes- Yes, Professor..” You arch into her touch, although that bliss was short-lived as you feel her dig her hands further into your tits, sharper than you’d like. She’d tsk at your reply, and you look up to meet her eyes- oh, that was the wrong answer. 

“Did you already forget my title, baby?” She’d ask almost tauntingly, her gaze sharpening as she’d shift her hands from your skin. You’d chase her warmth, dazed as your skin would flush and tremble, slotting yourself up against her. She’d run her thumb over your lips, crooning at your immediate submission. She could use that. 

“It seems Mommy has a lot to teach you, dear..” Her touch would ghost across your exposed forearms, her feather-light touches only stuttering your breath further. “And I think you’re ready for your first lesson. Think you can handle that, darling? Keep your eyes on me,” Her hands would dig into your jeans, rougher against the hem’s fabric, “Think you can take this off for Mommy?”

“Please..” You beg, raising your hips to strip yourself bare, your glance trained on her. You don’t miss how her eyes darted down to your bare cunt, having slid off your panties too, or how she licked her lips at the sight of your slick. Her hands would hold your legs open, the cold lecture hall’s air chilling your exposed skin. Still staring at Wanda, you’d discard your shirt in the same breath, her jaw clenching as all of you felt the cool air. Feeling exposed, the urge to flee ebbed away some of your arousal. Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom? Your focus was immediately drawn again as she’d capture your chin in her hand, pulling it harshly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dilated, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she’d pant, both from your disobedience and your thighs rubbing against hers. “Look at me,” she’d hiss, taking your lips into a searing kiss. Your answer? Fuck. Yes.

Your cunt would grind against her leg as Wanda would pull your hips up and onto her thigh, grip bruising as your lips would crash together. You could smell her vanilla perfume as she’d tug at your bottom lip with her teeth, a familiar buzzing sound heard but not registered before you felt it on your clit. “Mommy- yes, Fuckin’ christ, there-” You’d keen, lurching back as Wanda’s hand would rest on your hip, keeping you from escaping her touch.

Wanda would groan at your words, voice a little breathier as her hips would stutter against yours, “There’s my good girl..” Teasingly, she’d circle your clit with the pen-shaped toy, gasping herself as she’d feel the aftershocks of its pulse on her clothed cunt. “Taking Mommy’s toy so well..such a sweet girl for your Professor-” 

You’d rock your hips against her, the friction from her dress slacks and the vibrator’s pulse bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quick. Wanda wouldn’t notice your frenzied breathing or how you lost your rhythm, but she would hear your words; drawn between husky whines, “Mommy, please, I’m so close, fuck-” Your face would flush, legs beginning to tremble before the whole feeling was ripped away from you, Wanda’s grip leaving as the buzz would click off. With shaky breaths, your eyes would rise to meet hers- only to see a teasing grin. She’d pat your arms, gently coaxing you off of her thigh, the few sparks of friction from that not enough to bring you anywhere close to your release. You’d blink, thoughts thickened and reeling, brow furrowed ever so slightly for her- and Wanda loved it. 

“You did so well for your first lesson, dear..” She’d croon, brushing herself off as she’d rise to her feet, leaving you on her cluttered desk. “But, Professor, I didn’t-” You’d begin and she’d silence you right there, hand rising to close your jaw shut again. 

“And you won’t come unless you call me by my title, darling. You’ve received your correction for your first mistake- and for stealing from me,” You nodded slowly, absorbing her words as though they were molasses, and her smile only widened at how dazed she’d made you. “And if you disobey again when you’re with me, alone- then I’ll lower your grade by five points. Understand?” 

If you were in any kind of fog before, you cleared it from your thoughts immediately. “Yes, very clear- uhm,” You pause, noticing the stain on her pant leg where your pussy had ground into the fabric, and you feel your face warm. Wanda would shift her stance and you’d look up- she leaned above you, a single brow raised. You’d swallow, keeping your eyes on her completely, “Yes, Mommy- I understand.”

“Good girl.” That was the right answer. She’d smile at you, her praise going straight to your cunt. Could she not have given you a few more seconds? Maybe you could’ve gotten off without her noticing. She’d interrupt your mind with a quick peck on the lips, and you felt your wits slow, swimming with thoughts of her mouth. Oh, that was why- couldn’t get away with anything if you didn’t think anything at all. Wanda’s grin would only intensify as she’d watch you dress, clothing rumpled from the haste it had been taken off. After a few minutes, you were back to prim and proper..besides your racing heart and flush whenever Wanda so much as moved. “This was great..” You’d murmur, pressing the wrinkles from your shirt, gaze flicking back up to Wanda’s- your professor still watching you with a smooth, secretive smirk. 

“Of course it was, dear..but it’s still nice to hear you say that. Anything for my best student,” She’d wink at you and you’d fold, feeling your palms clam up. Since when were you this weak in the knees? She’d settle at her desk again, her hands clasped together on its wooden grain. You’d be taller than her now, with her sitting down- and yet there was an aura she commanded that you couldn’t outdo. You turn to leave without any further fanfare but her voice would seize you again, just as warm as her touch. “I’ll be expecting you after tomorrow’s classes, then? I think some…after-hours remedial work for my course would do you well.” 

Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom, again? You’d leave her hall with a bright smile, a reply, and a secret. Your answer? The same as before - Fuck. Yes. 

And your secret?

You’d stolen the ‘pen’ again.

[lucysgraybird]

whoa...part 3 of modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader, and it's 18+? who is she. anyways part 1 here, part 2 here

warnings: mdni, oral (f&m receiving), p in v (unprotected), blood mentions (minor), religious imagery (minor)

The summer between junior and senior year comes and goes, as does the first semester of your last year in college. It's filled with internships and grad school applications, but you're still going strong with Coriolanus. You get through the most unguarded you've ever seen him – the weeks leading up to the release of LSAT scores. You're actually unaware that it's coming up because he's been so private about the whole process until you get into a screaming match in the Snow apartment with him about something you can't even remember now. When you threaten to leave if he can't be polite, he breaks down crying – something you didn't even know he was capable of. He apologizes and explains himself, and though you suspect his tears aren't genuine, you catch him in a hug and hold him on the couch until he falls asleep. 

A week letter, his score comes in the mail: a perfect 180. The celebration is quiet – just you, his family, and his boss, who Coriolanus is closer with than you knew. He's an interesting man – his name is Strabo Plinth, and you learn that he's the CEO of a company that manufactures weapons for the government. You want to tell your boyfriend that such a job may not play well on his resumé at the polls, if that's where he wants to end up, but it's not your place and you're sure he's thought about that. 

All in all, by the time the spring semester rolls around, your futures are beginning to take shape. You both get into your dream schools, him for law and you for intelligence analysis. When that letter comes in, Coriolanus teases you up and down about being the stereotypical academic recruit into the CIA, but you care more to understand these agencies than work for them. You won't attend school together anymore, but it's not more than an hour by train to visit, and there's been no indication of the end of your relationship nearing. In fact, when your parents come down for parents’ weekend, Coriolanus spends about forty minutes talking to your father away from you and your mother, and when they rejoin the group, your father claps you on the shoulder and tells you that you found a good man.

There's a brief, blissful period at the end of the year before graduation when everything's been turned in and you can just enjoy the sunshine and new warmth. One of these days finds you and Coriolanus lounging on the quad on a blanket. Your head is in his lap as he plays with your hair, working his fingers through the small tangles that the early May breeze has created. It is quiet, and you are bored.

“Oh, Coriolanus,” you say, opening your eyes to lock on his. The midday light turns them almost white, like his eponymous snow. It takes a lot of willpower not to pull a face. 

“Yes, darling?” A nickname he's picked up in the last month or so. It made you laugh in shock the first time he said it, but now it feels lush. 

“I got an email from the dean the other day. I made valedictorian,” you say with a toothy, cruel grin.

You're hoping for a reaction, maybe a flash of anger. It dances across his features for the barest fraction of a second, enough to work a little adrenaline through your body, and then you get a neat smile and a cock of his head.

“Congratulations.”

“You're not mad?”

“Why would I be? You've worked hard, you deserve it. I'm not going to get upset over a silly title.”

You sit up and turn to stare at him. “What do you mean, silly?”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes. “Don’t be like that. I mean that I decided it wasn’t important to me anymore, now that I’ve gotten into law school. I thought you had gotten over it too, but since it’s important, congratulations.”

He’s deflecting, obviously, and you tell him as much. 

The corners of his mouth quirk up and he shrugs. “Okay.”

“No, you are! What, did you get salutatorian? Since when are you fine with second place?”

“Since first place wouldn’t have gotten me anything, darling. You’re ruining this for yourself, okay? I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

You’re left with nothing to say, searching his face for any mark of that brief rage from earlier before flumping back into his lap. He laughs. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You don’t need to pout. I would’ve said something else if I had known it was going to upset you like this.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not,” you say, giving him a gracious smile, having found a new mate-in-one. “Whether or not you wanted the title anymore, we’ll always know who’s smarter.” 

Your face says teasing – your tone has teeth. Coriolanus’ eyes narrow. 

“That’s not what this means.”

“It’s what it means to me. And you clearly don’t care about that, so it should be no problem if that’s how I’m taking it.”

And ooh, you know it’s petty. You know this is possibly the most childish conversation you’ve had with anyone in years. But he doesn’t reply, opting instead to settle back on his hands and stare across the quad. There’s a mean tension in the air now, blooming hot, fizzy pride in your sternum. It’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe through it until it’s just another triumph. 

Graduation goes as smoothly as anything run by the school can – which is to say, too long and a bureaucratic clusterfuck – but you give your speech and get your diploma and take about forty pictures of Coriolanus onstage, and it feels like the perfect punctuation on this chapter of your life. After seemingly endless festivities and photoshoots with various family members, you’re dropped back at your apartment. There is no work to be done, for once: nothing to write or study, and your lease doesn’t end for another month, so nothing to pack. For the first time in your memory, you are truly idle, and you’re learning that it is not a feeling you enjoy. You pick up your phone and call your boyfriend.

“Hi, darling,” he says when he picks up. His voice is brighter than usual, a sure sign that he’s been drinking. “Did you get home okay?”

“Mhm. Did you?”

“Just laying in bed now.”

“Oh.” You try to keep yourself from sounding too disappointed, but from the huff of laughter on the other end of the call, you know he’s picked up on it. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, but if you’re in bed, then nevermind.”

“Come over, like–”

“If you want.” You have yet to go this far with him, but tonight seems like as good a night as any. 

“Um, okay. Yeah, I’ll be right over.” 

The line goes dead, and you have to laugh. For all his airs and poise, he is still just a man. 

The benefit of today being important is that you’re already pretty done-up: your makeup is still perfect, though your lipstick gets a reapplication, your hair looks good, and you have matching, nicer undergarments on. Honestly, you’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do for this, not with him, and the confidence you had calling Coriolanus is fading fast. 

Unfortunately, it’s too late to be having those thoughts, because within twenty minutes, he’s knocking on your door. You let him in. He's still in his button-down, tie, and slacks from graduation, though he's shed his suit jacket. He leans down to catch you in a quick kiss. You wrap a hand around the Windsor knot in his tie, though whether it's to steady yourself or pull him closer is a mystery even to you. Not like it makes a difference; it elicits an electric, low groan from him anyways, his mouth opening over yours and deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne, sweet and shimmery and young. It is a contrast to the way he grabs your waist with a heavy hand and presses his tongue in to fight yours, which feels like whiskey; all heady, stinging heat. You have not had anything to drink: you are starting to wish you had. 

When he pulls away to catch his breath, his lips are swollen and slick and stained with your blood-red lipstick and finally, finally, something alights in your chest and in your stomach and even lower, a ball of fire sitting in the cradle of your pelvis. You release his tie and drag a manicured thumbnail under the line of his bottom lip, smudging away the rouge you left there.

“Pretty,” you murmur, though you're not sure where that comes from. He is pretty, though, especially like this; undone and imperfect and desperate (you can tell as much by the way he's pressing into your hip), all for you. 

A growl releases from Coriolanus' throat and his hand goes to the belt of your dress, deftly undoing the buckle. He is desperate, but desperate for you to know that you haven't made him weak. You can only have from him what he is willing to give, he will take from you anything he wants. Or, at least, that's how he thinks as he starts dragging the zipper of your dress down, crowding you against your apartment wall.

“I have a bed, Coriolanus,” you protest weakly, the complaint dying on your lips as his latch onto your pulse point. He scrapes his teeth over the tendon in your neck, and you recall how he smiled at you when you were first dating, like he wanted to eat you. You realize he could now, if he tried, open his maw wide and sink sharp canines into the side of your throat, pierce the carotid artery and stain perfect teeth red with blood. Tipping your head back against the wall, you shiver and give him better access.

“Let’s go, then,” he murmurs, not stopping his ministrations on your collarbone, where he's working a bruise into the hollow between your clavicle and the muscle of your shoulder.

You shove his head back gently and lead him to your room, which is tidy save for your desk, which is still scattered with papers from exams. Coriolanus doesn't seem to care, just crowding you back towards your hospital-cornered bed. Once you're down, he's crawling over you and returning to suck marks down your shoulders and chest as he tugs your dress off your body. When he gets to your bra (a small, silk thing, meant to lay smooth under the dress you wore today), he just stares for a moment, tracing a finger over the fine fabric. Just as you're about to tell him to do something, Jesus Christ, he latches his lips over your nipple and mouths at it through the cloth, sending sparks down your spine and a wavering moan up your esophagus. When he switches to the other side, the wet patch is exposed to the air and the sudden chill is almost more electric than the warmth of his tongue. You wonder if he could push you over the edge with just this; it certainly feels like he could. Then he shoves a hand under your back to release the clasp and tear your bra off, and the two seconds his mouth is off your skin gives just enough reprieve that when he returns and bites down, the rush of pleasure drops straight to your core with an ache that has your hips canting up. This inspires a breathy, warm chuckle from Coriolanus.

“Impatient,” he teases. 

You swallow hard. “It's not my fault you're…”

“Good at this?” He says, dipping his hand between your legs and dancing his fingers over the gusset of your panties, eliciting a whimper and an honest nod from you. 

“You don't know the half of it, darling,” and he hooks his arms under your knees to drag your hips forward until they're nearly off the bed. He's knelt between your legs like he's taking the Eucharist, ready to devour the blood and body of all that is holy. You watch his blonde head through fluttering lashes as he licks a line up the inside of your thigh before biting down right where it meets your hip. He breaks the skin, soothes the little wound with his tongue as he works your underwear down your legs. The way he stares at you – all of you – while he's still fully clothed, no mark of the past half-hour except his loosened tie and lipstick-marked mouth, makes you squirm. He braces your hips down with a strong forearm and looks up at you with a hunger in his icy eyes that is yet unfamiliar to you.

“Pretty,” he whispers like the beginning of a prayer, echoing your earlier utterance, and collects your wetness on his index finger as he runs it through your folds. 

The foreign feeling makes you whine. Coriolanus’ tongue flicks out over his lips like a snake before he dives into your cunt like a man starved. When your hand shoots down and grabs his hair, the groan that he lets out against you has you jerking like you've been electrocuted. He only grabs the fat of your hips harder, the pads of his fingers pressing in so hard that you're sure you'll have little dotted bruises there in the morning. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he works you to orgasm, your body trembling and your breath stilted as you teeter on that peak. His eyes flash and one hand releases you. Before you can ask what he's doing, he plunges two fingers into you and curls them up right as he sucks your clit hard, and that pain-pleasure of the sudden intrusion combined with his mouth has white-hot flames engulfing your body as stars explode in your vision and your legs very nearly go numb. His tongue and fingers don't stop until you're coming down and pleading with him in a broken voice, an orison to the congregant turned deity drunk on newfound power. He acquiesces, though, crawling up your body to kiss you and lick the taste of your pleasure into your mouth. Underneath it, there's the bitter, sanguine taste from his bite to your thigh, a reminder of the vulnerability necessary for that blessing. 

Legs still shaking, head still a little fuzzy, you use his determination to kiss you breathless to flip the narrative so you're straddling his hips, his growing need heavy and hard against you through the fabric of his dress pants. One eyebrow twitches up as he grins, though it wavers when you shift on him. 

“My turn?” He asks as he smooths his hands down your thighs, and you know he can feel the way your muscles twitch and jump under your skin.

“Your turn,” you reply, and shift so you can undo his belt. 

The metal of the buckle is cold in your hands, your skin still feeling a little like it's been set aflame, but you get it off and shove your hand into his boxers, unceremoniously pulling out his cock. He lets out a choked groan at the speed, and you think his eyes roll back in his head when you slide down his body. You allow yourself a moment of hesitation, having never done this before (or even really thought about it) before taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. The moan he lets out is primal, raw, and you are determined to get another from him as you hollow your cheeks and sink down further, minding your teeth enough to let them just graze the shaft. He shudders and jerks upward, hitting the back of your throat, and though it makes you gag, there's a certain pride in knowing you're breaking his composure, so you hold him there for a moment until he whimpers and slides a hand into your hair and you know you've taken the power back that he stole from you a moment ago. You swallow around him there before slowly moving back up, flattening your tongue against the underside before licking over his slit and sinking back down as far as you can bear, and his voice cracks around a moan as he cums down your throat. 

When you pull off him and swallow, he has an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath.

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asks. His hair is tousled, sweaty strands stuck to his forehead and you grin, toothy and mean.

“Beginner’s luck,” you say as you take his softening dick in hand and watch how quickly he sits up.

“What are you-” he starts, but cuts himself off with a whine as you slide your hand up and down a couple times, trying to work him back up. “Stop, stop, that-”

Another moan, and you watch, pleased, as he starts to harden again in your grip. To be honest, you don't know where you're going with this, or what you expected to happen, you just wanted to see what other reactions you could get from him, how far you could take your regained power. 

As it stands, not very far, because he's hissing as you slide your thumb over the tip and flipping you over again so his elbows are braced next to your head.

“You're on the pill, right?” He reaches down between you to swipe his fingers over your clit.

You nod and buck your hips up into his hand, and with a breathy chuckle, he takes himself in hand and starts to guide himself into your entrance. There's a slight sting - he's bigger than anyone you've ever been with before - but he takes it slow, an uncharacteristic tenderness.

That is, until he's buried to the hilt and staring down at you, then snapping his hips in a way that should hurt but doesn't. It feels full and close and warm, his skin sliding against yours, sweat and other fluids mingling. You sneak a hand down to your clit and rub quick and hard, the way you do when you're alone at night and just need to get off and go to sleep. You're determined to reach your release before he does and you succeed, catching him in a kiss just as you cum, muffling your moans against his lips. The way your walls clench around him has him going rigid and giving you the most raw, tearing groan as he spills deep inside you, clearly not having expected to get there as quickly as you forced him to. He doesn't pull out immediately, opting instead to kiss you again, and you're not sure where you end and he begins, every bit of you mixed, in some way, with every bit of him. You stroke over the tense muscles in the back of his neck and he lets out a shaky breath onto your skin. Somehow, you know you've won this round, taken a weakness from him that he never meant to show you. When he rolls off you and tugs you into his side, you close your eyes, sleepy and sated in more ways than one.

[heich0e]

tags: smut, f!reader, oral (f!receiving), slight exhibitionism, slight coercion (reader is reluctant but easily swayed), mentions of slightly toxic relationship dynamic, this was inspired by @andypantsx3 and @mydiluc so credit where credit is due!!, word count 2.4k, 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

the door to the spare bedroom in your apartment (that in the past few years has doubled as a makeshift office, a storage room, and has very seldom actually hosted a guest) creaks open, and out of pure instinct you temporarily turn off the video feed from your end of the zoom call. 

"i'm bored," eren pouts, slumping against the doorframe with his hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie.

"eren, i'm in a meeting," you whisper, even though your microphone has been muted for the majority of the video conference (and will likely remain that way until it concludes.)

"you're always in meetings," he complains, slinking a little bit further into the spare room and closer to you.

"eren, that's because i have a job," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, "meetings are part of being employed."

eren makes an indignant little sound. his lips flattening in what you recognize as offence. 

"baby, i didn't mean it like that," you say softly, remorse seeping into your words. 

eren doesn't work. he's supported by his family, old old money, and has been picking away at a master's degree for the past few years that with every passing day you wonder if he'll ever actually finish--not that you'd ever tell him that, and not that it really matters considering he technically never has to work a day in his life and he'll still have more wealth to his name than most people could ever hope to accumulate. 

you didn't grow up in a family like eren's. didn't have the same privileges and safeguards and assurances that he's had all his life. you went to university on a scholarship. worked your ass off to maintain it. fought for competitive internships that would make you more appealing to prospective employers, and graduated with a good GPA that sweetened the deal. 

you met eren in your sophomore year, though his reputation absolutely preceded him–he was well known among the students not only for his family's name (the same name on multiple buildings across campus), but his good looks and his charm made him a bit notorious. you knew he didn't take school particularly seriously, but loved partying. and after a long (relentless) pursuit on his part that spanned the better part of the fall term, you finally agreed to a date after he half-jokingly threatened to enrol in all the same courses as you the following semester (a threat which, to this day, you're uncertain was really much of a joke at all.)

and now it's been years since the two of you got together. to the point that it's hard to remember a time without him at all. 

but those differences in your upbringings, in your work ethics, are still something that the two of you often have to work through. eren would prefer you didn't work at all--or at least didn't work quite so hard, or quite so much--but you enjoy working. sure the job you'd snagged as a new grad wasn't the most lucrative position, but it was entry level at a great company and there was opportunity for advancement which you planned to take full advantaged of. it was a competitive opening in your field and you'd managed to get the job all on your own--even in spite of eren begging you to let him ask his dad to call in a favour on your behalf.

eren sees no issue in using his family name in his (and those closest to him's) best interest. you'd prefer to earn things on your own merit.

the fundamental divide between the two of you.

eren eyes you mistrustfully from the edge of your desk, still sulking from your comment. 

"i really didn't mean it like that," you insist, reaching out towards him. "i just meant that there are parts of having a job you can't change."

eren slinks into your grasp, letting you wind your arms around his waist and burrow your face into his tummy from your seat in your desk chair. the video call in the background hasn't made much progress since you tuned it out, so you're not overly worried about what you might be missing. 

the soft material of eren's hoodie brushes against your cheeks, and his hands cradle the back of your head to hold you against him. 

"i know you didn't mean it like that," eren hums above you, and you tilt your face up so your chin rests just above his navel so you can peek up at him. "i just feel like i never see you anymore."

"eren we see each other every day," you reply, brow furrowing in confusion. you work hybrid in-office/work from home, and with eren picking away leisurely at his masters dissertation his days are mostly spent at home "researching" (playing video games.)

"but you're always so busy," eren pouts, his large hands cupping your cheeks. his thumbs stroke the hollows below your eyes. "you work so hard."

you tilt your face into his touch, your cheek squishing against his palm. he presses a little firmer against either one of your cheeks until your lips pucker, and chuckles softly to himself -- a quiet little 'heh'.

"is your call boring?" eren asks, his eyes sliding to the computer screen in front of you where the call is continuing. 

"ah widd'l," you say, your cheeks still smushed together in his hands. he eases up his grip, brushing some hair back from your face. you sigh, turning in your desk chair and looking back to your computer. "i haven't even really said much. i never do in these meetings since it's mainly advertising and marketing execs, but attendance is mandatory for my team." 

"so you don't have to say anything?"

you hum, reaching forward and clicking on the chat box to see what new messages have popped up since you've been distracted. there are a few links in the conversation and you click to open them in a new window to review after the call concludes. 

eren crouches down beside you, dragging your chair back slightly from the desk. 

"eren, what are you doing?" you ask him, flushing as he pushes your knees apart and squeezes his broad frame in between them. from the waist up you’re dressed in normal work clothes, but you hadn’t bothered to put on proper bottoms that morning so all you have on your lower half is a silky pair of pyjama shorts (one of the perks of working from home.)

“i wanna give you head,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he reaches for the waistband of your shorts but you stop him with a hand on either wrist.

“eren!” you hiss, your eyes flickering to your screen again just to double—triple—check that your mic is muted and your camera is really properly off. it is, but it still brings you little comfort with the faces of your company’s executives plastered across your computer screen.

“what?” he asks, pouting. he rests his cheek against the plushness of your thigh. “why can’t i?” 

“i’m working. i’m in a meeting.”

“that you don’t need to talk in, and that your camera is off for,” he counters, his lithe fingers snaking up the leg of your teeny tiny shorts—he grins when he realizes you’re not wearing panties underneath. his breath is hot and humid on your skin, and the look in his eyes makes your stomach feel tight. 

“eren, i can’t—” 

“you don’t have to do anything,” he smoothly interrupts, the tip of his finger stroking softly up your slit underneath your shorts. “just let me take care of you, my professional, hardworking girl.”

eren was blessed with a silver tongue to go along with the silver spoon he’d been raised with in his mouth. you know you shouldn’t. that it would be an egregious act of misconduct to go along with what he’s saying. but before you can even think to refuse him your silky shorts are hanging off your ankle and your legs are looped over his broad shoulders, slumped back in your desk chair as eren licks long, broad stripes through the sopping wet petals of your pussy. 

“eren, eren—!“ you choke on a pealing moan, your fingers tangling in his soft hair and tugging firmly against the strands. he’s always so slow to take you apart, so dilligent in the way he presses his tongue against you, so methodical about the way that he skirts around your clit—brushing it but never giving it quite the stimulation you want—which only makes you more desperate and needy for him.

just the way he likes you.

“you taste so good,” he murmurs against your cunt, wet and sloppy as he drags his tongue up to collect your slick and his spit along it. he swallows animatedly, like he’s making a big show of it. “do you know how good you taste?”

you shake your head in a trembling little show of dissent. 

he hums. “so good. sweetest little pussy on earth.”

he dips his fingertips inside of you, letting you get just a taste of the stretch before he’s pulling them out again. he holds them up to your face so you can see the shine of fluid clinging to his skin, down to the first knuckle. 

“taste it, baby.”

he presses against your lips and you welcome the digits in. you wouldn’t call the taste sweet by any stretch of the imagination. there’s a headiness to it. a tang. something familiar to the taste that’s not unpleasant. 

eren pushes his fingers back so far in your mouth that you almost choke, but there’s something familiar in this too—you’re used to the prodding at the back of your tongue, the sudden intrusion just at the opening of your throat. he likes teasing you like this. dominating you in such a subtle way it feels like more of a game. you moan, and as your head tips back eren finally sucks hard against your neglected clit. 

your toes curl as they hover over the planes of his back, your spine bending and lifting your chest up towards the ceiling as it bows. eren slips his fingers, now soaked in your spit, back out from between your lips—leaving a little trail of saliva down your chin. eren rubs his slick fingertips against the swell of your clit, rubbing quick circles against it. 

the heat in the pit of your stomach kindles, the knot tightening in your core. 

“you gonna cum?” eren asks, pressing a contrastingly chaste kiss to your trembling thigh. “you gonna cum for me—“

“miss reader?” 

your last name shocks you like a splash of ice water across a circuit board.

both you and eren freeze, your eyes snapping to the computer in front of you. 

the call has gone quiet, and the senior ad executive is looking expectantly to the screen. 

“miss reader are you still there?” the executive repeats. 

frantically you push eren away from you, snapping your legs closed and pulling yourself up to the computer in your chair. you unmute your microphone after clearing your throat. 

“hello?” you say, your voice fluttery and flustered. “i’m here!”

the executive relaxes slightly, chuckling. “thought we’d lost you there!” 

“sorry, sorry,” you apologize, your shaking hands pressed over your eyes. “i’m having, um, some issues with my internet connection. keeping my camera off is helping but the call is still a little laggy on my end.”

the executive hums. “no worries, it happens to us all. just wondering if you have any updates on this quarter’s numbers?” 

you swallow, eyes flickering to eren who’s seated on the ground next to you, leaning against your desk with a sly grin on his face, palming at his cock through his sweatpants. 

“yes, of course,”—you nod even though your camera is still off, instinct more than logic—“the data is still raw, and we haven’t had a chance to properly analyze it yet since it’s still early, but i can forward the spreadsheet to everyone after the call?” 

you watch your colleagues all nod or make small noises of agreement from their sides of the screen.

“ok, sounds good. we’ll keep an eye out for it,” the advertising manager nods, and you see the end of his pen swivelling in the corner of the screen as he makes a note out of frame of his webcam. “now, moving onto the issue from last week’s meeting—“

you slam you mute button on once more, slumping back in your chair in relief. you toss your arm over your eyes, a throbbing between your temples the echoes the dull, unsatisfied ache between your legs. 

“good job, baby,” eren laughs, running a comforting hand up your bare thigh, fingertips kneading into the flesh. “you barely sounded like you were just about to cum.”

“eren, that wasn’t funny.”

eren pulls your chair back from your desk again, pressing a kiss to one knee and then the other. 

“i’m sorry,” he says softly, you pull your arm away from your eyes to peek down at him. he’s looking up at you with a wide-eyed, beseeching gaze. he rests his chin in the valley between your knees. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you sigh lightly. 

“i’m not upset,” you murmur, touching his cheek gently. he reaches up and places his hand over yours as it cups his face. “it was just stressful.”

eren tilts his face so he can press a kiss to your palm, then pulls your hand a little closer so he can press another to your wrist where your pulse pounds arrhythmically. 

“i know,—” 

eren nods as he peeks up at you through his lashes, the green of his gaze cool and comforting. the hand that’s not holding yours to his lips snakes easily between your knees, easing them ever so slightly apart. 

your breath hitches as the cool air catches on the remnants of spit and arousal that have smeared messily along your upper thighs. your stomach clenches. 

“—so just sit back and let me make it up to you.”

[isnovelman]

Isn't Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? Side Story Chapter 17

i also upload this chapter in my YT, feel free to read there to support my effort, click👉Link

***

“I didn't expect you to get your diploma so soon.”

What a summer semester graduation!

The dean of the Academy's Faculty of Magic, my uncle, the Marquis of Wert, puts down his teacup and grinned.

He seems cold and cynical at first glance, but seeing the same face often, he knew he wasn't in a bad mood today.

“To be honest, the picture is strange for a single magician to teach the saint who saved the empire. ”

“But it is true that graduating too early according to the school rules… I thought the dean would be against it.”

“Do I not look so inflexible like your father?”

Addition adds more, but it doesn't look less.

I swallowed the hard words that came to my throat.

“Honestly, I didn't want to make an exception either, but I can't help it. Because of you, my work is almost paralyzed.”

“.....”

“I’m going to see you, and even the graduates come to the undergraduate building from time to time, and I feel like I’m going to die.”

He shakes his head with a rather troubled face.

In fact, when the academy started, it was much more serious than it is now. The formula lectures I was giving were like taking a break.

“I respect you! Lady! Sign it!”

“Call my name just once!”

“Lady! Just say one word that you will pass your graduation thesis!”

“I feel like I will be able to pass the matriculation exam after receiving the saint from afar!”

There were people who didn't listen to lectures telling me to listen, and treated me as a totem of ups and downs.

'Of course, even if you only open your eyes wildly, you close your mouth right away.'

In the past, when I appeared, everyone was busy bowing their heads and politely giving way... .

‘I don’t really want to go back to the days of a villainess, but there were definitely things I was comfortable with.'

Still, it seems that some polarizing fans were in school, It seems that he was finally able to escape from the space called the school thanks to the trouble he made to the dean and president of the Academy.

The long compulsory education period, 5 years of undergraduate life, and hard work at the academy passed like a lantern.

“… It’s too long.”

While relieving, Marquis Berthe suddenly murmured.

“What?”

“I thought you were good at teaching. If possible, I was thinking of making a teaching assistant. Because that's the fastest way to become a professor.”

'Hey, it's not too harsh, oh!'

With the creepy remark that he wanted to pamper me like a grad student, he casually pushed the cake in front of me. with a small box.

“This… .”

When I opened the box, it contained a rose-shaped brooch, and his scar trembled for a moment.

“When I see you, I think of Marien. She was the junior she wore. She was a good lecturer, so she was going to be a teaching assistant, but I don't think my younger brother would run away with her.”

“...?”

Surely, not a love triangle, but a favorite graduate student No. 1?

Having written several chijeong novels in my head, I erased the questions that came to mind. Sometimes it's better to just leave it unaware.

“Your mother was a beautiful bride to match May. Marriage, congratulations.”

“Thank you, dean.”

“What dean when you get your diploma? Call me uncle.”

Uncle...

At the name that came out a little awkwardly, he smiled softly, incomparably with the previous one.

“I’ll see you at the wedding, Deborah.”

***

Upon hearing the news of Isidor's marriage, the Marquis of Jaba Slein hurried up to the capital with her family. It was to help her nephew's wedding preparations.

In the Empire, instead of the bride bringing the dowry, the groom prepared the wedding preparations, so Isidor would have a lot to worry about.

“Originally, this kind of preparation has to be led by an adult in the family… ”

In the mind of the Marquis, the childhood image of Isidore, who was like an angel from the past, was etched in her mind. Perhaps that's why his nephew, who had to carry out all the preparations alone, felt pity for him.

But after a while, instead of sticking her tongue out in pity, she sticks it out in exasperation.

To put it bluntly, perfectionism is a long one... … .'

He is a person with a reputation for being meticulous, but his nephew is a bit more sophisticated.

'I don't think there's a way to skip something.'

Isidor, who visited the wedding venue in advance, not only looked at the seating arrangement, but also the banquet room curtain decorations, candle holders, wine glasses, carpets, and even cutlery used by guests.

“This tableware is a trendy style?”

The vassal quickly responded to Isidor's point.

“Yes. There are a lot of nobles in the capital who prefer this kind of tableware these days, so I prepared it.”

“But it’s a formal place, but you don’t feel too heavy. Also, it’s not a flower pattern that suits the season, is it?”

“I will change it right now.”

The Marquis of Vaslein approached Isidor, watching closely the number placed on the tablecloth.

“May I give you a heartfelt message to the Duke of Visconti?”

Isidor, who had even taken off his gloves and checked the texture of the tablecloth, lifted his head at his aunt's call.

“Speak at ease, Auntie.”

“Yeah, don’t be shy. It would be a headache just to sort out the guest list, but if you look at every little thing like this, your nerves won't be left behind.”

“As soon as this place, which you rented for a dinner party, became known, the empire was turned upside down. If it had been this way, Seymour's first headmaster would have been satisfied.”

“The little things make the best quality. Visconti’s invitation.”

“… The invitation left such a saying?”

“Yes, I remember.”

Seeing his nephew, who said he was only following the laws of the Visconti, to stop nagging, the Duchess of Vaslain shook her head as if she couldn't do it.

“You really remember everything.”

“aunt also has a good memory. I want you to forget about my immature childhood... .”

She often glorified Isidore as a child. Little Isidor, with rosy cheeks, dazzling blonde hair, and big eyes, was as real as her face, like an angel who had just descended from the earth.

“Isidor, when have you been immature? You grew up too early for needlessly because of your rude father.”

“I did the exact opposite because my father didn’t like it, but I look like I’m mature.”

“… Well, on the other hand, he was a perfect guy to be a teacher.”

I say it lightly now, but what the former Visconti owner, Albert Visconti did, was beyond my imagination.

As the only son was a mess, the former family's affection for the genius grandson grew and the conflict between the father and son deepened.

'It was terrible... .'

As she recalled the past, her eyes fell deeply.

***

In the long past, the Visconti Castle was always noisy due to the clamor of Bardo Visconti, the former headmaster. Even the sound of the rough waves crashing into the Alea Strait could not sweep away his shouts of force.

“There are drug dealers in the castle. Albert, are you crazy!?”

“Ah, father… !”

“Aren’t you ashamed to look at Isidor!? While you marred Visconti's impeccable prestige and defiled the stature of a noble bloodline, your son has awakened the talent of a magic swordsman! whopping! At the age of eight when you hid in an underground warehouse and stole alcohol!”

When Bardo Visconti provoked Isidor, Albert Visconti, who was trembling, suddenly bubbled like a mad dog.

“father! Where the hell is my son?”

“What?”

“I know it all. Isidore is actually my younger brother, so I'm wearing it like my own son, right?”

“this… this guy! What nonsense are you talking about now?”

“Also. If you are stabbed, you are revolting.”

Albert rubbed his eyes like a madman and teasing his tongue.

“Anyway, Olga, I’ll have to pull the girl’s hair out and let Chidogon go. I'm playing with my sister-in-law, how dare I take a sip of my behavior on the topic of an affair?! The person who will receive the huge alimony is me!! dare! Dirty bitch!”

Olga, a victim of an arranged marriage, was fed up with Albert's Visconti's chaos and divorced after giving birth to Isidor.

After the divorce, the news that she died of an illness had been heard five years ago, and Bardo Visconti could not overcome his anger and drew a decorative sword, seeing his son tarnishing the honor of the deceased.

“After hanging out with the backstreets, every time I open my mouth, the smell of stinking vibrates! I will rip off your tongue today.”

“Hey, hey!”

Albert, who drank too much and couldn't even use his sword properly, was frozen by the blood of his father, the sword master.

“You poor bastard! The spirit is not as strong as that of a ten-year-old Isidor. I don't know if you are really my son!”

Just as Bardo Visconti was fed up and was about to cut his tongue with a knife, Agat broke in and stopped them.

After staying in the Bar Slaine estate, she stopped by the Visconti Castle after a long time and had no choice but to become a flagship at the sight unfolding before her eyes.

“Agat, go away!”

“father! Isidor is watching!”

Why is it that the father slaps his brother so loudly at the place where the child sees it? Isn't it too harsh to show that young child the cruel sight of his grandfather cutting off Jea's tongue?

“Ugh! Huh”

“Albert, you just owe your sister a tongue.”

The sharp blade that had dug into his shabby lips slowly fell away.

“ugh… uh... ”

Blood cascades from Albert Visconti's long slit lips and chin.

”.....“

“Isidor! Don't stand here and go to your room.“

“Agat, you are the older sister who only looks at that child too young. My grandchildren don't even blink an eye at this. He's a bold guy like a Visconti.”

Little Isidor, who was standing loudly beyond the chaotic door, thought as he watched his father's tears, runny noses, and blood.

it's dirty.

The thick bloody smell and the smell of man's dung pee mixed together, and his nasal passages throbbed. It was tens of times more disgusting than the smell from the barn.

“Ugh...”

When I met my father's hazy eyes, I suddenly felt an insect crawling all over my body. Goosebumps rose from the forearms and the nape of the neck.

No matter how many times I wiped and wiped, the unpleasant sensation never went away. Bardo Visconti sighed briefly as he watched Isidor wiping his hands all day with an expressionless face.

“You are truly a Visconti even in this respect.”

Most of the Visconti's who ran away had a chronic tuberculosis. So Bardo Visconti was rather happy to see the child's fingertips that had been split and had blood on them.

A natural perfectionist temperament, the talent of a magic swordsman, a superhuman memory, and even the habit of raking gold by any means. Even if it was called the reincarnation of the invitation, it was not strange.

Target is 20 Likes and i will upload the next chapter if you all complete the target.

[gurugirl]

Hi I love stepdad Harry so so so much. I’ve been in a weird mood where i want to sob. Can we please please have angst like they almost break up and we get fluff at the end.

A/n: to the anon who needed something to read over the weekend after grad school finals - I hope you enjoy. To the anon who requested this specifically I hope it meets your expectations :) 3.5k words

Warning: Angst, smut, cheating, drinking in excess, inappropriate relationship between a stepdad and stepdaughter

Your new job over the summer was killer. You liked the money it brought in but the long hours and odd shifts were hard. You barely had any time to spend with your friends. And you hadn't been around Harry much either.

So when you had your first weekend free in weeks you took full advantage of it. You went to an end-of-summer party. The kind of party that's full of frat boys and sorority girls getting shit-faced and making all kinds of bad decisions before the Fall semester starts up again.

And you made some bad decisions. You got obliterated, that was the first bad choice. You knew better. Especially when you'd driven there and would have no safe way home because all your friends had left before they'd gotten too drunk. The second bad decision you made was to give a lap dance to one of the seniors who was on the couch. He was so drunk he barely knew what you were doing, hell you were barely aware of it. The music was still pumping at full volume and even in the state you were in you still wanted to dance and goof around so on a dare, you gave a lap dance to Jake who would probably never remember it. There was even video proof from the person who had dared you.

Another bad decision you made was to let Johnathan see you naked. He'd been begging all night to get a peek and once he was drunk enough he had the courage to ask. You kept saying no to him but after enough alcohol, you no longer cared. You stripped down to nothing and let him take photos of you. He got more than just a peek.

Nothing beyond that happened, though. Everyone that was still at the party at the end of the night had been so nasty-drunk that most had passed out. You included.

You woke up in the hallway near a bedroom. You hadn't quite made it to the bed, but you realized right away that you were naked. There were a lot of naked people actually. You found a piece of clothing and picked it up to cover your bits as you walked around in a hung-over haze looking for your things. You barely remembered the night before. Your head was pounding and you felt sick.

Once you finally found your clothes and dressed, chugged a glass of water and then searched for your purse. You found your cell phone and everything was still where it should be. But when you opened up your notifications on your phone, you realized that you'd been sent a lot of pictures and videos of yourself doing things you never recalled, and then, for your worst bad decision, you'd sent them all to Harry.

His responses were just as angry as you could imagine. He was not happy. You sighed and ran to the bathroom to unload everything in your stomach. The hangover was brutal.

When you arrived home and your mom and Harry were in the kitchen.

"You look terrible, Y/n. Are you okay?" Your mom asked with concern, but she knew you were hungover. Your bloodshot eyes met Harry's and the scowl on his face brought all your nausea back. You knew he was mad and he had only the worst assumption about what you'd done. He most likely thought you'd slept with someone at the party but you were in no condition to explain yourself.

"I've been better," you said as you poured yourself a glass of apple juice. You needed some sugar in your body.

After dragging yourself up to your room, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were out for hours. By the time you'd woken up, the sun was beginning to set but you were feeling a lot better. Still hazy but the nausea was gone at least.

You dragged yourself downstairs and Harry was in the living room watching something on television. Your mom had left for work. You weren't sure how to bring up to him the pictures. You weren't sure you wanted to. So you pulled some things out of the fridge to make yourself something to eat, realizing you'd had nothing substantive all day.

Grilled cheese was the answer to your prayers. You stayed in the kitchen away from Harry while you ate. He was quiet. It made you nervous.

For your final terrible decision, you didn't approach Harry at all. You went back to your room to hide from him. You needed to straighten your thoughts out to figure out how to tell him everything. The answer was simple, you'd gotten very drunk. Nothing really that bad happened. But Harry wouldn't see it that way and you knew it. The photos and videos made you look very guilty.

You tucked yourself into your bed and turned on something to watch on your laptop to distract your fuzzy mind.

After watching a couple of episodes of the show you were enjoying Harry barged into your room.

"Your silence is telling, Y/n. How many guys did you fuck last night?" He was angry. He had been angry since you sent him those texts.

You rubbed your hands over your face and frowned, "I just didn't know how to approach the subject, Harry. I didn't sleep with anyone." You sat up.

Harry shook his head and looked down at his feet for a moment before looking back up at you, "I should have known. Should have never fallen for a college girl, especially my wife's daughter. That hurt, all those pictures. Were you trying to show me how you act when I'm not around? Is that it? After everything? You know how I feel about you."

Your brows were stitched together at his words. You hadn't expected him to say these things. You shook your head, "NO! God, no, Harry! I was just so drunk I didn't know what I was even doing! Please!" You shot from the bed and crossed the room to Harry and grabbed his hand but he yanked his arm back.

"You don't get to touch me ever again. This is over," he spoke darkly as he motioned between the two of you, "whatever this was." And then he turned and walked out of your bedroom.

You followed him downstairs and pleaded with him, "Harry! I swear! I didn't do anything. Not really! Those pictures were of me being so drunk I don't even remember doing any of that! Please, listen!"

Harry turned, his face was red as he shook his head, "No. You listen. You broke my heart. I should have known better. How can I ever believe you again? Should have never begun anything with you in the first place. Forget about us, Y/n. We're through."

You began to cry. You knew being with Harry was always just on the cusp of something that could break in half quickly. Just like now, this was the breaking point. Even though you never set out to do anything that would hurt him. He was hurt by what he thought you'd done.

"Harry, I didn't do anything with any of them. I would never. I don't want anyone but you!" You started to raise your voice as you were getting all bent out of shape. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt, Harry.

Harry laughed and sat down on the couch as he pulled his cell phone up and played a video of you rubbing your ass on Jake’s knees. He held it out for you to see it, "Then what is this? A lap dance? And the nudes, Y/n? Really?"

Harry sighed and shook his head, locking his phone and tossing it on the coffee table. He put his head in his hands and looked down as he continued, "I don't know why I trusted you so deeply. Why I let this go on between us as long as I have. But you're just an immature, young girl. We should never have done anything to begin with. This is partly my fault and I see it now."

You shook your head and hurried yourself to his side on the couch, "No, no, no, no... Harry, please. I love you. You know that. I swear on everything that I didn't do anything. I know the video..." but you stopped your sentence as you watched Harry got up from his spot on the couch and walk across the room.

"I don't need you near me right now. Please just go to your room or something. I don't even care to listen to your explanation."

Harry wouldn't listen. He wouldn't even let you stand close to him. You decided to leave it so you went back to your room and cried yourself to sleep. A hangover was better than the heartbreak you were feeling. You were devastated.

For the next few days Harry barely glanced in your direction. Even when your mom had gone to work he didn't approach you. Or he'd just leave the house altogether.

You'd never really felt this kind of heartache before. You'd never had a serious relationship with anyone. Except for Harry. And you both had admitted deep feelings for one another. You both admitted you loved one another and now this? You wanted to die. Your worst mistake was just getting so drunk that your inhibitions allowed you to do stupid things that made you look like an idiot.

Before the Fall semester started back up you decided to move back into your dorm. You had the option to stay at home and originally you planned on living your senior year at home to drive back and forth to campus, so you could be with Harry more. But now with Harry being cold and standoffish with you, you knew it was a better move to not be at home. To give Harry his space.

Your mom helped you pack up your car the night before you planned on taking everything to your dorm. Harry was out with friends. He'd been going out a lot more lately you noticed.

It had been about two weeks since the incident and you felt resigned to the outcome. You knew you'd lost him for good. And it was probably for the better anyway. He was not yours to have. He was your stepfather.

When Harry came home after midnight, your mom was on her way out the door for an emergency call. Harry was a little tipsy you could tell. He wasn't swaying or anything, but you could tell by his demeanor that he'd had a few.

You went up to your room and closed the door when your mom left. You didn't want to bother Harry. You felt ashamed about everything but there didn't seem like there was much you could do.

You decided to keep yourself busy, scrubbing your room from top to bottom. When you got to the floorboards you heard something that sounded like a crashing noise downstairs. You paused your movement and listened. Another crashing noise and stomping.

You slowly stood up and wondered whether or not you should go downstairs. You knew Harry didn’t want to see you but you also didn’t want him to be hurt or perhaps he needed help. You couldn’t just sit in our room if he needed help, no matter how angry he was with you.

When you got downstairs you heard what sounded like glass being shoved around on the linoleum flooring in the kitchen. Peeking around the corner you saw Harry with his back turned, sweeping up shards of glass and ceramic. He must have dropped something.

You were about to say something before you changed your mind and thought perhaps it would be better to just leave him. So you tiptoed backward toward the stairs when you heard him sniff and then let out a shaky breath. You stopped in your tracks and in silence waited to hear what you thought sounded a lot like someone crying.

Then you heard the unmistakable sound of his breaths coming out in small bursts. Your insides felt stomped on. You placed your palm on the wall and stood still, listening as Harry continued cleaning up the mess he’d made while crying quietly. The sound of Harry’s breaths coming out as he cried pulled tears from your own eyes. You didn’t know what to do. Should you go to him or let him be?

When the shards were dumped into the trash can all sounds ceased. Harry stopped moving about and you couldn’t hear him crying anymore.

You took the chance to peek around the corner into the kitchen and Harry was standing right there, a pout on his face as he wiped his eyes. Though, when he saw you he turned his back and walked toward the counter, placing his palms down on the surface and dropped his head to his chest.

“Harry? Are you okay?” You asked softly, not wanting to break the quiet of the moment. You had to make sure he was okay. His defeated body language told you he was not.

When he didn’t answer you slowly walked toward him into the kitchen until you were right behind him, “Did you hurt yourself?”

Harry sniffed and shook his head, “No. I’m okay. Go upstairs,” he sucked in a sharp breath as if speaking had drained his lungs of air and his voice came out weary and watery from his tears.

You gently, slowly placed your hand on his back and he jumped but did not move from your touch, “Harry. I… don’t want us to end things like this. Especially because my feelings for you haven’t changed and I would never do anything to hurt you,” your own tears began to fall down your face as you spoke.

Harry stayed still and kept his head down with his back still facing you.

You gave him a few moments to respond but when he didn’t you decided to go all in. A last-ditch effort to show him affection. To show him you hadn’t betrayed him the way he thought you had. You wrapped your arms around him, leaning your cheek on his back, hugging him tightly.

“Please Harry. I love you. I just want you to believe me when I tell you that and know that I never would do anything like you think I did. Never. You’re all I want, Harry.”

Harry’s movements were minuscule. You felt his stomach contract and the air fall from his mouth as he breathed in and out. Another sniffle caused his back to expand and then he cleared his throat, “I want to believe you, Y/n.”

When his hands came up to hold onto your forearms you held him tighter, “Then, believe me, Harry. Please,” you turned your face to kiss the material of his shirt on his back.

With a heavy sigh Harry stood up and you stepped back from him, dropping your arms away as he turned to face you. His eyes and his nose were red. You couldn’t help it when you pulled him down to you, planting a soft kiss on his lips and then wrapping your arms around his neck, putting your face into his chest.

Harry slowly brought his arms up and put them around your back. You both stood silently in the kitchen, holding one another, and soon, Harry was squeezing you tight to himself. It was crushing your chest but you didn’t care. You’d never tell him to let go.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For not believing you,” his words were a whisper in your ear.

You shook your head, “I know what those pictures and videos looked like. But it was just dumb and I was doing dumb things. I would have never done anything with anyone, Harry. I swear it. Not a single one of those frat boys appeals to me. You’re the only one Harry.”

You nuzzled your face into his clavicle and felt him kiss your temple. Leaning your head back you both looked at one another with tears in your eyes.

You knew instantly that he believed you now. You both smiled softly and Harry brought his hands up to your face and wiped his thumbs over your cheeks, “I love you. I hate that you’re leaving now because I was such an ass. I wish I would have listened to you.”

You nodded and frowned, “I can still stay here every weekend. The campus isn’t far. I don’t really want to be away from you, Harry.”

Harry dipped down to kiss you and the mood changed in a flash. Suddenly the haste of the kiss turned into groping hands and fingers undoing buttons and zippers. The frenzy of the moment was aching. Your head spun at the fast turn of events.

Your shorts were tossed into the floor, Harry’s jeans were unbuttoned and his underwear was pushed down to reveal his big dick. He lifted you to the counter and stepped in between your legs, pressing his mouth to yours once again. The searing kiss was wet and hard.

Harry brought a hand down to your panties and pushed the fabric to the side to expose your pussy and he began to run his fingers up and down through your slit. You weren’t wet at that moment but it didn’t take long for you to get there. Harry’s mouth on yours and then his lips on your neck, his fingers running over your clit, his dick growing hard and pressing into your thigh…

“Fuck me, Harry…” you whispered as Harry sucked a bruise onto your neck and you brought a hand down to his engorged length and pulled at it, wiping your thumb over his crown.

“Want you soaked for me first, baby…” he spoke against your neck.

You shook your head, “I need you now. Please…” you whined.

Harry backed away and grasped his dick, pressing his tip through your crease. You both looked down to watch as his wide head grew shiny from your growing wetness.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him close, “Please.”

Harry groaned and met your entrance before pushing inside of you slowly. He kept his eyes on yours as he entered you and you realized he was crying still. So were you.

You reached up to wipe his tears with one hand and Harry turned his face to kiss your hand, still keeping his eyes on you. The stretch and burn of him inside of you before you were totally ready to receive him felt like what you deserved. It hurt but it felt right.

“It’s so big, Daddy. I love how you feel inside of me,” you whimpered your words and Harry gasped once he looked back down to where you were wrapped around him.

He backed out a little before plunging in deeper, working his way into you little by little.

Your bottom on the countertop was sliding back and forth with each of his plunges and you reached down to rub your clit.

Harry never sped up his thrusts. He kept his strokes long and deep. He looked from your eyes to where he was filling your pussy, “M’gonna miss this, baby,” he pressed his forehead to yours as he continued pushing into your cunt, “promise me each weekend you’ll be here so I can have you. So I can see you.”

You panted your words, “I promise you,” you were unable to say much more as he filled you to the brim, his cock impossibly hard and long inside of you. You grew wetter and wetter until he was easily gliding into you, the sound of his shaft plunging into your vagina was in rhythm with his strokes.

When he put his mouth on yours you felt your body tremble. Your fingers worked your clit and his cock hit the right spots on each rock of his hips. Your heart was pounding and Harry began to shake, his thrusts slowing and getting out of cadence.

With your tongues clashing and licking and mouths sucking you both came at the same time. You didn’t let up from the kiss as you came on Harry’s cock. He stilled his hips, pushing himself into you as far as he could reach, and whined into your mouth as he poured his come deep into your core.

That night was another turning point. Harry had admitted before then that his heart belonged to you, but now everything with him felt fragile like thin glass, easy to break. You were leaving for school the following day and would only see one another on the weekends. The uncertainty of the future didn’t matter, though. All that mattered to you at that moment was that Harry was yours again.

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[silvermoon424]

Hello! I’ve been following your blog for awhile and I have a question. You see this is my first semester in grad school to earn a masters in library science with a specialization in archiving. I absolutely adore all of your manga scans as well as the other scans you continuously find and tag. As part of my archives and manuscripts class I have to find an article that has something to do with a current archive. It would be all too easy to find an article about a historical or political archive but I was wondering if you knew where to find a manga, comics, or graphic novel archive? Or maybe point me in the direction of where to find one? Or perhaps the handle of someone to talk too? My assignment isn’t due till the 17th so I have some time but I thought I’d ask early anyway.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words! I'm glad you enjoy my work.

Secondly, I do know the Internet Archive contains a rather large digital archive of manga scans. The Internet Archive is a public digital library that does amazing work for the world of media and internet archival; if you haven't heard of them, I definitely recommend looking into them! But yeah, they've digitized and archived quite a lot of manga, comics, and graphic novels as part of their efforts.

I found an article about a new organization ("new" as in May of this year) called the Manga Archive Organization which seems like it will be a more traditional physical archive, but because it's so new it's very hard to find more information on them.

The Library of Congress has an archive of webcomics and a page on their comic collection, idk if that will help.

Finally, Arizona State University has an extensive page on different resources for comic book/graphic novel archives and collections. Just a cursory glance of this page shows me that this would be a great place to look for ideas.

I hope this helps!

[morvantmortuary]

Sorry to hear you've had a rough day. Sending you good vibes and virtual hugs 🖤🖤🖤

thank you for this, darling, I super appreciate you thinking of me 🥰

some of it was honestly funny in hindsight? like, the two campus buses I have to take to get to work somehow stretched my commute into an hour each way

…I live ten minutes from my office 🙃

then I sent this job listing I really liked to the director of our professionalization committee for this year, which I knew wasn’t my exact specialization but I have other circumstances that made me think it would work, only for the director to explain I would be a super duper long shot (if I was considered at all) bc they’re actually looking for an MFA student but they didn’t outright say it in the listing

did I mention I switched to applying for my phd five years ago even though I originally wanted an mfa, I somehow thought a phd would be more practical

so then I went looking through all the job app websites I’m signed up for, and while I found a lot of openings for other specializations (ukrainian lit, italian lit, pre-1000 bce), I found maybe one or two for what’s considered the most general application of what I do

and they were both for military academies :’D which I really, uh, don’t want to work at

so then I was like “okay, boot and rally, it’s gonna be fine, let’s just finally get the committee together” and sent out an email being like “hey guys we still haven’t decided on a date to meet and it’s like month 2 of the semester, how about [x day]” bc I’m feeling really unsteady about my dissertation and I’m under a lot of pressure from my dad to finish as soon as possible, so I’ve been trying to get ahold of them for weeks now it feels like

only for my new chair to immediately be like “nope sry”

so then I got home (an hour later) (I still only live ten minutes away) and realized that I think my best friend since I was little forgot to send me a birthday present when she usually always remembers

which she’s not obligated to do obviously, we’re both adults and she’s had some stuff going on, but between that and the fact that the two friends whom I supported through their dissertation/defense periods have just, like, left - one is on the other side of the world, one might as well be - I just got feeling very lonely :’D as much as I love all my friends in my phone, it’s just kind of hard sometimes in meatspace. no one else in my family has been to graduate school before (hell, I’m the second person in my immediate family to graduate from college and the first to not fail out temporarily in the process) and sometimes I feel weird talking to my non-grad irl friends bc they treat me like I’m still in college/don’t have a real job yet (they don’t mean to, it’s just how people think of grad school in the states), so. yeah.

…and then the scary possession movie I rented to feel better turned out to be a conservative religious propaganda movie in disguise, which was just the cherry on top

(that’s the last time I rent a movie without checking imdb first)

but then the next day was better: my committee chair swung by my desk himself (we work across the hall from one another) and hung out and talked me through some of my biggest worries for a bit (and even said he liked my chapter, which was amazing bc I was afraid it was hot garbage), and my boss was really nice and gave me some cake balls from the local bakery for a belated birthday present (I can’t eat them due to food allergies but the thought counts!!), and I actually drove myself to work instead of taking one of the buses, which shouldn’t be a big deal but is for me bc I hate driving anywhere after a bad accident I had a few years ago :’D then my committee members emailed me like “hey how about next week!!” and I was like “oh phew okay” and found out one of them hasn’t been avoiding me, he’s just on teaching leave for the semester lmao (he’d sent me comments first and I hadn’t seen him since, so I was like “omg was it that bad” even though his comments were fairly chill) so I guess my lesson for the week is that I just need to be patient and let things work out

…then this morning I woke up with a migraine :’D but it’s not the worst one I’ve had so far, so. it evens out I guess!!

anyway, sorry to hurgle all this at you after your super nice ask, it’s just been A Lot. if you read this far, you’re a saint and I love you 😂🖤

cheers to the rest of this week looking better!! hopefully!!! knock on wood!!!

[localwebslingers]

@inhcritance liked for a starter

------

If it was already hard enough to get into college just out of high school as it was, it was about three times harder when the entire world didn't know you existed.

Somehow, with a lot of long phone calls and checking back and testing done, Peter had not only gotten all of his "hi I'm a real person" documents back in order, but had all of the right education tests with high enough scores to actually get into a really good college. ESU may not have been MIT but it was definitely more than respectable, and the fact that they sent him the acceptance letter was enough to improve the last five months by a lot. The program he enrolled in required him to live on campus but that just meant he didn't have to make rent anymore which was, as far as Peter was concerned, a win in his book.

He was completely packed and moved in as soon as they let him get set up. Mercifully the dorm he was in was on one of the higher floors and facing away towards the rest of New York and not the middle of campus. All the easier for Spider-Man to get a few rounds through the neighborhood before and after classes. That left him with the rest of the day, before the semester started, to make sure he knew where everything was. Less risk of stumbling into the wrong class half asleep that way.

The paper he'd printed out in the campus library was looked at to make sure he was in the right place when he reached the science building. Easily, those were the classes Peter was looking forward to the most. He just really wanted to have a chance to peek around the labs and see what they were like. Probably nothing compared to what Stark Industries had, when he'd gone to them a few times before, but it was going to be a huge upgrade from the one at Midtown High. Which he was still sneaking into for making his web fluid.

Peter looked around the hallway and opened the door to one of them to quickly slip inside... only to immediately come face to face with someone else already there, "Oh! Uh...hey, I'm sorry I should have...I probably should have knocked or something, I didn't think anyone was in here already." was seriously hoping that no one would catch him peeking around through the campus actually. It was a little awkward, "Are you a grad student here? Or one of the professors?"

[septembermorningbells]

personal life rant under the cut sorry the quickest therapy appointment i could get was monday

okay this is fundamentally so unserious. but it has been driving me absolutely bonkers and i cannot really tell my friends about it without also driving THEM crazy also its juvenile but. here.

ok so quick lore update the girl who made me realize I was gay is one of my best friends and i met her when she directed a play i was in freshman year. this is important. realized my feelings sophmore spring and I eventually told her how I felt the fall of my junior year, when i was in another one of her plays, and she kind of flipped out bc she was studying abroad that next semester and I don't think she was in an emotional places to process everything. it was very unclear whether she actually returned my feelings and she never told me but it was a resounding 'lets just be friends!!!' regardless. after we fought for a month 🤪

ANYWAYS the next semester she goes abroad and we continue texting like every day but i eventually kind of get over it and i still love her but it transitions a bit. She comes back and we are closer than ever in the fall, we do so many things together and basically keep developing our already very close friendship.

now it's senior spring. she applied for a grant that would take her to grad school in england and of course I assumed she would get it bc she is like fantastically talented. i have briefly dated other people in the period in between but nothing really worked out and so i just resign myself to the fate of just hanging out with my friends and actually looking for love ugh when I move in september. but also at this point i know im kind of still in love with her so i was like 'enjoy this time with her because its our last semester in college and we are never getting this time back etc' and even though i want her in my life forever i knew it would be SO hard to see her go and move to another country for a while and maybe date other people. so i figured she would move and i would cry and be torn up but i would get over it. also, in the meantime, I have been entering into a bit of a flirtation with a girl we have both known for a long time (who is lovely) basically as a distraction but we both knew that it was NOT serious.

also for context: the friend is directing ANOTHER play right now that both me and flirtation girl are in. we are playing love interests.

so last wednesday she found out she didn't get the grant. me and our very good mutual friend (calling her X she will play a role later, she is also very very close with the girl lol) are SHOCKED. this means she will likely be with us on the east coast of the US with us. the following night, I go to a party with X, our friends, and the girl i have been flirting with. She makes a move on me at the party, which i wasn't quite expecting bc the play is ongoing and I am worried about making rehearsal awkward but i was like 'ok fuck it i guess isnt this what i set up i made my bed'

THEN X pulls me aside and is like 'grace wtf are you doing' and i said 'you literally knew about this and its not serious, why are you mad' and X says 'grace, she's not going to england', basically implying something about my friend and me. naturally, I freak out. I blow off the flirtation friend and basically spiral for the rest of the night and weekend. I eventually make X talk to me bc WTF

okay so the entire problem is that X can't say too much without compromising my friend which is fair. but basically X validated YEARS worth of feelings that me and my friend do not have a normal relationship, we have basically been dating for who knows how long, and heavily implied that after she found out i made out with the girl at the party she was jealous. after year(s?) of repressing my feelings this revelation obviously made me insane. BUT X was like 'you guys need to talk but you should probably wait until the play is over to do it' which is in THREE WEEKS. she said it maybe wasn't necessary but she obviously can't say too much to me and I feel bad putting her in this position but also WHAT. WHAT.

okay so. I feel like there's been a chip made in the side of the hoover dam of my fucking repression and i am having such crazy feelings and I can't really express them. I know my friend would probably prefer that we wait bc she takes her shows very very seriously (something i love about her!! so much!!!) but also we graduate in a month and i don't know if i can just not talk about what's going on for that long. also there is a fair chance we talk and we still have to just be friends which would kind of murder me (oh context her mother is like very homophobic and until this year she has been SO wary of relationships which i thought was permanent lol until X told me many repeated times that 'now it is different' WHAT DOES THAT FUCKING MEAN) but i would almost want to get that over with now????????? jesus christ.

to make things worse we are, as i stated before, graduating and so emotions are just running very high in general. we need to have this talk but I also want to have it at the right moment so things don't go to shit. but i have had a very hard time concentrating on anything. will be back to buisness soon but until then. jesus christ. just pray for me at this point idk what else to say

[utsuge]

To be honest I don't have a ton of faith in my academic analytical writing because I procrastinate badly and rush and I feel like I get lazy with things, but I think last semester I was able to push myself to improve as a writer. For my Mishima midterm I was shocked to get a 90 and I worked hard to maintain that grade for my final; I got a 90 on that too and though I wish I did better (because I knew where there were very weak points when I handed it in) I think I still did well considering the subject material was making me nauseous to a point of retching... For my first hiphop paper I got the lowest essay grade I had gotten in years (76) and this was such a massively painful blow that I worked harder and got a 92 and a 96 on the next essays. My work ethic still needs a lot of improvement and I think my writing needs heavy improvement as well (which we will see when I begin my Shakespeare essay. sob) but I think I AM improving and I am really grateful to have professors who I can talk to and help me grow. I feel really intimidated by them and my classmates and that nothing I say really has much coherence or contributes anything deeper but friends & profs have been interested in what I have to say which feels baffling but also assuring in a way. I am in a reading group of one of my professors and he offered me to be the speaker who introduces the text to the group to begin the meeting which!!! I am absolutely terrified of but also I am really touched that he would do that and he has the confidence in me!!!! I ran into another professor (Mishima prof from last sem) and excitedly got caught up with him and he was happy to see me, and he asked if I had any plans on going to grad school because he said it'd be a very sad waste if I didn't :,)

[wttcsms]

i just wanted to ask your advice about life and grad school and trying to not think about the prestige of certain schools since i feel like you'd just provide a lot of insight on it, and sometimes i feel lost in my life even though i'm pretty young still haha! but sometimes i'm nervous on the fact that i may not get into a good college but idk if that makes sense ^^

hi!!! i personally really enjoy talking abt my academic (+professional) career & i am so honored that you would come to me for any type of advice omg!!! i will say that being young comes with a lot of bouts of insecurity; when i went to my original university, i admittedly didn't have much school spirit or even pride for it. i chose it because i got a full ride academic scholarship to attend, and once you're in college, you realize just how EXPENSIVE the Real World actually is, and so, even though my first university didn't necessarily come with a lot of "prestige" (even kids back home didn't wanna go there LOL), it was a very smart decision for me to attend there because i graduated with my bachelor's, high honors, with no debt!!

i also used to be obsessed with the prestige of schools, and as i look into phd programs, i suddenly am transported back to when i was younger + worried about how a school name would look on my final transcript or resume. the truth is, prestige doesn't guarantee you much.

i will say that certain universities and colleges can help you network, but it doesn't really matter if those relationships are shallow, right? we (and profs you have) aren't going to be so inclined to help you out with 100% enthusiasm if they don't really know you too well, right? so for me, even though the first university i attended was honestly kind of crappy, i decided to make the best of it! professors are humans too, and it's hard for them (esp during freshman & sophomore classes) to connect with students, and most students aren't going to want to put forth the effort to have a relationship with them. i made it an effort to introduce myself to a select few profs, i would attend office hours, i would make a point to engage during lectures, etc. i basically stood out from my peers, and in the long run, that has helped greatly, esp when it came time for me to turn in letters of recommendation for grad school. my "deeper" relationships that i spent a semester (or several semesters; the college was small and i had the same profs for several classes lol) cultivating paid off bc i had spectacular, personalized letters of rec that probably would have been harder for me to obtain had i attended a "prestigious" school where im certain a bunch more students would be vying for the prof's attention OR the professor would be too busy with their own workload and research to really be attentive to me.

while at the "crappy" university i attended for undergrad, i managed to secure two internships, one w/ jp morgan. lots of interns never heard of my school, and believe it or not, with the ivy league students i interacted with, they either knew the same amount or even less of what was going on than i did. they go to great colleges, fantastic schools, have been attending private feeder schools that would land them at these prestigious schools i'm sure you're looking at, and the fact of the matter is, it's not like everyone who attends there is a genius. when i was younger, i thought that the school you attend is directly associated with how smart you are, but that is def not the case. never, ever, ever question your intelligence if the school you want doesn't accept you. it's so corny, but rejection really IS redirection.

what i really want you to realize is that a good college is purely dependent upon YOU, as a student. form genuine connections with your profs (these relationships might come in handy; not just for grad school, but i've had several profs actually come to me with internship AND post-grad job opportunities with their friends' companies), be active and engaged on campus (join a club, do community service; if you do join a club, though, it is best to have a leadership role within it), consider asking a close prof if you can be a teaching assistant, approach your classmates confidently and be friendly to them, work hard!!! undergrad is fantastic for figuring out or getting an idea of what you want to do in the future!!! i was 16 when i started college full-time & i just picked a major (accounting) where i thought i could get a job with it LOL. nearly 5 years + one degree later, i figured out that working in industry wasn't for me & that i much prefer academia haha!!! try out a little bit of everything; i'm starting my fourth internship pretty soon, and honestly, you don't know what you don't like until you actually try it out.

i hope you have the greatest college experience of your life! when we're young, the silly stuff doesn't seem so silly (re: the prestige of the school you attend), but it's ok! because no one expects us to have perspective when we're young lol. just know that no matter where you go, make an effort to make the best of it :)

edit: some success stories!!! my undergrad aka what i considered to be a tier below community college (nothing wrong with cc either!!!); many of my classmates have went on to attend "prestigious" colleges for their own phd programs :) one of my close friends completed her undergrad in biology and is attending a private college for a phd; one of the colleges i'm looking at!!! my other friend works full-time at goldman sachs, which is proof that you don't need a columbia degree in finance to get in LOL. so, finding good opportunities is possible no matter where you end up attending <3

[muldxr]

five of my fave fics i’ve written

hill country (the friends with benefits texas au)

My most recent fic, y’all know that by now! This was published a full year after I started writing, and I think I’m finally getting the hang of my style (I have a ways to go). I started working on this version this February when I was going through some serious family stuff and knew I was moving away from Texas in a few months, so it was almost a goodbye letter to what was my home for 3 1/2 years. Very proud of this one! Although my professional opinion, the angst of it needs time to be appreciated; not everything has to be a happy ending and I stand by that.

noisemaker (the soulmates-by-music-association fic where harry doesn’t like louis)

This was the first fic where I exercised my writing muscles a little more! I love soulmate aus but this one definitely challenged the heck out of me. Harry and Louis are stubborn babies and I love love loved digging into their minds. I wanted it to be funny and also draw readers in. I was writing it in the middle of my last semester of grad school, and I had to change my fic prompt from an incredibly ambitious idea because I couldn’t do the original idea justice (Maybe… Soon... I haven't deleted that draft yet), BUT I do love this one a lot. This one also has an open ending lolol I am considering coming back to this world to give these characters a chance to grow together!

stay hydrated! (the bucket fic, honorable mention to its sequel)

I mean… we all gotta write that fic at some point? The one that makes you blush and shut your eyes as you share the link, and all your friends who knew you before stare at you like “what the fuck! nope!” I wrote this on a dare, it blew up, I got some fun and not-so-fun comments, and I got a certain ~reputation~ But that’s what’s good about creating outside of your comfort zone. So I’ll put this on my top 5 list for that reason!

let me show you (the one where they play 'never have I ever')

This one was for a fan project fest last year. It’s very short and fluffy, and something that someone in their mid-20s would write as they were going through a major queer awakening (hi it’s me). This fic also has a lovely podcast recording by @podfic-pals and that’s the biggest honor 😭

good, good graces (the sub!harry praise kink fic)

It’s not exactly my favorite and I won't ramble about it, but I think it deserves a place here because it’s canon-divergent, has long-haired harry and my first foray into ✨spicy writing.✨ Not to be “that person” but this ranks highest on my ao3 stats page (I knew kink sells but what the fuck) I wasn’t in the best place writing this; ironically, this was at the same time as noisemaker.

—

Thank you to @littleroverlouis @wabadabadaba and @neondiamond for tagging me! Being new to the writing game as a Sensitive Somebody who had a heck of a rollercoaster of a year, I had a hard time deciding out of my 11 little works! I need to branch out for my future fic ideas but I'm ready for whatever lies ahead!

i’ll tag anyone who wants to rate their own fics! seriously, just say i tagged you and i’ll hype up your top five fics

[my-own-walker]

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

3.

I slammed the apartment door shut and threw my bag onto the ground. My keys landed with a loud clatter on the counter. My boots clunked against the wall after kicking them off as hard as possible. 

"Jesus, Han, what's your damage?" Lily groaned, emerging from her room. She was nursing a mighty hangover. Pi Phi took "Thirsty Thursdays" seriously.

"That fucking class makes me sick," I spat, throwing myself onto the couch. I looked over at Lily who had shuffled further into the living room. It was only the second week of classes and she had already skipped three lectures.

"What class?" she asked, dragging her feet as she traveled to the kitchen. She turned the tap on and poured herself a glass of water.

I chewed my cheek, pulling my legs up to sit criss-cross-applesauce on the sofa. "Calculus," I sighed, throwing my head back. "Another quiz today."

"Why the fuck did you sign up for calculus, Hannah?" Lily scoffed, throwing a few pills into her mouth before using her water to swallow them. "You know you suck at math. Why such a hard class?" she continued after a large gulp.

"Man, I was late for registration, remember? It was the only math available."

"I just don't understand why you didn't hold off until next semester, or even next year, then," she shrugged. She walked to join me on the sofa. She sat and swung her legs up to the side and rested her head on my shoulder. 

"I wanna take fun classes my senior year," I whined. "I can't hold it off forever." Lily nestled into the crook of my neck.

"What upset you today anyways?" she asked.

"Pretty sure I failed another quiz. I am going to ruin my GPA for a stupid math credit," I muttered. "Plus, I humiliated the fuck out of myself."

"How so?"

"I was desperate. Like, my mind was fucking blank. So I decided to try to cheat," I replied sheepishly. Lily popped her head up and looked at me, baffled. 

For some helpful context, I was practically a perfect student. High school Hannah graduated with a 4.0 GPA. I was involved in student government, theater, and the French club. I was on the honor roll and was in the running for valedictorian. I excelled so much that I got into every college I applied to. I received decent scholarships, if not full rides, from each university as well.

I never got in trouble, either. Along with my good grades, I was also a model student. I never skipped school, I never cheated on tests, and I sure as hell never got yelled at by my teachers. I was so scared of being reprimanded that I worked extra hard to be flawless. The only time I could remember being told off by a teacher was during fourth grade. She didn't even yell at me, per se. She questioned the integrity of my reading log, thinking I may have forged my mother's signature, and I lost it.

My need for perfection didn't stop when I started college. Lily would always make fun of me for how hard I tried to get perfect grades in every single class. I wanted to keep my options open in terms of grad school, so I had to continue to excel. She swore I would develop a stomach ulcer one day because of the stress I put on myself. The Hannah she knew would never cheat.

"I know, Lily," I groaned. "But I couldn't not. I can't fail this shitty class."

"So you tried to cheat. Tried. What happened?" she asked. "Did you get caught or something?"

"Yes, but not by the professor. The kid I was cheating off of caught me," I laughed, shaking my head at myself. "Kyle fucking Spencer. The frat guy."

"Hannah," Lily gasped.

"I know."

"That's so bad. Humiliating almost. What the fuck made you decide to do that? Like, Kyle Spencer. Kyle Spencer of Kappa Lambda Gamma," she cried.

"He's like, scary good in the class. He's a math god or something. I couldn't help but notice so I leaned over to see his answers," I explained. "He saw me and covered his paper, then made fun of me outside as I was leaving."

"That's so bad," Lily audibly whispered. 

"I fuckin' know," I uttered. Lily returned her head to my shoulder. I relaxed into her and pulled my cell phone out of my pants pocket. I mindlessly scrolled Twitter, trying to forget everything that had transpired in the day. I was so embarrassed and likely failing calculus. Lily shifted next to me and sniffed.

"I don't feel good," she groaned. I rubbed her arm knowingly.

"You know what would make you feel better?" 

"What?"

"Alcohol," I replied deviously. Lily sat up quickly to look me in the eyes. She feigned a gag before mustering a response.

"You're kidding." She flopped back onto the other side of the couch demonstratively. "Hannah, I can't even think about drinking right now."

"Did you ever hear of 'Hair of the Dog'?" I scoffed.

"No, Han, I'm not a bastard Bostonian," she moaned. "I don't know any stupid northern sayings like that."

I reached over and smacked her leg lightly. "Excuse me, miss," I gasped. "I'll have you know that that is NOT just a northern-exclusive saying. And, I am not from Boston." I folded my arms over my chest, feigning shock. "Hair of the Dog is drinking more when you're hungover, bitch. It's supposed to help."

"I think you're an alcoholic," Lily murmured. 

I stood from the sofa and padded over to the kitchen, electing to make myself something to eat before drowning in liquor. We needed to go grocery shopping. There wasn't much left in the pantry besides bread and various cans of vegetables and soup. I decided some toast would be fine.

"On second thought, Hannah," Lily called from the other room, "I think I need a fuckin' drink."

"That's my girl," I smiled, satisfied with my job of convincing my friend to engage in bad behavior with me. 

+

I knew from the second I met Lily Davies that I'd have my hands full. She garnered everyone's attention. She was a bright light that no one could take their eyes off of. Lily was beautiful. And I'm not saying that lightly. There was a light in her eyes that let others know she wasn't some run-of-the-mill pretty girl. No. She was witty. Funny. She could draw a crowd.

I consider myself so lucky to have her. When we met, I half expected her to laugh in my face. In my eyes, we existed on two very different planes. Nonetheless, we clicked, and for that, I was forever grateful. At parties like this, she commanded the room, while I became a wallflower. Our relationship was simple. She would drag me to parties, I would be her de-facto bodyguard, she would have fun, and I would make sure we got home in one piece.

I watched her as she danced in her itty-bitty black dress. Her shiny blonde hair bounced as she moved and the light hit her skin perfectly. I kept my eyes fixated on her. I was more than happy with being the sidekick in Lily's story. More than happy to be the bad guy that pulled her away from unsavory men. She was a sunflower and I was her stem, supporting her through anything.

She had the power to say things to men that would steal their breath and make them delirious. It was dizzying. I made it my personal job to rescue her from situations she didn't want to find herself in. When she got drunk, she got flirty, and college boys have an easy time taking things the wrong way.

We landed on heading to Tau Kappa Epsilon's beginning-of-semester party after much debate. When I begged Lily to drink with me, I meant in our apartment, watching movies and eating disgusting quantities of junk food. All fraternities and sororities on campus were invited, though. So there I went, supporting my best friend in her social endeavors. 

The crowd was suffocating. TKE's house wasn't big enough to hold an event like that. But Lily still found a way to dance. She was like that. With good music and a little something to drink, she was the life of the party. 

I left her to go get us some more drinks. We pre-gamed the party in the apartment. The plan was to arrive drunk and get home relatively sober. But once we got there, she decided she needed something more. I didn't trust the knuckleheads serving the alcohol to not give her something extra in her drink if she went to get it herself. Instead of joining her, though, I delivered her a red solo cup full of cheap beer and returned to my spot against the wall. It wasn't a pleasant night for a party of this caliber. I sweat bullets through my dress.

Party attire was important. I didn't care much for dresses, but the situation I found myself in warranted it. Out of sheer avoidance of great guy bullies making fun of me, I settled on a loose-fitting floral print dress I found at a thrift store. Regardless of how cooling it should have been, the humidity in the air was unbearable. Maybe I shouldn't have worn the Doc Martens.

I looked back over at Lily and found that the wolves had descended on her. Two guys, the identities of which I couldn't make out, stood uncomfortably close to her. They were stooped down, I assume in an attempt to hear her better.

I could tell by the way he was holding himself, that one of the dudes thought he was the shit. He stood with his shoulders wide and his chin tilted upward.  I grew sick watching him speak closely to her ear. She replied with a smile to whatever he said, looking up at him with her sparkly doe eyes. I could see this ending horribly. I began meandering through the throngs of people, trying to get to her before it was too late.

As I was steps away from Lily and the two frat guys, I watched one place a hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him. Her eyes widened and her stance stiffened up. She was clearly uncomfortable.

"Hey, asshole!" I shouted. "Get your fucking hands off her!"

"Hey, hey," The guy shouted protectively, throwing his hands up. He turned to face me, and to my dismay, it was Kyle. "What's good?"

"Do you mind letting go of her, please?" I spat, standing with my arms folded. Lily looked at me with pleading eyes. I could see by the way she was swaying that she was very drunk. The poor girl had problems standing up for herself, but that's what I was there for.

"She doesn't have a problem with me, right Lily?" Kyle replied, hugging my best friend tighter, playfully mussing up her hair.

"Bro, let go of her," I persisted, stepping forward slightly. 

"I'm not doing anythi-"

"I will fucking scream," I yelled, interrupting him.

"Fine, fine," Kyle laughed, releasing Lily from his grasp and shoving her gently in my direction. He looked at his frat brother, Ethan with wide eyes and chuckled again. "What, are you like, in love with her?" He was trying to tease me, but I was too angry to care.

"Shut the fuck up, Spencer," I gritted back, grabbing Lily by the hand, and beginning to walk away.

"Hey, you didn't think so bad of me when you were looking at my quiz earlier," he called after me, punctuating the barb with a laugh. I didn't turn around, though. Instead, I continued to weave through the crowd, trying to get to the door.

I muttered a softly spoken magic spell willing the universe to have Kyle get hit by a bus on his way home.

Previous Part | Next Part

[cakehuntermason]

Just a warning. In this post, I talk about how things aren’t going well in my life. If you don’t like what I’m saying, then please ignore the post and move on with your day or evening. And, just warning you, it’s about my late partner and death.

How does our [leather] community grieve? As of today, it’s been 3 years since he died and it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around. People grieve in their own ways. Part of me hoped that people would’ve made a more deliberate effort to reach out to me and help me. However, the pandemic rattled us in many ways and affected people’s psychological or social ability to help me embrace my grief on top of their own. Also, I myself didn’t do a good job of communicating what I needed. Thankfully, he had a friend who’s a certified grief counselor and he helped me a lot. We even became friends.

His death is the first time I’ve dealt with death to this capacity. Usually, it was a friend of a friend or a distant relative. But with him… he died in front of me not long after we got back home from the Reading of the Names in West Hollywood. December 1st marks World AIDS Day, a tough day made harder by his death. The names that were read… a reminder of the folks who many of us will never meet.

Death and grief are undeniably difficult. I think it’s part of why people say, “Passed away” or “No longer with us.” But I think that just makes death harder. He died. He’s dead. And it hurts so badly knowing there’s nothing I could do to bring back the man who taught me what being loved actually felt like. That’s what some of these screenshots represent. These are various texts that I got from him, they make me smile a big smile and often they bring tears.

I’m certain some people have judged me for dating an older guy. I hear the judgmental way many people talk about intergenerational relationships so, it’s not too much of a stretch to think that. I knew as a part of life that he would eventually die, but I hoped that I’d get to have at least 10 years with him. I only got 1 and a half. It’s a short amount of time, but it was still an extremely meaningful relationship.

The part that’s hard is, if he was still alive, he’d be here with me. One time, when we were talking about me applying to out-of-state grad schools, he said, “You’re crazy if you think I’m not moving with you.” I do know he would’ve hated how rainy and snowy it is out here. It’s just hard in extra ways, too, being so far away from family and disconnected from opportunities to create my chosen family.

I realize that I could keep going, but like many others, I have to keep moving forward. Just some general life updates… some bad, two good (saving those for last). The sweet lad and I are no longer together. And I couldn’t afford to keep my cat because, unbeknownst to the folks at the shelter, she had bladder problems that required a special diet and more medicine than I could afford. The semester has been brutal, but thankfully there’s one week left. Time for the good! I’m going to be a guncle early next year! Also, I’ve been chatting with a daddy type in Louisiana. He’s a sweet and smart guy so, maybe I’ll pay him a visit after winter.

[poochiray]

And they were roommates

Chapter 1

It’d been a few days since Rome had seen Pick. Nothing too out of the ordinary, just something he’d learned to expect whenever Pick’s father was coming into town. The time away would only last two, maybe three days tops. And as soon as his dad was on his way back to the airport, Rome would get the phone call.

Sure enough, his phone rang. Pick was short with him; not like that was unusual by any means, but Rome wasn’t fazed. He knew how stressed his faen probably was, so he offered to pick up breakfast on his way over.

When Rome walked in the door though, he immediately knew something was wrong. Pick was sitting on the couch, hunched over and his hands were buried in his hair. He barely looked up to even register that Rome was there now.

"Ok, what's going on?" Rome asked, dropping the bag of food on the coffee table. He carefully sat next to Pick, not too close, but within reaching distance. 

"I'm being kicked out," Pick muttered underneath a hand he'd used to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"What?!" Rome screeched. "You told him?!" 

"No. It's not that," Pick gave a small grimace. "I've been trying to tell him. It's just…it's hard. He's the only family I have left…"

Rome gently picked up his hand, his thumb tracing over Pick's own. "It's ok. You will tell him when you're ready."

"Thank you, shorty," Pick said, his voice fond despite everything.

"So why is he kicking you out?" Rome frowned.

"He wants me to finish school in America. He wanted me to go back with him. He said he can't keep paying to maintain two households. He can't keep coming back here to check up on me and the house." As he recounted more and more, his hand clung tighter to Rome's. “I just don’t know why he’s pressuring me now. I only have one more year of grad school.”

“What are you going to do?” 

“Not sure,” Pick bit his lip. “Still not old enough to tap into my inheritance, and the internships I have aren’t really enough to pay for any sort of apartment. Plus I hardly have the time to move or anything—I mean, I will if I have absolutely no choice. But it’s just…it’s a lot.”

“You can come live with me in my dorm,” Rome suggested, lacing their fingers together.

Pick chuckled, shaking his head. “I doubt your roommate would like that. Or the school.”

“Maybe I can come live here with you, then! I mean, I haven’t put in my application for a dorm for next semester. I could live here and help pay the bills with my job at the cafe.”  

“Do you really think your salary there would be enough?” Pick tilted his head. “This house has four bedrooms, shorty. In a prominent part of town near the college. It’s not going to be cheap.”

Rome clapped his hands. “We will get roommates then! Maybe ask Porsche and I’ll ask Emma.”

Shaking his head, Pick said, “Porsche is going abroad for his last year of his internship. And I like your friend Emma…but pretty sure she doesn’t like me. At least not enough to live with me.” 

"Then I'll put up an ad. We can take pictures of the place and get some roommates that way." Rome exclaimed, already pulling out his laptop out of his backpack and opening it up on the table between them.

Pick made a noise in his throat, somewhere between a groan and grimace. "Do we have to? I really don't like the idea of meeting some random people to come live with us."

A small laugh left Rome's lips as he looked up at his boyfriend. He couldn't help pinching his frowny lips between his fingers. "Oh don't be a grumpy old man. This'll be fun!

Rome spent the rest of that morning filling out an advertisement. He tried to involve Pick in the process to get him more excited. And though Pick did like pinning Rome against all the various doors around the house and kissing the shorty senseless, they still needed to get actual photos of the bedrooms. And when it was time to make the listing, he crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled. Rome smiled fondly at him and kissed his ridiculous pout.

Chapter 2 here