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temptress-writes · 8 months ago

Text

📜Roll Call

A/N: my favourite, moody professor. feral. he's actually such a twat.

Content Warnings: coarse language

Sexual Content: Degradation, spitting, light bondage, spanking, slapping, age gap (10 years)

Word Count: 21.5k

Now, sit straight for Professor Styles.

***

Oxford University, 1992.

“Are you actually going to put the effort into my class or do I have to get you a tutor?”

It wasn’t what she was hoping for after handing in an assignment. She fought back the hot tears that sprung into her eyes and hoped he didn’t see how wet they were. She was exhausted, overworked to the bone trying to balance her studies and a part-time job.

He’d handed back the papers at the end of his class, and not long after escaped to his office down the hall. She’d chased after him, fumbling to keep up with him while her mind was jumbled over the failed grade. She’d done plenty of assignments with him and he’d passed every single one.

“I… I don’t understand. I studied the material—“

“Well, clearly you didn’t study it enough. The years are all mixed up. If you want to be the historian that you say you do, that usually comes with not mixing up dates. I mean,” he held the paper in front of him, reciting the words she’d written. “Julius Caesar was assassinated in March, 43 BC. Incorrect. He was assassinated in March, 44 BC. You should know this, it’s basic stuff.”

“I’m sorry, I swear it was a simple mistake—“

“Simple mistakes will cost you your grade. In fact, it has.”

Her heart dropped. “Is there anything I can do? I can fact-check and write it all over again. Please. I want to pass this paper. I—I need to pass.”

He was always this mean. This… hurtful. He had no leniency towards so much as a falsely placed comma, and she could see her incorrect information pained him deeply. He was right. It was basic stuff, and internally she knew it. However, she’d been slammed with studying and had simply made a mistake.

But he had no patience, no care if anyone in his class was overwhelmed with what he pushed onto them. He’d been given the same load when he himself was studying. In his view, being pushed to the brink was what made him great at what he did. So, he showed his students the same respect as his professors once had.

“What makes you think I have the time to give you special treatment, Violet? I have enough papers to grade as is, adding yours to the pile all because you made a mistake will only set me back.”

“It’s one paper.” She begged, near on in tears again. She eyed the plaque that had his name engraved in the gold, avoiding his eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, he eyed her through his wide-framed glasses. He tapped his fingers against his thighs, clad in soft beige plaid pants. Her eyes fluttered towards his sweater, the striped shirt underneath. She lost herself in the pattern as he mulled in his thoughts.

“I want it on my desk tomorrow morning by nine o’clock.”

She could have jumped at the relief she felt. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just this once. I won’t be so easy on you if it happens again.”

“It won’t happen again.” She grinned, grabbing the paper from his outstretched hand.

"Since you're rewriting it—do you want my honest opinion?"

"Of course." She whispered, always one to accept constructive criticism. She knew he wouldn't hold back and she mentally braced herself.

"I was bored reading your paper."

She gulped, blinking in surprise but he continued, not concerned about hurting her feelings. That wasn’t what he was there for—to teach her.

"I expected more from you, Violet. To be frank, I’m disappointed. There was no depth to it. No excitement. You did the very bare minimum. You gave me a bunch of facts, with some of the dates mixed around. What’s more, is that nothing about this piece made me want to read it. Tell me, what makes history so exciting?"

"Uh, I guess learning about—"

"The stories. The stories make history so exciting. Stories of the people, their daily lives, and the fight for survival and victory. History would be nothing without the stories it tells."

"Yeah, I understand, now. You're right."

"Of course I’m right. Retelling history has to be gripping. Write it again and pull me in."

His eyes scanned over his pager, alerting him that a staff meeting was about to commence. He stretched out his neck, grabbing his folder and eyeing her as he stood.

He hated the way his eyes observed her frame. Soft corduroy pants, a graphic t-shirt of a band he had never heard of. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail, half splayed over her shoulder as she twirled a lock between her fingers.

What he didn’t hate was how she feared him. Her eyes were wide with intimation as she stared at him. She was clearly so desperate to please him, not wanting to disappoint him or let him down.

She wanted to do this paper for him as much as she did for her grades. That’s why his tactic was to be cruel. To keep her at arm’s length, but also to keep his mind at bay from wandering into risky territory.

"Is there anything else?"

"Oh, that's all—"

"Great. I have somewhere to be."

The expectant look he gave her threw her off, but she very quickly gathered his meaning. She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and gave him a soft smile, hoping to lessen his harsh expression, yet all to no avail. His expression remained the same. She turned to leave, barely getting through the threshold before his voice reached out.

“Nine o’clock, Violet.”

“Yes, professor.”

She left his office, winding her way through campus, smiling at her classmates as she passed them. Oxford University. Rich with history and success. Abundant with opportunities fit for her dreams. It knew no bounds of imagination, with its old and infamous buildings and all the tales held within them.

There was something about history that made her feel alive. Reliving the past through depictions, art, studies, and discoveries. It was what drove her.

So when she’d landed her dream Ancient History class, taught by a very highly adored historian, Harry Styles, she knew that she had a lot to prove.

She raced back to her flat after a stop at the supermarket for brainfood and energy drinks. She got stuck in, completely starting again, double and triple-checking her facts to be sure.

Her Walkman kept her company, and she cycled through her favourite CDs. She even went above and beyond, adding small details to her work that weren’t overly relevant but she knew Professor Styles would enjoy reading.

As grumpy as he was, she wouldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for him. For his focused gaze, his deep voice as he stood before the class and taught, and how his dimples flexed when he was talking or hiding his irritation.

Oftentimes, she’d allow herself to admire him. To see him as a simple man. Rich in thought and graceful in the way he so confidently carried himself. He was effortlessly smart and passionate. Young but full of experience, which she found impressive amongst the older faculty.

In his early thirties, it was remarkable how far his career had soared already.

He was gorgeous. Poised and proper, with inklings of something more unhinged that she could sometimes spy through his carefully placed mask.

But then she’d shake her head and chastise herself for thinking such thoughts about someone so above her.

He was known to be a sucker for details and personality. He hated textbook answers, even though his whole career and teachings relied purely on facts. So, she spent extra time being a little more pedantic than usual.

She wanted to impress him. He was one of the most successful historians of his impressively ripe age of thirty-two. She’d never wanted to let him down and she had to prove to him that she had what it took to be in his class and be worthy of his teachings. It was what motivated her to piston through her assignment and perfect it.

She was going over her paper, adding some final flares when her flatmate knocked on her door.

“Vi, you’ve been working on that for hours.”

“I know,” she wrote furiously, so hyper-focused on the spread of papers and books in front of her, “it’s due tomorrow.”

“You need a break, come get a drink with us.”

Violet was that person that worked herself to the bone to maintain her grades. She was a people pleaser, and that trait stretched to her professors. She clung to every word they said and took every assignment seriously.

“Due tomorrow, Alice.” She repeated, barely blinking as she wrote and mouthed the words out to herself.

“Please take a break before you lose your mind.” Alice could sense her friend falling into that mindset where she neglected everything aside from whatever assignment was due.

Violet sighed, pausing her work and turning to face her. “Who’s we?”

She soon found herself dressed in an attire that completely contrasted her university jumper and sweat pants. A tiny green dress, and a little makeup applied to her tired face to make it seem as if she were actually getting any appropriate amount of sleep.

They made their way to the local bar they often frequented, meeting their group of friends who had already started on the drinks. It was then that she realised was extremely overworked and tired.

Her study load was never-ending, piling on top of her until she was suffocating. She had to take some time for herself tonight or she’d go crazy. Her mind was constantly whirring with assignments and tests and studying.

Her paper was mostly done. She’d have a few drinks and then head home to finish it off. It was only nine o’clock, and she figured an hour or two wouldn’t hurt.

By ten o’clock, she was feeling lighter. She stayed true to her word, only having two drinks before cutting herself off. She knew she’d have to leave sooner rather than later, but her friends were renewing the energy she had been lacking. She couldn’t leave the source of such liveliness.

There was one guy in the group who had been pining after her all year. They shared a few classes together, including Ancient History with Professor Styles. He had a bright smile and a sense of humour that she enjoyed.

“Hey, Vi.”

“Hi, Charlie, how are you?”

“I’m good, yourself?”

“Not bad.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled. “Can I get you a drink?”

He made her laugh all night, stuck to her side to enjoy her smile up close. They flirted, sending each other sultry gazes and warm, suggestive touches.

She couldn’t even deny that she wished it was someone else she’d rather be with tonight. A certain professor who wore glasses, sweaters, and displeased frowns. Perhaps that was why she threw herself head first into Charlie, wanting to forget about her sinful desires.

She felt warm and gooey, needing something to focus on other than that damn paper and the professor who was expecting it.

So, when he led her down the hallway, kissing her lips and her neck, she didn’t hesitate to get lost in him.

Too lost to see her professor sitting at the bar watching as she pulled Charlie into a supply closet.

“I have to say, Miss Walters. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

She huffed out a breath at his expression. It was like he was almost smug about it. About her having to rewrite a whole paper, work that would take weeks crammed into one night.

He was being truthful. The paper would have been difficult to complete in one night, he’d known as much when he told her that he wanted it the next morning. It was a test.

He didn’t want to be played around by his students. He was tough on them for a reason, and barely ever handed out second chances as he had done with her.

So, to know that she had been out last night when she should have been at home was an insult. She’d fluttered her eyelashes and taken advantage of the one sliver of good nature he had in him. And here she was, a pleased smile on her face with her paper before his very eyes.

She was wearing makeup as if to hide how tired she was. It wasn't because she had stayed up all night writing his paper, but he already knew that. He looked at the assignment dubiously, doubting its contents.

“Well, I did it. Correct dates and everything.”

“It’s longer.” He said, flipping through the pages and noticing that there were a few additional ones compared to the initial few she had handed in.

She absorbed her surroundings, his office was deep woods and dim lighting. His desk was large and cluttered with books and assignments to grade, and the room was framed with bookshelves, awards, diplomas, and expensive-looking knick

knacks.

“I took your advice and made it more exciting.”

He wanted to reprimand her. Tell her that adding extra fluff didn’t equal excitement or any weight to her assignment. But he swallowed his sour mood and nodded, placing the paper flat on the desk and leaning back in his chair.

His outfit was darker than his usual palette and style of light colours and unique sweaters. Instead, he donned a black shirt, a black suit jacket thrown over the top with charcoal pants. She could tell that he was in a bad mood, somehow even more irate than usual.

“I’ll review it over the weekend.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut. She very clearly wanted to say something and he raised a brow in encouragement.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the second chance. I hope you enjoy it.”

Enjoy it? He’d never had a student wish that he enjoyed something they handed in. They simply wanted to meet the criteria and pass.

She turned to leave, feeling overwhelmed by his scrutinising gaze. She’d handed in the assignment, and had a bit of time to cram in some study before her first class of the day, which just so happened to be with the grumpy professor.

"Violet."

"Yes?"

He tapped his neck, eyeing hers. "I want that covered before you come to my class."

Her cheeks flushed with heat, her hand coming up to cover the hickey on her neck. She thought she'd done a good enough job with her concealer this morning, but apparently not.

She didn't even have the nerve to reply before she left the room, utterly mortified.

He stared after her, wondering if he'd embarrassed her. Probably. He disregarded her feelings, viewing the mark on her neck as inappropriate. He wasn't sure why the hickey bothered him so much.

Perhaps it was because she'd clearly had a late night last night, and it wasn't with the company of his teachings. He watched her take that man into that supply closet and the evidence of that was staring him in the face.

He didn’t want to look at that fucking hickey on her neck because then he knew he’d have to face the reality of the fact that he was jealous.

Jealous of one of his other students putting his hands and mouth on her. His student in that tiny green dress, cheeks flushed with arousal and drink. He imagined it. How she'd taste on his tongue. The sounds she'd make. The way she felt.

He had felt pathetic about the whole thing, sitting at the bar all alone and sulking. He’d polished off his drink at the bar after watching it happen. He’d just as quickly gone to his cold and empty home to wallow with a bottle of tequila and some Aerosmith.

Fuck. He couldn’t think about this. About her soft thighs in her tiny skirt and her bouncy ponytail. Or the way she called him professor. It wasn’t right and he felt sick about it.

He checked his pager, seeing it blank and sighing. He needed something to do so he couldn’t keep thinking about her. And then she’d be staring at him during his class, her eyes wide and wandering.

Almost panicked about the prospect of being near her again, he picked up her paper and began reading it to distract himself.

Following a strenuous battle with her concealer and the sizeable hickey on her neck, Violet entered Professor Styles’ classroom. It was mostly covered, there wasn’t a lot she could do in the way of hiding it completely. However, in the back of her mind, she was perplexed that he found it his place to even say anything.

Surely he just wanted to mortify her. He had been a student once, he knew the means of getting lost in dark hallways with another warm and desperate body.

She spotted Charlie sitting in the center of the seats and he waved her over. She smiled, shaking her head. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him just yet, especially considering he was the cause of her marked neck.

She took her usual spot up front, always wanting to bathe in the professor’s teachings, and found herself lost if she was stuck in the middle of the seats.

Professor Styles wasn’t in class yet, and she took the time to prepare her notes in an organised spread on the desk in front of her. She didn’t even notice him silently enter, setting up at his desk with a look of disinterest.

Her body felt heated. Not the warm embarrassment of him pointing out her hickey, but because his gaze was on hers as he set down his satchel. She held his eyes, right until he looked away to retrieve the folders that held the material he needed for the class.

Decidedly ready, he stood at the center of his territory up front, his suit jacket parting as he slid his hands into his pockets. He eyed the class through his glasses, noting that no one had realised he’d entered the room yet. Except for her.

He sighed, wrinkling his nose before looking down at his oxfords. He cleared his throat, somehow garnering everyone’s attention in a split second. He leaned back against his desk.

“As you’re aware, I’m obligated to drag you on a class trip abroad in the coming weeks. I’ve heard your suggestions as you’ve not so subtly given them to me.” He eyed the mouthy students in question. “However, the board and I have discussed it and we’ve come to a decision.”

Students started chattering loudly, and Violet sent a friendly smile to her friend next to her but otherwise kept her attention on Professor Styles.

“Quiet, or you’ll be staying behind while I go on holiday by myself!”

His demand was heard loud and clear, and everyone became tight-lipped and watched him. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, already dreading the idea of this trip.

The university board had been grilling him about it, and he’d been pressured into making a decision that pleased them with ridiculously limited time to sort it out.

“Pompeii.” He said simply, letting it sink in for his students.

Violet felt a rush of excitement. Pompeii—preserved in Naples, Italy, was rich with history and had been on her bucket list for as long as she could remember.

It was a monumental part of history, and she could not wait to see it in its glory and stand where devastation rocked an ancient city so long ago.

The class talked loudly, bursting and bubbling with enthusiasm. Professor Styles remained unphased by it all, waiting until the chatter had died down before he spoke again.

“We’ll be staying in Naples, however, the focus of our trip will be Pompeii. This will be your final paper and will be half your grade. This isn’t a holiday or a time to slack off. You’re here in this room for a reason, that applies to this trip as well. Think about the history there. The people, the politics, the daily life. The power of nature and the terror that it entices.” He took a slow breath, as if bored or tired. Perhaps both. “It wasn’t my first choice, naturally. But seeing as it is one of the most famous natural disasters in ancient history, the board saw it fit to touch on, considering it differs from any other material we’ve studied so far.”

“Can’t we go to Paris instead, Professor Styles?” One of the girls at the back of the glass giggled. It was clear that the only reason she took this class was for someone nice to look at. “It’s the city of love.”

“Love?” He laughed but it was void of humour. “If you want love, you’re in the wrong place. Maybe if you spent less time daydreaming, and more time paying attention, you wouldn’t be failing my class.”

Violet laughed under her breath, doodling in her notebook. His eyes went to her at the sound, wondering if she found the girl's suggestion funny or his response.

She looked up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulder. He clenched his jaw and looked away, locating the documents that contained everything regarding the trip.

He handed piles to the desks in the front row, telling them to take one and pass it back. He stopped before her, placing the papers in her waiting hands and staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“See me after class.”

“Me?”

His voice was low and deep. “Yes, you.”

She was perplexed. See him after class for what? He said that he’d go over her paper during the weekend, so she doubted it would be about that.

Maybe he wanted to torment her about her neck some more. Really rub in the embarrassment and taunt her for it.

It was hard to focus during the whole class. She jotted down notes every now and again, but her mind was honed in on him. Even more so than usual. The authority in his tone as he told her to cover her neck, his confident stance, and the way his lips caressed words.

He rambled on about the trip, what to expect, and in turn what he was expecting from them. He adjusted his glasses, searching the student's expressions and finding her eyes. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek before looking back at his notes.

By the time class had ended, she had written down things she wasn’t paying attention to. She’d been paying attention to him. Only him. And she couldn’t even fool herself into her fascination with him strictly existing just because of his teachings. It was far past that now.

She gathered her things, the room emptying of students. She stood, her gaze falling to him, stood behind his desk organising his folders.

She approached his desk, standing before it. She noticed that his jaw clenched, looking up at her from the frame of his glasses and raising his brows.

"You wanted to see me?"

“I did.”

She waited as he righted his desk, ensuring everything was in order before he finally regarded her.

“Your paper. I want to talk to you about it.”

Her stomach dropped. “The paper I just handed in?”

What would he have to say about it considering it had only been mere hours since he’d received it? She felt a flash of irritation, wondering if she’d ever be able to please this man.

“I don’t have time this week, so it’ll have to be next Monday. You’re my last class so I’ll be able to give you all of my attention.”

She felt warm at his words. At the promise of having his full attention, her body was alive with need and desire. His eyes were so intense, deep, and thick with thoughts she could see the complexity of.

But as the foggy haze of her absurd fantasies cleared, she frowned. Monday? It was Thursday now. Why didn’t he bring this up closer to the time? Did he just want her to stew in her worry until Monday?

Surely he couldn’t have read her paper already. Maybe he’d read the first paragraph only to crumble it up and lob it into his trashcan.

“Is it that bad?”

He shot her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “Monday, Violet.”

As she left the classroom, completely vexed and anxious, Charlie caught up with her.

“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Who?” She felt like she was barely there as she navigated the old building toward her next class.

“Styles. I mean, that paper we just did, for example. He ignores all of my hard work and focuses on the shit I’m doing wrong.”

Violet shrugged, “I mean, isn’t that what makes him a great professor? He points out what you need to improve on to do better.”

“Whatever. I feel like there’s no winning with him. At least we have this trip. You and I can ditch the group and do our own sightseeing.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes sparkled at his suggestion. And maybe if she wasn’t so hung up on someone she had no business being hung up on, she’d reciprocate Charlie’s enthusiasm.

Monday. She’d be seeing her favourite, constantly disgruntled professor on Monday.

It wasn’t hard to keep herself distracted until then. She attended her classes, her study load growing as each one passed. Her flatmate held a party on Saturday night, in which she’d spent most of it pressed up against Charlie, however avoiding his advances of something more.

He was sweet and funny but he wasn’t what she wanted and she was just a fuck to him. She felt bad that she’d even let that night happen. She’d just needed to feel something, something that wasn’t the ever-pressing crush she had on her professor.

She was wrecked with intolerable thoughts about her assignment. Was he going to fail her again? Tell that she wasn’t cut out for his class that she’d battled so hard to get into?

By the time Monday came around, she was a nervous wreck. She settled herself into a private nook in the library, her Walkman on hand and her collection of her favourite CDs.

She read every single piece about Pompeii that she could find. She wanted to be even more prepared for the trip, and have a better understanding of what it might entail.

And maybe having more knowledge of it would impress her professor.

Her last class on Monday was with him. As she entered and took her usual seat, he was setting up his material, dressed in plaid pants and a cozy looking sweater.

He used the knuckle of his pointer finger to adjust his glasses and flipped a pen in his other hand, staring over his class agenda.

She just loved watching him. There was something in his mannerisms that was so fascinating. He was mesmerising in the way he carried himself. From his large hands, which she always stared at, to his ever-expressive eyes.

The first time she’d spotted the cross tattooed on his hand, she had to go into the bathroom after class and slip her hand between her legs to quell the dampness there.

With a deep sigh, he focused on the class and ran a hand through his curls, though they fell back into the middle parting as always.

He seemed even more put off today. He spent most of his time voicing more details about the trip to Naples and running through multiple checklists before handing them out.

Where he would usually throw her a glance, he didn’t even look at her today. Not once. His seemingly permanent frown was set deeper.

Instead of his usual drabble, he had some poor soul at the front of the class read out the daily lives of those who lived in Pompeii before its demise.

She jotted down notes, but her eyes kept flickering to where he sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as if he were being read a lullaby.

As class came to a close, he stood, telling everyone to start preparing for the trip.

“Please refer to the list I handed out, and if you have any questions…” He twisted his lips, clasping his ringed fingers together. “Don’t.”

Her nerves were running haywire, sending electric currents through every part of her body as she stood with her bag and began to approach his desk. He was busying himself with the sprawl of clutter on the expanse of the aged wood.

She stood before it, and he looked up briefly before gathering a stack of papers and sliding them carefully into his satchel.

"Not here." His voice was so low that she felt it swirl in her ears like a thick, dreamy fog.

She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling intimidated to be alone with him again. Until a student approached the desk and asked for his aid on a project, and all she could do was stand there and wait.

"I just don't know how to make the connection." The student said.

He leaned over, staring at the paper. He nodded and then looked at Violet, "go and wait in my office. I'll only be a moment."

She felt her heart drop to her stomach at the authority in his tone. He looked at her for a second before focusing on the student who needed his help.

She tried to brush off her nerves as she arrived at his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk. She had no idea what was about to happen, but since it was regarding her assignment, she was beside herself with anxiety.

He stepped into his office with a sigh, running his hands along his thighs before taking a seat. He sifted through the drawer in his desk, taking out her assignment and reading over it.

“I’ve read your paper.” His voice was void of any emotion and it made her feel uneasy.

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she picked at the hem of her dress and avoided his eyes. He held up her assignment and stared at it.

“Violet… this is one of the best things a student has ever handed in to me.”

She took in a sharp breath, looking at him with wide eyes. She almost didn’t want to believe him. Or what was more believable was that he’d be jesting and then fail her. This wasn’t like the usual grumpy professor that she knew and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“I—Thank you, professor.”

“I could tell that it had potential when you handed it in. I’ve written some notes for you, but I wanted to go through them with you now.”

This was unheard of. He graded papers, jotted down brief notes behind his reasoning, and moved on. But this… this was beyond anything he’d ever done.

He was known for being insufferably unfair to his students. Yet he’d given her a second chance, and was now praising her work and wanted to express why.

“Okay.” She nodded, adjusting in her seat and trying to calm down her racing heart.

“Overall, it’s a well-thought-out paper. You have complete control of each point made and where your sources come from without sounding too recited. There are facts here, and you’ve shown how the influence that ancient Rome had in its prime is perceived nowadays… impressively. You’ve portrayed its people and politics really well.”

“Thank you.” She was struggling to believe this was actually happening.

“This is why I made you redo it. What you initially handed in was bland. But this is… you. Your authentic self and thoughts.” He gestured to the paper. “You’re passionate, and I can feel that when I read it. You’ve taken every aspect of what makes ancient history so fascinating and made it your own.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now.”

There was a flash of emotion across his face, his dimple appearing ever so slightly with a quirk of his lips. “Take my praise. I don’t give it often.”

“Wow, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His tone was suddenly warm, and his gaze brushed her neck for a second before finding her eyes once more.

��Professional opinion aside,” she toyed with the question on her tongue, feeling overwhelmed, “did you enjoy it?”

There it was again. Her question made his brow furrow in thought. He rarely enjoyed reading his student's work. Oftentimes, he was too preoccupied doing his job to feel any sense of enjoyment.

Why was it so important to her that he enjoyed it? He’d praised her work, and she wanted to know if he relished in reading it.

No one was as surprised as him when he found himself nodding slowly. “I did, actually. I like that it kept me intrigued and that I could sense how deeply you feel for the past.”

She wasn’t in his class for the wrong reasons, like he could see a lot of his students were. Some weren’t interested in anything past staring at him for an hour and then bullshitting their way through every paper they had to write. But she had a reason to be there, a drive to explore the past.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

Her expression was so burning and focused on him that he felt it in his gut. He remembered how she looked in that guy's arms and he swallowed, wondering if she would be just as soft in his.

He cleared his throat, shaking off the fog of her. She crossed one leg over the other and he blinked at the sight of more skin exposed under that sweet little dress she was in.

She released a breath as he stood, relieved that this whole interaction was one of positivity. She was elated that he had enjoyed her work, and moreover was elated that he had praised her as he did.

But as he stood, he rounded his desk and went behind her before he closed the door to his office.

She felt a wave of adrenaline wash over her, being alone with him. She questioned if he was even allowed to close the door, but she didn’t want to stop it from happening.

She watched as he walked in front of her, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed.

“Why history?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, everyone has a reason for their majors. Whether you’re in it for archiving, research, or curating, you’ve got a reason for choosing history. My question is why.”

She straightened under his scrutinising gaze. He adjusted his glasses before his hands rested back on the desk, curling around the lip of it. She stared at his rings, mesmerised.

“I find it fascinating to observe how humanity has changed, to see how we’ve improved and what we still need to work on. I like studying the past, preserving the stories, the art, the structures they left for us to see their legacy.”

He was floored, although his expression remained a trained unreadable one. To meet someone with these values wasn’t uncommon. However, she had a way with words that he adored.

Like every aspect of his own passion was laid out on her tongue and given back to him in a gentle vocal caress.

“So, you’re just as intrigued by their way of life as well as learning from their mistakes?”

“In fewer words, yes.”

“You’re in it for the right reasons.”

“Are there any wrong reasons?” She frowned.

“Greed.” He said simply, not giving any clarification.

“Why do you teach?”

He tilted his head, his hands smoothing down his strong thighs. “I have a lot of experience in the field, as you may know. I wanted to extend that knowledge to people with the kind of drive I admire. The lust for research and preserving history. I’m good at it, and I have a lot to give you so that you can be just as good.”

His choice of words turned her mouth dry. I have a lot to give you. She knew he meant a lot of his wisdom and knowledge, but his eyes were sparkling with something she couldn’t decipher.

“I love your class.”

“Is that so? Is that why you asked if I enjoyed your paper?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “Are you trying to impress me?”

She smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. I like the assignments you give us and the way you teach. It’s informative and exciting at the same time.”

“I like that,” he said, mulling deep in his thoughts, “it’s a nice change. To have someone care about their studies as opposed to struggle through them.”

“Oh, the struggle is still there.” She laughed and she spied a hint of a smile teasing his lips before he could disguise it.

He took a step forward and her eyes followed as he gauged how close he wanted to get. She gripped the arms of the chair as he stood in front of her, a jeweled hand reaching out to brush a few strands of her hair away from her face.

She hoped he couldn’t tell how hard she was shaking. Their eyes didn’t leave one another as his fingers brushed softly down, moving her hair away from her shoulder so he could look at her neck before he retracted all touch completely.

“You covered it.” He mumbled, his voice so low that she thought she imagined it.

“I did.”

“Good gi—“ He cleared his throat loudly. “Good. It’s not professional.”

Her brows raised at his almost slip up. She wondered if he was going to say exactly what she thought he was. And she almost begged him to call her that. Just once. Just so that she could go home and think about it in the shower, alone with nothing but the memory of him.

He leaned against his desk again, his gaze searing. She couldn’t breathe and pressed her thighs together to dull the ache his touch had left.

“Do you want to impress me, Violet?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’m going to give you some extra work to do for me.”

For me. Her eyes fluttered. “You are?”

“I am.” His voice was slow, dreamy. “For my enjoyment, and your benefit.”

This, he thought, is where he should stop. He could feel the vapour of arousal lick at him in warm swirls. The way she was looking at him had him near crumbling. So innocent and intrigued by the prospect of impressing him. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself again. From going too far.

“My benefit?”

“Yes. I’ll reward you, of course.”

“What kind of reward?”

“Whatever the teacher’s pet wants.”

Her entire body became warm and gooey, though her nerves did not settle. Instead, they amplified the longer he simply stared at her, unwavering.

“What does this extra work entail, Professor?”

He didn’t smile—although he wanted to, and straightened. He rounded his desk, producing a small stack of papers, the top one decorated with his sprawl. He walked back over, handing it to her.

He looked her in the eye, his face serious. “Only do what you want to do. Extra work and rewards. Do you understand?”

“Okay.” She said simply, feeling overwhelmed and heated. As if he had read her mind, viewed her deepest, darkest fantasy of being his pet and making it a reality. Her mind was buzzing with what extra work he’d have her doing.

“There are only a few things there.” He nodded to the papers. “Some extra assignments if you can do them as well as this one. Also, some preparation for the class trip if you’re up for it.”

She scanned through the list, seeing the assignment topics from subjects he’d vaguely taught them about. She felt a twinge of excitement at the idea of doing more for him.

“And my reward…?”

His lips twitched like he was amused. “Extra credit, of course.”

She felt a pang of disappointment. But then what else was he meant to offer her? She wasn’t about to turn town extra credit or the chance to impress him. She was already on his radar as someone he could count on. The thought made her all giddy and warm inside.

“I’m very grateful, professor.”

“You have potential. As you finish each one, come and see me.”

“Thank you, I will.” She nodded. She’d try her absolute hardest to complete them, and as he said, only the ones she wanted to. She eyed the list again.

He stepped forward once more, and she braced herself for the contact again. She was still spiraling from when he touched her. Her cheek still tingled from his fingers and she felt desperate to have that feeling renewed.

But then someone knocked on the door once before entering. “Hey, Harry, I—oh. Hello.”

Another faculty member she recognised from the economics department. Her cheeks flushed as he eyed her before looking at the grumpy professor in front of her.

Harry. She’d always known his name, but hearing someone actually call him by his first name made him seem more… real. Less like a history robot and more like the man she fantasised about.

“Forgive me.” He cringed, “I didn’t know you had company.”

“That’s generally why you knock.” Professor Styles grumbled, however checking his watch with a sigh.

“I did—"

“Get started on those, Miss Walters. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”

Blushing, she stood and ducked her head, leaving the room hastily. The list was crumpled in her fist as she made her way home. Alice was ready to ask her about her day, and they quickly got distracted watching reruns of some old sitcom. But the list he’d given her stayed on the forefront of her mind.

And as the week dragged on, she made her way through the few assignments he’d given her. They weren’t full-length assignments and differed heavily from the kind he handed out to the whole class, as he’d stated. She found them quite easy, the basis of them fitted her strengths.

Had he tailored these to her? Had he enjoyed her work so much that he wanted more? It was like he’d hand-picked his favourite topics they’d briefly covered in class and was now asking her to do what she pleased with them.

She spent all of her time between classes in the huge library. It was undoubtedly her favourite section of Oxford, and she spent many hours getting lost in the ornate building, the old books, and the history they shared.

She sat at one of the aged desks, a sprawl of books in front of her as she finished up her second extra assignment. She took on his advice. She double-checked her facts, and added drabble that made the paper more exciting and gripping to the reader. Him.

She’d even gotten a head start on the third assignment he’d given her. Although she knew she’d have to spend more time locating sources for the topic, she figured it would look good if he saw that she’d started it. All she wanted was to impress him. To prove herself. She knew she had the talent, and he was fully appreciating it.

As her day wrapped up, she found herself swirling through the halls towards his office, a completed assignment in hand. Considering their class trip was only in a matter of days, she figured he’d be too busy to see her.

She approached the oak door and knocked, hearing his voice on the other side telling her to come in.

She opened the door, and his eyes fell on her immediately. On her pretty yellow dress and the hem that fell to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was in its usual ponytail held together with a pale blue scrunchie. He liked watching it swish through the air as she walked.

“Hi,” she said softly, while his expression was hard. “I finished another assignment. Do you have time?”

Technically? No. He had a pressing amount of things to grade. But the hope on her face and the way she looked so fucking pretty made it impossible for him to turn her away.

He moved his work aside, clearing his mind so that she was the only thing on it. “Take a seat.”

She took a deep breath and entered the room fully, leaving the door open which was a detail he didn’t miss. She placed the assignment in his hand and he felt the urge to read it immediately. To be wrapped up in her thoughts.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” His voice rolled through her ears like a steady stream tumbling over smooth rocks.

“I felt inspired.”

“By what?” He tilted his head.

“Not what,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Who.”

A sliver of a smile touched his lips before it was gone without a trace. “Okay, then. Who?”

“You.”

“Me.” He parroted as if he didn’t believe her.

“You always have inspired me, but hearing what drives you and how you came to teach made me want to work harder. To give history as much as you’ve given it.”

He felt something warm him. He was almost bashful at her praise, where usually it would inflame his ego. But coming from her, from her earnest and sweet heart. It was different.

“I’m glad you find my teachings useful.”

“They really helped with this paper.”

“How did you find it?”

She mulled over her thoughts. Endearing. Intriguing. Enriching. “The perfect amount of challenging. It made me think but my thoughts came naturally.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips. “I knew you’d apply all that I’ve taught you and pull through.”

“And I hope you enjoy it as much as my last one.”

“I’m sure I will. Come and see me tomorrow after your last class and I’ll give you my notes.”

She liked the idea of hearing his musings on her own work. He saw her potential and her drive. Enjoyed what she handed in and told her how much and why.

“Tomorrow.” She smiled a little, standing and slinging her bag up to her shoulder. “I can’t wait.”

There was something in her tone at the sentiment. The hue of it. A soft, wispy colour as pretty as her dress. He wondered if it was flirtation but quickly threw the idea aside.

He couldn’t wish for such things with his student, no matter what signals she sent him. But she was his little teacher’s pet now, and something about having that claim on her was driving him mad.

After a grueling study session in her well-loved nook of the library, she went home to pack for the trip to Naples. There was a checklist criteria for what to bring and what to leave behind.

She threw some of her favourite summer dresses into her suitcase, a few pairs of shoes, and a few extra outfits of baggy jeans and band t-shirts.

She had class with Professor Styles the next day, in which he’d handed out light material in preparation for the trip. Essential knowledge and ground rules.

It seemed he viewed the whole ordeal as a burden. An annoyance. He was taking twenty students away, with only one other member of the faculty joining to help him out. A teacher, who happened to be from Naples, would be staying with their family between class adventures.

He’d rather be sunbathing in Naples than traipsing around ancient ruins with students he despised. Mostly.

He didn’t acknowledge her for the whole lecture, save an initial glance as she’d taken her usual seat. But he’d almost switch off any form of warmth he had towards her when they were in the class environment.

He was his usual grumpy self, impatient with everyone and snapping at anyone who was talking when he was.

She had a free period to end her day, and she used it to finish up some assignments for her other classes as well as work on one of the extra ones he had given her. It was about half done, but she knew to prioritise her other class papers over this one.

She made her way to his office again, and this time it somehow meant more. She felt the weight of entering his space, and it was because of how he seemed to change around her.

That icy demeanour of him melted just enough for her to see the genuine man that lay beneath it.

She knocked, waiting for him to tell her to enter before opening the door. His outfit palette today was soft browns and beige, his glasses perched on his nose while his eyes gleamed behind them.

He looked at her briefly before nodding to the seat and turning back to his work, his expensive ballpoint pen twirling between his fingers. She stared at the bright yellow pen with a smile, noting how it was the exact opposite of his mood; bright, sunny, and cheerful.

She sat in the chair and realised that she felt less and less nervous with every moment she spent alone with him. She’d never felt uncomfortable around him per se, but his intimidating nature was a constant reminder that she couldn’t want him. Shouldn’t want him. But she did.

His jaw worked on a piece of gum, and he frowned as he adjusted his glasses and continued writing on whatever he was working on.

She decided to get comfortable, settling deeper into the chair, figuring he was deeply enthralled with his work. She eyed the bookshelf to her left and scanned his personal library.

She didn’t even realise that he was trying to get her attention, too focused on his book collection, searching for clues as to who he was. Who he was outside of this office, outside of his profession.

“Violet?”

“Hm?” She turned to face him.

He retrieved her assignment from under a stack of other ones he was grading. “I’m wondering why every assignment you’ve given me hasn’t been as good as these last few.”

Oh. Her brows raised. It was a compliment to her most recent work while putting down everything else she’d given him prior to these. She’d always had the drive and passion, but it was evident that something had changed.

“I guess I just felt more inspired. I’ve enjoyed these topics a lot and felt compelled to do them well.” She frowned. “I thought I’d done well with every other assignment, though.”

“You did—obviously, as I passed you. You clearly didn’t do them as well, however, hence my praise.”

“That’s very nice to hear, especially from you.”

His lips quirked at her sheer and utter adoration for him. She valued what he had to say, looked up to him, and the influence he’d had in the younger demographic of Ancient History.

“Well, you deserve it. You work hard, and you’re driven by your passion. That’s rare to come by.”

She could only imagine what he himself was like as a student however many years ago. Like her, he’d studied at Oxford, and after not too long in the field, had felt the need to come back but as part of the faculty.

“Thank you.” She replied, unsure of what else to say. She felt like she was being pinned to her seat by his searing gaze and she wriggled in it, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Help me with this itinerary for the trip.”

“The itinerary?”

“It’s mostly done. There’s a bunch of books and brochures here, if you see anything you’d particularly like to do, add it to the timesheet and make it work.”

She gawked at him like he’d grown three heads. Her? Help him with the itinerary for the class trip?

“Isn’t this your job?” She felt brave enough to ask. “Like, am I allowed to be doing this?”

“Yes it is, and yes you are.” His tone was so final that she didn’t feel a ribbon of unease lace through her mind.

She scooted forward so that she could use the desk, while he sat at the other side and graded papers. She scanned through the travel brochures and circled things she thought could be educationally beneficial, and eventually started going through the itinerary.

She loved planning and organising, and she wondered if he knew that. Maybe he’d picked up on how pedantic she was about her own class planners and thought this little job would be fun for her. He wasn’t even marginally wrong.

Over her work, she risked quick glances at him. Ones that dared to adventure over his posture, his stern, and concentrated expression. The way he chewed on the tip of his pen, how he would take off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He was so endearing and she found herself watching him more and more, getting lost in how effortlessly beautiful he was.

He was still grouchy and short with her when she asked questions, and she had smiled whenever he’d huff and grumble under his breath at whatever he was grading.

“You seem particularly melancholy today.” She observed softly, and his eyes flashed to hers before he placed his pen down and laced his fingers together, leaning forward on the desk.

“Am I always melancholy?”

“I think so.”

“And you’re always vibrant.”

As bad as his mood appeared, he seemed to enjoy her company.

She mulled over the itinerary that he’d drafted, editing bits here and there. She had a sprawl of books on his desk, scanning through top tourist spots and mapping out the best walking routes.

There was a moment where he took a break, stretching his arms high over his head with a soft groan she almost missed. She hadn’t even realised that she was looking at him, enamoured and intrigued by his display of exhaustion when he always seemed so energised.

“Stop staring.” He stared at her over the frame of his glasses, his head tilted down.

She blushed, looking down at the itinerary. “I’m not.”

“I saw you.”

“Sorry.”

He watched as she focused a little too hard on a not-so-interesting book and he smiled. He’d called her out, as if he hadn’t been staring at her, too.

She hadn’t realised the time, unknowingly lost in her work for almost two hours. His pager beeped and he checked it, flipping his pen between his fingers as he read.

He reached over, grabbing the itinerary, pretty much complete, and nodding as he scanned it. He could see the depth and excitement that she had added to it and he suppressed a smile.

“I’ll go over this tonight.”

“I added a few different things there. Restaurants, as well as some historical sights and important cultural landmarks.”

He nodded, impressed. “Very good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“As for the next assignment, I want that tomorrow.”

“We fly to Naples tomorrow.” She frowned,

“I know.”

His icy and cold guise returned. He was her professor demanding something, and she could hardly turn him down. The paper was half done and lucky for her, it wouldn’t be difficult to complete.

“Okay.” She nodded, standing and gathering her things. “It’ll be all yours tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond, turning back to his work. She’d learned to decipher his cues, and took his silence as her own time to leave. She had a lot to do before their trip and she took one last glance at his solemn expression before leaving.

As she closed the door, his eyes went up to the door. Then to the chair where she’d been sitting. His office now felt like a void of who he wanted to be. Influential, important, inspiring. All things that he rarely felt while he was stuck in an old classroom all day.

But then students like her came along. The ones alight with wonder and fascination that wanted to have his success touch them. They weren’t in his class simply because it was a requirement. They were in his class because they were eager to harbour influence of their own.

She spent all night going over her pack list, finalising her outfits and essentials for a couple of nights away. She dotted back to her paper often, wanting to have it complete. She struggled to wrap up her conclusion, and no later fell asleep on her bed, surrounded by her books and topic materials.

Her alarm went off, shrilling deep in her skull. She groaned, killing the sound and stretching. Checking the time, she noted that she only had a matter of hours until she needed to be at Heathrow airport.

She was in some type of trance as she got herself ready. She showered, ate a light breakfast, and readied her luggage. At the last minute, she grabbed the assignment that needed to be done and shoved it into her purse.

After securing a seat on the train, she got to work on it. Tossing back and forth between an abundance of different conclusions. Why did preservation matter? Why were artifacts archived how they were? How were stories of history pieced together?

All such basic questions to her whirring mind, and yet she struggled to encapsulate her thoughts in the unique way that she knew he loved. With a sigh, she put it away. She’d finish it on the flight.

After she arrived at the airport, she headed towards check-in, her small turquoise suitcase in tow. That's when she saw him, and she stopped dead in the hustle of travelers.

She had never seen him so paired back. He was dressed far more casual than his dress pants and sweaters and suits. But he was no less fashionable. She eyed his black, loose fitted pants, the worn vans on his feet, and yellow-stained sunglasses. As loose as his pants were, his t-shirt was anything but. A graphic white one that hugged him and left little to one's imagination.

And tattoos. Lots of them.

She'd only ever seen the cross on his hand and the inklings of something on his wrist. But she could see that his full arm was covered with them. Smatterings of ink, personal depictions, and dedications.

The ship on his upper arm rippled as his muscles flexed, his designer suitcase in his hand.

He looked grumpy, like always. However, the yellow sunnies over his eyes concealed some of his irritation.

His eyes found hers and he peered at her as she approached. She smiled, shy and suddenly nervous about this trip, and moreover, him.

She noticed that the rest of her class was already present, and Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he greeted her. Professor Styles' mouth twisted at the physical touch between the two before clearing his throat.

No one was paying attention until he stuck his fingers into his mouth and released an ear-piercing whistle, quieting down and facing him.

“Roll call. Be quiet.”

It took some time for every student to settle down, far too excited and chatty to keep quiet enough for him to call out everyone's name to confirm their presence.

As he called out Violet’s name, she raised her hand and watched his expression sour at Charlie's arm still wrapped around her.

Not wanting to be inappropriate, she slowly stepped away from Charlie, who was far too concerned with scoping out the other girls who were around.

They gathered, waiting in line to check in per Professor Styles’ instructions. He handed out the finalised itinerary that they had both worked on, and now everyone had their own copies. She wanted to approach him, but he was busy keeping everyone organised while the other teacher talked at the front desk.

It wasn’t until they were on air side, that he found her in line for coffee and pursed his lips.

“Did you finish the assignment?”

“Almost.”

He raised a brow, his arms crossed and accentuating his muscles and how inked they were. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost.” She affirmed, not missing his look of surprise at her tone, but she continued. “I’ll finish it on the flight.”

“We’ll be in the sky for five hours, Violet. I expect it to be done, so don’t get distracted.”

She almost snorted. What could possibly distract her on a flight? And right on cue, Charlie popped up next to her with a cheeky grin.

“How’s it hangin’, sir?” His grin widened as he stared at their disgruntled professor.

“Fine.” He grumbled, staring Charlie down before looking at Violet. “I want it before we land.”

As he sauntered off, Charlie released a sharp breath. “You’d think he’d crack a smile considering the fact that we’re going on holiday.”

“Of course, you’d see this as a holiday.”

“I heard our hotel has a pool.” He bumped his hip against hers.

She gave him a fake smile, worming out of his hold. “Can’t wait.”

Half way through the flight, she’d found herself polishing off her paper, just how he ordered. The conclusion was strong and unwavering, her skill and passion shining through each word.

She’d managed to avoid sitting next to Charlie, instead, she was next to two girls she enjoyed talking to, although they were a bit quiet during class and outside of it, it was so different. Everyone seemed to busy themselves with studying the itinerary for the trip, bubbling with excitement.

She read over her paper twice, thoroughly proud of it, and she couldn’t wait to have her favourite professor read it. She knew he was a few rows back, and stood, remembering that he wanted it before they landed.

Standing with a stretch, she made her way towards the back, scanning the faces for his, and finding those expressive eyes almost immediately. He was sitting alone in a row of three seats, and she wondered if he’d just gotten lucky or paid for three tickets.

His attention had been on a book before he’d found her eyes. She didn’t get the chance to study the cover of it before he was tucking it away and staring up at her expectably as she came to a halt by his row.

“Yes?”

She held up the completed paper with a look of triumph. “It’s done.”

He felt at odd sensation of pride wash over him. To be fair, he had given her quite a lot to do. And for her to finish it within such a small frame of time, while maintaining the immaculate value of her work, was an incredible feat.

So, he actually smiled. It was small but big enough that his dimples indented his cheeks a little.

“Attagirl. I knew you could do it.”

Her cheeks flushed at his praise and his smile. Two glimmeringly beautiful facets of him that she’d never seen, especially the latter. Fuck, his smile. So soft and serene and dreamy. It was verging on heartbreaking that he didn’t wear it more.

“I hope it’s good.”

“Knowing you… it will be.”

“You’re too kind.” She said bashfully.

He flipped through the assignment, nodding his head with pursed lips. He opened his mouth to say something, gesturing to the empty seat next to him before the sound that accompanied the lighting of the seatbelt signal interrupted him.

He sighed, adjusting his glasses before buckling up. “You better get back to your seat.”

She nodded, unaware that it took everything within him to not invite her to sit on his lap.

They landed in Naples in the early hours of the afternoon, and were shuffled onto a waiting bus towards their first destination of the trip. Professor Styles had done a roll call and had already lost all patience with the loud group he was stuck with.

Their luggage was sent to their hotel, where they’d be turning in after their activities. They were given a tour of the huge city. The driver pointed out landmarks as they passed them.

The expanse of the ocean was pristine cerulean, invitingly crisp, the shore framed with exquisite buildings that crawled up the steep cliffsides. It was bright. Awash with blues and yellows and pinks and reds. Hues that depicted such a lively city so well.

Violet practically had her face pressed up against her window in the bus, admiring how glorious it was. It was densely packed with culture and entertainment and history. She was itching to get out and explore, smell the fresh air and taste the experiences on her tongue.

Their first tourist spot was the National Archaeological Museum. Professor Styles separated his students into two groups, one with him, and one with the other teacher.

To her delight, she was with him, and by the look in his eyes, he was just as happy about it. Maybe he even planned it that way. What he didn’t plan on, however, was Charlie sneaking into his group so that he could be with Violet. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the flash of irritation that almost blinded him.

The museum was phenomenal. Showcasing historical artefacts that had been unearthed by many. There was an abundance of exhibitions, which they were led through by their professor.

She took photos on her disposable camera, one of which had him in the frame, and she wouldn’t realise until she got her film developed.

Following the tour of the largest part of the museum, he turned to face the group. He had noticed Charlie being a nuisance, especially towards Violet and he made a point to ask her about it if he got her alone. He cleared his mind, trying to remain professional but struggling when she was staring at him like she was.

“Archaeologists and historians work together to teach the world about history. About daily lives, historical events, and structures. They excavate the history, and we tell its story. I hope you all feel inspired by what we’ve seen today because I want you to choose a piece and include it in your assignment.”

The group murmured, gathering their notebooks and fluttering around the exhibitions, attempting to find one that could merge in with the topic seamlessly.

Violet found herself on the second floor of the impressive building, completely enamoured with how beautiful it all was. Rich with history and chronicles of the past.

She found a detailed model of what Pompeii had been in its prime. Detailed, intricate and precise. Her eyes wandered the tiny streets where people walked thousands of years ago.

It changed her perspective, seeing it all laid out in front of her gave it so much more weight in her heart. She felt the passion and interest wrap warmly around her like how the Italian sun had kissed her skin; new, inviting, and blissful.

She took a few pictures of it, wanting something to refer back to just in case. As she stared through the lens, she felt a presence behind her. Her professor, stood tall and intimidating, though his expression was composed yet warm.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” He nodded towards the model.

“It’s amazing.” She breathed, sharply aware of him standing next to her.

His shoulder brushed hers and she froze. She wanted his touch. Wanted him to out his hands on her and praise her. She hadn’t stopped thinking about when he reached out and brushed her hair away in his office.

“Is he bothering you?”

It appeared that their minds were in two separate places. Her, desperate for his attention, and him, desperate to keep Charlie’s attention off of her.

“Who—Charlie?”

“Because if he is,” he continued, frowning. “He can do his assignment back home.”

And perhaps knowing that she and Charlie shared a night together, sending him away wouldn’t be strictly for her benefit. He felt protective over her, and yeah, he was jealous. He wanted her and he hated to admit it. But seeing her here, in this city, in this room, felt like the final nail in the coffin.

“It’s fine, I can handle him.”

If only she knew how much he saw the depth in that statement.

“Okay, just let me know.”

“Why?” She was perplexed. His tone was almost… territorial. It was more than a teacher protecting his student.

“Because I want to take care of you.”

Her eyes fluttered as they found his, and she felt a rush of arousal spark between her legs at the sheer hunger on his face and in his tone. Fuck. This couldn’t happen. He was her professor.

This was far from appropriate but the way he was looking at her like he wanted to devour and savour her at the same time was driving her wild.

She didn’t know how to respond, but let him take her hand and lead her towards some shelves in the back of the room. They housed artifacts from Pompeii, preserved from excavation sites.

She barely had a chance to look before he was leading her on towards the Gabinetto Segreto. She frowned, halting.

“What is this?”

“My favourite exhibition.” His eyes told her nothing but mischief, and he made sure the coast was clear before ushering her in.

She was taken aback. His favourite exhibition threw all inhibition out of their minds. Sexually graphic paintings, carvings, molds, and statues. Incredibly erotic and lewd.

He watched her in the room, thankfully empty of any other museum visitors. She approached a particularly sensual painting, framed in deep marble, a woman on top of a man, both in seated positions.

“What do you think?” He asked her, his veins thrumming with life and excitement.

Her cheeks were warm, and she was very aware of his gaze on her in the room full of sexual depictions. “I think… people have always had fascinations about bodies. About sex. It’s humanising to see it depicted so early in human civilisation.”

Was it normal for that to turn him on so much? She was clearly feeling the intensity of the room and yet was in her mind enough to give him an answer that reflected her passion for his class.

“Mm.. and how does it make you feel?” His voice was so low as he came to stand behind her.

“Feel?”

“To be surrounded by ancient erotic art. How does it make you feel?”

She let out a shaky sigh, unsure of how to answer. She felt lightheaded and heated and knew the only way to quell it was to have some attention between her legs.

He picked up on her silence, thinking maybe she couldn’t gauge what kind of response he was wanting. “I’ll start. It makes me feel like recreating every piece of art in here.”

Her eyes widened at his confession, feeling so shocked that he would go in that direction but so pleased that he did. Was he just as deep in lust for her as she was for him?

“Me too.” She breathed out, and he swore lowly.

“These were all excavated from Pompeii and Herculaneum. They were kept in brothels, homes—anywhere, really. They had an appreciation for erotica and displaying it. So they allotted this space in the museum. For a time, they only allowed men to come in here and view it.”

She could listen to him talk for hours, and then she realised that she did. And loved every millisecond of it. How his lips caressed words, how he spoke a few octaves lower than most, but it was still a milky and warm voice that rang through her ears.

“Lucky me.” She smiled. He wondered how she truly felt. Aside from the obvious, she found it almost funny to think that people thousands of years ago were fortifying lands and yet found a common ground in sexual art.

He huffed out a laugh and her heart just about stopped at the noise. “Not as lucky as whoever had this hanging on their wall.”

He pointed to a large painting of a couple embracing, his skin golden against the woman’s fair skin. The preservation was amazing, aside from slight erosion of the colour and some cracks near the bottom.

“It’s very intimate.” She observed. It was—like everything else in the room—sexual. But the strokes of paint were soft, their hold on each other even more so. Love. Care.

He wanted to know if someone had held her like that. So gentle, savouring every inch of skin. Worshiping her like the piece of art that she was.

After a filling dinner at a nearby restaurant, they all found themselves at their hotel. They gathered their room keys, and each partnered up to share a room for the trip. As Violet and her professor were the last two standing in the lobby, they eyed each other awkwardly.

“This has to be a mistake.” He frowned, staring at the concierge. The other teacher was staying close by with family. Harry was sure that he’d requested his own room in the hotel. This couldn’t be happening. “Is there another room available?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He sighed, clenching his jaw. He wanted to hole up in his room and order expensive wine and listen to music. Now he had to face the reality that he’d be sharing a room. With her. Maybe he’d sleep out in the hallway.

Instead of making a scene and taking out his frustration onto the person at reception, he stared at Violet, whose eyes were wide with what appeared to be apprehension.

“I can find another hotel to stay at.” He said lowly to her.

“With the number of people you’re caring for, I would advise against that, Sir. The nearest hotels are also fully booked.”

Harry glared at the concierge. The concept of staying in the same room as one of his students was a harsh pill to swallow. A jarring sensation. He was being faced with one of his deepest fantasies but now all he felt was that he was a creep.

He sighed, and met her eyes. “Come on.”

She blinked away her surprise and followed him. She could see how tense he was as his knuckle jabbed the button to call the elevator. She bit her lip and stared at him.

“Professor—”

“I swear to you I demanded a separate room.”

She frowned, seeing the worry in his eyes. He thought she saw this as something he had planned out. He felt sick about it.

“It’s out of your control. They clearly messed up the bookings, it’s fine.” She assured him, although her nerves were shooting through the roof. She had no idea how the night was going to go, or the rest of this trip, for that matter.

They arrived at their room and he took a deep breath before opening it. It was lavish, thought she expected him to book nothing less. A small seating and kitchen area, and a set of double doors that must have led off to the bedroom.

He located his duffel bag dropped off by the staff and rummaged through it. “I’ll take the couch.”

She stood awkwardly in the room. “Oh, okay.”

He took his toiletry bag, sauntering into the en suite in the bedroom. “Just gonna shower.”

Her eyes followed him, his tense body language putting her on edge. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. Once she heard the shower turn on, she quickly changed into her sleepwear, soft silk pants, and an old t-shirt.

To keep herself busy and keep her anxiety at bay, she began working on her assignment for the class trip. Taking notes and jotting down observations she’d made. She was cozied up on the window seat, overlooking the city with a soaring heart.

He came out, his hair dripping, wetting his white t-shirt. The grey sweats on his bottom half left her speechless. Now, this was the most dressed down she’d ever seen him.

“We should get some sleep.” He said, eyeing the notebook in her hand.

“Yeah, o—of course.”

“And don’t worry I… I’ll see about getting another room tomorrow. Surely they’ll have a free one by then.”

“I don’t mind.” She blurted out, worried that he thought she was seeing him as utterly inappropriate. “It’s not… I mean, it is kinda weird but this whole mix-up is out of our control. We’re adults. We’ll make it work.”

“You’re right.” He huffed out a breath, seemingly relaxed at that. They could make it work. It was going to be a mission to shelf his attraction to her, but he kept putting on his professional hat, even though her wandering gaze was warming him up inside.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She breezed past him, and he could smell her sweet scent.

“Good night, Violet.”

She paused at the door, about to close them when she turned back to look at him with a sultry expression that made his dick hard.

“Sweet dreams, professor.”

Suffice it to say, his dreams were anything but.

“Listen up! I’m not in the mood to repeat myself.”

It had been an eventful morning and they hadn’t even left the hotel yet. They were piled into a bus, and Charlie was sitting next to Violet, chatting her ear off.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off her professor's disgruntled expression. How she’d seen more of him than any student had before.

How he’d hidden his smile when she offered to make him coffee that morning, how his voice was far deeper after sleep.

How he’d effortlessly slipped back into his cold and disheartening demeanour after he’d gotten dressed. A pair of grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt. She tried to brush it off and pretend it didn’t bother her, but she wanted his warmth and all he gave her was soft glimpses of it before he shut her out again.

“Remember what we are here for. Keep your minds open and explore this unique opportunity. I won’t be supplying material when we return to class, so gather everything you need today. Is that understood?”

The students nodded, hearing him loud and clear. Violet checked that she had her notebook and disposable camera on hand, feeling inspired to make this assignment her best one yet.

Pompeii was everything she had dreamt of and everything she never knew she could experience. It was a phenomenal sight to see. To really walk the streets which had been wandered down before. Where lives had fled as Mount Vesuvius unleashed its wrath, coughing up poisonous ash and spewing deadly lava.

She trudged through the fallen streets, imagining what it must have been like. Danger looming. Harrowing screams. Grasping for valuables as they fled.

Her disposable camera seldom left her hands, and the click of her taking shots set off Charlie’s impatient streak in him.

“Let me give you a personal tour.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“I really want to focus on this.”

“Come on, Violet. You’ll have way more fun with me.”

She sighed as he attempted to take the camera from her hands. “Charlie, please. It was one night and it won’t happen again. Let it go.”

“Why the sudden switch up?” He frowned.

“I just… I want to focus on passing this assignment, okay?” And she was bored of him. Another, far more intriguing man has eclipsed her every thought.

“Fine by me. I’ll show someone else around.” He sauntered off and she glared at his back.

She rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the task at hand. At being in such a beautiful place, struck by such a disaster.

The class had all spread out by that point, and she fought to stay by herself. She worked best that way, alone with her thoughts. No pressure to fake her interest in anything aside from the historical site before her.

She sat at the edge of a small field, framed by stone arches and fallen buildings, crumbling walls. She began to sketch out the scene before her, listening to music on her Walkman, lost in her work as Duran Duran blessed her ears.

She felt the presence of someone sitting next to her, and she looked up, surprised to see her grumpy professor. His mouth moved as it formed words and she frowned, pulling her headphones off.

“I’m sorry?”

He looked amused, albeit annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “I said, I didn’t know that you could draw.”

She smiled sheepishly, staring down at her drawing. “It’s just a rough sketch. I’m a visual learner, so it helps, gives me something to refer back to if I need it.”

“It’s pretty good. You could incorporate it into the assignment.” He seemed impressed.

“That’s allowed?”

“Only because I said so.”

She bit her lip to hide her smile, although he saw her cheeks become a stunning shade of pink that he associated only with her. Like saturated carnations or his favourite ice cream, boysenberry with strawberry swirls.

She was worming her way into his brain like a rotten apple and he could only sit and watch the decay.

“I just called the hotel. They’re still fully booked—”

“Last night wasn’t horrible.” She said. “We both kept to ourselves and slept well. Unless you want a turn in the bed tonight.”

It was his turn to blush now, and she didn’t miss it.

“The couch is fine.” He grumbled, embarrassed.

She wanted to tease him. To tug that soft side of him out. But a large part of her knew he’d reprimand her for it. Use his authority on her. Not that she’d mind, but it wasn’t a way to get through to him in the slightest.

“What’s on the itinerary, then?”

He shot her a look. “You should know, considering you did it.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like what I chose. If I remember correctly, I put us down for an afternoon of relaxing at the beach and self-appointed activities.”

“I never did ask what self-appointed entails.”

“Well, it could entail a number of things. Exploring the city, working on papers, grading papers,” she leaned in towards him. “Anything, it’s just downtime.”

“Downtime.” He parroted.

“That’s a completely foreign concept for you, isn’t it?”

He stifled a laugh and nodded. “Any and all free time I have is spent on you,” he cleared his throat, “my classes, I mean.”

“Maybe take some time to relax today, then. Even if just for a few hours before dinner.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed, staring down at her Walkman. “You always carry that thing around.”

He was a lot more observant of her than he was ever going to admit. And they both picked up on it. He stared at her red and white sundress for a time, wondering if she’d worn it just for him to agonise over. He had been all fucking morning. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

As she opened her mouth to respond, he stood with a gruff, “I need to check in with everyone else. Keep working.”

She did, the sun browning her skin, her tiny sundress the only thing he could think about as he talked with other students and showed them around.

She ventured Pompeii some more, taking pictures, penciling quick sketches, and let her eyes wander over to him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. But he always was, and they both looked away quickly.

Charlie seemed to forget all about the rejection she’d given him by the time they were at the beach and lounging on sunbeds. Violet had taken a dip, but was mostly into reclining in her little yellow bikini.

She slipped her shades up onto her head as she took in the scene before her. Most of the students had joined them, a few had ventured into the city.

But it was a rarity any of them got to see the sun and sand like this, so they practically melted in the experience, vowing to never leave.

She let her eyes scan the beach, her book tucked into her side on a dog-eared page. She enjoyed people-watching. Seeing her fellow students thrive under the golden sun, and seeing families make memories.

And Professor Styles. Stretched out on a sunbed far from everyone else. Yellow swimming shorts, bronzed skin, decorated in tattoos, both arms flexed as he stretched them above his head.

Her mouth dried at the sight. How toned and prominent he was. She could easily imagine herself sitting on top of him, mapping out each tattoo, licking, kissing, biting. Admiring.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, he looked up, a lone finger sliding his shades down to look at her. And lip quirked up on one side in a subtle smirk that made her toes curl. So, he got especially cocky when he was half-naked.

She tried to turn her attention back onto her book, but it was an effort to think of anything else other than him. She craved his touch, even though all he had given her was a whisp of it in his office.

They were dangling themselves in front of each other, temptation and lust awry, waiting for who would take the plunge first.

Following a game of cat and mouse, trying to catch each other’s eyes, it was time to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner at a local restaurant.

She beat him to the room, grabbing a quick shower, almost ready by the time he entered the room.

He could smell her sweet perfume as he entered the room, the air humid from a long shower. She was sitting at the vanity in the bedroom, swiping mascara on her wispy lashes.

Her eyes met his in the mirror, disappointed to find him dressed in a t-shirt, those same yellow shorts allowing her to see his tattooed thigh.

“How was your downtime?” She asked him.

He came up behind her, still watching each other in the mirror. “It was good. Although, a girl was gawking at me the whole time. Didn’t think my body was that atrocious.”

He was teasing her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, and so she played along.

“I’m sure atrocious was the last thing on her mind.”

“You think so?”

“Maybe you should have asked her.”

“I thought about it.”

She held her breath. “Did you?”

“Mm. Thought about inviting her over to my sunbed… asking her what had captured her attention. I knew what she was thinking but I just wanted to hear her say it.”

“Say what?” She breathed out. His eyes were so intense. Molten and demanding, holding hers with such a ferocity that she felt it between her legs.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now Violet, when have I ever given you the answers to a test?”

She released a shaky sigh, tilting her head away from him, allowing him access to her neck.

He smirked at her eagerness. “You’re a bad girl. Finish getting ready.”

“Then stop distracting me.”

He growled deep in his chest, taking a step away from her. “Don’t talk back, Violet. Ever.”

He sauntered into the bathroom, locking the door with a click. She fanned herself with her hand, quickly slipping on a white summer dress and heading downstairs to hang with her classmates.

Everyone was unaware of the fact that she and their professor were sharing a room, and she cringed to think about how they’d react if they found out.

The attraction they had for each other was undeniable, but she saw it as harmless flirting. Until… he touched her. Until he took her into that erotic room. Until he told her not to talk back. She was fucked.

He led them to the restaurant, pointing out architectural phenomena, and different historical sites for them to make note of. He looked so pretty that it hurt. Light pink dress pants and a matching blazer, a white singlet underneath. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his curls falling down on his forehead messily.

She lagged behind, and he noticed, subtly falling back, She was stopping to take pictures of different buildings, in awe of the structures and local ways of life.

He slowed his pace, keeping close to her just in case. She wasn’t overly warm towards anyone else in the class, and it made him feel glad in the sense that she focused on his class, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she had many friends outside of class.

Perhaps that’s why he was so protective over her. How territorial and irrational he became towards her. How enamoured by her he was. Buy her words and her confidence, whether in corduroy pants or little sun dresses.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear relaxed, but he was crawling out of his fucking skin. He needed her. Wanted her. Had to have her. He just didn’t know how to do so. He sucked at talking to women, but he knew how to fuck.

Just getting them on their backs was the hardest part for him. He had never struggled with men, but women terrified him for some reason. Especially women like her.

He kept watching her like she’d drop a clue behind a step on the cobbled street.

And when he noticed that one of her sneakers had become untied, he felt his heart begin to race.

The group was further ahead, and he fell into step beside her, grabbing her hand to garner her attention.

She turned to look at him with wide eyes, her camera clicked, and as she spun around, his face fell perfectly into the frame. But the two of them were too focused on his touch to notice.

“Your lace is untied.” He explained simply, his touch gone.

She looked down, “oh.”

“Let me,” he knelt down on the ground, lifting her foot up onto his raised knee. She gasped at the feel of his fingers wrapped around her ankle. How they softly caressed her skin before they got to work tying her lace.

His ringed fingers were a wonder to watch. So precise and nimble. She felt her cheeks tinge pink as she stared down at him on his knee for her. And when he looked up, it was almost as if he was in awe. Worshipping.

His hand slid up her ankle, cupping her calf and sliding higher. And then he dropped his touch, realising how inappropriate he was being.

“Thank you, professor.”

His jaw clenched slightly before he stood, adjusting his suit jacket. “We should catch up with the others.”

They were the last to enter the restaurant, and the universe pushed them together once again with two remaining seats. Next to each other.

Her leg was still burning from his touch and she wanted to experience it over every inch of skin on her body.

It was a wonder she could even focus on eating. He was so powerful in his presence. Even when she wasn’t looking at him she could feel him. This tar-thick sensation next to her, begging to be pulled in, begging to have her attention.

He ate his meal in silence, drinking a cider, offering bits to the conversation here and there.

She was a nervous wreck. She could smell his cologne. How it was sweet and spicy and sultry all at once.

At some point, restless and on edge, she crossed her leg, her foot accidentally nudging his ankle. He shot her a look through the corner of his eye, his mouth on his drink.

She blushed, apologising to him under her breath. But he moved his leg towards hers a little before retracting. Intrigued, she extended her foot out again, letting it trace up his leg.

“Careful.” He warned lowly.

She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Or what?”

“You don’t want to start trouble with your professor, do you?”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe I do.”

“I pegged you for a good student, Violet. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“I’m a good girl where it counts, professor.”

“Then be a good girl and go settle the bill. We need to get an early night.”

He handed her his card, watching as she stood and went to pay. He eyed her thighs at the hem of her dress, remembering how soft she’d felt as he tied her shoelace. How lulled her expression became when she was teasing him under the table.

He thought about how it felt to be kneeling before her. How if he leaned forward just a little, he’d be able to see up her dress. See the colour of her panties. Flick his tongue out and get a long-awaited taste.

He skipped the dessert menu because he knew nothing would satisfy the sweet tooth he had. Only she could quell the craving.

Fuck. He couldn’t share a room with her tonight. Not unless he wanted to fuck her against every surface of it.

The walk back to the hotel was tense for the two of them. They tried to avoid each other, she tried to spark conversation with other students, while he conversed with the other professor who was probably triple his age and insufferable to talk to.

He felt especially creepy when he realised the most interesting conversations he’d ever held had been with a student of his. One who was ten years his junior.

The other professor split off, heading to his family home while Harry was in charge of leading everyone back to the hotel.

He was back to his short and curt self, subdued by his own thoughts. She eyed him, wondering if he regretted getting so comfortable with her. Because she sure as hell didn’t regret anything.

Everyone parted ways, heading to their designated rooms, while she lagged behind, completely on edge.

Their eyes met as they leaned on opposite walls in the hallway. Waiting. Gauging.

“I should find somewhere else to stay tonight.” His voice broke through the tension.

Her heart dropped and she started to panic at the prospect of him leaving her. “You don’t need to do that.”

He sighed, torn. “Violet…”

“I promise I’ll behave. You won’t even know I’m here.”

He watched her, internally debating. Could he behave? And would she stay true to her word? It was later in the evening now, and he hardly felt like trudging around the city until he found an available room.

He sighed again and nodded, entering the room wordlessly. She followed after him, watching as he stripped off his jacket and ran his hands through his hair.

She slipped into the bedroom, and as she went to close the door, decided to leave it slightly ajar. An invitation.

He sat on the couch, spreading his arms along the back. His mind was a jumbled mess, the only clarity were liquified swirls of violet skies that gave him a sense of constant.

His eyes found movement in the gap of the bedroom door and his mouth went dry. Violet pulled her tiny white dress over her head, her matching white bra and panties revealed to his hungry stare.

She pulled her hair free from its ponytail, the yellow ribbon falling to the ground in a tiny silk puddle.

She bent over, unlacing her sneakers before pulling them off. He knew he had to look away. But he couldn’t. He was staring directly between her legs. The softness of her hips and her thighs. His stomach clenched.

Reaching back, still facing away, she unclasped her bra and let that fall to the floor carelessly. He internally begged her to turn around. But he knew that if he saw her bare tits it would be game over. He already felt like he was going to finish in his pants.

And then she stepped out of view, appearing moments later in a white silk camisole and matching shorts. He looked away quickly as she exited the bedroom, trying to hide the fact that she’d put on that show just for him.

“Can you please help me?” her sweet voice caressed his ears.

He still didn’t look at her. “With?”

“My necklace.” She came to stand in front of him. “It’s tangled.”

He eyed the dainty jewelry around her neck and wondered how his hand would look in its place.

“Do you ever take yours off?” She nodded to the cross pendant dangling from his neck.

“No. It stays on. Always.”

“Even when you—”

“Turn around, Violet.”

She giggled and turned while he stood, his body shaking with desire. She scooped up her hair out of the way, a few strands tangled in the clasp of her necklace.

“You like doing that, don’t you?”

“Doing what?”

“Teasing me and acting oblivious to it.” His fingers began to unwork the tangles of her necklace.

“How do I tease you?”

“Well, the little show you just put on is a great place to start.”

She smirked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He growled and brought his hand around, cupping her throat and encouraging her to lean fully against him.

“Don’t make me out to be a fucking pervert, Violet. Prance around in your tiny little shorts all you want, just as long as you know that you’re doing so for me.”

“We’re not in the classroom anymore, professor. No need to boss me around.”

“Brat.” He said through his teeth. “I’m always the boss.”

She gasped out in the authority in his tone, at the sureness in his actions. His hand around her throat just like she’d imagined a million times while he taught a class.

“I know you daydream about me.” He whispered in her ear. “I can see your mind wander when you’re sitting at the front of my class. You think about all the things you want me to do to you.”

“That’s a bold assumption.” She continued to tease him.

“Mmm.” He rumbled in her ear. “And I bet you’re wet right now.”

“You’re wrong.” She whimpered.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

She stepped away, staring up at him. “H—How?”

He feigned a bored expression, shoving his hands into his pockets with a sigh. “You’re a smart girl, Violet. Figure it out.”

All confidence she had was shredded away by his condescending tone and she released a shaky breath. Prove it? She sat down on the couch, finding his eyes willingly.

Fuck. This was everything the both of them had been daydreaming about. Releasing the tension that had been building between them ever since she started his class.

He would have stopped her if she didn’t want this. And she wouldn’t have given him a show if she didn’t’ want it. She slipped a hand down her shorts, her eyes lulling while his widened at the scene.

Her fingers found her core, throbbing and wet already. She whimpered, trying to look unfazed but he could see how much her legs were shaking.

“That’s a good girl. Let me see.”

She retracted her hand from the silk of her shorts and displayed her fingers, glistening with her excitement.

He grabbed her wrist, investigating the wetness. He tutted. “Now, what are we going to do about this, hm?” His eyes met hers and she melted.

“I don’t know.”

His gaze hardened on hers. “Part of your studies have been based on problem-solving, Violet. I know I’ve been doing my job right. The question is: have you been a good student?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shaking.

“Is that so? Then tell me how we solve this problem that you have.”

“Problem…?”

“You’re sitting in front of your professor, dripping for him. Tell me how we can fix it before you make a mess.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Touch me.”

“Raise your voice when you’re speaking to me.”

She cleared her throat, mildly embarrassed. “Touch me.”

“Touch you? I could fail you for this behaviour that you’re displaying. I can’t think of one reason not to.”

“Please,” she whispered, “please, touch me.”

He sat on the coffee table opposite her. “I can’t risk it… we can’t—”

“Please. Just once, it’s all I will ever ask of you.”

He stared at her, his expression disgruntled. Like she was causing him actual annoyance by asking him such a thing.

“Fuck it.”

He took her fingers past his lips, saturated with her wetness, and sucked on them. Cleaning them and tasting her. Heavenly and sinful.

She gasped as he did so, unable to even wrap her head around what was happening before his lips met hers, his hand on the nape of her neck.

“Kiss me.” He ordered against her and she obliged, whimpering as his tongue found hers.

He stood and leaned over her, pushing her back into the couch. He pulled away momentarily, as much as it pained him.

“You want this?”

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him but he shook his head.

“Words, Violet. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you.” She assured him, glad to finally have the words leave her mouth.

“Show me,” he breathed out. “Show me how much you want me.”

He sat back on the table again, leaving her panting and shaking while he slipped his glasses from his face. She bit her lip, finding every ounce of courage that she had before slowly slipping her shorts down her legs.

His eyes never left hers as she got herself comfortable, and he untangled her shorts from her ankle, his cock hardening further when she giggled playfully.

She spread her legs a little, her hand finding its way back between them. He hissed as she played with herself, and he could hear how wet she was as well as see it.

He leaned forward, his hands on her thighs. “Are you this wet for me during class?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Are you lying to me?” His hands smoothed up her legs and he could feel how hard she was shaking having his touch on her.

“No…”

“Mm...” His hands found her sensitive inner thighs and her legs spread further, enticing him in. “I think you’re lying, Violet.” His thumb brushed her sensitive clit and she gasped. “I think…” A little more pressure. “You sit in my class, fantasising about me.” Small circles. “And then you go home, get yourself off and imagine that it’s me doing it.”

“Please—”

“Am I wrong?”

“Fuck,” she cried out as his fingers built up speed and pressure. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“I never am.” He smirked, pulling her so that she was laying down flat on the couch.

His mouth found her cunt in a deep kiss and she rolled her hips up towards him, his hands cupping under her thighs to keep her where he wanted her.

Her back arched at the sensation of his mouth. So wet and hot and skilled. She’d known how good he was with his mouth, as she’d listened to him talk for hours. But this was something else, and she knew she’d never look at his lips the same again.

His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he moaned against her, loving how sweet she tasted. How she was shaking and he’d only just gotten started.

His tongue found her clit in delicate flicks, sucking and nibbling it until she was gasping.

The straps of her camisole fell down her shoulders, and her tits came into his view. Her nipples were pebbled from the cool air and he reached up, pinching and squeezing them with deft fingers.

All he could think of was the fact that she was lightyears better than anything he’d viewed in Gabinetto Segreto. But he knew that before he’d seen her naked.

His ears were ringing with how good she felt and he couldn’t wait to feel her wrapped around his cock. God, he’d grasp onto the feeling forever. He could already see himself begging shamelessly at her knees for a pity fuck.

Her hands came down and entwined with his curls, determined to make a mess of them. She had spent far too many hours admiring the perfect shape of them and the precise middle parting.

He groaned as she pulled them, his eyes finding her blissful expression. He ate her like he’d never had a satisfying meal in all his years. After tasting her, it felt like he hadn’t. And nothing would ever suffice again.

She brought Gabinetto Segreto fucking shame.

He gave her a finger, testing the waters with what she could take. Her body went lax before tightening up in pleasure. His jaw dropped at how warm and snug she was.

“Oh, pet. You’re going to get me addicted to this pretty little pussy, aren’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up in desperation. The way he was talking to her. Encouraging her and talking her through it. It was all so surreal.

“Professor…”

“What?” He pulled away, annoyed to have her interrupt.

“It’s okay.”

He frowned. “What?

“I—It’s okay. You don’t have to…”

“Don’t have to what?” He was getting pissed off now.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What, make you come?” He frowned further, bewildered.

“It’s hard for me to do that.”

His eyes softened and he crawled up her body, his hand cradling her jaw tenderly. “Has anyone ever made you come, pet?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just my vibrator.”

He pouted a little. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? I bet you get so creamy… so relaxed and soft.”

She could feel his hands massaging her body, but she felt lightheaded with how he was talking to her.

“I can make you come, pet. As many times as you want.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to do a thing. You just lay back and let your professor look after you, okay? You deserve it after all of your hard work. I’m very impressed.”

“Really?” Her eyes were wide.

“Really. Daddy’s going to reward you, now. Would you like that?”

Her eyes lulled the second that word fell from his mouth.

“Yes.”

“My good little pet.”

His mouth found her core again, reveling in her taste and the feel of her. He helped her relax enough that she could simply feel the pleasure and nothing else. She had been so stuck in her mind but now all she could fathom was pure bliss.

He gave her two fingers, massaging a spot inside of her that she had not discovered before. It was overwhelmingly intense. Pressure and sensitivity and euphoria.

“Relax, Violet. Can you do that for me?”

She focused on keeping relaxed, but almost laughed at his request. How could she relax with his head between her thighs?

She must have done a good enough job because he moaned, closing his eyes and kissing her cunt almost romantically.

He wanted to watch her. To guide her and talk her through it. He came up, licking inside of her mouth, sucking on her tongue.

You’re doing so well.

So sweet for me.

You’re milking my fingers, pet.

Breathe, that’s it.

He could tell she was close and he was watching her in awe. Watching her write in pleasure that only he had ever been able to entice from her. He was far too in his head to feel smug about it, but he knew he’d come back to that later.

“Oh…”

“That’s right,” he coerced. “You’re gonna come all over my fingers, I can feel it. Fuck, do it on my tongue instead.”

He swiftly placed his mouth on her again, paying all of his attention to her clit while his fingers worked inside of her. She was pulsing and it drove him to take her harder, moaning against her.

His arm tensed, the veins in it prominent, snaking around his muscles. He couldn’t fathom why the men before him hadn’t got her here like this. He was addicted to everything about her. Her body and her mind. Her jaw dropped in pleasure.

His mouth latched onto her clit ferociously, and the intensity of it knocked her over the edge of bliss. She writhed around, crying out as it overwhelmed her. He pinned her down, helping her ride the wave.

“Thaaat’s it, pet. What a good girl.” He soothed her as she came down.

She gasped out, grabbing his wrist as he slowly fucked her with his fingers.

“Fuck.” She smiled, meeting his eyes.

“How did that feel, hm?” He checked in, his mouth and chin drenched in her. He kissed her inner thighs, pulling away.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He came over her. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?”

She barely had time to register what was going on before he ripped her silk camisole from her body, discarding it behind the couch.

“Hey!” She yelled out. “That was expensive.”

“Daddy will buy you another one.” He promised, his eyes falling over her bare breasts. “Fuck, look at you. Gorgeous little thing.”

She moaned as he gripped her breasts, toying with her nipples. He spat down on her chest, wiping his spit around her tits with a devilish grin.

“You’ll let me do what I want, won’t you, pet?”

“Yes.” She whispered, meaning it.

“The next time you’re in my class,” he pinched her nipple. “I’m gonna make you sit on my lap. Make you read out your paper while I play with your clit and fill your cunt with my cock. Make you cream all over me while everyone watches.”

“Professor—”

He stood abruptly, ridding of his shirt and pants, allowing her to see him as bare as she’d ever seen him. His inked torso and arms. His strong thighs and toned tummy. She felt her insides melt and warp.

He grabbed her hand and placed it over his clothed cock, hard and throbbing.

“Feel what you do to me?” He asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to hold her still while her hand felt him. “I get so hard every time I see you. I can’t fucking stand it.”

Her mouth was watering and she shifted forward, kissing along his length. He growled lowly, feeling his cock twitch and his balls tighten.

“You’re a naughty pet. Come to my class in those tiny dresses because you know I think about pinning you against the wall and slipping inside of you.”

“I wish you would.” Her eyes were wide, staring at his.

He tilted his head, gripping her hair in his fist, his rings catching. “You do, don’t you? Little whore.”

She nodded eagerly, whimpering when he pushed her face forcefully against his crotch. He leaned down, his fingers finding her pussy, slick from her orgasm. He hummed, gathering her wetness and spreading it along his covered cock.

“Messy girl. Clean me up.”

“Make me.”

He glared darkly, his nostrils flaring at her disobedience. He gripped her hair hard enough that tears formed, and he moved his hand to pinch her jaw until she opened it.

“Tongue out.” He barked and she slowly did as she was asked. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, clean me up or I’ll fuck my fist and make you watch.”

He spat on her tongue and she hummed, swallowing before leaning forward and licking off her wetness from his crotch. His brow furrowed at the sight. His feisty little pet.

She sucked on the tip of him over his boxers, and he whimpered before pushing her away. He quickly rid of his boxers, impatient. He had to be inside her. He prided himself in his ability to last but that seemed to be irrelevant when it came to her. Just looking at her naked and pouting was enough to set him off.

She reached for his cock, hard, a bead of pre-come on the tip. He throbbed in her palm, so hot and ready for him. He ran his hands through his hair, his body tingling.

She took him past her lips, her eyes fluttering. His head fell back on his neck as she took his tip, sucking and flicking her tongue against the slit. He encouraged her, his hand tangling into her hair.

“Take more.” He rasped, moaning loudly when she fit half of him in.

She used her hand to work on what she couldn’t fit yet. He was losing it, spitting down on his cock to get it nice and wet before forcing her to take all of him.

She choked on him, her eyes watering as she gagged.

“Fuck,” he gritted his teeth, his abs flexing as he pushed his hips forward.

Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. His thumb wiped under her eyes, smearing it further. He wanted to destroy her.

He took her throat in slow, rolling thrusts, allowing her to breathe and watching when she tapped his thigh when she needed a break.

She picked up her pace, and his knees buckled. He attempted to pull away but her hands wound around his thighs, holding him in place.

“Pet,” he whined, “you gotta stop.”

She eyed him mischievously, moving her mouth harder. Faster.

He swore, grabbing her hair and practically ripping her from him. He threw her back and slapped her cheek before gripping her jaw and pressing his face against hers.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

She giggled, her cheek stinging, but it fuelled her arousal.

He clenched his jaw, holding hers harder. “You promised you’d behave.”

The feral rage in his eyes made her gulp. She did not fear him, per se, but feared what he’d do to her as punishment. Feared that she’d like it too much.

She wanted him warmed up to her. But she wasn’t sure that he was capable of that.

“I am behaving, professor.”

“I don’t think you are.”

She frowned, pouting. His expression softened, loving how she looked all vulnerable when she did that little face.

He cupped her reddened cheek, looking at her wet eyes and swollen lips from his cock.

She opened her mouth to protest, to apoligise, or to plead. She wasn’t sure.

“I—”

“Shh.. sit back and take my cock, pet.”

The willingness in her eyes melted him and she fell onto her back, pressing her legs together with her knees bent and swaying them side to side.

He took a step forward, fisting his cock with a shaky breath. He had fantasised about this for so long and now that it was finally happening, he couldn’t believe it.

“You look so good.” He complimented, his voice low. His hands ran down her body, feeling every inch and every curve. He settled over her, hitching her leg high over his hip.

“So do you.” She breathed out, her hands running down his sides, feeling the muscles flex.

“You were made for fucking.” He spoke his thoughts, running the tip of his cock between her slick folds. “Made to take me. Made to be used by me.”

She whimpered, rolling her hips up. “Take me. Use me.”

He kissed her, pushing his hips forward a little. She made a soft sound as he pushed inside of her, able to take the tip of him before her body tensed.

“You’re so big.” She whimpered, wide eyes staring up at him.

“You can take it.”

He held her in place, pushing forward and breaking through her tightness. She gasped as she took half of him, and he reached down, rubbing her clit to lessen the sting.

She mewled softly, her body relaxing as he slowly took her. He pushed all the way in, and he swore quietly as she rippled around him.

“Attagirl.” He praised. “I knew you could do it.”

“Oh… my god.” She moaned, her eyes watering at how fucking good he felt. He was so big that she felt him everywhere. He was pressed snugly against that spot he’d found not long before and the pressure of it was blinding.

It was the fact that they definitely should not be doing this that made it feel so much fucking better.

“I’m going to move now.” He informed her, retracting his hips until only his head remained inside of her. He slammed back in forcefully and she cried out, her back arching.

He didn’t stop. He screwed into her relentlessly, pounding her down into the couch. She couldn’t get a single breath in with how hard he was fucking her. His touch never left her clit, until he wrapped his arms around her and stood, holding her up as he fucked up into her.

She bit into his neck, his skin warm and damp beneath her. Her nails embedded themselves into his shoulders, trying to hold on as he took her.

He pressed her against the wall, his head dropping back with a growl. She watched him in awe. The sheer power he exerted on her body was blinding. He was so in control, so feral and animalistic but in control nonetheless.

She had never had someone fuck her like this. He was confident in the classroom, but having him even more so while he was naked and inside of her was something she never knew that she’d experience.

She gripped onto his hair, near on sobbing as he took her. “Professor…”

“Harry.” He gritted out, his curls a mess.

“H—Harry, please.”

“Please, what?” He breathed out, grunting. “Tell me—fuck—tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

His hand wound around her throat, his gaze searing on hers. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, pet.”

“My clit.” She whispered out. “I need it, please.”

“Fuck, say my name again.” He huffed, staring at her desperately.

“Please, Harry. I need it.”

He groaned, pushing two fingers in her mouth until she gagged, getting them wet. Then he connected his fingers to her clit and rubbed in delicious circles. Her toes curled, her hands raking down his shoulders and sides as he took her.

“You like that?” He checked, knowing full well she loved it with how tight her pussy was around him.

She nodded, whimpering as he slapped his hips against her.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Your pretty little cunt is squeezing me like a fist. Dirty girl letting me use you like this.”

He placed her on her shaky legs, slipping down to his knees. He aided her in placing a leg over his shoulder, opening her up to him. He latched onto her core with a loud moan.

“Taste so good.” He said between licks, her core trembling around his tongue. “Love feeling how my big cock is destroying your pussy.”

He ate her, addicted. He held her up as her body became weak with pleasure. His fingers found her core, fucking her with two fingers while his mouth sucked and nibbled and licked her clit.

She looked down at his face, seeing his eyes closed as he ate her. He was enjoying it just as much as she was. Her professor was on his knees for her.

From tying her shoelace to eating her out in a matter of hours.

He loved being able to taste his cock while he ate her. Able to taste where he’d claimed her and destroyed her. His dick twitched, missing the warmth of her. Wanting to spread his cum inside of her and watch it leak out.

He grabbed her, bending her over the window seat. She stared at the view of the ocean as he stared at the view of her.

“Spread your legs.” He ordered.

She bit her lip, looking back at him. She pressed her legs together and wiggled her ass.

He glared, slapping her ass. “Whore.” Another slap, to which she cried out, clawing at the window. “I said open your fucking legs.”

He kicked her legs open forcefully, spreading her cheeks and staring at her dripping cunt. She moaned as he massaged her skin, his thumb dipping to press against the tight opening of her ass.

He spat down on it, massaging gently before he bent his knees, guiding his cock back to her drenched heat.

She held back her pleasured cries as he fucked her, his skin slapping mercilessly against hers. His thumb played with her ass, watching as she moaned and flowered open to him. His to use.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Take me so fucking well. You love having my big dick fill you up, don’t you?”

She whimpered, rolling her hips back against her thrusts.

He slapped her side. “Don’t you?”

“Y‑Yes, Harry!”

He grabbed her by her throat, pulling her back while he kept fucking her. His lips found her ear, biting on the lobe.

“Call me daddy.” He growled. “Call me daddy and I’ll let you come again.”

She could feel the swirls of it blooming and she swore, her walls clenching around him.

“Please, daddy.” She whimpered, loving calling him something so naughty. “Please let me come.”

“You need daddy to rub your pretty little clit? Huh?”

“Fuck, please, yes I need it.” She gasped, her tits bouncing, drawing his attention to them. He played with her nipples. Twisting and tugging before his touch veered south, finding her clit with an expert touch.

She exploded around him, her body growing lax against him. He allowed her to melt onto the floor, not stopping his thrusts as he helped her through her orgasm. He screwed her on the ground, grunting animalistically in her ear.

They were sweaty messes, writing and naked on the floor as he took her, feral and obsessed. He lifted her ass up, taking her harder and harder, his hands gripped tightly onto her hips.

She clawed at the carpet beneath her, trying to hold onto anything that would keep her steady against his intense thrusts. The sheer power he had was astonishing.

He picked her up, sweeping knick-knacks and a lamp off a side table with a smash, throwing her against the newly cleared surface. Her chest was pressed against the cool wood, and he quickly began fucking her again.

Her knees betrayed her, and he spun her around, sitting her up on the side table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, their bodies pressed tightly together, sweaty and needy.

He pinned her back to the wall, his hand around her throat. They watched where they were connected before locking eyes, moaning before kissing with an intensity that made her toes curl.

He couldn’t get enough of her. His body was wound so tight with arousal, the feeling of finally having her driving him wild.

“Fuck,” he panted, “so fucking good.”

She purposely pulsed her cunt around him, his head going dizzy.

“St—god, you have to stop.”

The expression he wore was hardly an incentive to stop, and she did it more.

“Stop, stop.”

Pulling back, much to her dismay, voiced with a displeased moan, he stepped back from her. He grabbed his cock in his fist, playing with himself while she sat there watching. Desperately writhing, her chest heaving.

She whimpered as he fucked himself harder, the pleasure displayed clearly on his face. She shuffled forward a little, wanting to be the only form of bliss he felt.

He glared. “Did I say that you could move?”

“No, but—”

“Do as you’re told or I will come all over my hand while you watch.”

She bit her tongue, settling back into place with a pout. He chuckled lightly, his stomach tightening at the sight. He wanted to come so fucking bad but he wasn’t done with her.

“Get on all fours, pet.” He instructed, his fist still wrapped tight around himself.

She slowly lowered herself to the floor, on her knees in Infront of him before getting on her hands as well, on all fours just like he asked. He smiled proudly at her, watching her wait for the next instruction.

“I want you to crawl to the bedroom for me.” He purred. “Slowly.”

She bit her lip, hiding her smile, trying to remain unfazed. She did as he asked, just as she always had. Always wanting to impress him. He stalked behind her, watching the way her hips were shaped, watching how her ass swayed as she crawled, watching how her hair fell over her shoulders. She looked back to meet his eyes before picking up her pace a little.

He felt something spike in his bloodstream, and he ran after her, grunting as he picked her up and threw her onto the bed.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He chastised her as he followed. She crawled away, curled up at the top of the bed. “You want to run, pet?”

She shook her head, a mischievous smile lighting up her face as he narrowed his eyes.

“I better make sure you stay put.”

She watched as he went out to the lounge, fishing through his duffel bag before heading back to the bedroom. He began wringing a sage green tie between his hands, eyeing her.

He made his way towards her, gauging her expression. “Give me your hands.”

She did as she was told, mesmerised.

“Good girl.”

He tied her wrists up, not too tight, but tight enough that she wouldn’t slip out. Then he tied them to the white iron headboard, her arms stretched up. He couldn’t resist reaching down to bite and lick her nipples until she was whining and begging him to take her.

“You want this cock?” He shuffled forward until he was kneeling over her chest.

She nodded eagerly and he gripped the hair on top of her head. “Open your mouth. Taste your pussy on my cock before I give it to you again.”

She opened, her eyes fluttering when he pushed his dick into her mouth, all the way, not letting her adapt to his size. Just letting her taste him. Feel him.

“So pretty with your mouth full, aren’t you?”

She choked, her eyes prickling with tears that threatened to roll over before he pulled away. And then he was flipping her over, pulling her up onto her knees and elbows and fucking her so brutally that she feared the whole hotel would hear.

He made noises that were animalistic. Feral and unhinged. He fucked her so hard that neither of them could see straight. Hitting her so deep she could feel it in her throat.

He wasn’t sure he could last much longer, and he wanted to hold her. He moved her to her side, spooning behind her. He lifted her outer leg up, slipping his throbbing cock into her drenched heat with a deep, rolling moan.

His fingers found her clit again, and she reached back to kiss him messily. Their tongues met, wet and unashamed. He wanted her to come again, and his cock screwed into her relentlessly while he drew tight circles on her clit.

“Come for me.” He panted. “Please. I need it. Give me another one, all over my cock. You can do it, pet.”

She whimpered, her brow furrowed as he growled, taking her harder than he had all night. Her orgasm shattered her before she knew it was upon her.

She keeled forward, and he wound his arms around her to keep her steady while she came, crying out his name so loud that he had to give her two of his fingers to bite down on.

He swore at how tight she became when she climaxed, her walls pulsing and clenching around him. He fought to hold on, but his body was overworked and she felt so fucking good.

With a whine, he untied her hands and gently moved her onto her back, slipping inside of her with a long sigh. He took her, deep and slow and with a fluidity that had her legs shaking.

He wanted to come staring into her eyes. With her legs wrapped around his waist. His name was on her lips as he pounded into her relentlessly.

“Will you tease me again?” He asked her, his eyes searing.

“Yes.” She gasped out.

“You’re my little fuck toy.” He was a mess. “Mine to fuck and fill with my cum. Reward you for your hard work in my class. Make you come every time you pass.”

“All yours.” She breathed out, desperate to get him there. “I’m your dirty secret, professor.”

“Can’t fucking stand how you make me feel. Filthy fucking girl. Tell me you want my cum.”

“I want your cum, professor.”

“How bad do you want it?”

“I need it so bad. Please, fill me up with it.”

He growled out her name, burying his head in her neck and biting on the skin. His orgasm rocked through him, and he fucked her through it, not caring when she cried out in discomfort.

He wanted this. To fill her. Claim her. Stake his mark seeing as she’d sought after him. Teased him and poked until he gave in. He’d rip every one of those sundresses off her for a taste of how magical she was.

Like visiting all seven wonders of the world and discovering millions of new ones all at once.

***

I hope you enjoyed x

#harry styles #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #hslot #harry styles fanfiction #hes #smut #hs

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prokopetz · 1 year ago

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The tendency for indie RPGs to turn into massive worldbuilding tomes with perfunctory mechanics bolted to the side is often overstated; however, to the extent that this characterisation is accurate, I don't think it's a coincidence that many of the things that received wisdom within the indie RPG sphere regards as archaic D&D-isms which "real" RPGs can do without are also basic tools for communicating a game's implicit milieu without resorting to pages upon pages of explcit lore.

Like, equipment tables? Sure, maybe nobody "needs" to know how much a hundred feet of rope costs in your setting, but a well-constructed equipment table is a perfect opportunity to showcase a bunch of weird shit that exists in your setting without needing to contrive a specific lore-related excuse to bring it up. You can just drop your setting's equivalent of that table from early iterations of Dungeons & Dragons with stats for thirty different kinds of polearms and let that percolate in your reader's brain.

Or spell lists in fantasy settings. Freeform magic is well and good, but no amount of long-winded exposition about your setting's magic system will ever characterise it even 10% as effectively as a dozen pages of worked examples of specific things the people who live there actually do with it, ideally with flowery titles and entertainingly cryptic asides about the surprising fate of the wizard the spell is named after.

Hell, I'm half-convinced that the reason Powered By the Apocalpyse games took off the way they did is because after a decade-plus of indie RPG designers insisting that character classes are for losers, Apocalypse World reminded folks of what a well-conceived character templating system can do in terms of characterising a milieu!

What I mean to say is that several thousand words of florid microfic has its place, but if you really want to set the creative juices simmering, you don't set up a diorama – you hand out a box of toys.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #worldbuilding #swearing

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congenitaleunuch · 2 months ago

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1. Recognize that you are not the experts about intersex people, intersexuality, or what it means to be intersexed; intersex people are. When writing a paper about intersexuality, make sure to center voices of intersex people. 2. Critically approach writings by non-intersex "experts" such as doctors, scientists, and academics about intersexuality or intersex people if you decide to quote or cite them. That is, consider what the author's perspective and agenda are, and where his or her knowledge comes from. 3. Do not write about intersex existence or the concept of intersexuality without talking about the lives and experiences of intersex people as well as issues they face. Do not use intersex people merely to illustrate the social construction of binary sexes. 4. Do not judge the politics and narratives of intersex people or movement based on how useful they are to your political agenda (or agendas). Intersex people are no more responsible for dismantling gender roles or compulsory heterosexuality than anyone else is. 5. Be aware that writings by intersex people are often part of conversations within the intersex movement and/or with other communities, including the medical community. Realize that intersex people's words may be addressing certain constituencies or political agendas for which you do not have access to the full context. 6. Do not conflate intersex experiences with lesbian, gay, bisexual or trans (LGBT) experiences. You may understand what it might feel to grow up "different" if you are part of the LGBT community, but that really does not mean you understand what it means to grow up intersexed. 7. Do not reduce intersex people to their physical conditions. Depict intersex people as multidimensional human beings with interests and concerns beyond intersex issues. 8. Focus on what looking at intersexuality or intersex people tells you about yourself and the society, rather than what it tells you about intersex people. Turn analytical gaze away from intersex bodies or genders and toward doctors, scientists, and academics who theorize about intersexuality. 9. Do not represent intersex people as all the same. How people experience being born intersex is at least as diverse as how people experience being born non-intersex, and is impacted by various social factors such as race, class, ability, and sexual orientation, as well as actual medical conditions and personal factors. Do not assume that one intersex person you happen to meet represents all or even most intersex people. 10. Assume that some of your readers will themselves be intersex, and expect that you may be criticized by some of them. Listen to intersex people when they criticize your work, and consider it a gift and a compliment. If they thought that you had nothing to contribute, they would not bother to engage with you in the first place. 11. Remember: five children are being mutilated every day in the United States alone. Think about what you can do to help stop that.

Suggested Guidelines for Non-Intersex Individuals Writing about Intersexuality and Intersex People by Emi Koyama, Intersex Initiative

#intersex #intersexism #Emi Koyama #Intersex Initiative

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branwinged · 2 months ago

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do you have any unpopular opinions regarding Arya

what's your opinion on the death penalty type ask. well i think arya prettycourse is insane (she's literally 10? but also im about to type a block of text about it so. sorry ✋) both the "she's ugly fr" takes and the people citing book quotes where someone calls her pretty are missing the point. the books are not interested in engaging with 'objective' beauty (madness wrt dany and the targs is another concept that is not objective. it's a social construct) because the books understand gender is socially constructed so that implies gendered beauty standards are also socially constructed.

the ideal of beauty in westeros is based on a very specific brand of patriarchal femininity. it's obviously race based, like, almost everyone has something vile to say about elia and that's because of in-universe racism against the dornish. beauty is also class based because only aristocratic women have access to expensive fabrics and lace etc and to possess that kind of socially desirable figure one has to have a certain amount of wealth (i.e. access to food) to be precluded from engaging in physical labour. i don't think the books are interested in that class based aspect because all our pov characters are aristocrats, but you do see the other bits in play with a lot of characters. like, cersei and the prophecy about being surpassed by a younger and more beautiful girl. she spends a lot of time worrying about which beautiful girl maggy the frog was prophesying here, but i'm sure (at least in a metatextual sense, because this is a self fulfilling prophecy) "younger and more beautiful" is also meant as a simple truth, that after a certain age she will no longer be viewed as a sexual commodity, and you see this happen in the text in the way jaime is still fawned over at his age but cersei is entering 'socially deemed as old hag' territory. brienne (once) very much desires to be a lady but because she doesn't fit that ideal of patriarchal femininity (the specific way she is made out to be ugly are her height, her girth, that she's flat chested and muscular) she is dehumanised and labeled an outcast. then on the other end we've got daenerys who is considered the most beautiful woman in the world because she's being exoticised for her valyrian heritage, it's not the authorial voice of grrm pronouncing her as the winner of some fuckass planetos beauty pageant okay!! and crucially, these are all teenagers so the ideal of beauty here is also inseparable from the normative sexualisation of young girls who're also simultaneously expected to perform innocence and purity.

so with that context, arya is considered ugly because she's gender nonconforming. arya's anxiety and feelings of inadequacy over not being pretty (like her mother, like her sister) are not separate from her anxiety about not being able to meet the standards of patriarchal femininity.

Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did.

what cat means here, is that she will be pretty ONCE she's domesticated into being a proper lady. and that one time gendry calls arya pretty it's right after lady smallwood forces her into conventionally feminine attire (Lady Smallwood fussed at the bodice of the gown. “Now you look a proper young lady.” // gendry: "You look different now. Like a proper little girl.") i don't find these instances of her being called pretty particularly empowering because she doesn't like wearing gowns and dresses, she shouldn't be forced to perform 'proper' gender roles in exchange for some assurance regarding her worth as a girl. note that catelyn, lady smallwood, and gendry are not being malicious but they've all grown up with and internalised westeros's sexist values, catelyn in particular is approaching it as a problem of who's going to marry (i.e. sexually desire) arya if she doesn't behave like a well bred lady.

Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs. “They were my son’s things,” she said. “He died when he was seven.” “I’m sorry, my lady.” Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. “I’m sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty.” “Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave.”

i think this is the most valuable/touching comment on arya's appearance because lady smallwood here is finally not trying to put her in some box of expectations, she's simply recognising her as a child trying to survive and return to her family, worthy of kindness, worthy of love. and that's the main theme of her story, she just wants to exist outside those rigid codes of social conduct for women ("Can I be a king’s councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?") but because she won't quietly let her desires and sense of self be subsumed by westeros's patriarchal femininity (what's happening to sansa in affc), what she's ultimately presented with is complete annihilation of the self. the faceless men tell her, "you will be no one's daughter, no one's wife, no one's mother" - the wording here feels significant because then this path is not an out from that oppressive structure. it's saying: since you refuse to conform, you can't exist within society. you won't be considered a person at all, your body will be a tool to serve the faceless men's desires.

#idk what else is unpopular about her. i just went for the most deranged discourse bit george we need twow it's dire #asks #asoiaf #*[🫀]

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what-even-is-thiss · 29 days ago

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You seem to be a pocket of economic wisdom. Do you know anything about stocks and investment? Like what even is the point? It seems like luxury gambling to me. But lots of people do it. Got an aunt with starbucks stock and I’m like ???? I’m boycotting them but okay. If you don’t know anything that’s fine I’m just buggin people on my dash who seem to know things about money. Got like 0 financial education, truly tragic.

Mandatory caveat that I don’t have a degree in this I just do my own research and have a family that teaches this sort of stuff to kids etc etc

So the stock market is kind of like gambling much of the time but depending on where you invest the odds can be generally more predictable.

Here’s how public companies and the stock market work. Let’s say you are part of a company. Let’s say, Duolingo. You need money to run that company. Maintain servers, contain the demon owl, what have you.

If you want, you could only go for private investors. Sell a percentage of the ownership of your company to a rich person or perhaps a corporation. In exchange for all that money, that private investor would get a share of your profits and maybe a certain number of votes when it comes to decision making at the executive level. That private investor could also potentially sell their percentage of the company, either back to Duolingo or to somebody else. Duolingo wouldn’t get any money from that sale though. Just a different person in that spot now.

Private investing often keeps less fingers in the pot but it also often limits how much investment they can get.

Duolingo is currently not a privately traded company. It’s a publicly traded company, meaning that anybody can buy shares in it. Duolingo doesn’t get any money from people trading Duolingo stocks with each other but they can keep making new stocks to keep generating more investment. The other advantage of this is that the CEO and/or board of directors almost always own at least 51% of the total shares so they can make sure the majority of the decision making stays in their hands.

Stocks are also only worth as much as people are willing to pay for them though. That’s why stock prices are always going up or down. How much people are willing to pay for them changes all the time. These days many times computers are even making the decisions on whether or not something is worth a certain price. So Duolingo has to convince people that their business is worth investing in. That they’ll keep making profit. That way they can sell new shares for more money and get more investment to keep running their business.

What do stockholders get out of this though? Well for one they get votes on certain decisions. One stock usually equals one vote. If they own enough stocks they may even get a lot of influence over how the company operates, which may be important for a number of reasons besides even one’s own personal finances.

Certain companies like Coca Cola also pay out what’s called dividends meaning that every month or quarter or half year, depending on the company, they pay out a certain percentage of their profit out to their shareholders. Now each share might only pay about 2-10 cents but if you have thousands of shares you can live off of dividends. In fact, many middle to upper middle class people use this as a way to retire early. They invest a certain amount of their salary in safe and stable companies every month and then eventually they can be making enough to live off of by their 40s or 50s. This is how one of my uncles retired early. He worked as a construction manager for years investing his money every month and now he’s living out a modest retirement on dividends and has been for about 15 years. He’s not living glamorously off of dividends but he is fed and housed and not working and that’s all he wants.

Most companies don’t pay dividends but there can still be advantages to investing in them. This is partially where the gambling aspect comes in.

The biggest form of gambling that’s actually gambling is day trading. This is when you buy a stock and sell it the same day. Like as the price is going down you buy stocks and sell them minutes or hours later when the price starts to go up again. Most people lose money on this.

One level down from that in the gambling is investing a lot in one company or only a small number of companies, especially new companies. This is something that mostly really rich guys do but some regular people that are true believers in something also might partake. They see a new-ish company or older company they think is going to grow a lot soon and they invest a lot of money into it.

Most businesses fail in their first year though statistically so this is a big gamble. If you’ve got the time to wait though and the company ends up doing well then you can stand to make a lot of money from this. This is why people say stuff like “I wish I’d invested in Microsoft or Apple back in the day” because those companies became really successful. If Duolingo shares were worth $1 or something and you bought 100 shares and ten years later Duolingo shares were worth $200 then well you made $20,000 off of that. That’s the dream and that’s how a few lucky people turn from moderately rich to being stupid rich because this type of investing does require you to have some money to burn already for it to be effective.

The type of trading most people do though isn’t really gambling. I mean it kind of is, but it’s a really safe sort of gambling. It’s also how a lot of retirement groups pay their pensioners. Some non profits even do it. Long term investment.

The stock market tends to grow roughly with inflation. Maybe slightly more. So let’s say you want to save money for retirement. If you just let that money sit in a bank your interest in your savings account isn’t enough to keep up with inflation so it’s essentially gonna be worth a lot less by the time you want to dip into it.

However if you, just by yourself or through a mutual fund or asset manager, invest that money in a large variety of stable companies and keep it there until you want it, barring a huge financial crash your money will have retained its value with inflation or even grown in value a bit. This type of investment if done correctly is usually safe. Again, barring any major worldwide financial disasters. If you invest in enough companies it’s kind of like gambling on the economy as a whole instead of just the success of one company because even if one fails you’ve still got a bunch of others appreciating in value over time.

So maybe your aunt is gambling on Starbucks getting even bigger soon, maybe she sees it as a stable company, maybe it’s just one of dozens or hundreds of companies she’s invested in to protect the value of her savings over time. I don’t know her situation.

Point is, the extent to which trading stocks is gambling depends on when and why and how often you’re doing it.

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reds-references · 5 months ago

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Welcome to my corner of chaotic whimsy!

I'm Red or formally known as, Justine...

I am a multi-media artist. I am my own photographer, editor and model, I am an illustrator (HUMAN ARTIST, NOT AI) and seamstress. I am a crafty/fitness YouTuber, an OnlyFans model and a boxing instructor/fitness coach. I do hope you enjoy your stay in my wee corner of chaos and please feel free to use any and ALL of my reference photos for your artistic needs! Also do say hi!! I try my best to answer every message and comment! I just appreciate you being here so gosh darned much.

FAQ

ONLYFANS: I know, when you hear "OnlyFans" your mind goes to some pretty wild places. I am a non-spicy model, which means I censor everything as tastefully as possible! You can think of me as a whimsical lingerie model! I started my OF as a way to raise funds for my FREE boxing gym for underprivileged children and to provide artists with cheap art packs.

YOUTUBE: I started my YouTube channel as a way for me to express myself even further with my art. My OF photoshoots aren't always the artistic sets I would like them to be and I stopped drawing years ago (attached are a few of my illustrations, including the cover to my web comic "The Nun's Mistake" and the cover for Colm McGuinness' album "The Colm Before The Storm" on Spotify) so I figured I would try and make photography my new medium for "paintings". Even with that in mind, I still wanted to be crafty and what with my day job in concrete/construction, I don't get a lot of free time to myself. Hence, YOUTUBE! YouTube has given me the chance to make content that I can be free to have fun with and Patreon is helping me to continue pursuing that dream!

MY ART: I spent 10+ years working as a freelance artist between my other jobs. My art never sold, I barely got a single commission and people always tried getting things for free. Safe to say my art failed miserably and I gave up on it for a few years. My OF and ESPECIALLY YouTube are helping me find that spark again! (P.S art commissions are not open, I see where your sweet little brain was going!)

BOXING: I have been a trainer/professional boxer for over 8 years now. I trained with world champions and fought on a professional level and found a love for teaching along the way. I got tired of how expensive boxing classes are, seeing as there are so few "trainers" who actually know what they're doing and aren't just MMA people pretending to know what Boxing is. SO, I and the other trainers decided to dedicate our lives to opening a completely FREE boxing gym for underprivileged children. We have put every penny we earn into this gym. Everything I make in my day jobs and OF helps to fund the gym, while the Patreon helps me to fund my dream of quitting my back breaking job in concrete and work full-time as a YouTuber/Creator.

WHAT ARE YOU: I am a cisgendered woman. I got my dad's tits and his jaw, I know, I appear more masculine than femme. I also work out a lot, hence the muscles.

WHAT ARE YOU ON: Bro, if I was on roids, THERE WOULD BE SIGNS. I am a SMOL, natty Muscle Mommy!

Thank you for taking the energy and time out of your own life to show me kindness, love and support. Thank you for being here.

TAGS to use: #DrawRedInYourStyle #RedsReferences

#art reference #cosplay #cottagecore #lgbtq #classical art #art resources #artwork #photography #drawing reference #drawing #myreferences #redsreferences #drawredinyourstyle

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fairyhaos · 4 months ago

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❖ moonstruck // kim mingyu

mingyu x f!reader, 2.2k+ words

tags: sculptor!mingyu, muse!yn, pining, ambiguous relationship, fluff, angst, mingyu is Down Bad

notes: title + vibes taken from moonstruck by enhypen cz it fits the feel that i was going for :P forgive me bc i know nothing ab sculpting/muses but i just had to write a fic where yn is devastatingly gorgeous and this js fit so well <3 happy valentines day!

summary: mingyu is a sculptor, and you are his muse.

When Mingyu arrives at his studio that morning, he finds you already there, lounging around like you own the place.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're late again. What's it gonna take for me to make you finally come on time? A kiss, maybe? A promise of a date?" You smile at him mischievously, eyes glittering in the morning light.

You're watching him amusedly, arms tucked behind your head, resting comfortably on the sofa on the other end of the studio. This is not necessarily a surprising sight: despite the fact that you do not, actually, own the place, it’s still common for you to be there before he arrives, playing with the various clay creations lining the walls or dangling your feet over the edge of the sofa, waiting for him to clock in for the day.

Mingyu scrunches his nose, and does not respond to the latter half of what you said.

“I’m really not late,” he says, setting down his bag and hanging his coat up by the door. “You’re just early.”

You hum contemplatively, kicking your feet out and crossing your ankles over the armrest on the other end of the sofa. The cracking, coppery leather grumbles discontentedly at your movement, but you hardly notice, stretching leisurely like a cat.

“Maybe. Or maybe time is a construct, and neither of us are early or late.”

Mingyu blinks at you, tilting his head. “It’s not even 10. Let’s not talk philosophy until at least 3 in the afternoon, please.”

You laugh at that, silvery and light, watching from your place on the sofa as Mingyu begins setting up his sculpting supplies for the day.

“Whatever pleases you, my dear Mingyu,” you say, words lilting melodically with teasing. “As your muse, it’s my duty to be as pleasing to you as possible, after all.”

Mingyu just rolls his eyes, used to your teasing. “Of course,” he says dryly. “Though I’m afraid it’s debatable just how good you are at that, though.” He laughs when you huff in indignation, before pulling out his sketchbook. “You saw the sketches I sent you last night, right? Is there anything you want to comment on, or should we start right away?”

───────────── 🏛

You are Mingyu’s muse.

It sounds horribly cheesy, and definitely makes you sound like the romantic interest in some sort of historical-royal-heart wrenching-romance-novel, but he literally means you’re his artistic muse.

This wasn’t always the case. You weren’t always solely his—a few years back, you’d simply been one of the hired models for a class he’d taken back at university. But he’d been utterly mesmerised by you, and so in awe of your beauty that it must have shown on his face, because you’d always catch his eye as he worked, an elusive little smile in your eyes, like you knew exactly how he felt.

And then one thing led to another, and suddenly he was meeting you outside of classes, and then he was seeing you even when that particular project had finished, and then he was still sculpting you after he’d graduated, and then, and then, and then…

And then here he is, now.

It’s still something he can’t wrap his head around, even so many years later. How these one-on-one sessions started. How you became his official muse.

“This better turn out amazing, because my arm’s cramping up really badly right now,” you say, voice strained from having your head tilted back for so long, and Mingyu laughs.

“You’re the one who suggested this position,” he says, pencil lightly tracing your form onto paper. “I don’t think you get the right to complain.”

“I have plenty of right to complain,” you argue, opening one eye to glare at him. Mingyu just grins toothily back. “Ugh, whatever. Just hurry up, okay?”

“Hey, you can’t rush art,” Mingyu teases, but he finds his fingers complying anyway, taking longer, sweeping arcs of graphite against the page. He’s almost finished, anyway, with this pose being a lot easier than some others that he’s put you in before. Yet in some ways, it’s going to be even harder for him to complete.

He has you wrapped in swathes of silk, sat on the floor with your legs out in front of you, the cream fabric slipping off your shoulder slightly. You’re leaning back on one arm, the side of your head resting on your shoulder, face tilted upwards as if soaking in the sunlight, eyes shut and eyelashes fluttering gently against your cheeks.

The long, horizontal line of your body makes this a relatively easier art piece than ones he’s attempted before, and while the folds of silk are going to be tricky, that’s not what he’s worried about.

You look so… delicate.

“Okay, let’s take a break,” Mingyu says, when he sees your arm beginning to shake. It’s not a hard pose, but he knows that keeping one position for too long puts strain on the best of people.

You groan with relief, relaxing your arm and flopping to the floor. “Thank God. Any longer and I would’ve definitely collapsed. Turned into a heap on this floor.”

Mingyu hums, adding further details to his sketch. “I think you already did. Don’t worry, sweetheart, you look pretty even as a heap on the floor.”

He can almost hear your eye roll, and he laughs, looking up from the paper to take in your disgruntled expression, only for the laughter to catch in his throat.

There’s no sign of annoyance on your face, and now he’s looking at you, he doubts you rolled your eyes either. Instead, your expression is strangely unreadable, eyes half-lidded, strands of hair falling across your face like curls of ribbons, lips softly pursed. Lying on the floor like that, hair and silk pooling around you as you blink slowly at him, you look like some sort of nature deity, watching him and observing countless things that Mingyu can hardly even begin to understand.

You’re gorgeous.

Mingyu knows this—it’s why you’re his muse—but the realisation always makes his heart stick in his throat when he remembers.

You’re still looking at Mingyu, gaze as dark as molasses, smoky and sweet and pulling him in, making his hands shake and his pulse sound loudly in his ears.

And then you smile, cheeky and playful once more.

“Oh, thank you so much, I’m glad you think so, honeybun,” you say, full of mock-relief, and Mingyu has to blink to remember what you’re thanking him for. “I knew I could always count on you to find me beautiful.”

You dramatically fling your arm over your eyes as you say this, the perfect image of a romantic, distressed maiden having their feelings reassured by the hero, before peeking out from under the back of your hand to flutter your lashes and smile at him.

And Mingyu knows this is an act, that this is just you teasing, but it’s a lot more difficult to tell that to his heart.

“What’s for lunch, by the way?” you ask, taking your arm away from your face. “I’m hungry.”

Mingyu swallows thickly, avoiding your gaze, not wanting you to see every thought written across his face. “It isn’t even lunch time yet. Why are you already hungry?”

“Hey, don’t deny me my right to eat,” you complain, subconsciously smoothing down the silk that’s wrapped around your body. Mingyu sighs internally, already anticipating the hassle he’s going to have to go through to get the folds to sit how they were before. “Modelling for you is hard work, you know.”

Mingyu just hums dryly. “Whatever you say. Unfortunately, break time’s up now, so you’re gonna have to eat later.”

You whine in annoyance, but make no move to resist when Mingyu stands up, walks over and begins rearranging the silk around you again. “Fine. For the sake of art, I guess I’ll go hungry. I’ll be the true tortured artist, or something.”

“Quit the dramatics. We’ll eat when it’s actually lunch time.”

“How about in ten minutes’ time?”

“No.”

“Twenty?”

“No.”

“Fine. You drive a hard bargain, Kim Mingyu.”

───────────── 🏛

So what exactly is it about you that made you his muse?

It’s a question that Mingyu gets asked a lot. By his parents, by his customers, by his friends: none of whom can ever truly understand what a muse is when it comes to art.

You’re not just a really pretty person. To Mingyu, you are—everything. You are beauty, passion, vivacity, intricacy, warmth, cold, colour, light, dark, fear, danger, happiness, love. Looking at you makes his heart twist in his chest, makes his head feel faint and dizzy, makes his eyes burn like he’s been staring right at the sun.

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know how. But being with you, looking at you, makes him feel so heart-wrenchingly alive, skin buzzing with the need to carve your visage onto paper, into clay, into stone, to keep you with him forevermore.

It shouldn’t be possible for one simple human to make him feel like this. And yet…

Mingyu has to pause from where he’s bent over your face, the proximity and his thoughts making his hands begin to shake. It’s not actually your face that’s in front of him right now—rather, it’s your face that he’s currently chiselling out of marble—but even just thinking of you and being inches away from something that he’s making to look just like you causes him to act like this.

But there’s just something so terrifyingly intimate about his craft, about bringing your features out from cold stone, breathing life into the lifeless.

“Why do you do what you do?” you’d asked him once, back when he was still at uni, back before you were his official muse, and he was struggling through charcoal sketches for an assignment he’d been putting off for days. That was, until you’d offered to model for him, and suddenly, the ideas flowed smoothly onto the page.

(You’ve always been his muse, since day one.)

He’d looked up from his smudged fingers, watching you sit in front of him, backlit by the soft sunlight streaming in from the window. It made you look like you were glowing, gentle light emanating from your skin in a delicately beautiful way. Not as blinding as the sun, but something softer.

Moon-like.

You take his breath away, and Mingyu had ended up stuttering out some ridiculous answer that he can’t even remember anymore, but thankfully, you seemed to accept it, going back to posing in the pensive position you’d been in before.

If he were to answer the question now, without you here to steal all his words, the answer would be rather simple.

Because he loves it.

Carefully, Mingyu brushes a dusty finger over the jagged profile he’s carved into the marble. The edges are too sharp, the slope of your cheek too unrefined, but Mingyu’s heart only swells in anticipation and adoration for what he knows the finished product will resemble.

It’s electrifying, seeing what he can bring to life. Like a mad scientist, an obsessed genius, he wonders how far he can go. What things he can make with his bare hands.

Whether he can truly make something that is so very you.

You’d been here earlier to model some more, but you’re gone now, busy meeting up with friends. You don’t normally come in to pose once he has a project fully underway, but he always asks you to come when he starts doing the face properly. Just in case he gets anything wrong.

(It’s all an excuse to spend more time with you, however. He knows your face so well from how often it’s appeared in his dreams, and from how it's carved in his brain.)

“Please try to make it a little bit like me, this time,” you’d teased, eyes shining like twin stars.

Mingyu had simply laughed, waving you off. “Come on, my sculptures always look plenty like you.”

“Nonsense. None of them ever come close to the absolute perfection that I am.”

It had been a joke, but Mingyu had found himself looking up as you gave him a wave and then walked out without a second glance. He’d watched you go, watching the trail of moonlight you left behind in your wake, soft-scented and silver-lined.

There’s some truth to your words, however. Nothing he’s made has ever come close to perfectly replicating the warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your smile, the light that you exude just by simply being.

You’re so magnetic, a bewitching push-and-pull he can't back out of, endlessly drawing Mingyu in towards you like he’s hopelessly locked in your orbit and cannot even think of breaking away.

That kind of thing is near-impossible to replicate. But, if it’s for you…

“This time, I’ll get it,” he promises to the empty studio. His words ring about the room like a bell, reverent and full of conviction.

Mingyu looks down at your half-finished face, still rough around the edges, but the curve of your lips looking oh-so smooth. With a shaking hand, he traces over the shape of your mouth, imagining how soft your real lips would be, how the tip of his thumb would press into the plushness of it.

Would you let him press his lips to yours in this way? Would you accept such an act of devotion?

Or would you slip away from his grasp, elusive as moonlight, ghosting over his senses before disappearing without a trace?

He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know.

Swallowing down his heart, Mingyu takes his hand away from your face, avoids your eyes, and carries on with his work.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

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thewertsearch · 5 months ago

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GT: I should preface this request with an overture of appreciation. GT: For how much your cool and brotherly friendship means to me. GT: It has just been… GT: Absolutely *bully* having a standup gent like you in my corner. GT: Just a grade a dude whos a cut above the others in class and camaraderie. GT: Phew… *gropes for fresh kerchief*.

Wow, Jake is fucking terrified of this guy - or at the very least, he seems incredibly intimidated for a guy who's ostensibly just chatting with a friend.

Unfortunately, this is exactly what I'd expect from a Bro who's not any different from his adult self. Jake's acting exactly like Dave did, back when he was forced to share an apartment with the guy.

TT: Take it easy, bromide. TT: Just about the only way I could salvage endearment from this perilous slope of horseshit would be to discover, really fucking soon mind you, it was a preamble to some floundering invitation for me to rush to your vicinity as nakedly as possible.

In other words, you wish he was hitting on you.

I really don't think he's kidding, especially since both Roxy and Jane seem to want a piece of English, too. Jake's sitting at the epicenter of at least three crushes, which is not a pleasant place to be sitting when you're fifteen.

TT: But since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence that were as hilarious as they were one sided, TT: That leaves only one hope for this message to avoid spiraling toward qualification as a critical fucking defect in the hull of the Mach 10 rocket that is my precious spare time.

And here's the guy's actual personality. It's a fairly even mixture of Rose and Dave, a combination which synergizes much better than you'd expect.

He's still prone to Dave-style rambles - but unlike Dave, his streams of consciousness are every bit as eloquent as Rose's text, which some extra swear words tossed in for flavor.

It's very good, and immediately does a lot to humanize him, especially when all we've seen so far is "roof. now." and "State your business."

TT: And that hope lies in the extent to which you were practicing artful insincerity. TT: Now's your opportunity to pretend that's what you were gunning for. I suggest you seize it. GT: I… GT: Oh. Yes! But of course. GT: The ironies! GT: Good grief how i was bandying them just now. You know me dude. GT: *Blows smoke off red hot irony pistol.* GT: *NONSUGGESTIVELY!!!!!*

lmaoooo

Alright, I can't actually tell if that was a Freudian slip or not - but I kind of hope it was. If these two became a couple, the vibes would be incomprehensible.

TT: I'm guessing you're probably jonesing for uranium about now. No? GT: Ok can you please just sendificate me some more already?? Im in kind of a hurry! [...] TT: You know. I've offered to construct the rabbit for you many times before. I would craft a much deadlier model. […] GT: Damn it man ive told you this is just something i have to do myself. […] TT: Yeah, I know this is your policy. You've done a good job and you should be proud. TT: But it's my responsibility as your friend to offer one last time. TT: Just as it's my responsibility not to just fork over a bunch of uranium just because you ask me in a moment of weakness. […] GT: Why not??? TT: It's too easy.

Throughout this whole conversation, I've been trying to get a grasp on Bro's general vibe - and I think I'm starting to understand it.

When you're talking to Kid Bro, everything is a game - and he'll make damn well sure that you follow the rules.

Jake previously committed to making the bunny alone, and Bro refuses to rescind that rule, even if Jake's no longer following it himself. He strikes me as a guy who frames every interaction he has as transactional, confrontational, or instructional. He's not capable of just shooting the shit - there has to be an angle.

Mind you, I don't think there's any genuine malice in it. I think this is just how he's wired - and I really do think he's trying to help Jake develop as a person, in his own way.

The problem is, we've been down this road before...

...and nothing good lies down this road.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 6 #s183 #4184 #edit: ok interestingly he DID offer to rescind the rule #but only if jake lets him fully make the bunny himself #he demands all-or-nothing basically

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al-norton · 7 months ago

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Yesterday I was hanging out with a couple of friends on discord - one of them from my city, one of them from a little village in the north of Ukraine. We're talking about dnd, because meeting for a game 3 times a week is not enough for us, apparently. At some point one of my friends interrupts the conversation with a little remark - "damn, the shooting is louder then usual today'. I suggest "cellar time" for his safety. We laugh. All 3 of us joke about how none of us have appropriate shelter nearby and how annoying it is when the sirens start blasting as you're walking your dog. Conversation moves on.

Some 10 minutes later the same friend interrupts the conversation again, audibly startled. "Fuck, guys, I gotta go" - and mutes himself.

That is harder to ignore. We stay silent for a minute.

Still, he is muted and not out - so his house probably isn't blown up. He took the time to warn us, so he personally is probably fine. And we know that discord does pick up the sound of explosion if it's happening close enough, and we haven't heard anything, so his immediate family is probably safe.

Further than that, there's no use to speculate. We won't know until - if - he comes back.

Slowly, we pick the conversation back up.

He comes back some 15 minutes later: "Guys, our hayloft is on fire". "How on fire?" - I ask. "Fully on fire". The cracking of the wood was loud enough to mistake it for the shooting, so it took awhile to notice anything out of the ordinary.

It's no big deal, apparently - no one was in the hayloft, not even the cat that likes to sleep there. The firefighters arrived 20 minutes later and even managed to save some of the hay. We chatted about dnd and the first season of arcane for 2 more hours.

It's a fun story, a cute one, even. But it takes it's place among others: the fact that every time I go to a bus stop I have to walk by my school currently constructing an underground facility so children don't have to stop classes with every air raid alarm that goes off. The fact that I celebrated my joint birthday with my uncle in candle light because of another attack on our power system. The fact that every explosion that i can faintly hear on discord as I talk to my friends, or that shakes the ground as I do groceries, or wakes me up at 2 am - carries real people with it being killed and injured. The fact that hearing the sound of shooting is enough for us to assume that "things are normal".

The normalcy of war is a terrifying and infectious thing - even for us, people living under under occupation and constant attacks. I can imagine it only gets worse as you get farther from the action. As we slowly approach the end of the 3rd year of this war going on, please, don't let yourself believe this is okay.

If you're able to, advocate with your officials for more help being sent to Ukraine. Donate to Come Back Alive, if you're able to. If you're able to, enjoy the peace.

#ukraine #I don't want to add a dozen disclamers to the post #it's a very small and personal story. far from the worst happening in ukraine or indeed in the world #so the same message goes for palestine. none of this is normal #people deserve to live without a constant threat of death

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uceyliyahh · 25 days ago

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TASTE OF SIN

summary: he warned Chantel once, he doesn’t bite without meaning it But she was already drunk off him — the gold in his grill, the shadows in his brown eyes, the way his voice wrapped around her name like silk and smoke. Joshua Fatu wasn’t human. Not anymore. He didn’t just want her blood — he wanted her soul, her screams, her submission.

warnings contain: explicit sexual content, bloodplay, possessive, and supernatural themes. (Reader discretion is advised), dark romance, vampire thirst, sinful energy.

word count: 6.5k

If you’re not into biting, obsession, and being absolutely ruined by a smooth-talking, grill-wearing nightwalker… this might not be for you.

SO MDNI ‼️‼️

Jey Uso x Chantel

thanks to my homegirl @charmed-dreamssss for helping me with the title and summary 🫶🏽

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

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@charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @mzv11 @mjonthetrack @ambersinterlude @li-da-savage @sharmelasworld @shanthefemalerapper @sharmelasworld @spiicii @jeyusosqueen @amazinggirlsstuff @shes2real @marababyyyy @sharmelasworld @sheaabuttaababyy

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎

𝙾𝚖𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝

uceyjucey, yaonlylivonce, trickwilliams_wwe, and others liked your post.

chantibae: pretty to see, hard to catch 🦋

yaonlylivonce: so rawwww bestie like 😩😩

chantibae: @ yaonlylivonce raw & pretty 😌

trickwilliams_wwe: 😍😍😍

uceyjucey: I miss you Chanti

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Forks, Washington - 10:30AM

On this brisk and rainy day in Forks, Chantel had just completed her third period of class. As she prepared to make her way to the cafeteria for a bite to eat before her next biology class, she found herself in line at Chick-fil-A. Just then, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket.

As she extracted it, a message from Joshua caught her eye; it had been some time since she last heard from him, following the night she allowed him a taste of her blood. Recently, she has been experiencing peculiar sensations, often awakening in the dead of night, her shoulders aching from the marks left by his fangs.

Each day, as she prepared for school, she would gaze at her shoulders, noticing the faint imprints of his fangs, and gently touch them, serving as an everlasting reminder of their shared past.

Bloodsucker💋: I miss you ma

She dismissed the messages, leaving him on read, as she gracefully made her way to the front to order her favorite dish from the menu. After placing her order, she received yet another text from him, prompting a deep sigh from her.

Bloodsucker💋: Ik you are upset at me for leaving like that but you don’t understand why I did what I did ma

The issue with Chantel lies in her inability to comprehend why he would abandon her so abruptly, leaving her in a state of confusion without any justification, only to declare himself a perilous individual to associate with. Perhaps she was unwilling to grasp the reality, or perhaps her innocence blinded her from making an effort to understand.

As she awaited her meal, her phone chimed once more, prompting her to set it to do not disturb, as she was not in the mood to converse with him. His actions had wounded her deeply, particularly the way he had left his mark on her; it stirred something profound within her.

Yet, she found herself unable to resist contemplating the manner in which he kissed her, his cold hands caressing her skin, particularly as he trailed his moist kisses along her neck and jawline; it stirred a sensation within her, causing her to rub her thighs together, feeling the warmth pulsating and aching in that intimate place.

They called her name as she collected her meal and made her way to the tables by the window, seeking solitude. Once seated at one of the tables, she unpacked her food and began to enjoy her sandwich while engrossed in her phone.

As she perused her social media, she observed the various posts from others, noting with delight that several individuals, including Joshua, had taken a moment to like her post on Instagram.

She perused her notifications, observing his persistent messages on iMessage, which left her feeling disheartened as she read them.

Bloodsucker💋: I’m sorry ma Bloodsucker💋: I didn’t mean to leave you like that Bloodsucker💋: can we talk about it please ma?

Chantel began to feel a twinge of guilt for disregarding him, yet she had her justifications. As she savored her meal, she approached the camera, shifting her shirt aside to reveal the fang marks on her shoulders—a poignant reminder of the reasons behind her silence.

But at the same time she was craving him more.

“Chanti!” At that moment, she pivoted her head in the direction of the voice that was calling her name, revealing it to be none other than her classmate, Ginny.

She gracefully took a seat beside her, a radiant smile illuminating her face before she began to speak. “Sooo, how are you liking it so far being here?”

“It’s cool, unlike the men trying to holla at me here. It’s annoying.” Chantel replied.

“Girl really? I thought you would like that?”

Chantel shook her head in disapproval, “nah, it’s weird when all they really want is some pussy and have frat parties every single night.” That made Ginny chuckle at her which Chantel wasn’t wrong about that.

Since her relocation to Forks and the commencement of her college journey, every gentleman has endeavored to engage her in conversation or solicit her number. However, she has consistently turned down their advances, making her way to her classroom. The sole individual occupying her thoughts has been Joshua; ever since that fateful night they shared, he has remained ever-present in her mind.

At that moment, she noticed another message from Joshua, prompting her to flip her phone face down as she continued to savor the remainder of her meal, deliberately avoiding any conversation with him.

“You having man trouble?”

Chantel’s eyes fluttered open when she had said that, “man trouble Ginny? I am single girl.”

“Well I’m hearing that phone blowing up constantly seems like someone wants to talk to you, Chanti.”

“It’s not important Ginny.”

Ginny cast a knowing glance at her, fully aware that she was being utterly dishonest, prompting Chantel to let out a deep sigh while rolling her eyes in response. "It’s merely a fellow I encountered at the club with my closest friends—he abandoned me unexpectedly the other evening, so I’m simply choosing to disregard him."

Ginny’s face scrunched up while nodding her head in agreement.

“Yeah, I would have done the same thing if I met a man at the club and we vibed together and then just left me high and dry afterwards.” Ginny said.

“That’s what I’m saying girl.” Chantel replied.

“But maybe he had his reasoning behind it. Just talk to him about it whenever yall see each other.”

The truth is, she wished he remained oblivious to the fact that she was fully aware of it within herself—but what could she possibly convey to her? That he posed a threat to her well-being and that they ought to cease their entanglement, especially considering the evidence of his bite marks adorning her shoulders.

Chantel glanced at the time on her phone, realizing she needed to head to her next class for the day to avoid being late.

"I am uncertain, Gin. I shall ponder it, but I must make my way to class now, so I will catch up with you later." With that, she embraced Ginny warmly before disposing of her Chick-fil-A bag in the trashcan. She then collected her purse and bookbag, gracefully proceeding towards her next class.

She felt like she had eyes watching over her making her get goosebumps on her skin as she walked to her classroom.

—

Fork, Washington - 4:30PM

Chantel has just completed her final class today. As she made her way to her car, keys in hand, she noticed a familiar silhouette lurking in the shadows. She squinted her eyes, attempting to discern the identity of the figure, but her efforts proved futile.

With a graceful shrug of her shoulders, she entered her car, gently closing the door behind her. She set her purse and bookbag on the passenger seat beside her, then inserted the keys into the ignition, bringing her vehicle to life.

She made the decision to visit Trick and Liv for a while, so she sent a text to her father informing him that she would be at Trick and Liv's residence and would return home before dinner.

Chantel noticed yet another text message from Joshua, which she chose to disregard entirely. As she carefully shifted her car into reverse, she backed up slowly, glancing behind her to ensure she avoided any obstacles.

Bloodsucker💋: ma please can we talk just hear me out.

As she shifted her car into drive mode and departed from campus, heading towards Trick and Liv's residence, she began to indulge in some R&B tunes, allowing the music to envelop her. In that moment, she attempted to reshape her thoughts about Joshua, contemplating whether to text him and invite him over for a conversation. Yet, deep down, she realized she wasn't ready to see him just yet.

In the meantime, Joshua was incessantly bombarding her phone, desperately seeking her attention—ever since he caught a glimpse and inhaled her fragrance, he has been driven to madness. He regretted leaving her in suspense, yet he had his justifications.

He was a beast capable of causing her harm, yet she remained oblivious to this truth. Thus, he knew he must depart before anything further transpired between them that evening. Frustration coursed through him as he ran his fingers through his mullet, and it was at that moment he heard someone entering the living room.

As he raised his gaze, he noticed his twin brother entering the living room. Taking a seat beside him, with one leg draped over the other, he observed Joshua and sensed that something was amiss.

“What happened twin?” Jonathan asked.

“It’s nothing twin.” Josh replied while checking his phone to see if Chantel had texted him or not.

Jonathan wasn’t buying it when he knew something had gone wrong, “you know I’ma keep asking you right? So you might as well spill it.”

Joshua sighed deeply, “remember shawty at the club the other night?”

“You mean the one that smelled good as soon as she walked in?”

Joshua nodded his head.

“Yeah? Whatchu do Josh?”

“I kinda went to go see her that night after we parted ways at the club and…I got a taste of her twin.” Jonathan’s eyes went wide when he said that.

“You did what?”

“Look I know it sounds bad but she allowed me to do it with her consent.”

“How many times did you bite her?”

“ I bit her on both of her shoulders, but man it tastes so good twin you don’t understand how long I’ve been wanting to have something like that.”

Joshua was not deceiving when he spoke of the exquisite flavor of her blood upon his lips and tongue; it ignited a fervor within him, leaving him yearning for more of her essence. But the question lingered—would this evolve into something more significant?

He wished for her not to grow fond of him due to his nature, as it would not only stir complications within the family if this persisted, but he found himself unable to resist; he missed her profoundly and desired her as well.

But she wasn’t answering him.

“So lemme’ assume that you left her after that?”

“Yeah I did…but you gotta understand I had my reason for leaving her like that, she doesn’t know what we are twin.”

He heard his twin brother sighing deeply, “what did she tell you when she let you bite her?”

“She told me that she didn’t care if I hurt her, and that she trusted me.”

He chuckled while shaking his head, “damn you must’ve done something to her for her to trust you like this so what she’s upset that you left her?”

“Yeah, I’ve been texting her nonstop and she’s been leaving me on read.”

“Look, I’ll help you out with this one. But you need to be careful knowing that Trick and Liv are not fucking with us.”

“A’ight, aight.”

Joshua seized his car keys while he and Jonathan strolled outside towards the vehicle, anticipating the moment they would encounter Chantel, fully aware that they would be venturing into the wolves' domain upon finding her.

Chantel found herself outdoors in the rear garden, accompanied by Trick, Liv, and a few other acquaintances, indulging in a cocktail of Jack Daniel's. She observed the wood crackling in the fire that Trick had ignited, providing warmth against the evening chill. As they enjoyed the ambiance, she noticed Liv approaching her, drink in hand, before taking a seat beside her.

“Hey girl, you’ve been quiet for a while. You good?” Liv asked.

“Yeah, I’m good just chilling that’s all.” Chantel replied while taking a sip of her drink.

“You sure it seems like something has been bothering you since you got here.” Chantel was reluctant to confide in her closest friend about the passionate encounter she had with Joshua, where she allowed him to kiss her deeply and even bite her, merely to give him a fleeting taste of her essence the previous night.

Chantel nodded her head giving Liv a reassuring smile, “yeah I’m good Liv, I promise.”

Before Liv uttered a word, she rose, her senses heightened by an unfamiliar scent. As she gazed at Trick and the others, they paused in their actions. She could feel the presence of vampires encroaching upon their territory at that very moment.

A Hellcat had been observed gliding up the driveway as Trick approached Chantel, witnessing Jonathan and Joshua emerging from the vehicle, their eyes scanning the surroundings in search of Chantel. It was at that moment that Trick let out a low growl directed at them.

“What the fuck are you guys doing in our territory Jon?” Trick hissed.

“Woah! Relax, we looking for Chanti is she around?” Jonathan said.

Chantel cautiously emerged from her hiding place behind Trick, catching sight of Jonathan and Joshua standing nearby. It was at that moment that she and Joshua locked eyes, creating a brief yet profound connection.

“What’chu want with her?” He asked.

“My brother wants to talk to her if that’s okay, we don’t want no trouble trick.”

Trick cast a fleeting glance at her before returning his gaze to Joshua; he could feel that something had transpired between the two of them, yet he was unable to pinpoint exactly what it was.

“Make it quick and then after that yall gotta bounce you know the treaty rules.” Chantel observed Joshua gesturing for her to approach him, and she complied, while Trick looked on as she walked away with him.

With her arms elegantly folded across her chest, she refrained from glancing at Joshua, who was intently gazing at her. Joshua graciously opened the car door for her, allowing her to settle into the backseat before he gently closed the door behind her. He and Jonathan then entered the vehicle, smoothly pulling away from the driveway.

Trick had signaled Liv to accompany them, ensuring that Chantel remained safe, as Liv nodded in agreement and transformed into her wolf form to pursue the car.

The journey in the car unfolded in silence, accompanied by the soft melodies emanating from the speakers. Chantel, seated in the backseat with her arms elegantly crossed, gazed out the window, captivated by the twinkling stars and the luminous moon illuminating the night sky. To her surprise, she had not anticipated encountering him this evening, along with what appeared to be his brother.

At that moment, Jonathan spoke up. "I’m Jonathan, by the way. I apologize that our meeting is under such unfortunate circumstances due to his foolishness." This elicited a chuckle from her as she smiled warmly at him.

“I’m Chantel as you know people call me Chanti for short, I’m assuming that this is your twin brother?” Chantel said.

“Yeah, but I’m the older brother with more common sense unlike him.” Joshua glared at him while rolling his eyes.

Chantel experienced a sense of tranquility in the vehicle, reassured by the comfort of their presence. As Jonathan maneuvered the car into a parking spot, he observed Joshua exiting the vehicle first. With the grace of a true gentleman, he opened the door for her and gently closed it behind her.

“Aye, don’t take to long don’t need Trick trippin’ over his best friend twin.”

Joshua inclined his head as he and Chantel strolled together into a secluded part of the woods, seeking a moment of privacy to converse. He could perceive her distress towards him, a sentiment that was entirely justifiable, for he had abandoned her—left her in a state of sexual frustration, having not completed what he had started.

Once they found a secluded spot, she settled herself on a large rock beside her, her hands tucked into her pockets, patiently awaiting his words.

“Chanti…” she cuts him off.

“No, I don’t want to hear any of your excuses Josh. How could you just leave me hanging like that the other night? Especially after I let you bite me.” Chantel scolded him.

She lowered her shirt, revealing the fang marks adorning both ends of her shoulders, before adjusting her garment and casting a fierce glare in his direction.

“I’m sorry mama, I didn’t mean to leave you like that but I have my reasons.”

She scoffed at him, “what are those reasons? That you’re dangerous and that you can hurt me?” She used a mocking tone while rolling her eyes at him.

“Yes, I can hurt you Chanti. You don’t the things I can do to you right now with you standing in front of me.”

“I told you that night that I trusted you and that I didn’t care what you are or not I wanted you Josh.”

She rose gracefully from the rock, making her way towards him, their faces mere inches apart as she gazed into his deep brown eyes amidst the shadows, while he reciprocated the gaze into her enchanting hazel ones, his hands resting on her hips, gently caressing her with his thumb.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for mama.” His voice was gentle, barely above a whisper, meant solely for her ears.

“I do, and I don’t care what happens. I want you.” She murmured gently while encircling his neck with her arms, standing on her tiptoes due to his greater height.

Her pure and unsuspecting demeanor left him aware of the potential repercussions should he allow this connection to flourish between them; yet, he found himself unable to resist, as being in her presence was akin to an intoxicating addiction.

And he needed his drug.

“You want me?” She nodded her head.

He gazed at her lips before returning his gaze to her enchanting hazel eyes, gently cradling her chin with his fingers, drawing her face nearer to his as they shared a kiss—this kiss was unlike any they had exchanged before, distinct from the one they had shared the previous night.

This kiss unfolded with a languid desperation, his tongue swirling within her mouth, where she could feel the sharpness of his fangs brushing against her own. Her scent was intoxicating him profoundly; he craved her blood, desired her body, and yearned for her soul as no one else ever could.

Her fingers entwined in his mullet, drawing him closer to intensify the kiss, while she felt his hand encircling her throat, gently pulling back as he placed soft pecks on her lips a few times. He maintained his grip around her throat, locking his gaze with hers.

“You’re such a naive lil girl aren’t you mama?” Josh said as his voice dropped a few octaves.

“Like I said I don’t care, I want you.” Chantel replied.

“There are consequences to this Chanti, you need to understand.”

She cupped his face with her hands caressing his thumbs against his face, “then let’s face it together.” She wasn’t hearing him.

Yet, within his gaze, he discerned her unwavering seriousness regarding this matter; she appeared indifferent to the repercussions they might encounter should they proceed, as well as the potential reactions of her closest friends to such news.

“Chanti…”

“Joshua…”

They exchanged a lingering gaze, and in that fleeting instant, they understood that this connection would evolve into something far more profound, despite the inevitable repercussions.

Before he could say anything that’s when he could

Feel his twin brother mind-linking with him.

“We gotta bounce, Liv is here and she’s pissed.”

“C’mon we gotta go.” Josh said as she nodded her head.

With that, he instructed Chantel to climb onto his back, which she promptly did, urging her to hold on tightly as he sprinted at a speed she had never witnessed before. He leaped from one tree branch to another, taking shortcuts to reach Jonathan and Liv.

He could perceive the tumultuous exchange between the two of them, sensing that something was amiss as he glanced behind Chantel, who was taken aback by the swiftness of his movements.

As he approached Jonathan and Liv, he gracefully landed on his feet, gently placing Chantel on hers, just as she noticed Liv advancing towards her, a look of concern etched on her face.

“Chanti are you good? Did he hurt you?” She asked.

“No, I’m fine Liv. He didn’t hurt me.”

Liv detected Joshua's fragrance lingering on Chantel's skin, a scent so potent it caused her nose to throb. Yet, she could also perceive an undeniable connection blossoming between the two, fueled by the palpable tension that enveloped them both.

“C’mon Chanti let’s go.”

“Hold on lemme’ say goodbye at least.” In that moment, Chantel approached Joshua, enveloping him in a warm embrace, her arms gracefully encircling his neck. He reciprocated by holding her close, his arms firmly around her, as he gently brushed his nose against her neck, inhaling her delightful fragrance. With a tender gesture, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on her neck, all while Liv looked on.

Jonathan observed the antics of his twin brother, a chuckle escaping his lips as he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief at how this girl had ensnared his brother's heart.

“I’ma see you later aight?” Josh whispered in her ear.

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.” Chantel responded as she and he distanced themselves from one another, waving at Jonathan before departing with Liv, as they made their way back alongside the rest of the group.

That’s when Jonathan had nudged his twin brother while looking at him.

“Dawg, you’re bold as hell for doing that in front of Liv.”

Joshua shrugged his shoulders, “she wasn’t going to do anything to me and I could sense that she knew there’s happening between Chantel and I.”

“Is there something happening between the two of you?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Liv and Chantel returned alongside the rest as Trick approached them.

“You good Chanti?” Trick asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine guys. Please calm down he didn’t hurt me.” Chantel said.

Trick inclined his head, detecting Joshua's fragrance enveloping her form, a clear sign that they had grown intimate during their time apart from the others.

He noticed her phone illuminate with Joshua's name listed in her contacts as ‘Bloodsucker💋’ while she turned her back on him and Liv, starting to text him.

“I feel like there’s something going on between her and Joshua, ion like it Trick.”

“Yeah, it’s like there is something she isn’t telling us especially what went down the other night.”

“We will find out sooner rather than later.” Trick noticed a smile blossoming on Chantel's face while she was messaging Joshua; he sensed that something was amiss.

—

As Chantel donned her pajamas and secured her hair in a bonnet, she entered her bedroom only to find him standing there, arms crossed over his chest, gazing down at her.

He gazed at her with admiration from head to toe, just as he had in the past, as she approached him, gracefully wrapping her arms around his neck. In response, he unfolded his arms and encircled her waist, leaning down to bestow a tender, lingering kiss upon her lips.

He observed the delicate fang marks adorning each end of her shoulders as he tenderly kissed them, causing her to surrender to his touch. Joshua lifted her by the thighs and carried her towards her bed, pinning her down onto the cool sheets.

Chantel looked into his eyes with an innocent gaze, her lips gently bitten at the bottom as she admired his features, mirroring his own gaze. He intertwined his fingers with her delicate hands before positioning himself between her legs, bestowing soft kisses upon her neck, allowing her enchanting scent to captivate him.

She felt a wave of warmth enveloping her as his lips caressed her neck, trailing delicately towards her jawline, the sensation heightened by the gentle pressure of his sharp fangs grazing her skin.

“You so dangerous mama.” Josh murmured between her skin.

His icy hands slipped beneath her shirt, effortlessly squeezing both of her breasts while he nibbled gently at her jawline. He then lifted her shirt over her chest, revealing the perky breast that lay before him.

He tenderly kissed her chest before bringing his exquisite lips to her nipples, gently sucking on them while stealing glances at her—observing her squirm in response to his touch.

“J-Joshua…” Chantel moaned softly.

His tongue danced around her nipples, prompting her to arch her back in delight as she tugged at his mullet. He withdrew, producing a soft ‘pop’ sound from his lips, gazing down at her with an insatiable hunger, as if he yearned to consume her.

He wanted her blood, he wanted everything about her.

“What’chu want ma?”

She was acutely aware of her desires, and it was solely him that she had been yearning for ever since he abandoned her in such a desolate state the other evening.

“I want you Joshua, take whatever you need from me.”

She gently pulled at his shirt, urging him to remove it, eager to explore the contours of his muscular physique adorned with tribal tattoos. In response, he tossed the garment aside and began to shower her with soft, lingering kisses, trailing down her body towards her stomach and further, all the way between her legs, stealing glances up at her as he did so.

She swiftly removed her pajama pants, revealing her delicate lacy cotton underwear before him, causing him to lick his lips as he pressed his mouth against her inner thighs—tenderly kissing each side while he held her legs apart for his pleasure.

“I’m hungry ma.”

“Take it, mark me up Joshua. I trust you.”

“You’re asking for too much babygirl.” He gently pressed his lips against her moist panties, causing her to shiver as he sank his fangs into one of her inner thighs, savoring her essence as he tasted her blood for the first time.

The delightful blend of sweetness and savor from her blood within her mouth captivated him, prompting him to withdraw from one of her thighs as he tenderly licked her wound, before turning his attention to her other thigh.

As he sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her thighs, she neither flinched nor cried out; instead, she surrendered to the exquisite sensation coursing through her body, her fingers playfully entangling in his mullet as he drew forth her lifeblood.

“Take whatever you need from me…” Chantel whimpers as she could feel her pussy aching for him to eat her out.

He could perceive the rhythmic pulse of her essence, a sensation that compelled him to withdraw from her thighs, where he had been tenderly attending to her wound. He relished the metallic flavor of her blood lingering on his lips, before bestowing gentle kisses upon her moist petals. With a delicate touch, he placed his cool fingers upon her, beginning to caress her folds through the fabric of her panties.

He leaned in closer and gently pressed his lips against hers as they fervently embraced—she could taste her own blood mingling within his mouth while she fought to keep pace as he deftly circled his fingers around her clit with increasing speed.

His tongue danced within her mouth while she sensed him shifting her panties aside, sliding two fingers into her warmth, eliciting soft moans as she felt herself being filled by his fingers, deeply embedded within her.

“You belong to me Chanti, this pussy is mine now.” He murmured between her lips.

Joshua could sense the delightful slickness enveloping his fingers, enhancing the ease with which he glided them in and out of her, reminiscent of a luxurious water slide, provoking a deep growl of satisfaction from within him.

She gently nibbled on the lower part of his lip, tugging it back before retreating into the kiss, as she spread her legs wider for him—affording him greater access to her.

The sole sound that permeated the atmosphere was the enchanting squelch of her intimate area, reminiscent of creamy mac and cheese, as he gazed down at her with an expression brimming with allure. “J-Joshua…”

They withdrew from the kiss, his gaze fixed on her face as it contorted with pleasure each time his fingers delved deeper within her. She clung to his neck, her eyes locked onto the rhythmic motion of his fingers as they moved inside her.

“Yes my pretty baby, I’m right here.” He cooed at her. “Keep looking me with those pretty eyes baby.”

She acquiesced to his request, her eyes fixed on his as she gently bit her lower lip. He persisted in bringing her pleasure, and she instinctively opened her legs wider, offering him enhanced access. This enabled him to delve deeper with his fingers, while she grasped his neck for stability.

The echo of his hand meeting her clit filled the atmosphere as his fingers skillfully glided within her. When he raised his gaze, he beheld her eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy.

Joshua expertly curled his fingers, striking her g-spot with remarkable accuracy, prompting her to clutch his shoulders firmly as waves of ecstasy coursed through her.

“Joshua, oh fuck. Joshua.”

“Say my name some more ma, tell daddy you finna cum.” Joshua quickened his rhythm, his fingers skillfully stimulating her g-spot repeatedly.

She felt her body react to his caress, both tensing and loosening around his fingers, as her eyes fluttered back in bliss. His gentle murmurs of love sent exquisite shivers coursing through her, making her stomach twist in an exhilarating rhythm.

“You finna cum fo’ daddy mama? Huh?” His voice carried a playful tease, yet it held a taunting edge as she gazed at him with her innocent eyes.

He kissed her forehead, “so fucking pretty baby, cum fo’ daddy. Tell daddy you love this shit.”

Her voice trembled and fell to a hushed tone as her nails dug into his biceps, unmistakably indicating that she was teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“F-fuckk, J-Joshua…I love it…love it so much…”

A sly smile graced his lips as she uttered those words, sensing her rhythmic clenching and unclenching around his fingers while he guided her through the moment with his velvety, deep honeyed voice.

“It’s coming….fuck it’s cominggg.” Chantel moaned.

He delicately pressed his lips to hers, his hand softly encircling her throat, enabling him to behold her ecstasy as it flowed over his fingers. “Cum fo’ me babygirl, cum. make a mess.” His fingers delved deeply into her g-spot, the unmistakable sounds of her pleasure resonating, signaling that she was teetering on the edge of surrender.

He sustained his relentless tempo, his fingers gliding in and out with a fervor that drove her to the edge. In that instant, she surrendered to the sensation, a passionate moan escaping her lips as her thighs trembled beneath her. Torrents of ecstasy coursed through her, and she sensed warmth cascading down her thighs. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she comprehended the magnitude of her climax.

He elevated her to a realm of ecstasy she had never known, culminating in her inaugural encounter with such profound pleasure.

She nestled against his chest, her breath quickening as Joshua withdrew his fingers, leaving her with a sense of longing that made her whimper softly.

He delicately licked his fingers, savoring her sweet essence, before gently pressing his lips to hers, all the while caressing her thighs in soothing circles, providing comfort after the intense orgasm she had just experienced.

Her legs, sore from the imprints of his fangs, felt as though they were immobilized. It was at that moment he rose from the bed, causing her anxiety to spike, as she feared he might abandon her once more. However, unbeknownst to her, he was merely preparing a warm cloth to tend to her, ensuring her comfort and his presence would remain.

He moved with such swiftness, almost in the blink of an eye, as he tended to her, causing her to flinch at the warmth of the cloth against her sensitive skin, which made him chuckle softly at her reaction.

“I know ma, but I gotta clean you up. Must be tired baby.” Joshua said.

She remained silent, merely observing as he tenderly attended to her, carefully addressing the fang marks adorning the edges of her thighs. After ensuring she was clean, he removed her delicate lace underwear, replacing it with a fresh pair. Despite the discomfort she experienced, she tried to lift her hips. He skillfully dressed her in new underwear, discarding the soiled ones into the laundry basket.

He replaced her sheets with fresh ones while cradling her in his strong arms, showcasing his remarkable multitasking skills. Gently, he laid her down on the bed, the blanket enveloping her body, before joining her beneath the covers as she nestled against his chest.

He could perceive the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat resonating through her chest, rising and falling gracefully as she drifted into slumber within mere seconds. Joshua found himself captivated by her exquisite features, tenderly stroking her face with his thumb, while the soft snores that escaped her lips elicited a chuckle from him.

She was indifferent to the repercussions or the potential fallout if her closest friends discovered her relationship with Joshua, fully aware that Trick harbored a deep disdain for him. Her sole focus was on Joshua, on how he treated her and the care he bestowed upon her.

Each time he laid eyes on her, her blood irresistibly beckoned him, igniting an insatiable desire for a taste. She would grant him that indulgence without a moment's hesitation.

She trusted him with all of her heart.

As he gently stroked her face with his thumb, he sensed his twin brother attempting to reach out to him mentally.

“Twin, where you at?” He knew that Jonathan would be questioning him about his whereabouts.

“I’m with Chanti right now twin, did something happen?”

He felt an unmistakable presence, and the pungent aroma of wet dog assaulted his nostrils, nearly causing him to retch; however, he persevered, focusing on Chantel's fragrance. He was aware that either Trick or Liv was vigilantly observing her, likely under the impression that he was causing her harm, but that was far from the truth.

“Nah, but I can sense that Liv or Trick is there watching over her right now.”

“Yeah I can too but I’m not hurting her or anything she’s sleeping.”

“I know but you know how they are, they don’t like our kind so be careful.”

Joshua intended to depart before dawn, prior to her awakening. He wished to avoid leaving her alone as he had done the previous night. He felt it was important to offer her some solace, reassuring her of his presence rather than absence.

“I’ma leave before the sun rises in the morning but for right now I’m tryna make up for the other night.”

“Damn she got yo’ ass hooked huh?” That brought a soft chuckle from him as he tenderly kissed the crown of her head, feeling her body draw nearer to him in her slumber.

“Something like that.”

“Why don’t you just take the risk?” Dare to take the plunge? The peril of facing the wrath of her two closest companions should they discover the nature of their bond?

“I am not about to get eaten up by her two best friends, plus she doesn’t know what we are.” Despite her countless declarations that his identity held no significance for her, she found herself yearning to be with him, even if it posed a perilous risk.

He already made his mark on her.

“Then how about you just let her meet the family? For one of our cookouts.”

Joshau rolled his eyes. “Yeah great idea, let’s make her the damn meal Jonathan.”

Joshua was uncertain about the direction this was heading, yet he understood the necessity of exercising caution if he wished to pursue it further. Despite his deep-seated desire to distance himself, the instant he caught a glimpse and inhaled the scent of her blood, he found himself irrevocably captivated.

“I don’t think she wouldn’t mind it, she’s a naive woman twin she’ll find out sooner or later and leave.”

Perhaps her departure would be a wise choice, allowing him to evade the burdens of their relationship's repercussions; however, he found himself reluctant to see her go.

“And if she don’t?”

“Then we’ll have to face what’s coming to us twin.”

At that moment, he became attuned to Trinity's thoughts and her aspirations for the future, as he envisioned himself and Chantel united, transforming her into a vampire—a change that could be subject to revision, given that her visions were not consistently precise.

“Can you tell your wife to keep her thoughts to herself also?”

“What? She knows that Chanti will be part of family.”

Joshua let out a derisive laugh, shaking his head gently as Chantel nestled closer against his chest, wrapping her arm around his waist—clinging to him as if she wished for him to remain right there, never to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere baby girl.” He whispered gently.

“You don’t believe your own sister?”

“I do, but when it comes to this I’m uncertain whether Chantel will be part of the family.”

“She will twin, I wouldn’t mind having a little sister.”

This prompted him to roll his eyes at his brother's remark as he settled into bed with Chantel. What vexes him the most is his inability to penetrate her thoughts, pondering what she might be contemplating at this very moment or how she is experiencing her emotions.

It was almost as if she blocked her mind.

Joshua chose to gently close his eyes, seeking solace as he listened to her soft snoring and the rhythmic beating of her heart resonating through her chest. Meanwhile, Trick and Liv found themselves in the woods, observing the entire scene unfold between the two of them.

“What is she thinking Trick?” Liv asked.

“I don’t know but she’s making the wrong decision right now to be messing with somebody like Joshua without knowing what he is.” Trick replied with a huff escaping his lips.

“Are we gonna confront her about it?”

Trick had shook his head, “no we will let her find out herself what he is then we will see what she’ll decide then.”

Liv gracefully nodded in agreement as they remained on standby in the woods, observing Joshua's every movement. They were anxious that he might harm her and drain her of blood until she was completely devoid of it. However, what they were unaware of was that their dearest friend was permitting Joshua to do this to her.

Not because she loved it.

Her addiction to him had already taken hold, and parting ways would undoubtedly be the gravest mistake she could ever commit.

She didn’t care about the consequences or what would happen. She didn’t care about what he is or what he ain’t. All she ever wanted was him since the night they met at the club with each other growing that connection and bond with each other. She wanted him.

However, with Trick and Liv obstructing their path, the only moments that she and Joshua could share would be during the late hours of the night, culminating in him leaving his mark upon her with his sharp fangs, asserting her as his and his alone.

However, what they were unaware of was that a harsh reality awaited them, and it was unlikely to be pleasant.

Taste of Sin

a/n: Yall think Trick and Liv will stop Chantel and Joshua’s relationship?

I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

chapter four

previous chapter

#jey uso #black fanfic writer #black oc #black writers #wwelove #wwe fanfiction #jey uso fanfiction #jey x oc black #jey uso x black oc #jey uso smut #jey uso romance #tasteofsin🍷

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iloveacaibowls111 · 8 months ago

Text

Memories of You ☆

SYNOPSIS: Satoru and his two children, Tsumiki and Megumi, watching old videos of you after you passed away.

A/N: I don't go into depth about what happened to you, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. You guys adopted the two kids when they were around 3-5 years old and they are currently around 9-10 years old.

‘Oscar, you rat!’ Your voice, sharp and playful, echoed throughout the empty cinema room, words bouncing off the dark walls. ‘It’s my necklace. Stop being so annoying.’

Satoru, Tsumiki and Megumi all sat cross-legged, mesmerised by the scene unfolding in front of them. The large cinema screen played a video of you at 18, long before Tokyo and the family that you had built here. Back then, in New York, you were a familiar face. A celebrity, of sorts. Your parents were very well known - Dad owned several multi-million dollar companies while Mom was a socialite. Naturally, your siblings and your younger years were captured in a reality series, documenting your life for the whole world to see.

‘I love my siblings, one thousand percent. No doubt about it,’ your younger self chimed in from the screen. Though the same face they knew now, your hair was bleached blonde—a style choice you’d insisted on back then, convinced it ‘complemented’ your skin tone. “But sometimes they’re the most infuriatingly stupid people on this planet.”

‘Don’t say that about your siblings.’ Your mom’s reprimanding tone piped up from behind the camera, only to be met by the rolling of your eyes.

“Fine, sorry.” You groaned, then, after glancing at the camera, flashed a mischievous smile. “But it’s true, though.”

Satoru sat quietly, watching the screen as your familiar voice filled the room. In this fleeting moment, he felt as though everything was normal again - like he could finally breathe without his lungs threatening to collapse under the weight of grief. He felt as though he was currently navigating his life completely in the dark, lost and heartbroken. The only source of light was the fading memories of you. He could feel the familiar welling of tears forming in his eyes and in this very moment, he was grateful for the fact that he was wearing his blindfold. His gaze shifted to Tsumiki and Megumi, seated on either side of him, and his heart ached even more deeply. If that were possible.

Tsumiki sat in silence, tears streaming down her face as her eyes were fixated on the sight of you laughing on the big screen. Her hands instinctively reached for the necklace she was wearing around her neck. The one that you had left her, a delicate Tiffany heart necklace that you had gotten from your mother. Your mother gave it to you as a birthday gift but you wanted it to be more meaningful for your little girl. So you before you gave it to her, you sat down and somewhat tried to construct a heartfelt emotional letter to her. “No matter what,” you had written, “I will always be with you, my sweet girl. I am your mother, and I’ll always love you.”

At that moment, you had wished you’d paid more attention in those English Lit classes.

Megumi was also silently sitting on the other side of Satoru, his small body pressed against your husband’s wide chest, intently watching the screen. Megumi was roughly rubbing his face every so often, in an attempt to hide the tears that were threatening to pour down. He wouldn’t cry, he refused to cry. He promised you that he’d stay strong for his sister and dad. Expressing emotions had never been his strength, but with you, it had been different. Probably because you are his mother. And moms just have that effect.

Suddenly, Satoru’s large arms wrapped around both children, pulling them close. They looked up, startled to see their usually playful, ever-humorous father staring ahead, a small tear trickled from behind his blindfold.

‘Dad, are you crying?’ Megumi quietly spoke, as if afraid to say the words too loud.

‘No. Just allergies.’ Satoru looked down and gave Megumi a shaky grin. ‘I’m the strongest, I don’t cry.’

‘It’s okay, Mommy would forgive you if you cried. Just this once’ Megumi responded, his voice barely heard over you talking in the background. His tiny hand reached out, grasping Satoru’s. Megumi’s small fingers were enveloped by his father’s larger, trembling ones.

‘Where do you see yourself in 10 years, Y/N?’ The interviewer’s voice drawing the attention of the siblings.

Your younger self paused, contemplating the question. “Honestly? I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice sweet yet certain, like honey. “But there’s one thing I’m sure of.”

‘And what’s that?’

“I’ll be with my family. My husband. My children. No matter what I’m doing, no matter where I am, I’ll have my family—one that I’ll love with all my heart. Even if I’m not around in ten years, I hope they know that I love them. I’ll always love them.”

The room fell into a hushed silence as the screen flickered, your bright eyes locking with the camera for just a moment, as if you were looking directly at them—at your family. And before the screen faded to black, you gave a final, playful wink.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #dad gojo #gojo and megumi #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #jjk x y/n #dad!gojo

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ambrosiagoldfish · 6 months ago

Note

i’m going a teensy bit feral reading your adam x third spouse story so i guess im just asking for part five and for it to hopefully have focus on dad beat dad and how lucifer would react to seeing the reader again after so long and like what would happen n stuff 🤭🤭 ofc if this is dumb ignore it i like what you’re doing with the story already !! the part im most excited for is the finale tbh but there’s a lot of time in between what you have rn and then so i’m just yapping abt stuff that could be cool in between. thsi is so jumbled omg sorry i just wanna see more of your writing it’s so good

idk how to end this uhh i love you bye 🫡

Benefit of the doubt PT.5

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: GN! Reader, confronting the past, next to no Adam (I know, sad, but it’s for the plot), Reader focused chapter, this is set during ‘Dad Beat Dad’, swearing, the next 2 chapters will have a LOT more Adam DW ❤️❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Request Box: OPEN

Word count: 4322

A/n: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the support on all the other chapters. It’s been 8-ish months since the last update and for that I want to apologize. I’ll save it for its own dedicated post to not full int his page too much. But if you’ve saw one of my post from the other day, I have posted this on A03 and I’m giving myself 8 total parts. 7 will be the finale and 8 will be an epilogue styled thing (not even sure if I’m wanting to do it so when we get there, you guys can tell me if you want it!! ) so yeah, enough rambling, you’ve all been waiting so long for the next part so here you go!! <3

Reblogs are VERY appreciated!

(My posts have been flopping so much, I would love you forever if you did 😭)

Old memories have a habit of slithering their way back into a person's mind, and even sometimes, people

The first few months at fhe hotel were a lot more enjoyable than you originally expected. Most days went relatively the same, Charlie would choose an activity to do and you would observe the progress they made.

At first, progress hadn't shown much promise but as everyone grew closer, things began to look up. Angel had gone clean with his drug abuse and was distancing himself from his line of work. Sir Pentious started to actually trust the people around him and has done no major constructional damage to any buildings as of late.

Everything was going so smoothly that, when you had woken up one morning to the sounds of screaming, running, and just general chaos. You thought everything was finaly going into the ground.

You quickly run down to the lobby, thoughts of what could be happening run through you. Did one of Pentious experiments fail and explode? Were we being attacked by one of the many gangs in town? Did Alastor decide the hotel was actually boring and started destroying it, starting with the occupants? Whatever it was, you hurry faster to the lobby.

But what was meeting you there was… unexpected to say the least. Party streamers, banners, cookies. It looked like some kind of welcome party heaven would do, albeit with less flare and taste in decor. A banner that read ‘Wellcum Daddy’ was being hung up by Razzle and Dazzle, everyone was either cleaning or baking something, and Vaggie seemed to be ordering them around.

You look at the clock, huh, it’s way too early for any kind of Charlie’s trust exercises. Not to mention, she would have told you about the curriculum and there was absolutely not a 10 AM home-EC class listed on your schedule.

You quickly run up to Charlie who seemed to be preoccupied with helping Vaggie put something up “Charlie, what’s going on?” You tap on her shoulder, She jumps a bit before just realizing it’s you,

”Oh- Y/N, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to get you!” She apologizes when Vaggie pops in,

“Don’t be, I told Nifty to go wake you up, but looks like she had better things to do” she points over at Niffty swifty stabbing bugs and removing cobwebs out of habit

“It’s fine, just… what’s everyone doing, what’s with all the party supplies and sweets?” You say, arms to the festive lobby around you.

“Oh well…” she took a deep breath “you know that The deadline is fast approaching and while we’ve made progress it’s not much” she paused, trying to even brace herself for what’s coming out of her mouth, “I have asked… my dad to come over and hopefully get us a meeting with heaven” she stops, completely caved in on herself.

“Wait, so… your dad is coming here?” you thought about the times she had asked you to get them a meeting with heaven but you had already explained to her that it would be next to impossible for someone like you. You had to practically beg just to monitor the hotel

Charlie Picked herself back up and looked at you with a shakey demeanor, “Yeah In about… 55 minutes”

You blink a few times before giving a small chuckle “Well, would you look at the date! I think it’s time I used my 1-per-month trip back home! If you’ll excuse me-“

“Wait! No-“ she trips over herself “We need you here, if dad can see, not only the progress we’ve made, but also that we already have an angel supporter, there’s no way he could say no!”

“Charlie, I don’t think it’s a good idea-”

“PleasePleasePlease! I will pay you back, promise! But I- we could really use you there!” Her eyes looked at you, similar to a puppy. She hands clasped together In plea.

You looked away in thought. Seeing him again was the last thing you wanted to do at this moment, any moment for that matter. The last time…well to be honest, the whole exchange hadn’t meant anything to you in quite a while. He could say whatever he wanted about you… it was the words he had to say about Adam that kept your heart ablaze in anger at the Morningstar.

Trash? He should really look in the mirror before saying that about your Adam. But… this could be a good opportunity for the hotel -as much as it pained you to admit- You can only sigh, “fine.. for the hotel…” You let out a small chuckle raising your arm in defeat.

Charlie jumped up and down with glee, repeating a matra of ‘Thank You’s’ before continuing “I get it might be difficult since you’re an Angel.” She tries to give some comfort. But that caught your attention.

“Because I’m an Angel?” You honestly didn’t mean to say it out loud but it came out as a question.

She looks at you confused “yeah, you know, considering I don’t think angels have too kind of thoughts to my dad for being… the devil” she laughs nervously

Oh. Oh. So that’s what she means. So she doesn’t know about your past with him? Not too much a surprise, I doubt Lucifer would bring up any of his failures. But that also made you realize one other thing. Charlie doesn’t know about your marriage with Adam.

Look, you didn’t mean to keep it a secret. In fact you had already assumed they knew. I mean you were sitting literally right next to him and Vaggie already knew who you were. You just thought she would have told Charlie, but knowing this now… it may be best to keep it a secret.

You let out a quick “I understand.” and with that, you all went your separate ways, you did contribute to the decor the best you could, as well as helping Sir Pentious and Nifty with the baking until finally, it was time for Charlie’s dad to arrive.

You walked over to a more remote place in the hotel lobby, look… you may have to interact with him today but you will not be doing it that soon. Instead, you decided your best choice of action was to sit and watch quietly until Charlie decided it was time for you two to meet. And in the meantime, you can mentally brace yourself.

Charlie sighs deeply “Okay everybody, it’s showtime!”

With that she swings the door open revealing the one, the only (thank Father) king of hell himself, Lucifer. Immediately Lucifer pulls his, obviously nervous daughter into his arms. He greets her with excitement before moving on to Keekee, and eventually Razzle and Dazzle.

He eyes the room, clearly covering up any distain for the hotels “character” to protect Charlie’s feelings. At least until he got to the bar which even he couldn’t lie his way through.

Even from the distant view you were from, you could see Alastor and Lucifer weren't going to be the best of buds anytime soon. As soon as they were introduced to one another they immediately got into it. Huh, at least now you have something in common with Alastor at least! If that’s even a good thing.

Their quarrel lasted a few minutes, everyone either waiting for it to be over, completely ignoring it, or enjoying it as entertainment. It lasted what felt like an eternity and was only interrupted when a short and plump woman by the name of ‘Mimzy’ came into the scene.

The old time-y dressed woman was one of Alastor’s friends, you honestly didn’t think he had those but you digress. Eventually once the commotion dies down, you see Charlie give you a nervous smile and wave for you, ‘that’s my cue’ you thought. Anxiety still felt taught in your heart but still you pushed through.

You walk out of your hiding spot, walking up to be next to Charlie. Still trying to keep your presence hidden for as long as you could, savoring those last few moments of peace before a wave of interactions.

Charlie clears her throat and puts on a more professional demeanor despite her nervousness, getting the attention from her dad, “And last but certainly not least, i’d like you to meet our Angelic sponsor-“

“Y/N!?-“ the fallen Angel suddenly started coughing, clearly having choked on his own words. He clears his throat “Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting… you to be here” he lets out a chuckle.

“You guys know each other!?” Charlie looked shocked, her voice pitching up in bewilderment.

“We’ve… met before,.” Your voice was low, But still you pushed through “Though, it’s hardly relevant to anything of importance now. Isn’t that right, Morningstar?”

Lucifer's face contorted into an uncomfortable shaky smile, fingertips digging into his Apple-shaped cane. Perhaps he felt some type of remorse for the way things happened back all those years ago, but even if that’s true, you had no plans to forgive him.

He clears his throat “Yes it’s- unimportant Sweetie.. “

You 3 stand in awkward silence for a moment, all you can do is glare daggers at the short ex-Angel in front of you. Eventually though, you couldn’t stand the scilence any longer, “Well Charlie, I have to get something done in my room and I’ll be back to help with the tour in a few minutes, if that’s ok?”

Charlie looked like she wanted to protest, for you to stay with her through the tour, but she knew you wouldn’t just leave and not come back. “Um, yeah that’s fine! Me and Alastor can get the tour started and you can meet us around the 4th floor?”

You gave a quick nod as agreement and make your way to your room. Sighing, you flop down on your bed, feeling the soft warmth as you sink into comfort. Pulling out your phone, you quickly typing a text to Adam but your thumb simply hovered over the send button, anxiety washing over you. Your message was simple,

‘I promise that everything’s ok, but he’s here’’

You were hesitating, should you even tell him that he's here? You didn’t want to worry him over something so insignificant. He has a show tonight, he wouldn’t be at his best if he was constantly thinking you would be in the same room as the devil.

Or even worse, he could just cancel the show completely and march down here and a cause a ruckus which at best would completely destroy the Hotel’s plans and at worse… No, you can’t think of that.

You look at the message again before just setting your phone on your nightstand. 10 minutes… that’s all you need before you go back out there…

…Lucifer was having… let’s just say a tinsy bit of a bad day. Not only has he been forced to interact with that insufferable yellow-toothed sinner but also, he has been reunited with someone he hadn’t seen in a millenia, you.

The anxiety of the day was only topped off with the added stress of being with his daughter. Don’t get him wrong, he LOVES his daughter and is always happy to see her, but the way she talks and acts with these sinners… Ugh, it reminds him too much of himself back in the day.

Her hotel too… He may have given her the place but he never gave it much thought beyond it being a pipe dream for her. He was just trying to do something for his daughter, especially with… Lilith being out of the picture. He just wanted to cheer her up, and unfortunately it seems ‘grandiose plans’ run in the family.

Even now as Charlie and that Red haired Buck show him around, Charlie explains excitedly about different things they have at the hotel. It reminds Lucifer about how she was when she was little, that glow of joy never seemed to fade away from her despite the conditions she lives in.

But even still, as much as he’s trying not to zone out and actually listen to his daughters rambles, his mind keeps trailing back to one, singular thought. You.

What were you doing here? He knows you were there to ‘support the hotel’ as Charlie puts it. But this is the absolute first he’s hearing about it. Why wouldn’t heaven tell him that another Angel was down here, let alone, you most of all. The last time he saw you was… not the best first meeting

Were you here in secret? You clearly weren't fallen, considering you still had your halo and you didn’t look like you’ve been damaged anywhere close to what you’d be if you had fallen. Not to mention… Adam, the exterminations were his idea so why would you even consider an alternative when you are his-

“Uh, Dad?” Charlie interrupted Lucifer’s thoughts, a look of worry on her face. ”You’ve got a little bit of… horn? Sticking out”

Lucifer looks up and sees that he’s subconsciously beginning to phase into his full demon form. He quickly takes his hand and pats the horns as if he was just dusting off his coat, causing the horns to seem to fade away like dust. Wow, today really seems to be getting to him.

“Ah sorry Sweetie, it’s nothing just… uh..” He thinks for a moment, he has to talk to you alone, just for a second. “*Ahem* I was just realizing I had to… use the bathroom, I seem to have had one too many drinks on the way here. Can you tell me where the… bathroom is?” He lets out a chuckle to hopefully cover his lie.

“Oh, it’s just down the hall and to the right, I can take you there-“

Lucifer quickly lets out a loud ”No!“ Before clearing his through again “I can get there on my own, just wait here and I’ll be back!”

Before Charlie can even answer, Lucifer rushes through the halls of the hotel, yelling a ‘I’ll be back soon’ to his Daughter before turning the corner. He lets out a deep breath as he lays out the plan in his head. Figure out why you’re here, and get back to Charlie as fast as inhumanly possible.

Picking his feet up again, he makes his way to the lobby of the hotel, he looks around for a moment before spotting the check in desk. ‘They usually keep visitor information there, right?’

He quickly scours the desk, looking for any forms or documents that have your room number, before finally setting his eyes on your room number. It didn’t take long to find you seeing as there were such few occupants in the hotel.

He memorized your room and repeated it to himself while walking to your door. Past the first, 2nd, then finally, halfway through the hallway on the 3rd floor he finds it. Before he can knock, a sudden wave of worry floods his senses. Seriously, Why would he hesitate now?!

He shuffled around nervously, starting to doubt this little mission of his. Should he really be doing this? Is he really worried about you being here or is the real reason he came here because he wanted to… apologize to you? It’s true that the guilt of what happened all those years ago was still there. But… Digging up old memories just because he’s selfish and wants to apologize to you? He takes a deep breath.

He had to make things better or… at least get some things off his chest. So, with a heavy fist and an even heavier heart, he gently knocks on the hard wooden door…

This had been the longest 10 minutes of your life, trying to decide wether to send Adam the message, or to even return to tour with Charlie at all. As much as it pains you to say, you still become anxiety ridden when he’s in the room or even the mere mention of him. That spark of defiance you had in the lobby earlier being nothing but a small bit of courage. But you remembered that you had promised Charlie you’d be there for her, and you certainly weren’t one to take back a promise.

Before you could decide what to do, you hear an ever so faint knock on your door. Curiosity peaked, You thought Charlie was supposed to be waiting for you on the 4th floor? Had you taken too long and the tour went south? You quickly made your way to the door and hoped you wouldn’t see a very angry Charlie on the other side.

As the wooden-door creaked open, your face slowly turned bitter at The short, impish man who stood on the other side. Lucifer Morningstar. To be honest, you much would have preferred the angry Charlie, TWO very angry Charlies over this.

The man shuffled awkwardly in place, gripping his cane. Neither of you could break the silence . He avoided any eye-contact with you and even you couldn’t hide The disgusted expression on your face when looking at him. Finally after what feels like 3x the eternity you’ve lived thus far, you spoke In shaky words, ”What do you want?”

Lucifer pushed out his words as well as he could, meek they were, but you understood what he said “Can we please…talk?”

Your fingers gripped at the door, nails embedding into the wood, leaving scratches. It took all you had not to slam the door right in his face, but even if you had, it wouldn’t have solved any pressing issues. If anything, it might make him against Charlie’s idea with the hotel, which you couldn’t afford. You take a deep breath before letting out a quick but unsavory,

“5 minutes”

The short demon shuffles his way into the room as you follow in behind him, locking the door to prevent someone like Nifty or Charlie from walking in. Lucifer stands timidly by your nightstand as you stand on the complete opposite side of the room, facing him. Lucifer runs his neck as he lets out a shaky sigh “I just want to know what you’re doing here…” he pauses, he looks like he has more to say but decided not to.

You can only laugh to yourself “I’m here because I believe I think Charlie’s idea has potential to be great. The exterminations, they have to end… that’s why I’m here”

Lucifer seem a bit… surprised? Surprised with your stance on the exterminations. you figured he needed more than that so you continue “I… I’ve never been one for the exterminations. I've been against them from the start. I just didn't know what else to do. Nothing else seemed…right.“

He stayed silent, processing what you told him. He really didn’t understand you, he had a completely warped view of you. “If that’s all you wanted to know I’d rather you take your leave-“

“No!” You step back at the sudden raise in voice but he quickly clears his throat “No, there’s another thing. I would… I’d like to apologize to you about how things went… when we first met.”

You stared at him, the silence once again feeling the air. You didn’t dare break it, you watched as the impish man looked around with anxiety, trying to find the right words. “It’s always been there, in the back of my mind. How we- I, treated you. It was unacceptable… Lilith kept telling me to let it go, that she was done thinking about it, but I just couldn’t.” He takes a deep breath “so, I’m so sorry for hurting you, Y/n…”

Lucifer Morningstar. The man in front of you looked more akin to a puddle than a person at this point. Sweat dripped from his face, a scrunched mouth filled with a sour taste. He wasn’t looking at you, focusing his attention to the ground. Finally, after many long seconds later. You step forward, grabbing his attention.

“As much as I appreciate the apology, I don’t forgive you.” Lucifer began to speak or at least say he understood but no matter what his reaction was going to be, you interrupted him ‘“-I don’t forgive you, because I’m not the one who deserves it”

To that, Lucifer's head was struck with confusion, “what do you mean?” He tried to make sense of your words, shifting eyes looking around in unease before landing on a framed photo of a candlelit man, an old and forgotten, yet familiar smile on his face… ”You mean… Adam?” Despite his best efforts around you, saying the first man’s name still dripped his words with venom. That same sour taste filling his mouth at the mere mention of him. ”What does-” he stops himself, he knows why.

You breathe in slowly, “What you said to me, all of those years ago, hasn’t meant anything to me in a long time. I’ve gotten through it 10x over and finally understand that I am more than those words” you take another step towards him, closing the gap, “so… there's no use for your apology to me. But Adam… you’ve hurt him more than you couldn’t possibly imagine“

The room was filled with dense air, like any sudden move could kill the king of hell or even you at any second but still you continue. “Adam deserved so much better than what he was forced to have from you, so if anyone deserves your apology, it’s him.” He goes to speak but you shut him down again “but we all know that you are too prideful to do so, and Adam… he’s too stubborn to hear it”

You don’t yell, scream, all of your words coming soft from your lips “So… what you’re going to do, if you truly mean what you say. You will go back to your daughter, forget this conversation ever happened, then you can march back to your big castle with your Loving wife, and leave us be, for the rest of eternity.”

With that, you step away from him, words that have been bubbling inside you for centuries finally having been let out. It felt like several hundred pounds had been lifted off of you. You begin to walk to the door to let him out, wanting the conversation to be over, When you hear him speak a faint ”Ex-Wife actually”

You pause, your teeth already biting your tongue. Honestly, if you really thought about it, it was poetic. The Angel who ruined two marriages, leaving Adam nothing but a broken heart and baggage, ended up with a failed marriage himself.

But even still, you still felt a slight pain of pity for him. Through clenched teeth you let out ”I'm… sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”

This kind of thing, no matter the person, is always tough. You knew the aftermath of it through Adam, even now he struggles with so many issues from it. In that regard, you felt pity for the ruler of hell, but the rest of you felt… glad? Glad that he finally understands just a thorn of the pain he inflicted on Adam.

“The 5 minutes are up so… go now… please.” Your voice shakes near the end, your will power for everything you’ve done starting to break. Lucifer looked equally as defeated, you could tell he wanted to say more but he just nodded his head before walking out the door. slowly, silently, you close the door back before sliding down it as your legs give out.

You wanted to cry, scream, do anything but sit there, but you couldn’t. Your voice hurts from talking, your feet hurt from standing, everything just… hurts.

DING DING DING

A luminous yellow light follows the sound, you lifted your head and saw your phone on your nightstand. Adam… You used all of your strength to make it to your bed, practically having to crawl to avoid any more tiredness in your aching body. You finally land on the soft mattress to pick up your phone, seeing the plethora of messages from Adam.

DIXKMASTER69

Yo Bitch, everything good??

You’ve been typing for like 10 minutes

Answer me

Hellllloooooo??????

Oh, that’s why he was texting. You had completely forgotten your half written message you were debating on sending earlier. You start to delete it and rewrite it when suddenly,

INCOMING CALL FROM DIXKMASTER69

You sigh at the screen, your phone vibration sends chills through your aching arms, it acts as a lifeline for you not to fall asleep on the soft plush beneath you. You press the answer button.

‘Fuck Babe, finally! Are you ok?!” Adam’s voice sounded angry but you know he was just worried “you’ve been texting for like 15 minutes”

“Yeah, don’t worry Adam, I... must have fallen asleep while trying to message you”

“It’s 12 in the afternoon, you dont normally fall asleep in the middle of the day” Adam questions, his voice having obvious worry for you.

“Today’s just been very tiring. But I promise I’m fine, it’s just happened a lot today.” You hated lying to him, your other half, but you know this is something that he shouldn’t have to worry about.

You hear him groan, “how many times do I have to fuckin’ tell you not to overwork yourself for those sinners”

“I know, I’m sorry” you pause “I… I have to go now but I promise I’ll call you later, yeah?“

He was quiet on the other side before he lets out “Yeah, just don’t overdo yourself ok?” His voice was soft, no hint of sarcasm or anger, just him.

You let out a small breathy laugh “I promise. Have fun at your show tonight. Talk to you later, love you.”

“Love you too”

CLICK

You sigh to yourself, you still have the tour to do. It’s fine, everything is fine.

Tomorrow will be a better day. it has to be.

TAGLIST: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn

@ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che

@edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee @pandaquick @white-00-7 @call-me-nyx @adamstruelove @jennieyeager @sillyycatt @solatiium @my-name-is-heartache @parisiterileymoon @titan-senpai @lovely-night-owl-86 @innergardentoadpony @animefan106sposts @starlightstarbrightmyfirststar @lovkayy @ilikedrinkingsoda @barrythestrawberry041 @deadpoolssweetchimi @asegirllovesreadingporn @ripashy @deleted-1-800 @sirenetheblogger @ur1nonlygabi @aweleyirene @n0tmentallystable

(I really hope I didn’t forget anyone if I did, just asked to be added in the comments!!)

Shoutout to these specific asked as well, love you all <3

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