#group tuition classes

[foolishaetherguardian]

Having gone to what might as well be the American Version of Ouran Highschool, (I've fully had to accept this after trying to explain our school events) there was no such thing as a sports kid or a smart kid. Everyone played sports. Everyone won one state championship during their time there (Mine was track and field). And everyone was smart. And I get that might be misunderstood but I mean no one got below a four on the LATIN AP exams. A four out of five. Just passing with a 3 got you six college credits. Anything above that? Just bragging rights. We had three people get 5's. What brand of smart and athletic was what got made your clique typically. Except for what eventually became the top clique. This clique? Made up of a world class equestrian, as in won world championships back to back in show jumping, a team USA gymnast, a model for Calvin Klein, a Broadway musician, several future lawyers and med students and a disproportionate number of competitive engineers.

PART 2 of this poll: Click this

[tutorinkarachi]

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[onemetricdylan]

My interview at a small liberal arts college went well!

Feels weird to talk about DEI with a college whose tuition I could never afford. I guess they’re doing a lot of scholarship and grants, though

[flightlessribbons]

MINI MENACE ERA: COLLEGE KIDS

I have a part two that I’ll add to a reblog of this sometime, but here’s the first part for their college days! I couldn’t draw everything I wanted to, so more blabbering and elaboration under the cut!

Since this AU has turned into a fanfiction based off the concept art, the characterizations and roles of the characters can be pretty detached from canon- so just a disclaimer for that. Canon is merely a suggestion- and I’m not listening to it most of the time.

Their majors: 

Sabine Cheng: fashion/ business

Pia Lahiffe: education

Nathalie Sancoeur: business/ economics

Otis Cesaire: environmental science

Gabriel Agreste: fashion/ art history

Emilie Sphinx: fashion/ performing arts

Amelie Sphinx: business/ economics

Andre Bourgeois: law/ (later) education

(Tom Dupain works full time at his dad’s bakery)

SUMMARY (and some extra details) OF THE HEADCANONS DRAWN: (since I am too lazy to do my full transcript tonight)

Sabine and Pia have been best friends since they were 13. Pia knows she’s Ladybug, and the two work together at Master Fu’s shop.

Pia knows that Fu has the turtle miraculous and makes sure he’s not overworking himself in his superhero retirement.

Sabine’s an open book with her emotions, doubly so when she was younger in college. Her fuse is short, and she’ll say one of her flaws is her pettiness. 

Andre is the estranged son of a corrupt politician that works with Richard Sphinx. His dad originally paid for his tuition (to keep Andre away from him) but eventually cuts that off when he officially disowned him.

He and Audrey met like once at a social event years ago. Andre does not remember this, Audrey does but only because she thought his suit was so fucking ugly.

Audrey is the daughter of a Pergue (Sphinx’s company) investor. She eventually gets an ultimatum to get married, or else all her cards and cash get cut off.

Remembering “Ugly Suit” Andre has recently lost his dad’s tuition money, she asks him to marry her in return for her paying for his school. Andre becomes a trophy wife on paper, and the two never get closer than that. She writes his checks, he doesn’t get into scandals- easy!

Gabriel’s dream was to have his own atelier and specialize in lace products. His designs really push the limits of lace and beadwork. (He’s a huge nerd.) He never wanted a big brand.

Emilie has a crush on him and tries to talk to him often. Gabriel is conflicted between talking to the pretty girl in his class and interacting with the daughter of the enemy. 

Emilie dresses eccentrically. Half of the time it’s costumes for theatre events, and the other half is her own style. (You can never tell which is which though- she’s always dressed like a time traveller.)

Otis is in the same econ class as Sabine and befriends her (Nathalie and Emilie are also in that class but they don’t interact with Otis or Sabine) and mentions her to Tom as a “girl he’d like.” Tom insists that’s what Otis says about every girl with a bob and a fringe.

Tom first sees Sabine that same day bursting in the bakery to ask for cookies while in a frenzy. Otis says it is the calmest he’d ever seen her. 

Amelie has a huge crush on Nathalie, who is an intern assistant for Richard Sphinx. She refuses to act on her crush…as Amelie anyways ;)

MISC HEADCANONS FOR COLLEGE MM ERA:

Sabine, Pia, Otis, Andre, and Gabriel are the group for the longest time. They’re not all that close to the Sphinx twins in the beginning, but they get integrated into the group once Gabriel and Emilie start dating

How they all met/ some dynamic notes:

 Sabine and Pia were childhood friends

Tom and Otis were friends since in high school

Tom befriended Andre when he became a regular at the bakery

Sabine met Gabriel and Emilie in their shared fashion courses

Amelie and Nathalie have so many common classes bc of their shared majors

Sabine, Pia, Otis, and Andre would study and hangout at the bakery, Tom would feed them

Sabine and Otis are the outspoken ones in the group, they bond over complaining. 

Everyone admires Tom’s boundless optimism, the freebie baked goods are just a bonus

Andre and Sabine are unexpectedly close. Her rough, and oftentime bad, jokes get both of them to laugh until their stomachs hurt. No one else finds them funny, but they find the twos’ laughter contagious.

Gabriel and Pia like to work in silence together, they’re both grateful someone else favors a more quiet setting to focus

Sabine is originally intimidated by Emilie’s enthusiastic and extroverted nature, but they eventually bond over fashion designs even before the Sphinx twins join the group

MISC CONT:

Sabine’s designs are more conceptual and abstract, often trying to emulate feelings or experiences. Can seem a little scrappy to some, but sturdy compositions. She also thinks about ways to integrate her pieces into performance art works.

Gabriel’s designs are based on pushing technical craftsmanship, mostly detailwork. The pieces can seem fragile or delicate because of their meticulousness. They usually have some historical influence, but don't look for accuracy. 

Emilie’s designs show off her theatre inspirations, and are often very costumey in nature. Similar to Gabriel, she enjoys historical influence, but isn’t as detail oriented as him. She favors exaggerating the historical features of costumes and playing around with silhouettes.

Amelie often “runs into” Nathalie while she’s out patrolling as Chat Noir. The two get closer when she’s transformed, and Nathalie develops a crush on Stray.

HOW THEY GOT THEIR MIRACULOUS (and reasons for fighting Pergue):

Sabine Cheng: got from her late grandfather when she was a teenager. Fights for revenge for his death and the other victims of Sphinx’s crimes.

Otis Cesaire: got it from an old mentor. Hates Pergue’s monopoly of businesses and services.

Gabriel Agreste: found brooch in his great-grandmother’s sewing box. Believes that Sphinx has the other half of a missing tapestry of his great-grandmother’s.

Emilie Sphinx: got the broken peacock miraculous from her dad. Works for Sphinx when transformed.

Amelie Sphinx: got it as a family heirloom from her mother before she passed. Wants to see her father fall.

Andre Bourgeois: his paternal grandmother gave it to him. Wants to expose the corrupt politicians  and investors like his father that collaborate and fund Pergue.

Tom, Pia, and Nathalie do not have miraculous

[butterflyscribbles]

Wachowski Family HC List

Part 1: The Wachowski Origins

Buckle up bc I’m going way back straight out of the gate….the Wachowski family wouldn’t exist without two certain soulmates coming together after all.

- Let’s start from the very beginning….Tom and Maddie have at least known each other since grade school. In high school, they were part of the same friend group but Maddie had been dating someone else at the time. Tom had girlfriends “come and go” as his mom put it, but was single most of senior year.

- Tom was already en route to becoming a sheriff, having it run in the family and with his other two “lunatic” brothers on their way in to very different directions, he was on the way to being the lone and youngest Wachowski left to “defend Green Hills” once his dad retired. I lowkey feel like it’s actually something he never really wanted to do. It was more of a family obligation. However, he did like helping people (and he didn’t want to go to college) that was really the biggest draw for him lol.

- Maddie was the resident biology and animal nerd in her class. Her dad was a park ranger that worked closely with Tom’s dad at the sheriff’s office, especially for hunting/fishing license issues and animal control type calls. Watching her dad work was where she developed a love for nature and decided she wanted to be a vet.

- It wasn’t until one night senior year at a house party, Maddie’s boyfriend at the time dumped her just before prom. Tom, being a close friend and the upstanding “punch first, questions later” kind of guy we know he is, started a fight with the jerk that broke her heart. He skeedaddled with her from the party before Tom’s dad showed up to break everything up. ✨That was spark #1✨ They continued talking and hanging out more after that (it was also since then Rachel has been giving Tom the side eye).

- High school graduation came and went, Maddie went off to college and Tom stayed in Green hills and started training to become a deputy. He and Maddie kept in touch even when she was off studying. When she came back into town to visit her family, they would hang out and catch up.

- Tom’s dad passed away not long after he graduated and things were a bit rough for Tom at this point. His oldest brother didn’t even show up to the funeral and his other brother didn’t help much with the process. Maddie was a beacon of light in this darker point of his life.

- One weekend while he’s out driving with her during this time, they come across a fawn by the side of the road that (very clearly) lost its mom. Tom was an emotional wreck, not wanting to leave it behind. Maddie calmly helped scoop it up in some spare blankets in the back of his car and they took it to her dad so he could find the proper wildlife rehabilitator to send it to. ✨That was spark #2✨ They started dating the next day.

- Skip ahead a bit, they’re big in love. They move into a small condo type deal together once Maddie graduates college and starts veterinary school. Tom is working his three jobs to help her pay tuition: as a police officer, part time at a local sewing shop his mom used to work at, and taking odd jobs around town mowing, doing car repairs, landscaping work. He’s exhausted, she’s exhausted, but they love each other sm….they’re married 2 years later after he proposes on a camping trip (guess who was already on Earth and witnessed the proposal but was too young to even know what it meant at the time).

- Jump again, they buy their house after Maddie has been working as a full time vet for a while and Tom is promoted to sheriff.

- Maddie’s parents are both still alive and together though her dad is retired. Her mom wrote for the Green Hills newspaper for a good while on top of taking care of her and Rachel. Tom’s mom is also still kicking. She left her job at the locally owned sewing store when Tom’s dad passed and mostly just makes her living selling crafts and vegetables from her garden at the local farmers market while also giving local children sewing lessons. Tom is doing most of the supporting for her while getting some help from his one older brother who actually got his life together a bit and got a job in insurance. He moved back to Montana, but not to Green Hills. Tom hasn’t heard from his eldest brother in over a decade.

- They’ve been living in their house for about 8 years before the events of Sonic 1. They’re “too busy for kids” but they adopt Ozzy from a litter that was dropped off where Maddie works.

- Then we all know what happens next…

[captain-hawks]

thank you for the venom ♱ pt. i

— vampire!oliver aiku x f!reader

There are worse jobs than working as a human at a vampire nightclub. It pays well enough to help you keep your head above water, at least. As long as your clients don't try feeding from your neck. But when the last person you're expecting to see comes walking in during your shift one evening, every long-forgotten feeling you've spent years putting behind you flares to life again under the familiar, careful gaze of your older brother's best friend.

word count ; 2.9k

content ; 18+, vampire!oliver, brother's best friend!oliver, feeder!reader, childhood friends, blood drinking, (eventual smut in later parts)

THE REUNION. —

“We’re up.”

You glance over at your co-worker, Hayami, who’s currently nodding in the direction of a table of clients that just sat down. 

It’s not exactly what you’d call fun—working as a human at a vampire nightclub. 

But the night shifts fit with your class schedule, the pay is generous, and you no longer have to miserably juggle three jobs to pay for tuition and rent. It’s been working out for you well enough in the six months since you started here. Blue Lock is also, arguably, classier than most places that you’d find on a random street corner in Tokyo. For one, you’re not expected to fuck the clientele. 

You just have to feed them.

–

“Wrist, please,” you murmur quietly to the man whose lap you’re currently sitting in, trying to carefully adjust yourself away from the lips hovering near your neck as you lift up a hand, letting him see the delicate gold bracelet that hangs from your right wrist. 

Blue Lock is strict about giving staff the autonomy to choose where they are and aren’t comfortable allowing clients to feed from, with gold jewelry used as a subtle signifier. Guests who choose to ignore it are typically thrown out without preamble. 

Most of your co-workers are fine with neck feeding, some even prefer it, but it’s just too intimate for you. Not with a complete stranger. 

The vampire grumbles, glancing over at one of his companions with thinly veiled jealousy as she sinks her teeth into Hayami’s neck, drawing a shameless moan from your co-worker’s lips.

You shudder, wincing only slightly at the prick of pain as your client bites you as well, albeit on the wrist like you’d instructed. 

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, now that you’ve grown used to it. 

–

It’s early still when the first group of clients strolls in through the doors on Friday evening, pink and orange staining the lower edges of the sky as the sun lazily eases its way down into the horizon.

Your boss motions for you and Hayami to take care of them, as most of your other co-workers aren’t due to start for another hour yet. 

Waltzing directly ahead of you and swinging her hips in anticipation, Hayami gets a clear view of the vamps before you do, and she spins on her heel to turn back to you and whisper, “You know, I wouldn’t mind if fucking customers was a part of the job if they all looked like that.”

Rolling your eyes is a knee jerk reaction to her salacious tone—she enjoys flirting with clients far more than you do. But any response quickly dies on your lips when you actually see the group as they settle into a private booth. 

More specifically when your eyes land on one of them in particular—a tall man with two different colored eyes, a jaw shaded ever so slightly with stubble, and a flash of green tucked beneath the lower edges of an otherwise dark head of hair.  

It’s been a very long time since you’ve seen him in person, but you’d recognize him beyond a shadow of a doubt anywhere.

(Your stupid heart would, anyway.)

Oliver.

Your brother Haru’s best friend. 

Oliver and Haru played soccer together in high school, and they were virtually inseparable for years. Most days, he could be found at your house after school, kicking around a ball in your backyard and teasing you as you labored over homework assignments at the kitchen table. 

And most days, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about catching the interest of any of the boys in your grade, not when your thoughts were constantly tangled up in the way Oliver sent your heart spinning off its axis with every stupid grin and wink. 

Realistically, he was only two years older than you. 

But even if he had seen you in that way, Haru probably would have wrung his neck if he tried anything, given Oliver’s downright awful reputation with girls at school. 

(A reputation that’s only become more notorious in the years since he skyrocketed to soccer stardom.)

But a girl could certainly dream. 

The long-buried crush rustles awake in the depths of your chest cavity now, unfurling warmly as you stare at him, rooted to the spot. Feelings greet you at the door like an old friend, the brush of a cat’s tail at your ankle, a dog’s cold nose nudging at the back of your hand. You want to reach out, to grasp them—

But the longer you look, the more unsteady you become on your feet as your heart remembers the weight of it, of this near-magnetic pull that used to always exist behind your ribcage in his vicinity.

It’s not news to you that Oliver was Turned—it happened years ago, according to your brother. But it sends a shiver down your spine all the same to see him here. Now.

Of all the places…

Hayami’s quick to busy herself chatting with three of the men in Oliver’s group. Meanwhile, Oliver remains engrossed in conversation with the other one; he’s yet to notice you. 

The man he’s talking to does, though, and his lips quirk upward when he meets your eyes. “Well hello beautiful.”

You offer him a polite smile in return, shoving aside the distracting wave of nostalgia gripping at your ankles as you remember that you have a job to do. 

Pining doesn’t pay the fucking bills, after all. 

“What can I get for you tonight?” you ask. 

It’s a bit of a joke, because there’s really only one reason vampires come here.

But it lands, because he doesn’t miss a beat as he laughs, “Well, my friend here says he likes to take his partners home to feed, so I think he might just be a boring cuck and watch tonight, but—”

He’s cut off suddenly by the sound of your name, and he whips his head sideways to look at Oliver, who’s currently staring at you with a completely bewildered expression on his face.

It would be cute, almost, if your heart wasn’t violently lurching in your chest. 

You breathe in through your nose, trying to steady the way the room threatens to sway beneath your feet. “Hey, Aiku.”

He physically recoils at your use of his surname; you can’t remember the last time you called him that, not even when you were teenagers. 

The man beside him raises a brow, looking between you and Oliver in blatant confusion. “Do you two know each—”

“Yeah. So you should go and find somewhere else to be, Sendou,” Oliver answers pointedly as he cuts him off again, eyes still locked with yours.

Sendou scoffs under his breath, “You can’t just hold one of your fuck buddies hostage if you’re not going to feed, I’m sure she wants to make money tonight.”

Oliver looks over at him, unimpressed and blinking slowly, before he turns back to you. “She’s my friend’s little sister.”

Sendou snorts. “Sounds like something you’d do, Aiku.”

The gap between their bodies closes quicker than you can blink, and the size difference between the two becomes wholly apparent as Oliver leans in close, all traces of amusement wiped from his face when he slowly rasps, “I’d watch your mouth if I were you.”

Something akin to surprise works its way across Sendou’s face, which then morphs into pinched annoyance as he subtly shrinks away from Oliver’s form, dragging a hand through his strawberry locks and petulantly letting his gaze fall back on you. “Yeah, well I’m hungry, and I have money.”

He thumbs at one of his fangs, frowning. 

“Not my goddamn problem, Sendou. Go find someone else to feed on,” Oliver flatly replies to him as he lifts his hips slightly to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, though his eyes are solely focused on you. “And I never said I wasn’t paying for her time.”

Sendou collapses backward on the couch, blowing his hair off of his forehead as he crosses his arms and huffs, “Well if you’re paying anyway, doesn’t it make sense for one of us to at least feed on—”

“Sendou,” Oliver says his name calmly, despite the way the dangerous look in his eyes betrays his tone entirely. He smiles, and it’s more a show of dominance than anything else as the whites of his fangs flash against his lips. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.” 

His friend rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath about wasting your time before eventually getting up moving over toward the rest of their group.

“Is it Aiku now?” Oliver finally asks when you’re alone, head tilted slightly to the side as he stares up at you. 

He says it like it bothers him. 

You shrug, sitting down on the couch beside him but leaving a respectable amount of space between your knee and his. “You don’t have to pay if you’re not feeding.”

He ignores you and says again, “Aiku, really?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “How long has it been, six, seven years? It seemed impolite to assume—”

“It’ll always be Oliver for you,” he interrupts, though not unkindly. “And do you know how much money the league throws at me? I’ll pay if it means you’ll sit here with me instead of letting one of those idiots feed from you.” He jerks his head toward the other guys that Sendou went to join. 

Warmth churns again in your gut, whether you want it to or not. 

“Oliver,” you nod, trying to fight the smile tugging at your lips.

His lips quirk upward in turn, a real smile this time, and you try not to think too hard about the fleeting sensation that dances up the notches of your spine at the sight of the white points of his fangs that rest against his bottom lip when he does it. 

It’s easier than you were expecting—catching up with Oliver. In a way, it feels like no time has passed at all as you slip back into the familiar, easy comfort of conversation with him. He asks what you’re majoring in, if you still hate math. If you’ve been traveling at all like you always said you would.

If you’re seeing anyone.

(Your stomach flips at the question, even if there’s nothing suggestive in the way he asks it.)

He asks if it bothers you—the fact that he was Turned. 

(It doesn’t.)

Oliver doesn’t look at you with pity or judgement on his face when you tell him that you started working at Blue Lock to help pay for your tuition—he knows that your mother had enough trouble sending your brother to university. Though he does ask about the gold bracelet on your wrist. This must be his first time here. 

“This is the only place I let clients feed from me.” 

You nod toward Hayami, who’s currently straddling Sendou. He makes eye contact with Oliver as he nudges aside the gold chain around her neck and sinks his fangs in. She throws her head back, burying her fingers in his hair. 

Yeah, she may very well end up fucking him tonight.

Oliver looks away, expression wholly impassive despite their near-vulgar display, and you continue, “My neck is off limits at work.”

Unconsciously, you rub your collarbone, and Oliver’s eyes track the movement. Your skin feels hot in the wake of his gaze, even if it only lingers for a moment. 

He quirks a brow. “Only at work?”

You blink at Oliver several times, a sudden flash of heat searing its way between your legs at the boldness in his question.

He laughs then, shaking his head, as if thinking better of it. “Sorry, ignore me, that was inappropriate—”

“No, it’s okay. I���just feel like neck feeding should be reserved for romantic partners,” you tell him, and saying that to Oliver of all people makes you feel somewhat embarrassed. “Or sexual partners, whatever. It’s just too intimate for me to let a complete stranger do it.”

You shrug, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist. And out of the corner of your eye, it looks like Hayami’s dry humping Sendou as he continues to feed from her (clearly he’s tipping her well, if she’s yet to slide into the lap of another one of Oliver’s teammates yet). 

Case in point.

It’s probably a trick of the light, but you swear Oliver’s eyes darken for just a moment as your words sink in.

Hayami outright moans, but Oliver doesn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“So you don’t sleep with vampires,” he says, more a statement than a question.

It feels layered, thick with something you’re not sure you want to peel back and inspect too closely. Not when Oliver’s proximity alone has desire creeping its way through the slats in your ribcage like greedy, reaching vines. 

You wonder if he knows—just how much you used to think about him.

How badly you used to want him.

(How badly you might still.)

You wonder if he still sees you as his best friend’s little sister.

“I haven’t,” you tell him. 

(Not “I won’t.”)

Oliver tilts his head to the side ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t.”

Your lungs burn on a silent inhale as the two of you stare at one another, and your lips part, as if to say something—until a raucous outburst of laughter nearby distracts both of you momentarily, and the moment collapses like a deck of cards.

The charged feeling in the air ebbs (if only to find shores at the base of your ribs). 

You blink, and Oliver coughs. “Hey, remember that old abandoned building your brother swore was haunted?” he asks, changing the topic abruptly without missing a beat.

And you don’t know whether to feel thankful or regretful for it as you try to reconcile the disorienting feelings stirred up inside of you.

The next hour goes by without incident. Oliver talks about himself and what he’s been doing with his life, what it’s like playing soccer in a vampire-based league these days. You learn that the rest of the men with him are on his team as well. Professional sports leagues for the Turned have become more popular in the last decade or so. And when you heard the news about Oliver—that was your first thought. Because you knew how much he’s always loved soccer.

The rest of his group eventually stands, cheeks flushed in a way that only happens when a vampire feeds, and Oliver hands you his phone, silently asking for your number.

Somewhere, your teenage self is flopping back in bed and screaming into a pillow.

You stifle the foolish thought as the pads of your fingers tap the screen, hand briefly brushing against his cool skin when you give the device back to him. 

Oliver goes to slide his phone into his back pocket, and for whatever reason, you blurt out, “Are you sure you don’t need to feed?”

He freezes, gaze slowly returning to yours, and he stares at you for a moment before he finally responds, “When I feed, it’s in my bed.”

You remain rooted to the spot long after Oliver leaves with a wave and a smile that once again shows the barest hint of his fangs, not trusting your legs not to give out on you. 

And when you eventually go to head to the back for a break before entertaining another group of customers, your boss catches you and tells you Oliver paid for you up through the end of your shift. So you can either take another client and earn extra for the evening, or head home early.

You choose the latter with a knot of warmth in your chest, electricity fizzing at the edges of it. 

–

Later, tucked beneath a blanket on the corner of your couch with some awful reality show playing quietly in the background, you hate the way you find yourself staring down at Oliver’s Instagram profile.

It’s been a while since you’ve let yourself peruse his posts.

The grid of photos is mostly a mixture of professional shots from his games and promotional ones, with some various shots of food, city landscapes at night, and a rare selfie here and there. 

You panic when your thumb slips and you nearly like a shirtless photo of him standing in his bathroom mirror, too focused on the large, dark bruise that blooms across his ribs.

oliku23: note 2 self, don’t block sendou’s penalty kicks at practice from 3ft away 

After that, you decide it’s safer sticking to the thumbnails, but still you find yourself unable to resist the urge to carefully tap open another selfie—he’s grinning in this one, nose, cheeks, and teeth covered in blood, and a red-stained soccer ball perched in one hand.

oliku23: promise i didn’t bite anyone

Snorting softly, you put your phone down on the couch beside you, resting your chin on your knees. It doesn’t look like he has a girlfriend, or if he does, he’s completely private about her. Either that or—judging by Sendou’s comment earlier—he’s probably the same Oliver you used to know: a professional at sleeping around and not getting attached.

Your phone lights up again from where it’s perched on the cushion beside your socked foot, a notification hovering on the lock screen.

Unknown: It was nice seeing you tonight.

♱ TO BE CONTINUED.

[axeeglitter]

Sensius Prequel: A question of Timing

Isaac was a 23-year-old college student, struggling to balance his studies in civil engineering and architecture while working the night shift at Sensius Corp. He was tall, standing at 1.72 meters, he had a pretty basic build. Some people would describe him as “Mister Everyone”, which he hated. For him it meant he was drowned in the mass of people and no one really cared enough to know him and recognize him in an ocean of individualities. His short dark hair often stuck to his forehead from sweat, and his tired brown eyes carried the weight of countless sleepless nights. The cheap uniform he wore was always wrinkled, stained with cleaning chemicals, and reeked of the sterile, artificial scent of the research facility while his face was itching from all the chemicals vapors. So much in fact that he stopped shaving more then once a week to try and ease the pain of the razor blades on his sensitive skin.

He hated this job. It was demeaning, exhausting, and barely paid enough to cover his tuition and the mountain of debt looming over him. Every night, as he trudged through the sterile halls, he fantasized about quitting, about finding something better. But what choice did he have? Without this, his education would be out of reach, and with it, his dream of becoming an architect would too. But the truth is, his grades were not the best either and if he missed one more class he would be suspended and terminated. Isaac spent so much time working to try to pay for his studies that he didn’t have the time needed to study properly. And without any close family or girlfriend that could help him, he knew this situation was a mountain to climb barehanded.

Tonight was supposed to be like any other shift. He had his earbuds in, music drowning out the monotonous routine of his cleaning duties. When he entered one of the high-security labs, he barely glanced at the glowing screens filled with images shining on the screens. Men, women, animals, trees, toys, sculpture, anatomical studies, even celebrities. He didn’t pay attention to any in particular, his sight jumping from screens to screens wondering why they needed so many pictures and why all of the screens were having a red dot on the top right corner except one with picture of a men that had a green one. Probably another high security project the scientists were working on, and even if he tried to ask what it was out of curiosity, the majority of them were horrible persons humiliating and dehumanizing him for being the cleaner of the facility.

Isaac sigh as he realized tonight was not different from last night and the night before. A group of scientists stood nearby him, looking at him up and down as they walked pass him, murmuring to each other and starting to laugh. As one of them passed by, the biggest douche of them all, he mimed to trip on a wet spot on the ground as he let go his full cup of coffee on the ground, letting it splatter all around the floor. “Oopsie. Looks like you missed one, here.” He said as he resumed his path talking back to his friend “spent the whole afternoon on this glitched out gif. Fuck that I need a beer!”.

Isaac looked at them, his eyes fuming of rage and disgust. He put his cleaning trolley in the hallway and grabbed a mop to start cleaning what this douche scientist had just done on purpose before grabbing the bean to empty it. As his hands grabbed the side of it, a weird smell raised to his nostrils. He tilted his head to check what it was only to realize in pure hock and disgust that there was a paper bag with a dog poop in it. At this exact moment, something clicked in Isaac’s mind. This work was not worth the money and the behavior of this douches. He’ll find a way to earn money, but this was his last stroke. He went to one of their desks and grabbed a letter and pen to start handwriting a resignation letter. When he was done, he went to grab his trolley and put the letter on top of it, ready to hand it as soon as he is done with his shift hoping to get the full pay for his day of work.

As he reached for his work badge to open the door, he realized it wasn’t in his pocket anymore. It must have fallen once again. He had asked thousands of times to get a new clip but they never did and Isaac was spending his time looking for it all around the facility. He turned back in the office where he finally saw it after a couple of minute sitting on the floor next the desk, he grabbed the paper. “Go to hell, morons!” Isaac said as he took a step to finally get out of this hell. For the first time for a long time, he felt a huge weight being released from his shoulders. His steps were smooth and light as a feather. Sign of destiny, his favorite music was blasting in his EarPods. Isaac was getting closer and closer to the door, his head dancing a bit to the rhythm of the music. Out of nowhere, Isaac felt the ground under his shoes becoming slippery and he fell on his ass on the ground, his working overall getting wet from the remaining water from the coffee he just mopped on the ground.

“Great,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. He got back up only to realize his work badge had flown across the room and was now sitting in one of the opened pods at the back of the room. “Perfect…” He cites as he stepped closer, bending down to grab it, but as his fingers brushed the badge, his foot slipped once again because of the water under his sole. His frame had no real weight to balance him, and in an instant, he lost his footing entirely.

His body lurched forward as he fell headfirst into the open pod.

The moment his back hit the cushioned interior, alarms blared. The lid hissed as it sealed shut, locking him inside with a metallic click. Panic surged through him as he realized he was trapped, but most importantly, the douche would have to see him in this situation, his pants wet and him being trapped and at their mercy to free him. It was already a nightmare of anticipation.

"I can’t believe it! Why the universe is fucking against me!! What have I done to deserve this FUCKING treatment!! " He shouted, scrambling against the smooth interior as he tried to grabbed the sides of the lid and maybe force it to open, but nothing moved. Out of nowhere, a low humming started to be heard in the pod as lights started to flick on above his head and around him, shining through the blueish silicone.

SUBJECT DETECTED. INITIATING SCAN.

Mechanical restraints shot out of the sides, clamping around his wrists and ankles and securing him in place, forcing his hands on the sides of his body and his ankles at the bottom of the pod, slightly opened. He thrashed, heart pounding, but the grips were too strong for him to free himself. A bright blue laser came from all sides of the pod and scanned over his body, humming softly as it mapped every inch of his terrified body. “What the fuck is that?!” He screamed as the blue laser finished to scan his toes and disappeared. “HELP!!” Isaac screamed once again not knowing that his screams were muffled to nothingness by the pod once the lid is closed.

INITIAL SCAN FINISHED. STARTING CALIBRATION.

In the blink of an eye, a searing heat washed over his trembling body as he was still trying to get free from the grips. In front of his very eyes, the pos was drowned in a warm and red light. Then, right in front of him, Isaac saw with his mouth open from incomprehension how strands of cotton started to flow in front of him like there was no gravity anymore. Then those same strands started to disintegrate into even smaller strands before vanishing in dust. Isaac tilted his head down only to realize he could now see his full arms exposed, and soon his chest and his legs too. In a couple of seconds, he was now standing naked in the pod. In front of him, his phone, his badge and his ear pods started to go through the exact same process and disappeared into vanishing dust. “Bro!! this phone was brand new… Come on, it’s not funny anymore now. What the fuck is this tech?!” Isaac stood there, butt naked and all of his belonging gone and disintegrated. The warm light disappeared as fast as she came and he could feel the return of the cold atmosphere crashing against his sensitive and exposed skin.

CALIBRATION FINISHED. ANALYZING TARGETTED SUBJECT… TARGET NOT FOUND. LOOKING FOR TARGET… TARGET NOT FOUND… LOOKING FOR TARGET… TARGET NOT FOUND… LOOKING FOR TARGET… TARGET FOUND. STARTING PROCESS.

“The fuck is this shit talking about?” exclaimed Isaac still trying to nudge himself free. Once again, Isaac writhed in the pod, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the AI’s voice echoed around him.

INITIATING STURCTURAL REACLIBATION. ENHANCING SUBJECT’S SKELETAL INTEGRITY…

A sharp, unbearable pressure seized his bones. His limbs stretched, his joints popping and cracking as if his entire body were being pulled apart. His height surged upward to a painful 196 cm, muscles spasming as his frame expanded beyond its former limits. He let out a strangled scream, his basic form rapidly thickening with dense bone and heavy sinew. His feet stretching longer and longer, toes widening as the soft skin of his soles hardened, rough callouses forming beneath them like he had spent years walking barefoot on hard surfaces. Isaac felt the cold floor under his extended hyper sensitive feet. He tired to tilt his head but he couldn't see that far becaus eof the tears of pain and sweat bluring his sight, not realizing that he went from a 39 feet size to a 48.

RECALIBRATING MUSCULAR PROPORTIONS…

“No please STOP. I don’t want this. This has to stoAAAAAAAHHHHHH” screamed Isaac one more time as his entire body ignited with pain as his atrophied muscles swelled, fibers tearing and rebuilding with impossible speed. His arms and legs ballooned with thick, powerful sinew, veins pressing against his skin as raw strength pulsed through him. His arms spasmed against his will as muscles started to pile on top of muscles, gaining years of daily gym sessions in the blink of an eye. Isaac heard a humming noise stop for a brief instant as his arms stopped to grow at a 38cm of diameter. His once-flat chest expanded outward, pectorals firming into a broad, sculpted wall of muscle. His narrow shoulders widened, traps bulging as they connected seamlessly to his thickening neck. He whimpered, the overwhelming sensation of mass multiplying across his body making him feel like he was suffocating under his own flesh.

ENHANCING DERMAL PIGMENTATION AND FOLLICULAR DENSITIES…

A deep, insidious heat spread beneath his skin as his pale complexion darkened into a deep, sun-kissed bronze. At the same time, a tingling itch crawled over every inch of his sensitive body. Isaac tried to scream for help one more time but his lungs were still burning from exhaustion after the last protocol his body went through. He gasped as thick, dark hairs erupted across his body. His armpits grew thick with dense strands of hair that escaped from the side of his new voluminous pecs and biceps. The tingling continued around his dick as the heat grew stronger and stronger. He could feel something growing under his tight tanned skin only to feel like millions of ants were biting around his dick and on his balls. Thick curly and black pubes were growing at high speed, framing perfectly his newly golden-tanned skin. The tingling continued and cascaded down his thighs and legs to die when it reached his huge thick feet still bonded by the metallic arms. Isaac was just starting to find his breath back when he realized the pod was full of a weird scent. Something musky and earthy, something feral, something full of hormones and pheromones. Isaac turned his head as he felt the heat rising in his pits only to scream in surprise when a wave of musk hit him in the nose while droplets of sweats were running from his armpits to his forearms. “The fuck!” he screamed still a bit out of breath. The scent radiated from him, far stronger and more primal than anything he had ever known. The new pheromones infused in his sweat was starting to invade his lungs and his bloodstream, but worst, he was slowly losing the odor as his body was getting used to it.

MODIFICATING VOCALS…

“Stop!! PlEasE sTo…” Isaac barely had time to process the words before his throat tightened. A searing pain burned through his vocal cords, forcing a deep, guttural groan from his lips. “aaAaaAaAAahHhHhhHHHHHHH!” His voice cracked and deepened, shifting from its usual soft and joyful pitch into something richer, huskier, dominant. Each breath came heavier, tinged with an unfamiliar growl, the simple act of speaking now weighted with an undeniable presence.

RESTRUCTURING FACIAL PROPRIETIES…

Isaac’s eyes opened and his mouth gagged when he heard what the robotic voice said in a cheerful tone. He didn’t even had time to analyze and understand what was just called as he felt his skull vibrate under his golden skin. His vision blurred and then he heard a crack. Then another one, and another one. Soon, all the little cracks combined into a cacophony of moving bones as his facial structure changed to align with the given order. His skull ached as his jawline sharpened, broadening into a striking, chiseled shape. His nose straightened, cheekbones rising into a more angular structure. His dark hair grew thicker, shaggier, framing his reshaped face. His once-youthful features morphed into something undeniably masculine and alien to his real self. Isaac’s vision continued to blur and soon all he saw was pitch black. Then a small light appeared out of his blindness. It grew bigger and stronger and soon he could once again see the whole pod and the office behind the tainted glass. He tried to move his hands to check them out but he was met once again by his restrictions only to realize slowly that his vision was modified. Clearer, more detailed. His eyes went from a light hazel with some problems due to continued screen time and not the healthiest behavior to one almost perfect. His pupils were now deep chocolaty brown, looking like a deep cup of a coffee. His lips were now also thicker and the perfect pillows to put a tender kiss. Lastly, his neck cracked as his vertebras grew thicker and slightly bigger while his Adam apple became visible and moving with every breath he took, giving him a muscled imposing neck, like a pedestal for his new godly face. Tears rolled down his manly hairless cheeks as the last of his stubborn disappeared in his skin, leaving it flawless and silky smooth.

ENHANCING ENDOCRINE SYSTEM…

“Please… Just let me… go!” said Isaac out of breath in his deep voice almost fainting into the alluring darkness of unconsciousness. But the robotic voice didn’t listen to any of his complaints, following its protocols with a cold demeanor. A sudden rush of heat surged through his core. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as a flood of hormones pumped through his bloodstream, saturating his senses with overwhelming, primal energy. His stamina skyrocketed, his body humming with newfound vitality. Isaac felt like a cold bucket of water was just thrown straight into his system as the hormones and pheromones into his system rushed faster and faster into his brain. His skin burned with an unfamiliar need, his muscles flexing instinctively as his breath grew uneven. The raw power surging through him made it impossible to think, impossible to focus on anything other than the oppressive, animalistic instincts rising in his chest.

ADAPTATING GENITAL MORPHOLOGY… FOLDER MISSING… LOOKING FOR INFORMATION… INFORMATION FOUND… ANSWER IS: 21. STARTING GENITAL MODIFICATION FROM FOUND INSTRUCTIONS…

A sharp ache radiated from his groin, deep and all-consuming. Isaac whimpered, his body convulsing as the heat pooled between his legs. A stretching, pulsing sensation overtook him, his cock swelling, reshaping into something longer, thicker, heavier. He could feel the changes happening, the added weight, the sensitivity, the sheer presence of it now utterly foreign to him. The AI gave no reprieve, his nerves alight with sensation, as if his very biology was being rewritten for something different. His balls were next as they started to grow heavier and heavier with every heartbeat of Isaac’s heart. He could feel them going lower and lower and taking his thick dick with them because of the pressure of the weight. “The fuck is that thing?!” he screamed as he felt the rush of hormones combining with the direction of his blood and he could feel an erection starting to form. He took a look only to be met with a thick 21 cm cock pulsing with blood and already leaking a copious amount of precum.

ANALIZING SUBJECT BIO-DATA… ERROR… ERROR… ERROR… SUBJECT NOT MATCHING TARGET… MODIFYING TIME FACTOR… “Wait, what does that mean? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!” screamed Isaac in the pod waiting for an answer only to be met by silence once again. A sudden dizziness overtook him, as if time itself were unraveling within his cells. His bones trembled, skin tightening as his biological clock rewound. He gasped, his muscles tensing involuntarily as his age ticked backward: 23…22…21… 20. Hormones flooded his system anew, burning through him with the urgency of youth. A primal, all-consuming hunger ignited within him, demanding, overpowering, drowning him in a raw, visceral need he couldn’t suppress. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as a flood of hormones pumped through his bloodstream, saturating his senses with overwhelming them like if it was the very first time. His stamina skyrocketed, his body humming with newfound vitality. His skin burned with an unfamiliar need for touch, his muscles flexing instinctively as his breath grew uneven and rushed. The raw power surging through him made it impossible to think, impossible to focus on anything other than the oppressive, animalistic instincts rising in his chest.

CONVERSION COMPLETED…

Isaac panted heavily, his body still trembling from the violent forced modification he just went through that had just rebuild him. His muscles ached, his skin burned, and his mind reeled as he processed the words he had just heard from this robotic demon. For a brief instant, every sound disappeared around him. Only the faint beat of his own heart cycling through his veins. He tried to nudge himself free from the restraints and for the first time he realized he may have a chance if he gave the right amount of pressure thanks to his new enhanced physical capacities. CLING. His left hand managed to free itself as he tried to free his other hand and with some more try, he succeeded in that. “Finally!” he said in his deep voice as he turned his head. “Now, the ankles ones!” Isaac slid as much as he could to the ground and his rough hands finally met with the cold metal around his ankles. He ice-cold texture almost gave him a spark of static.

PHYSICAL MODIFICATIONS DONE. STARTING DIGITIZATION PROTOCOL… “What?! What are you talking about?!” he screamed out of his enhanced lungs still not used to his new deep voice.

A new set of laser beams flickered to life, scanning every inch of his naked, trembling form. He tried one more time to free his ankles only to realize those restraints wouldn’t move at all. He jumped back up and started to bang on the glass lid hoping that it would break or maybe someone would hear him. A new kind of heat built around him, different from before, less physical, more static. A loud humming sound was getting louder and louder like if something was charging power. “HELP ME!!” Isaac screamed one more time when suddenly a big white light engulfing all the roof of the pod turned on and then light consumed the pod.

Isaac screamed as the blinding light consumed him. His body felt like it was unraveling, every cell pulled apart, stretched into nothingness. The world around him blurred as his consciousness fractured, breaking into scattered data streams. He was being reduced, converted into something far less than human.

He tried to cry out, but his voice faltered, lost in the static. His arms, his legs, he couldn’t feel them. His torso, his head, everything was dissolving. The last thing he saw before the pod emptied was his own fingers vanishing into shimmering dust.

The humming stopped and no more screams were heard.

Isaac’s senses flickered back into existence, but nothing was right. He wasn’t in the pod anymore. He wasn’t anywhere. He was floating in darkness, naked and still awfully sentient and sensitive like all his nervous system was in overdrive. The energies around him felt odd too, like if the tissue of reality was similar but not identical. Like if the electricity was now rushing through his veins instead of blood.

He turned his head only to realize he could see all around him at the same time. Then, he started to see flickering blue light rushing down on him, swallowing him. More and more appeared and threw themselves at him, merging together, reforming a body for his soul to be trapped in. All around him, he could see more and more pixels appearing and merging together, but not directly on him this time, it was like portraits appearing in a gallery. Picture of men with golden skin, black hair, muscled body. All the same. All very different from his original body but at the same time so familiar. His newly altered form was in the center of it all. He tried to take a look but his body was frozen in a T pose as the last pixels merged with his new body.

A new blank window appeared before him. Casting a white warm light on his naked frame. His sculpted arms, his thick chest, his sharpened jawline, his dark, wild hair, it all felt like a relieving source of warm. He tried to move and realize he gained controlled back over his finger, then his toes, soon he was flexing his arm and for the first time for a long time, he could finally take a look at his new rough and calloused hands. He tried to take a walk but his body was still floating and had no support to take a step on. “Hello, is there someone?!” he screamed only to hear it echoing back around and coming back to his own ears. “Of course, it’s empty. Where the heck am I?” he asked to no one in particular as he tried to think of a way out. In front of him, the white window started to hum to the rhythm of an accelerating beat. Isaac didn’t realize it at first but then he felt it, the wind on his skin, an aspiring wind rushing him in the window. “The fuck is that now?” He said as the wind got ten times stronger in the blink of an eye. He felt his body getting swallowed inside the frame. Suddenly, he could feel a ground under his feet, he could feel the air around his skin, he could feel the gravity grounding him in the white ground around him. In front of him now was a black window opened on the other frames and pictures of the men. He could clearly see now that this were all pictures of the same men, smiling, flexing. It all looked like a reference sheet. Isaac took a step closer to the black window and tried to grab the borders to jump out but he couldn’t. An invisible shiny glass like material was forbidding him to do so. For the second time today, he was trapped. He got closer only to see someone walking in his direction. Not someone, his reflection shining perfectly clear and looking straight back at him. His new face and body. His new reality. That’s when he realized he already saw that face somewhere. His vision unfocused only to be met with the same reflection way further in another frame, and another one, and another one. In 21 frames looking back at him. Isaac’s heart jumped a beat as he realized he got transformed into these men looking a stereotype of a muscled douchebag. “No..” he gagged on his own condition as his rough hands brushed his hairless cheeks, taking in consideration what he just became. To worsen it all, his dick was still painfully erect and sensitively leaking precum glitching away as it touched the ground under his feet.

The AI’s voice droned back on.

PROCESS COMPLETED. ASSIGNING NEW ROUTINE PROTOCOLS…

A force gripped him to a molecular level. Nothing painful but something deeply anchored inside his bones, like if he couldn’t control his body anymore, like if someone was forcing moves on him. Like a puppet on a string. It pulled his body into position. His arms flexed, chest tightening, lips curled into an opened position. He hadn’t done that; he hadn’t moved, he couldn’t move.

RENDERING ANIMATION SEQUENCE…

His body jerked as a wave of statics rushed in the frame, he was posed in. All around him a dirty ground materialize, with dead leaves on it, sticks and rocks. Then from it, a deep forest grew in the blink of an eye. The static rushed into his body as he saw pixels appear around his legs. A pair of kaki cargo pants appeared and a pair of loose grey underwear. His hard and leaky cock was forced against his leg as his sensitive cockhead spasmed against his hairy thighs. His hands grabbed the sides of his pants fly as a circle tattoo appeared on his right biceps. A new wave of static and his body began to move. He flexed, his biceps bulging, his pecs twitching with each motion. His face turned slightly, as his hands opened the fly and were about to get his pants off. But in a glitchy move, his fly was back up again and his hands were grabbing it again. And again, and again.

It didn’t stop. He tried to fight it, but there was no escape. His body looped through the same movements, the same flex, the same face, over and over again. “The hell is this?! Someone stops that, please!! And this fucking cock sliding against my leg!! This is hell. It’s too sensitive!!”. His mouth was moving, but no sound was getting out from the frame, nothing was coming out of the frame.

He could feel it all. The heat of his skin, the slight flex of his muscles, the oppressive need still lingering from his forced hormonal changes. His new, sensitive flesh rubbed against itself, his thighs brushing together in ways that sent maddening signals through his nerves. His body wanted release, but it would never come. He was stuck in this loop, an eternal display of masculine perfection with no agency, no control, no escape.

CALIBRATION DONE: JACOB BLACK. WAITING FOR NEW SUBJECT.

Isaac heard one last time the robotic voice as he was still repeating the same movement of trying to undress on loop. In the lab, the lid of the pod opened back as steam rushed out on the now dry ground. His cleaning trolley with the letter still waiting in the hallway in front of the door.

The next morning, the scientists returned to the lab, sipping coffee and chatting casually as they resumed their work. “Looks like another one resigned!” said the cocky scientist as he entered the room, the demission letter in his hands. “I knew this one wouldn’t stay here too long, he didn’t have what this place need!” “I’ll just go and give it to Dr Lee, see you in a couple of minutes guys!” he said as he grabbed the trolley on his way to put it in the closet. The empty pod sat in the corner, unnoticed, its last occupant erased from existence. “Let’s see… Where were we. Damn looks like my reference gif is finally working!”  he said as he sat at his desk. “Told you bro, it was just glitching for a bit. Sometimes you got to give them time to do their own magic to solve problems” “You are right Mike, sorry...”

Isaac stood there, watching as he saw the men in front of him talking with his friend. He could hear everything, but he couldn’t free himself from this prison. He tried to scream for help but no sound was heard, sound is not coded inside a gif file… No one noticed the desperation hidden behind those dark, digital eyes, pleading for someone to free him or at least let him release the cum building up in his nuts, waiting on an orgasm for eternity.

Isaac was gone, only Jacob Black remained.

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

Hey everyone!

I’ve got a fun prequel I wrote for @reddarkfox222 based on my Sensius project! He asked for a story based on Jacob Black, hope you'll enjoy it! In this new chapter, you’ll get a deeper look into how the preparations for the Sensius project come together to make everything work. It’s a peek behind the curtain!

I’m always happy to chat, so feel free to DM me anytime if you have ideas or just want to talk. Can’t wait to hear from you all!

Catch you soon! :D

[satoruhour]

i need jealous racer geto hes js so whudurieiw and the way u write about himm🤭🤭

LUVRGIRL

a/n: eeuuughh idk whether to like this or not but enjoy nonetheless !!! not so much of racing but the sentiment is there lol. previous part (lloromannic) here / @screampied @kizoken @t4kio @redskyvenus @mysugu @suguruplsr @slttygeto ✶

wc: 6.3k

warnings: racer!geto, soft dom!geto, fem!reader, sprinkle of fluff, pet names, praise, ldr, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), fantasising, daisuke is being annoying again!!!!, sorta jealousy plot point, brief dry humping, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, unprotected p -> v sex, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the next six months were torture, indefinitely. it was an endless heap of assignments, of deadlines, of long-distance calls with your love that you both were so close to booking flights of your own. university was brutal, too. on top of tuition fees and getting the materials for your classes, it was heart-wrenching to even look at the prices of the flights from your country to japan, so you bit down your pride and subjected yourself to settling for the long-distance arrangement.

“hey, baby,” geto mumbles sleepily and your frown deepens upon forgetting that tuesdays was where he slept early. you still had to call, though, but you realise it too late when he answers with that groggy, raspy voice of his. there’s some ruffling behind the call, no doubt the sounds of his bedsheets as he gets himself comfortable while you huddle at the small nook of your room that’s next to the window.

from here you can see the sun setting, a totally different story in japan where you can hear geto yawn and down a glass of water next to his bed.

“shit . . sorry su, i forgot—”

he scrambles to reassure you, awake and sat up, “no! no— no, it’s okay . .” you wince when you hear him yawn yet again, but this time he sounds a little more in the realm of consciousness. you’re unaware of the smile forming on his face just from hearing your voice, fidgety fingers squeezing and releasing the duvet over him, “what are you up to, my love?”

you hum into the phone and you’ve never wanted to backpack across the seven seas to see someone so bad before. now on month nine, your excitement’s become even more prominent at wanting to end the semester as soon as possible, willing your lips not to mutter out the arrangement you’ve been planning with his group of friends.

“just needed a break from studying for finals. i’m dying,” you lament over the line and your heart flutters at his chuckle, something you miss against your ears and skin immensely, “just wish you were here . .”

“yeah?” and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rub your thighs together at the soft, rough yeah he mumbles out. you can imagine it too: sitting against his headboard half-naked while the duvet pools around his waist area. he’s sitting there like plaster sculpted by Monti while his hair flows around him. you almost squeal and your boyfriend only catches just the start of it.

“what? what was that?” he asks and your hand is clasped so hard over your mouth like a captor’s got your hostage, but you only let out a breath.

“n-nothing,” you laugh, picking yourself up from the nook and getting yourself comfortable in bed. it’s been a long day of studying, anyway, and your next exam isn’t until five days later. you could afford some downtime, right?

“but,” you sigh, turning on your side and sneakily slipping a hand into your pants, “my day’s boring. it’s all studyin’. why don’t you tell me what you did today, instead?” you can hear your parents already preparing dinner outside, but you press on and try to drain out the intrusive noises of cutlery and porcelain and the incessant calls of your mom to your dad for some help on the stove. 

“alright,” he drags the word out and laughs again, getting comfortable in his bed just like you do, but your end goals are entirely different, “but it is pretty boring as well. it was maintenance day today.”

“oh!” you remember him briefly mentioning that the other day — since halloween was approaching, there was bound to be more patrolling policemen around the streets and underground, so races had to be put on hold for the meantime. there was still other more secluded areas to race, but geto didn’t want to risk his Mazda being taken away nor for a stain to appear on his clean academic record.

“changing the crankshaft? i know the old one was giving you loads of trouble,” you mumble, feeling your cunt pulse and throb from the breathing you can hear over the line, “among . . other things.”

“yeah, my baby’s so smart for remembering, huh?” he praises, continuing to go on about his day. while it was merely taking-care-of-his-car day, it was still way more eventful than yours. he had went on a solo day out to your beloved café to relish in the good times, he had hung out with gojo for a while and drank some beer atop the mountain they frequented, even went out for some arcade fun.

“unfortunately—” geto’s low voice spurs you on. you’ve been lazily rubbing at your pussy, just humming into the phone while you only descend more and more into pleasure, “it’s taken a hole out of my allowance, i guess. my dad’s more generous with the parts that he gives me but at the same time i feel like he knows what i’m doing underground.”

he laughs and you fake a giggle, but your breaths are starting to get heavier with each sentence he utters, mind filling with flashbacks of how many ways he’s bent you over to fuck you, drunk on the phantom-like winds upon your ear that sound like he’s whispering all those filthy things to you. “and . . just missin’ my girl.”

“how’ve you been, baby?” he asks with a low voice, like he knows what you’re doing and the term of possession only has you sucking in a breath, fingers slip inside you after possibly a decade of teasing and you find it hard to answer. “darling?”

“y-yeah, ’m still here,” you pant out, afraid of being caught, but your voice quivers enough just for geto to catch on to what you were up to. he didn’t fault you, though (he never blames his girl), but there is a small smirk that forms on his face. he purposely lowers his voice even more, if it was possible, mirroring and mimicking your breathy tone when talking to him.

but with one hand that goes down to his pelvis, he doesn’t have to mimic you at all, hand palming languidly at his bulge. in the dead of the night, there wasn’t much need to keep his voice down in order to hear the pretty moans falling from your mouth; he does anyway.

it’s too shitty of a reception especially with your nokia’s, so he hears the artificial, metallic-like voice coming from his phone, but your sounds are just too lovely, transcending the robotic-ness of a phone call. and it’s like you’re actually there, smiling mischievously at him while stroking his cock and teasing him the way he liked to be teased.

“s-sugu?” you mumble, mind heading into the extremes and confident now that he’s just weirded out and silent, but it’s anything but that.

“yes, baby?” he hums, smiling to himself when he hears rustling over the phone and he can imagine you lifting your hips to remove your panties, tossing it somewhere across the room. “wanna tell me what you’re doin’?” 

you suck in a breath — so he knows — but suguru always knows everything so you’re whining into the receiver, pleasantly surprised when he replies with a deep groan that only makes you clench around nothing.

“that’s right . .” he drawls and you hear a soft thud over the line, and now you’re the one quieting your movements just to hear your boyfriend, the faint shlick shlick sounds of his hand along his cock. geto gasps when he squeezes his tip just like how you do it, pre-cum starting to leak. “need you h-here, doll . .”

you mewl softly and start the hand on your clit again, abandoning the tight hold around your phone just so you can use the other to slip your fingers into your warm cunt. it doesn’t even compare to the thickness and length of geto’s dick, but you have to work with what you have. with head turned toward the speaker, your boyfriend has gone non-verbal, too, moaning like a slut into the receiver.

“suguru, i’m— please . .” you whine softly, hips bucking into your hands, “doesn’t feel as g— good.”

geto coos inwardly at your needy voice, mouth falling open at his rock hard cock. it’s so hard that it hurts, left to merely fuck his fleshlight whenever he could and use his hand on other days. he missed your sweet fucking pussy so, so much, just picturing your beautiful arched back that lifts off the sheets and your shaking thighs. he imagines your perfect pout on your face as you finger yourself, unsatisfied, obviously, begging him with tugs to his hands and his eyes flutter close.

“i know, baby, and ’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking the nokia from his ear to put it right up to his relentless pumping and you swallow, the slick, wet sounds more clear now. “but you hear what ya do t’me, don’t you?”

“mhm . .” you trail off, thinking of his fat cock impaling you instead, and you follow his actions to a T, bringing it right to your sopping cunt and geto has to scrunch his already shut eyes just to wish that his hand was your pussy. your hand is getting tired, he’s sure, but you finger yourself so prettily his hand easily speeds up, giving his shaft periodic squeezes.

“so wet, suguu . .” you drag out his name, already feeling your high approach soon, but you want the both of you to cum together. “i miss you stretchin’ me out . .” a hiss from suguru, “i miss your cum spilling out of me.”

that has geto choking out a whine, “f—fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. i do miss g-giving you all of my cum—”

the filthiness of everything contributes to all your senses, parents omitted from memory, your finals at the back of your mind and only focusing on the envelope that resides on your bedside table containing a plane ticket. in one week you’d be able to see him again — a sweet treat given to you by gojo and nanami with their combined expenses.

you didn’t even know how you could thank them and while nanami waves you off for any payback, gojo did say you could treat him to anything in that café. it was difficult not to be excited, a louder whine drawn from your throat again and he laughs breathlessly, voice down low and distraught.

“any particular reason w-why my girl’s so needy lately—?”

geto basically chokes out his question while you shake your head until you remember that he can’t see you, answering with a broken “no”.

you resist the urge to spill on the exact reason — your mind spiralling from the anticipation of meeting him, the many, many lewd memories you’ve made over six months, his just-woken-up voice — because he’d never let you live it down.

“c-close, suguru—” your thighs are squeezed tight around your tired hand, sensitive from the immense overstimulation, “’m g’nna cum soon—!”

“me too, my love,” geto’s eyes are back open, trained on his cock and watching the sheer neediness shown in his weeping tip and bucking hips. he needs this, he needs you, and once you’re submitting your final paper, he’s sure to look at flights right to your doorstep.

“i’m c—” you’re whining out, body totally turned over and lying on your stomach as you chase your high, fuelled by the deep guttural groans of your boyfriend. your lips and mind are only filled with suguru, suguru, suguru, not even caring that your sheets are soaked and your fingers are cramping.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . s—shit—” geto reaches his release first, mind filled with replenished memories of your tight pussy hugging his cock, spurts of white spilling all over himself with a loud groan and you’re left to listen out for the desperate sounds of your boyfriend miles away, lengthening his climax as he continues to pump himself. “cum all over your fingers, doll . .”

suguru coaxes in that sweet voice of his, mumbling deep into the phone only for you. “doing so, so good, aren’t ya?” the quietness on his end, the slow lazy stroking of his hand again, and you’re cumming all over your fingers, eyes blown wide from the orgasm that he talks you through while you ride it out on your mediocre fingers. your mouth is stained with endless profanities and moans mixed with geto’s name, muffled by the bedsheets you’re so harshly biting into to prevent any loud, unbecoming sounds.

“that good?” he asks with a laugh, yawning yet again and you feel guilty again—

“i’m sorry, s—”

“no. don’t, doll, don’t apologise,” suguru brushes his thumb over his thigh, partially wiping off the cum and partially hoping he can relax the furrow of your brow like he always does. “you’re frowning and your shoulders are up, probably, relax . .”

you sigh, another thing that geto values a lot and has taught to you; deep breaths and untensing all parts of your body.

“good girl, was that good?”

“the phone sex or the deep breaths?”

geto grins. god, he missed you so fucking much — “both.”

“both was very good, thank you very much,” you giggle, not paying much mind to the way you remove your fingers from your cunt, turning over to the bedside table to take some tissues, “although the sex was a little better.”

“aw, no wins for the intense, groundbreaking, spirit-calming deep breaths?”

you shake your head (you’ve got to stop doing that), “ehh . . it was alright.”

geto’s reluctant sleepiness grants you a few more minutes together, his words starting to slur more and more the longer you were on the line, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. with fatigue came the words laced with unhindered affection, murmuring softly about hoping to see you soon, to feel you, to kiss you, and you expressed the same sentiment back to him.

the other switches the output to speaker, wanting to take in the messily taken profile pic he set your contact with. a blurred, blinding smile with his face squished against yours; a little below the two of you, berry and cherry clutched within your palms, doing the same. “can my girl do her best for her finals?”

“i can’t promise the best, but i’ll try . . okay?”

geto hums, a soft smile on his face. he’s cleaned up by now, new sweatpants on and duvet pulled right to his neck while he stares at your face, the pixels of the nokia never diluting your beauty.

“attagirl. have a good dinner, lovergirl.”

that knocks some breath out of you, and you grin like a schoolgirl.

“have a goodnight’s sleep, loverboy.”

you bounce on your heels impatiently when the plane finally lands, waiting for the throngs of people on the flight to leave through the bridge, but it’s taking ages, speed walking once you’re out. you wanted to be the first at the luggage conveyor belt, you needed to be the first passenger of your flight to be out of the arrival doors.

without the rush of the people and the striking colours of your boyfriend’s friends’ hair colours, it wasn’t too difficult to run up to them for a big hug.

“(y/n)~!” gojo drags out your name, waving you over excitedly and bringing the both of you into a group hug. nanami is adamant on being the ever broody racer, but you catch the ghost of a smile when he wraps a careful arm around your shoulders.

“how was the flight, (y/n)?” the blonde’s firm but concerned voice cuts through the chaos of the white-haired man.

“don’t ask lame questions like thaaaat, nanami! you’ll just bore me—” and a resounding smack! is then heard, and gojo’s clutching the back of his head in pain, the other taking the opportunity to lead you away from gojo’s antics and offering to help with your luggages. without words, nanami already feels your nervousness, patting your back in solidarity.

“hey— hey! oi!”

gojo slams the door to his car. “okay, we’ve painstakingly tried to hold suguru back whenever he was about to book flights—” gojo mentions in the car on the ride there, taking way too quick turns for your liking with your luggage going to town in the trunk. its thumps against the roof and sides always seem to interrupt the conversation with the white-haired man, but he seemed too much in a hurry to care. “think it was almost eight separate times!”

“thank you— ah!” you almost lurch forward at the amber light, but gojo decided at the last minute that he was just going to run it — braking then speeding it up all over again.

“you know, for a racer, you’re a terrible civilian driver . .” you groan once you reach the mouth of the familiar car park that you frequented in your six months in japan, but now that gojo’s easily manoeuvres the car to a slow, the adrenaline of the fast drive changes into something of dread, of a dizzying feeling.

what if suguru didn’t want to see you anymore? what if he already booked himself a flight and was nowhere to be found? what if he’s cheat—

your hands are clammy, not even present to how gojo calls out from you from the driver’s seat. cautiously, he’s putting a hand on your shoulder (because god forbid gojo touched anything of suguru’s, both Mazda and girlfriend), and shaking you out of your daze.

you catch glimpses of his sentences: “all  . . talks about . . trust . . no girl has . .” but you stop his rambling with frantic slaps to his shoulder. you know you shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but it’s hard not to when the scene is clear as day. suguru is never one to cheat — from the six months you’ve known him, from the many calls and check-ins the two of you do over the line.

defying time zones, fighting fatigue . . for this?

but you know better to list your lover as the instigator, especially from how this other girl was just hovering all over his Mazda, sticking her ass out and trailing her hand all over his finishing. that was one thing — but geto isn’t making any move to shove her off, only looking at her through hooded lids that could definitely drive anyone off. she wasn’t affected, though.

you’re not listening to gojo even when you step out of the car, already used to the curious eyes that rake over you and your figure — curiosity turns into recognition and then shock when they see how your boyfriend acts, but before you can actually make your way toward them, another man sidles up to you.

oh my god, it’s daisuke. you sigh loudly, knowing how gojo had dealt with him before and how much of an asshole he is, but all he does is look you up and down, not giving one fuck to how the subject of his embarrassment was sitting right in the driver’s seat.

“hey, babygirl.” you want to vomit from that one greeting alone, but you try not to pay him much mind. “what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ out here?”

“don’t your sorry ass have a girlfriend?” daisuke doesn’t even begin to digest the insult, and you think that he’s a masochist with how much he sets himself up for getting insulted, but then the girl’s eyes meet yours — she’s in his pictures, she’s in his wallet, you’ve seen her when this loser beside you blatantly brags about his girl. you’d feel sorry for her but it seems she’s as stupid as him.

they’re exactly that — realising you just walked yourself into one big jealousy scheme planned by the biggest jokers of the underground racing scene, your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes are also locked on his girlfriend with your boyfriend of all people, making sure she sees that he’s all up in your space. she’s doing the same, but when she actually tries to touch him is when geto finally does something, and the jealous burn in your heart quells a bit.

geto’s too smart to be mingling around with her, you hope, when you hear him mutter something to her and you smile to yourself when she cowers under his stare and words.

“you touch my fuckin’ car one more time and i’m sure to drive both you and your loser boyfriend, out of here forever. you can take your clown asses to another parking lot and race there and then i won’t have to see your faces any more,” his hold around his wrist isn’t harsh, but it is firm, and he prevents her from leaving until she gets his message, “plus i have a girl i’m obsessed with. take your lame jealous charade somewhere else and maybe go to couples’ therapy. you two clearly need it.”

and when she looks at you again — you think it’s how your identity settles in her mind — she yelps and finally runs away at the daggers you give, not even sparing a glance to daisuke who’s carefully scooching closer to you. but just as he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, your eyes catch suguru’s.

his eyes soften for just a moment; it was just like the café. his palms turn sweaty and he feels like he could collapse — but now you’re looking just a little different. he wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or the tiredness from exams, but you’re still as stunning as the day he led you out of the parking lot.

geto cannot resist giving you a big grin, but it quickly fades when his gaze falls on daisuke beside you and a scowl appears. and while your body’s already distancing yourself from the man’s crusty ass lips, you feel a throb go right down to your core when the same annoyed glower forms across his features: eyebrows pulled taut, long strides, muscles bulging in the wifebeater he’s got on.

six months away from your man has clearly done things to you.

with one smooth swoop, geto has you pulled flush against him, not even looking as he uses his free hand to grab at daisuke’s neckline before he leans in to kiss you. it’s admittedly a little embarrassing, cause your body reacts so readily to him, tits pressed against his chest while your fingers tangle themselves in his long hair. he tastes like cigarettes and cherries like always and you moan softly into his mouth when his hands wander right down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

“satoru’s not very good at hiding secrets, unfortunately,” geto spills and you pout, surprise ruined by the loud mouth of his friend, but before he gives you his undivided attention, he tugs daisuke closer, roughly. “but that don’t mean i ain’t happy to see ya, baby.”

geto laughs at your flustered state, until his expression darkens again — “you have a lot of nerve touching my girl.”

“I—i didn’t! she was basically begging for me to touch her.”

“don’t you—”

“p-plus! my girl was all up over you too, so i thought i’d give her a little lovin’—”

geto almost smashes his jaw in. either way, he lands a clean punch to his face that has daisuke writhing on the floor, clutching his mouth in pain but that doesn’t deter daisuke one bit who sits up . . and then is immediately beaten down again with a boot to his chest. your boyfriend leans down and looks him straight in the eye.

“i’m cancelling my race just so i can make my girl scream my name loud enough for you, because you could never fuck her or anyone that good with your shit dick game,” geto scoffs, “and forget girls, you can’t even win enough races to rise up the ranks. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough, don’t you think?”

suguru doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, only ushering you toward his Mazda parked in the familiar corner, easily shooting a text to gojo to cancel the race as he mentioned just so he could . .

with windows down, you relish again in the tokyo night air, the hand that you miss so much on your thigh, the alluring voice he’s speaking to you in, the beauty of geto suguru. everything looked the same since you left, from the photos he’s put up on the dashboard, the berry keychain hanging from the rear view mirror, the outer orange coating of his car.

“i—”

“i’m sorry, my love,” suguru leaps forward to apologise, stopping the car abruptly. you’ve already reached your destination but, it seems he wants to say something first.

“why are you apologising?”

he frowns, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. easily, you’re leaning into the touch, closing your eyes. “for ruining the surprise, for that stupid fight with daisuke, for letting my emotions take over.”

you mirror him, features also deepening in somberness. “you didn’t do anything — if anything, you were a victim of his girlfriend too. but . . seeing her be all over you, made me think the worst after not seeing you for six months.”

geto’s eyes soften yet again (he simply can’t help it around you), using both hands to hold you, now, and you float into his arms like a feather, like he’s in command. you let him guide you into the driver’s seat, faces so close and just hoping to touch after so many months apart.

“i . . i love you,” he swallows, brushing the hair from your face. you find that he’s shaking and breathing so heavily you’d think he was hyperventilating, but he gathers courage on a deep breath and continues, “i have since you left. right after, i went home to cry.”

“oh . .” your lip juts out, eyebrows downturned and eyes filling just a little, “oh, sugu . .”

“i just have always wanted to say it, i guess,” he chuckles, sniffling to hide his true emotions, “i just didn’t know whether i should say it over the phone where it would sound cheap; b-but, you don’t have to say it back, of course—”

you smile through tears, pressing a peck to his forehead in gratitude, “it wouldn’t sound like it to me, but i appreciate you waiting until i returned,” geto relishes in your lips upon his skin again, and he doesn’t think he could survive another day, another minute, another second without you, “i have, too, but i’m not sure when. it definitely includes the time you set alarms to wake me up for exams, though.”

he laughs freely at the memory now, of alarms interrupting his dinners and his parents asking “another call?”, but they let him do whatever, happy to hear their boy joking and laughing over the call with his mystery partner. you giggle, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears that did fall, letting the interior fluorescent light of the Mazda illuminate the features you love so much, all belonging to the man you pined over from many miles away.

“i love you too, suguru — stumbling into that random car park was the best thing i’ve ever done.”

“well, it might’ve not turned out as well if some other group had gotten to you first,” his thumb plays with your bottom lip and brings you to him, “’m just glad i got to ya in time . .”

“yeah? what if you didn’t at all?”

“then i would’ve made sure i’d find you in any way that i can, even if i had to beat up a thousand daisukes.”

that makes you giggle at little, a sliver of eye contact shared with your lover before he engulfs you in a rough kiss and your moan reaches the heavens, body so sensitive from being away from his touch that you jolt when he wraps an arm around your waist. 

“relax, baby,” geto chuckles, speaking against your lips, “take it slow.”

“but i don’t wanna . .” you whine softly, clinging to him in surprise when he pulls a lever next to his seat and the backrest falls all the way down.

“ah!” you grin, “new mod?”

suguru barks out in laughter, “ya caught me. i got it modified yesterday.”

“so you could do dirty things like this?”

he rolls his eyes with a blinding smile, just so, so happy he’s got you back in his arms again, “exactly that.”

the other willingly shows you just what the modification can take, both hands spread out on your ass and pulling you onto his crotch. your core already feels the half-hard bulge under him, using your hips to grind down even more along him. everything feels like too much, after so long away from him that you already feel your high approaching from simply grinding your clit against him and he teases.

“you g’nna cum, already?” he grins slyly, suddenly moving his hips to meet yours that has a broken mewl leaving your throat.

“b—been too long away from you . .” you admit a little sheepishly, using his shirt as an anchor while you continue to grind your cunt into his front, only your panties and his trousers separating the contact of skin. but with how your body jerks in pleasure, you’d think there was nothing between the both of you. “i need you, quick.”

geto says nothing but help you with small pants, the backlighting from the headlines accentuating your figure so nicely that he grunts out your name in between swears, soon stuttering your syllables once he feels you still on his lap with arched back and throbbing cunt. he can feel you, feel you squeezing around him even when he wasn’t in you.

“guess your fingers were pretty crap, h-huh?” massaging your sides, you hum in disapproval at his cheeky smirk, hoping to change that when he lets you do whatever: you pull him up by his shirt and open the door to his car, pushing at him to get out. you don’t day anything and he already knows what you want when you spread your legs, biting his lip at the wet patch on the pretty set you decided to don.

and even with witnessing this sight over and over, you’re never used to the way geto worships you, reveres you, when he kneels down on straight gravel. he doesn’t care if his pants are littered with small specks of dust and dirt, whether he knees start to hurt, but he only has his eyes set on your alluring cunt, finger delicate when he pulls your panties to the side but just brutal when his mouth meets your clit.

“su— s-shit—!” is all you can manage, hearing the other breathe through his nose once his mouth latches on your pussy. it’s something that he hasn’t tasted since long ago, and he’d be damned to let you go again, so he takes the opportunity to savour your arousal, switching between flicking and sucking on your clit like a starved man.

“she tastes so fuckin’ good hmmff—” his eyes meet yours and he feels you squeeze around nothing, making a show of letting you watch how his tongue circles your bud, down to your hole and up again, slurping up your juices sloppily. “i hope this pussy’s missed me as much as i missed her, yeah?”

“y-yeah . .” you moan out softly, legs moving apart more to get more of him, pelvis humping against his face so much that he has to hold it down with a hand. your pre is dripping all over his leather seats and onto the floor, but he makes sure not to spill any more from the way he scoops it up and prods at your entrance. 

“let your pussy do the talkin’, baby,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing in a finger past your walls and the stretch is already so much better than your own. your jaw hangs open in ecstasy, body already bucking and craving for more when he pushes his thicker finger all the way in and it’s no problem for geto to slip the other in, “she’s sucking me in so well, can she do this to my cock too? hm?”

wordlessly, you’re nodding, catching a whisper of good girl before he’s back on your sopping pussy, sucking up and swallowing all of your arousal that it’s downright filthy, the noises echoing throughout the space. geto doesn’t waste any time pumping his digits, moving them in tandem with his tongue.

“s—suguru . .” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes open from the sheer pleasure, and you’re met with the vision that you can never get enough of — your racer boyfriend’s tongue out, hooded lids and soaked chin — and he grants you a little more of euphoria, groaning loudly into your pussy. with each minute, he’s only getting harder, unbelievably so, so your fantasy cut short when he removes his fingers and mouth with a pop! and laughs at your needy whine.

“you’ve been away too long, come,” geto stands to give you a kiss first, letting you taste yourself, “i need to be in you, darlin’.” 

and so when he first slips in, it feels like heaven on earth, his leaking tip nudging past your folds and right into your warm cunt that he whines so loudly, long hair falling all about his face and body. you’re not different, nails digging in his skin at the stretch that you’ve missed, cock so much longer and thicker than your fingers.

“t-this is better than any fleshlight, fuuckk . .” he mutters to himself, one hand holding your ankle up and the other holding your bent knee. he’s hoping the modification he made to his car wouldn’t give up on him, because he knows he won’t be able to hold back once you’ve adjusted. but when you start moving earlier than he expects, he doesn’t give you the chance, slamming right up to the hilt until you’re shivering and clenching around him.

“g—god, r-right there, sugu—” you preen, nothing but incoherent and repeated sentences mumbled by you over and over, “feels s’full . .”

“y-yeah? tha’ it?” you don’t need the shitty light of the abandoned parking lot to make you look beautiful, you’re doing it all on your own when your body arches towards him and your legs shiver in his hold, catching glimpses of just how wet you were — juices smeared along your inner thighs, a clear sheen of it along his length, all thanks to the lighting. “so sloppy, huh . . listen to ’er.”

geto emphasises his thrust, in, out, and in, out, just for you to hear your dripping pussy dragging along his shaft, one of the things of yours that makes him go insane. 

“all because of you,” you babble mindlessly, fingers expressing your need for him and he listens like he always does, body hovering over yours just to kiss you and because of that he’s thrusting all the more deeper into you as you break the kiss with a loud moan. geto laughs against your lips, hips making quick work to make sure he stays in his new angle, and he’s rewarded with your lewd pleas for him.

he’s ramming into you so perfectly, mushroom tip just barely brushing against your cervix each time that it has your mouth permanently open in pure pleasure.

“well . . you’re the only doll to get me hard and needy like this . .” he chuckles again, kissing down your neck to make sure you get blue and black into your skin, “and i fuckin’ love her for it.”

with a shaky hand you pull on his ruined ponytail, “s-say it again.”

“i love you,” suguru almost whispers, afraid of breaking the silence.

“again . .”

“i love you, sweetheart,” that makes you bend into his hold, undoubtedly.

“again, suguru—”

his hips are relentless, still moving even through his pussydrunk confessions, “i love you— i-i love you, i love you. so, goddamn, much— s-shiiit . .”

“m-me too, su . . i love you— i—” your arms trap him, circling around his neck and making sure he stays close to you and he pushes on your knees more, fat cock fucking into you in a more open mating press, knowing you’re close by how your toes curl and your stomach contracts, by how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he’s got you mapped out, memorised, all from his devotion to you.

“i know, baby, you’re close, y—yeah?”

he feels you nod, thighs starting to burn from the position but while your pussy keeps sucking him in, he’s sure to continue to slam into you, making sure all four walls of the parking lot hear the obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your ass.

“c’mon, cum with me, princess,” he murmurs, lightheaded with the tightness and warmth of your pussy. it’s a wonder he hasn’t cummed already, sneaking one hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit. your moans are rendered inaudible, only managing pathetic squeaks before you’re tipped over the edge and you’re whimpering so loudly into his car, cum dripping down and out your cunt and right to your ass.

your pussy flutters with geto’s continued thrusts, prompting him to reach his release right after with a deep groan, hips stuttering in your sensitive pussy until he’s spilling his load, white and hot. it’s just so, so goddamn much, stuffing your hole full of his cum that it has no choice to spill and dribble out when he removes his cock, the sight just so mesmerising to him.

“p—please,” your energy is far from used up, turning your body over just so you can present your ass to him. face squished into the driver’s seat, you use both hands to spread your cum-filled pussy, just asking for more and geto only smiles with a certain lilt in his voice. “need more, suguru . .”

“that’s my lovergirl.”

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — fourteen: because you tolerated me

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

author’s note: wrote this at 11pm and just finished at 12:25am 😭 my roommate told me to head to bed but i haaaaad to update for you guys so!!! enjoy the lore, hopefully it’s not too confusing ??

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Hanni isn’t so sure what to do. On one hand, she thinks she hates your guts, but on the other, she knows that she really doesn’t.

In fact, Pham Hanni had lived across from you at the ripe age of three, your moms having shared the same apartment complex. Hanni hated everything about that place, it was poorly managed, and quite frankly, cheap.

“Nini!” Little you yelled, your chubby baby hands reaching out for the girl in front of you. “Nini!”

You never knew her actual name because you were so young, referring to her only as Nini.

Hanni loved playing with you, she would beg her mom to bring over some spoiled bread they had in the pantry to pretend to play tea party and eat.

By the time Hanni turned six, her father took custody of her. Her father worked under a man named Park Hyunwook, and that was where she met Park Seojun.

He was a fairly skinny boy, but he made himself look charming nonetheless. Seojun took Hanni under his wing whenever her dad was busy in his father’s company, and soon enough, the two of them became best friends.

They became close to the point where that he made sure his father secured a spot in Decelis for Hanni.

“I’ll quit football if you don’t do it,” he threatened, which earned him a painful slam into the door by his own father.

It worked, though.

Hanni met Jungwon in her sophomore year of high school. He was a cute, rather calm composed boy who reminded her so much of a cat. She swore she fell inlove in an instant.

They talked for quite a while, and eventually, Jungwon did ask Hanni to be his girlfriend.

He stumbled upon Seojun and her hugging after class, and even though Hanni swore to her heart that it was platonic, the younger boy wasn’t having any of it.

So she spilled it out. She told him why they were hugging—of course she did—she loved Jungwon, how could she let her relationship just go down the drain like that?

“My dad’s threatening to pull me out of Decelis if I don’t tell my mom to stop contacting him.” She explained, and Jungwon didn’t understand what Seojun had to do with it.

Turns out, Seojun’s father was the one paying the tuition. If she was pulled out of Decelis, she would never see any of her friends ever again.

“Well, I don’t care if you’re rich or not Han, I love you.”

Despite Yang Jungwon promising his love to her, all Seojun could think about was how scandalous it could be if word ever got out that his father was paying for Hanni’s spot when millions of scholarship kids were still waiting.

So he killed him. Pushed him off a cliff. Seojun wasn’t a monster—maybe he was an awful person—but that didn’t mean he hated Jungwon. He just couldn’t risk it. His reputation was far way more important than some guy his friend was dating.

Besides, Hanni was a pretty girl. She’d find loads of boyfriends by the time Jungwon was gone.

“Are you listening to me? Hello?”

Heeseung waves a hand in front of your face, a playful smile comes to his face when he sees you snap out of your daze.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was just…”

He looked over at your direction, sighing when he sees Sunghoon and Hanni all close to each other. “Looking at the newly inlove couple? Yeah, I know.”

“Inlove is a reach.”

Heeseung shrugs. “I just want class to end so I can take you out for dinner.”

You practically choke at his confident tone. “We made up literally a few days ago.”

“So? I mean it when I say you’re important to me, Y/N.”

Any girl in your spot would’ve dropped dead at Lee Heeseung practically melting in a puddle in your presence.

“You should smile more,” Sunghoon says from the table across yours, his hands coming under Hanni’s chin to smush her two cheeks together.

She slaps his arm away, annoyed. “You’re lucky Seojun didn’t kill you.”

Sunghoon grows tense at that, his eyebrows furrowed. “What did you say to me?”

“Nothing.”

Danielle grows uncomfortable in her seat, her eyes dashing around the room. “How’s home life Hanni?”

Hanni shrugs, stabbing her fork into the mushy mashed potatoes the school had served. “Nothing better than before.”

She wanted to cry so badly in her seat. But if anyone had caught onto the tears that were forming at the edge of her eyes, she would lose the reputation she so desperately worked hard to maintain.

“Excuse me.” She hurriedly rushed off. Sunghoon stands up after her, but Danielle places a hand in front of him.

“Just let her be Hoon.”

And who was Sunghoon to argue with Danielle?

She practically grows limp as she reaches the end of the empty corridor, far away from the cafeteria. Her mascara is probably smudged like crazy, and she doesn’t even want to think about how insane she might look to a passerby.

“Are you okay?” You don’t register the crying girl as Hanni at first. You had just bid goodbye to Heeseung and dropped him off at his business management class, so you were in a rush to get to your class before your teacher gave you detention.

“Just leave me alone.”

Your eyes widened. “Hanni?”

Hanni never felt more embarrassed in her entire life. She didn’t even know why she was crying so hard.

Sunghoon, despite always being around her, was never truly there for her.

Sure, he was there when she broke down in tears complaining about her dad, but he only used that as collateral against her when Seojun had threatened him after he too found out about how Seojun’s dad had been paying for Hanni’s tuition.

Hanni had opened up to him more than she knows she should’ve. She told him how much she hated her dad, how everytime she went home from Decelis, she couldn’t wait to go back because she couldn’t stand an day in that house, let alone an hour.

And what did Sunghoon do with that information? He used it against her.

Sunghoon wasn’t like Yang Jungwon. Seojun couldn’t just kill him off, he was an important asset to the Park Administration for the local politics, the same ones that Seojun’s father was running for.

Killing Sunghoon was too much of a big risk for everybody involved.

Sunghoon knew he had that power over Seojun. He knew Park Seojun couldn’t cry to his daddy about him and he knew that he could destroy Hanni’s whole life with a snap of his fingers.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t fun that way. Plus, like Seojun said, Hanni was a pretty girl. Much prettier than other girls at Decelis. Sunghoon actually liked her.

Heeseung just had to get in his way. The boy knew Hanni first, but Sunghoon managed to squeeze his way to the top within months of joining the friend group. He knew Lee Heeseung had too much of a weak stomach to keep secrets like this. Lee Heeseung was a coward, and would always be in Sunghoon’s eyes.

“Drop him.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf? I said drop him.”

Hanni didn’t want drop Heeseung. She just wanted to feel loved. Heeseung made her feel loved. Sure, she didn’t like him enough to actually pursue him—but she loved the attention and adoration he had for her despite seeing through all her faults. Lee Heeseung cared for her, she just didn’t have the energy to care for him back.

So she let herself reject Heeseung’s confession on the night of Seojun’s gala, she let Sunghoon humiliate him in front of their whole friend group, she agreed to become Sunghoon’s girlfriend.

Why? Because Pham Hanni’s reputation was too big for her to let a man destroy it.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, you know, I won’t judge.”

“God, I hate you.” She whispers, hands harshly rubbing away the tears.

“Why Hanni? What did I ever do to you?”

“Because you tolerated me.” She cries even more. “Because you never once called me out on my behavior, because despite me being a total bitch, you were always nice to me.”

You had no idea what to say, so you didn’t say anything. You just rubbed Hanni’s back, wondering why the hell you were actually feeling bad for the girl who made your life a living hell for weeks.

[unsolicited-opinions]

One day i might write an essay about how intellectualized ignorance is the ultimate form of wealth, that is if no one's done it before me yet. For all the sht-talking i see from college grads about the dumb and uneducated working class, they are not immune themselves to misinformation, propaganda and ignorance, with them it just takes a different form. It's the luxury of entertaining obviously bad and destructive ideas. Only someone sheltered enough to never experience a crime would ever entertain the idea of anarchism, only someone who's lived a safe life in a western country can plead for the case of terrorist groups. Mostly someone who never had to work for what they own can like the idea of communism and collective ownership lmao. People in safe gated communities and college dorms are the only ones I see wanting to defund the police. It's the luxury of flirting with chaos and misery you'll never have to experience, people less advantaged can never do this because it might actually have them killed. It's just as ignorant and ill informed as the people they look down on, it's just wrapped in an elite college bow. It's the ultimate luxury because you can never commercialize it. I'm obviously simplyfying it to make the point, however I still think it rings true.

I think you should write that essay.

If I'm understanding you, this is your argument:

Campus Hamasniks (both students and faculty) seem to believe that their elite education makes them immune to propoganda, but a degree doesn't make you immune to bad ideas - it just changes how such bad ideas show up and propogate

The crowds on college campuses call themselves "pro-Palestinian"...then openly praise Hamas and Hezbollah.

That's not solidarity-it's performative radicalism from people who've never once lived under rocket fire or authoritarian rule.

It's easy to chant slogans (which you don't understand) when you've got campus security, tenured professors, and administrators protecting your "resistance" from any consequences. It's a lot harder when you're actually living in Gaza or southern Israel, where both Palestinians and Israelis die because of groups like Hamas.

The vast majority of the campus Hamasniks have never lived in a war zone, never seen what it means when terrorist groups hold political power, never seen what happens when radical leftists take power. They talk about "decolonization" like it's a clever academic concept, when it's been dishonestly used against indigenous people to justify murder - and they do this from elite institutions where annual tuition costs more than most people earn in a year.

That's the luxury: being able to romanticize violence you'll never face, glorify chaos that never touches your sheltered little life of priviledge where you can afford your performative "activism."

This kind of ignorance isn't less harmful than the stuff the same people (rightly) mock in MAGA folks - it's just more polished, more accepted in elite circles. Underneath the theory and hashtags, though, it's the same disconnect from reality...and only made possible by extraordinary priviledge.

Yeah, Anon. You should write that. I'd read it.

[tinytablepodcast]

Help Us Choose Our Next Game!

We received so many wonderful submissions from the indie ttrpg community of games to play next on Tiny Table. We need your help to narrow them down! We will be taking the top 3 games to Patreon for our patrons in the Mini and Micro tier to vote on.

Reactors and Romance: Reactors and Romance is a rules-light RPG about flirting while piloting a giant robot. You only have one stat, and that is your HEAT 🔥. Your HEAT measures how hot your mech's reactor is getting, and how hot of a pilot you are 😉 Will you fight or flirt your way through battle? Can you keep your mech from overheating? What will it be hotshot?

To Infinity...: Inspired by Alien and The Thing, "To Infinity..." is a tabletop social deduction game where up to 4 players and 1 GM need to escape on a spaceship from an alien monster who killed the rest of the crew. What none of the survivors know is that this isn't just a monster, the alien could be any one of them...

Hellborn Descended: Hellborn Descended is an infernal TTRPG set in a modern Hell, inspired by comics and shows such as Hellboy and Helluva Boss. In Hellborn, players take on the role of sinners, demons, and fallen angels, working together as mercenaries to attain wealth, fame, and power, or gloriously die trying. Check out their kickstarter!

Darkest Hour: Darkest Hour is a horror tabletop game inspired by horror movies of all kinds, featuring a group of monster hunters attempting to put a stop to a malicious supernatural entity in a single night. Over the course of six rounds, known as the Hours, the hunters must use their abilities to establish benefits that will aid them even as the haunt grows in strength and the hunters become less effective. As Blackest Night envelops them, the haunt feels insurmountable -- will the hunters find the haunt's true weakness and destroy it for good, or be whittled down until only a Final Girl remains? Featuring six haunts, six locations ripe for the haunting, and six unique hunter archetypes, Darkest Hour is perfect for one-shots for 2-5 players, and can either be run by a GM, or communally without a GM.

Dawn of the Orcs: Dawn of the Orcs is a GMless dark fantasy worldbuilding and roleplaying game. Play the magical technocrats who create the first orcs as living weapons and tell the story of how the Orcs become their own people. It can be played seriously as a fantasy transhumanist Dr. Strangelove, or as a wacky game of Saruman by committee.

The Trains of the Glorious Republic of the People: The Trains of the Glorious Republic of the People is a tabletop RPG where players take on the roles of a train crew in a fictional 1930s totalitarian state. Your mission is simple: get yourselves and your unique train from point A to point B though things are never that easy on the tracks of the Glorious Republic. The game requires only d6s, pen, paper, and, above all, your loyalty to the party.

Paratype: Paratype takes place in the aftermath of an apocalypse where giant bugs have reclaimed the earth. For humans survival is a challenge-one helped by the invention of a device that grants strange new buggy abilities. Paratype is a game about survival, humanity and so, so many bugs.

Broke Wizards: Broke Wizards is a light, silly game about working class sorcery. Play as students of the prestigious Audment's Academy of the Arcane who must go delving for treasure in order to pay tuition. To cast magic, wizards must use items found around their dormitory as makeshift spell ingredients - and then use their real-life argumentative skills to convince the living force of magic that yes, actually, a dirty shot glass is a great ingredient for casting a spell of water breathing, thank you very much.

RiskTaker: RiskTaker is a GM-less system built around players making big moves with big risks. Each sessions revolves around "The Scene," a climactic event like an episode's final battle in a superhero TV show, or the aftermath of a heist gone wrong. Players take turns either doing exposition scenes to give context to The Scene and built character relationships, or Influencing The Scene, which means they take a decisive action and decide how effective that action will be. But watch out - the more impactful your action, the more things can go wrong, and the more likely it is that they will. But what's a good story without a few Risks?

'til it kills us: in ‘til it kills us, you play as a group of young, reckless queer activists fighting to make a difference in the world. you’re angry, and you’re scared, and rightfully so. not to mention, you’re all a little bit fucked up. whether you’re dealing with issues at home, struggling with mental illness, or just learning to stand on your own two feet, life isn’t easy. but you’re also in love with the world, and with each other, so you keep fighting anyway. it’s the only thing you can do. the only problem is your magic. sure, it protects you. sure, it helps you fight. but you can feel it – feeding on the most unpleasant parts of you. and the longer you have this magic, the more you fear by those feelings. you worry it might be powering but you keep fighting. what else is there? remember what you always said: we’re going to keep on fighting ‘til it kills us.

If you submitted a game to us and don't see it on the list, don't fret! We will be hosting many polls like this and your game is still in consideration. If you game is on here and isn't chosen to move on to our next poll, also don't fret! We may add it on to the next poll again.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Education

I'm always asked what sort of education different people recieve throughout different historical eras and since I'm heading back to college soon, I thought it was high time I made this guide.

Disparity

Education is viewed as a right by many but for some and thoughout history it was a privilege. For the wealthy and those of high status, education can be easily accessed. They can afford to tailor an education to fit their needs, they can hire tutors, and they can afford tuitions to top schools. For the poor, education was a luxury. However this doesn't mean that it was available. Some communities would fund a school or send their children to a local teacher - usually they had to pay a daily fee or at least bring kindling for the heating. Many poorer children also worked so they could not attend school consistently or were pulled out very early into their education. However, some poorer students could gain access to high level education if they were extremely bright or caught the attention of a wealthy benefactor who could fund their education.

Education as a Weapon

Education could also be banned for certain groups in society. It could be illegal to fund schools or host gatherings for students of a certain background, race, religion or gender. Education against the law could be punished by imprisonment, exile or execution. This is a measure usually taken by oppressive governments in order to follow a moral code or restrict the betterment of a certain group. An example would be the Irish Catholics under the Penal Laws.

On the otherhand, there is education that is influenced by the state to inject certain values, moralities and Opinions into a population. This is the intense restriction of reading material, removal of books that contest the teachings of the government or the kidnap of children from their culture, in order to forcibly educated them in alignment to their beliefs. An example would be the residental schools of North America and Canada and the AHS schools of Nazi Germany.

Content

As above, content of what children learn usually falls into a certain category. This is also true for the education offered to the wealthy and the poor. The poor would be offered a basic education, learning literacy and arithmetic, usually with an expectation that the children would not go on to any jobs that needs a broader education. Any higher education would be hard to obtain because of cost and the discriminatory view of the enrollment panels. The wealthy would have access to an array of different subjects including: The arts (drawing, music, painting, poetry, dancing), sports (riding, martial skills, rowing, hunting), arithmetic, geography, languages, geography and history. While progression to higher education will still be difficult, any affluent families are legacies of prestigious colleges or can make a donation to grease a few palms. These schools would be where the wealthy make lifelong connections and get springboarded toward opportunities.

Private Tutoring

Whilst some affluent, aristocratic and Royal families send their children to schools, private tutoring in the home was a popular choice. Children would be educated at home but tutors who either lived in the home or come to the house. The children would be educated alongside siblings or the children of courtiers or neighbours. Private tutoring sessions would often be the only education for upper class women recieved, taught by governesses and tutors.

Premises and Equipment

As mentioned above, wealthy and aristocratic families would usually attend established schools or attend school at home. They would be provided any equipment they needed. If they attend school, they would often wear a uniform. Some schools had multiple variations of the uniform for different activities. Many of the schools attended would be boarding schools. Boarding schools offered education to those who boarded and day students, however day students were often looked down upon as lesser than.

Poorer schools would be relient on donations and fees paid by students. As mentioned above, there may be a building reserved for classes - sometimes an designated schoolhouse or a teacher's home or a public building such as a gathering house or sometimes even outside - hedge schools. Equipment would be provided by the school. Uniforms at poorer schools were not a thing but students were expected to show up neat and tidy.

Corporal Punishment

Corporal punishment at schools was the go to punishment for students. Teachers had free rein to strike children for mistakes and bad behaviour. Punishments include insolation, physical stress positions such as standing on a chair all day, getting objects thrown at them, being slapped on the back of the legs with a cane, being rapped on the palms or knuckles with a crop or ruler. Students may also be humiliated by teachers through the use of dunce hats, encouraging other children to bully them or by the use of verbal abuse. Corporal punishment did extend to all classes except for royal children since that was either taken by proxy by whipping boys or left up to parents.

[plumbogs]

Making Sims 2 University Fun: my personal guide

I've noticed that while it's probably one of the most utilized of the expansions, TS2's university is generally seen as a slog. Which makes sense. It has a completely different gameplay loop than the rest of the game. But it's very handy to send your sims to college, especially if you use any of the various mods that limit careers based on education. So here's my big guide to making university an actual fun experience to play through (to me, at least).

The university expansion is, uh, very tailored to the 2000s college party time animal-house tropes. the pack becomes more fun when you treat it that way and let your sims be stupid young adults who streak and fool around on campus and throw parties. which, by default, is tricky because of the gameplay that requires so much skill building and assignments. which the rest of this guide will also deal with.

Note: I make some pretty big changes to normal university gameplay, to the point that it does require a bit of modding and at least one instance of fooling with simpe. there's probably also easier ways to do it, and of course everything is optional. maybe you do like keeping sims in dorms for the entire time and just three-speeding trough it all.

*mods: there are a few absolute must-have mods to me.:

TwoJeff's College Adjuster. It's basically an all-in-one controller to adjust semester timing, change semesters, plus a bunch of other features. The semester timing is the most important to me.

Active Classes is still in testing, but it almost completely changes how I play college sims. Once again, I'll detail gameplay later, but actually sending your sims to class makes for a much more fun campus experience.

No College Time Progression On Community Lots: this goes hand-in-hand with the previous mod.

Community Time: IIRC you have to do a little editing in SimPE to make it work right with University - this post explains what to edit. I don't know if I'm allowed to share the exact edit I made as a download. This might seem redundant after the last mod, but there's a reason for the madness: while one group of sims are in their active classes, the other students can do things on the home lot.

Instant Pledge for Greek Houses: This one is important for greek house gameplay, which is later.

SimBlender: There's like, 500 different edits of the SimBlender, and I think all of them have the main function needed for my college gameplay, which is teleportation. You can use a comparable teleporter if you fancy.

Simlogical's University Break is another important one for me, but it's not really necessary if you don't want it. I usually give the sims one break day per season - more on that later.

Autonomous Casual Romance is not required, but it sure adds a lot of fun to your college experience. You can also do any number of professor-limiting, custom degrees, etc mods and fixes you want.

*mods i do not use: there are mods to change the number of/length of semesters, but I seem to run into issues with them so I use the college adjuster to do the same things. I also don't really use any major overhauls, or mods that make term papers faster. I did have the tuition mod for a bit but grew tired of using it.

*general timing changes: I do seven-day seasons with longer lifespans for all sims and play rotations each day. These are the things I do specifically for university:

Four semesters: I only do semesters 2, 4, 6, and 8. Every time a new semester starts, I just use the College Adjuster to set the correct semester for each sim. I use the default length of 72 hours.

Synchronized finals: I use the College adjuster to reset the timer so the finals are all around 6-8am, and synchronized for each sim on a lot. This makes it easier to keep track of timing and skills. Also, all sims in university run on the same 3-day semester. Finals are the same day for the entire college each round. Once again, that just makes it easier for me to keep track of college-wide events for gameplay reasons.

Because this means there's 3 days per school year, and two school years per season week, it syncs better if they get a day off every Sunday using the University break mod.

Teens are sent to college on the same schedule. I send teens to school when they have 14 days or so left, with maybe an extra day or two if the college is currently in the middle of the semester.

*Gameplay: living situations: Here's where the meat begins. Now all your sims are on the same college schedule, they're all being sent to school, and now they need to actually move into college. I follow a real rule a number of colleges use: Every student spends a year in the dorms. Just their freshman year, then they have to move somewhere else. I find that this gives them a chance to meet dormies, adapt to being on college, and sorta figure out what kind of young adults they are. Plus, this gives them time for joining greek houses, which will be talked about later.

I do this because I like seeing sims as their own little characters with arcs and whatever and it forces me to think about what exactly they would be doing in college. Some sims get so frustrated with the constant mess of a dorm, some sims thrive by making friends with every dormie. Sometimes they start new drama with the others they came from high school with. Nothing quite like losing your high school sweetheart to some stinky dormie, after all.

After freshmen year, the students are kicked out of the dorms. They can get an apartment, they can rent a house, they can move into a greek house if they join one. Either way, they need to live somewhere. You can let them stay in the dorms, but I prefer somewhat smaller college households and divide them accordingly. Which gets into that whole greek house situation:

*Gameplay: greek houses. I gamify the Greek houses. I play SSU in my megahood, which comes with a fraternity and sorority, and you can do whatever setup you like there if you dislike gendered houses. Or abandon them all together and ignore this section. There are a few important elements:

Freshmen cannot live in Greek houses. They can, however, pledge while living in the dorms and move in right after their finals end. This includes dormies. There are benefits to the dorm, such as free housing, more social opportunities, usually more money per household since I cheat to make the greek houses actually nice to live in with things like pools and comfortable furniture, etc.

The Greeks have to be recruiting consistently. To keep the house going, they need to constantly be bringing in new members, either playable OR dormies.

Any recruited dormies are required to move in. You can townify them after graduation if you don't really get attached to them, but every member of the house is moved in. I use the instant pledge mod to get rid of that annoying requirement where they have to hang out on the lot so long before moving in. That, and they also move in after finals. You can teleport or invite them on and just ask them to move in. Whatever you want. Then, you must set them to be sophomores. Beyond that you can do whatever. They're playable now. Have fun.

You gotta let the Greeks party. Throw toga parties all the time and use a teleporter to maximize guests. Generally, ALL members of ALL greek houses are teleported to a party by default. Add more dormies, any friends, anybody in the dorms - the kids need to recruit and the easiest way is by forcing everyone on one lot. If you have autonomy mods or realistic alcohol, sit back and watch the madness unfold.

I don't really play wants-based, so playables that join greek houses is more based on vibes or friendship with existing greek members than wants.

*Gameplay: what do you mean we have to study??? Yeah. I made it this far before even bringing up the whole point of college. This is also where it gets a little more complicated and changed up, so bear with me.

I don't do wants-based, again, so I generally just try to make sure sims are at least passing by default. Whether they go beyond a C is up to whatever. I usually try to get knowledge sims to their 4.0s or sims that just seem like they'd take it seriously to max GPA.

ACTIVE CLASSES ARE SUCH A LIFESAVER. You can use the pre-made lecture hall or make your own. Put some skill-building objects in there, and if you like flavor theme the lecture halls around majors. I have a business/gen ed building, a science lot, and an arts lot, each with two classrooms (plus the library contains a classroom). I do believe I made an edit to the mod to make the class performance go higher with active classes, as well, so attending class every day is the bare minimum to get a passing grade.

The active class lots also contain career reward skill-building objects. These are nice because your sims can request to be taught by other sims on the lot. If you have a mod that allows non-students to visit uni lots, this helps even more with faster skill-building.

Every day, I send groups of sims with similar majors to their class. If there's a mixed-major group, each sim group gets one day in active class per semester. (So if there's an economics major, a bio major, and an art major, each one attends class on a separate rotation and the others do the normal autonomous go-to-class where they leave the lot and disappear). They attend one or both of the lectures and otherwise exist on the college lot to skill-build, socialize, eat, etc.

Outside of class, sims will usually research if they're not doing great. I honestly barely bother with assignments or term papers unless the sim actually wants to do them or are aiming for a high GPA. Maybe they go hang out at the lounge or downtown to fool around. Maybe they just fester at home. Whatever they want.

*other gameplay/storytelling things: I usually will take advantage of the aspiration change after their sophomore year if I realize that their aspiration just doesn't really jive with how they act. It's realistic to me. They had many years since being like, 13 when they first had their aspiration selected. I'd like to implement more in the way of holidays/events, personally, but that's not really relevant either. I usually give them an outfit change as well, and I like to go hard with the idea that they're going through a bunch of weird fashion phases. You know you want to give them a mohawk, just for a few days, don't you? Dye their hair red? Shave it all off? Have fun with it.

All of these things combine for me, at least, to make the college years a lot more engaging/interesting and less of a slow "move to a dorm -> study -> read books -> meet needs -> graduate" loop. There's a lot more storyline development that comes from sims being able to enjoy their time as young adults, too, such as the regular polycule jealousy explosions and party fights. It serves to break up anything they had going on as teens and give them a little direction to enter adulthood with. This concludes my little mini-guide, feel free to steal all my gameplay style or just take inspiration if you please. Or ignore it all and shake your head and call me an idiot. do whatever you want forever.

[rylem33]

The Man Next Door

Sandra and Chloe sat together on the couch, the noise of the TV humming in the background. Sandra held a mug of tea, wearing a simple cardigan over her favorite blouse. Chloe, dressed in jeans and a cozy sweatshirt, had a textbook open on her lap and a calculator by her side.

“How are classes going?” Sandra asked, setting her tea down.

Chloe exhaled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tough. My calculus professor doesn’t mess around, but I actually kind of love it. It’s so satisfying when the numbers click, you know?”

Sandra smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. You’ve always been good at math.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just math. I’ve got chem lab right after, and it’s been awesome. My group’s working on titrations, and I didn’t mess up once this week!” Chloe grinned, her excitement contagious.

Sandra leaned back, folding her arms. “That’s my girl. Hard work pays off.”

Chloe nodded, flipping a page in her book. “What about you? How’s the new role at work?”

Sandra shrugged, a modest smile on her face. “It’s a lot more responsibility, but it’s nice to feel like I’m moving up. Plus, it’ll help cover your tuition.”

Chloe looked up, her expression softening. “You’re amazing, you know that? Always putting me first.”

Sandra chuckled, nudging her gently. “That’s what moms are for. But don’t sell yourself short, you’re the one doing the hard part.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Chloe said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “I just hope I can keep up.”

“You will,” Sandra assured her. “You’re a smart kid. Just keep working hard.”

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

The door slammed shut behind Chloe as she walked into the house, dropping her purse onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Mom,” she called out, toeing off her shoes. “Did you see the moving truck?”

Sandra glanced up from her spot on the couch, her reading glasses perched on her nose and a paperback in her lap. “It was here earlier. They’ve been unloading all day.”

Chloe grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the door, cracking it open. “Did you see him?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “Him?”

Chloe grinned. “The guy who moved in. Tall, dark hair, super attractive. I passed him in the driveway.”

“Hmm,” Sandra said noncommittally, turning a page in her book.

Chloe smirked. “You’re not even curious? He looked single. Very single.”

Sandra chuckled, setting the book aside. “Chloe, please. I’m sure he’s half my age and not remotely interested in middle-aged neighbors.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “First of all, you’re not that old. And second, you don’t know that. Maybe he’s into sophisticated women.”

Sandra laughed. “Sophisticated? I’m in yoga pants and a cardigan.”

Chloe shrugged, still smiling. “I’m just saying, he’s cute. You might want to rethink your ‘don’t care’ attitude.”

Sandra leaned back, shaking her head. “How about instead of matchmaking, we come up with something neighborly to do? Maybe take over a welcome package tomorrow.”

Chloe tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “So you can get a better look at him, huh?”

Sandra picked up her book, hiding a smile. “Don’t make me regret this idea.”

“You got it,” Chloe teased. “I’ll pick something up at the bakery after work. Just promise me you won’t embarrass us with those cookies you made last Christmas.”

Sandra gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know those were perfectly fine cookies.”

“If you like eating bricks,” Chloe shot back, dodging the pillow Sandra tossed in her direction as she headed for the stairs.

“Tomorrow, Chloe!” Sandra called after her, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chloe replied, her voice fading as she disappeared into her room.

Sandra shook her head, a faint smile still lingering. “Single and attractive,” she muttered to herself, glancing toward the window. “We’ll see.”

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

Sandra set her purse down on the kitchen counter and sighed, leaning against it as Chloe rummaged through the fridge.

“Well, that was… something,” Sandra said, her voice laced with dry amusement.

Chloe emerged with a soda in hand, cracking it open. “What do you mean? He was nice!”

Sandra crossed her arms. “He was polite. But there was something about him. I don’t know. I just felt an odd vibe.”

Chloe laughed, leaning against the counter. “Odd vibe? Come on, Mom. He was perfectly fine.” She paused, winking. “And he was fine.”

Sandra groaned, shaking her head. “Chloe, no. I’m not interested, and I don’t need you playing matchmaker.”

“Why not?” Chloe pressed, grinning. “He’s tall, charming, and looks like he could be in a magazine. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed that his house is immaculate for someone who just moved in, and that he didn’t say much about himself,” Sandra replied, raising an eyebrow. “It felt… rehearsed.”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe he’s just good at making a first impression. You’re reading too much into it.”

Sandra picked up a dish towel and started wiping the counter. “Or maybe I’m just not looking to date the mysterious new neighbor.”

“Your loss,” Chloe teased. “If you don’t want him, maybe I’ll take a shot.”

Sandra snapped the towel in Chloe’s direction, laughing when Chloe yelped. “Absolutely not. He’s twice your age, Chloe.”

“Please, Mom,” Chloe said, dodging out of reach. “Thirty-something is hardly ancient.” She smirked. “But seriously, you’re missing out. If you won’t date him, at least admit he’s hot.”

Sandra sighed dramatically, turning back to the sink. “Fine. He’s… handsome. Happy?”

“Extremely,” Chloe said, grinning as she sipped her soda. “So, when’s round two? I’m thinking we bring over wine next time.”

Sandra shot her a look. “There won’t be a round two. He’s our neighbor, not a new project. And I don’t need wine or a man to keep me entertained.”

“Boring,” Chloe sang, heading for the stairs. “But don’t worry, Mom. I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

Sandra shook her head, laughing under her breath. “Please don’t.”

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The front door creaked open, and Chloe stepped inside, her heels clicking softly on the tile floor. Sandra, seated at the kitchen table with her laptop, didn’t look up at first, but the sound of the door closing made her glance toward her daughter.

“You’re home late,” Sandra said, her tone neutral but sharp enough to imply she was fishing.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied casually, kicking off her shoes. “I was at the library. Study group ran long.”

Sandra leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Funny. The library doesn’t smell like men’s cologne.”

Chloe froze mid-step, then turned slowly, her expression caught between guilt and defiance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “It means I know you weren’t at the library. You were at Peter’s house, weren’t you?”

Chloe’s eyes darted to the side for a moment before she sighed, throwing her purse onto the counter. “Fine. Yes, I was at Peter’s. But it’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stood, her concern bubbling into irritation. “Not a big deal? Chloe, this is the third time I know of. God knows how many more I don’t.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “He’s just helping me with my college work, Mom. He’s really smart.”

Sandra’s frown deepened. “And he doesn’t have anything better to do than help a twenty-year-old with homework?”

Chloe crossed her arms. “Why are you acting like this is some kind of scandal? He’s been nothing but nice.”

“Because it looks inappropriate, Chloe,” Sandra said firmly. “He’s an older man, he’s single, and he’s our neighbor. You’re putting yourself in a situation that’s going to lead to trouble.”

Chloe let out a frustrated laugh. “God, you make it sound so dirty. He’s not some creep, Mom. He’s just… kind of amazing, actually.”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Amazing, how?”

Chloe hesitated, her defensiveness softening slightly. “He’s easy to talk to. He listens, you know? And he’s not like other guys. He’s… confident, but not in a gross way. It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s exactly what worries me,” Sandra said, her voice quieter but no less serious. “He’s a grown man, Chloe. And you’re vulnerable, whether you realize it or not.”

Chloe groaned, rubbing her temples. “Vulnerable? Seriously? I’m an adult. I don’t need you to protect me from every guy who’s nice to me.”

“Peter isn’t just any guy,” Sandra countered. “And I don’t like how much time you’re spending with him.”

Chloe shrugged, turning toward the stairs. “Well, you don’t have to like it, because there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Sandra called after her. “Chloe, don’t walk away from this conversation!”

“I’m done talking, Mom!” Chloe shouted back, disappearing up the stairs.

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Sandra was stirring a pot of soup on the stove when she heard the front door close. She turned and froze, her eyes narrowing as Chloe strutted into the kitchen. Her outfit left little to the imagination.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Sandra asked, her tone sharper than intended.

Chloe grabbed her bag from the counter, brushing past her mother with a casual shrug. “Out,” she said simply.

Sandra set the spoon down, crossing her arms. “Out where?”

Chloe sighed loudly, spinning on her heel to face her mom. “Does it, like, matter? God, Mom, why do you always need to know where I’m going?”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re acting like someone I don’t even recognize. Look at what you’re wearing! When did this become you?”

Chloe smirked, a faint flicker of irritation behind her eyes. “What’s wrong with it? Peter says I should, like, be proud of my body. It’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stiffened at the mention of Peter, her jaw tightening. “Peter again. Everything is Peter this, Peter that. Do you even hear yourself, Chloe?”

Chloe tilted her head, her voice growing defensive. “Yeah, I hear myself. And I’m tired of hearing you! You’re always treating me like a kid.”

“Because you’re acting like one!” Sandra snapped, her voice sharp. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, Chloe, to get through to you, but all you do is shut me out.”

Chloe crossed her arms, her pout deepening. “Maybe that’s because you’re always on my case about, like, everything. I’m twenty, Mom. I’m not some dumb little kid.”

Sandra stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “And spending all your time with a man twice your age, dressing like this, and ignoring everyone who cares about you. Is that’s the kind of ‘grown-up’ you’re trying to be?”

Chloe flinched slightly, but her voice stayed defiant. “Peter actually respects me. Which is, like, more than I can say for you!”

Sandra’s face flickered with hurt, but she stood her ground. “Respect? Chloe, this isn’t respect. He’s taking advantage of you, and you’re letting him.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, gripping her bag tighter. “Ugh, you don’t even know him, Mom. Peter’s so nice. You just don’t get it.”

“I know enough,” Sandra replied coldly.

Chloe sighed dramatically, turning toward the door. “Whatever. Maybe you should, like, stay out of my business for once.”

“Chloe…” Sandra called, but her daughter cut her off.

“I’m done, Mom,” Chloe said sharply, pulling the door open.

Sandra took a step forward, her voice tinged with desperation. “Chloe, don’t you walk out that door. Don’t go to his house.”

Chloe paused in the doorway, turning back with a sly, knowing smirk. “Too late for that.”

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Sandra stepped into the house, dropping her keys on the entryway table and pausing to slip off her shoes. From the living room, the faint sound of pop music played over the hum of the TV, where Chloe sat perched on the edge of the couch, scrolling through her phone. Her long legs were crossed, barely covered by the micro-skirt she wore, and her tight crop top left little to the imagination.

“Hey, Mom!” Chloe called out without looking up, her voice higher, almost sing-song, as if she’d been practicing a more playful tone.

Sandra hesitated before walking into the room, taking a deep breath. “Hi, Chloe.”

Chloe looked up with a wide grin, twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair around her finger. “Ooooh, you look nice today, Mom! Is that new?”

Sandra glanced down at her fitted blouse and jeans, a touch more stylish than her usual outfits, and smiled faintly. “No, it’s not new. But thanks.”

Chloe patted the couch next to her. “C’mere! Sit with me!”

Sandra moved slowly, lowering herself onto the cushion. Chloe turned to face her, her makeup heavy and flawless, the faint scent of candy-sweet perfume clinging to her.

“I talked to Peter,” Sandra said after a moment, her voice measured.

Chloe’s grin faltered slightly, but she kept her tone light. “Oh? What about?”

“About… you,” Sandra replied, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Chloe blinked, then giggled nervously. “Mooooom, what’d you say to him? You didn’t, like, embarrass me or anything, right?”

Sandra shook her head, her tone softening. “No, Chloe. I just… I had some concerns, that’s all. About how much time you’ve been spending with him, and how close you’ve gotten.”

Chloe tilted her head, her smile dimming. “Why? Peter’s, like, the best. He’s been soooo nice to me.”

Sandra hesitated. “I know he has,” she said finally. “And he explained a lot. About how he’s been helping you feel more confident, about your schoolwork, even about the way you’ve been dressing.”

Chloe brightened instantly. “See? That’s what I’ve been saying! Peter’s just super smart and knows, like, what’s best for me. He gets me, Mom.”

Sandra nodded slowly. “I think I see that now.”

Chloe gasped, leaning forward and grabbing Sandra’s hand. “Wait, really? You’re okay with it now? For real?”

Sandra hesitated again but nodded. “Yes, Chloe. If you’re happy, then… I’ll try to be okay with it.”

Chloe squealed, throwing her arms around Sandra in an exuberant hug. “Oh my gosh, Mom! This makes me soooo happy! Peter’s gonna be so happy too!”

Sandra patted Chloe’s back awkwardly, the faintest trace of unease lingering in her expression. “I just want you to be careful,” she said quietly as Chloe pulled back.

Chloe waved her off with a laugh. “Careful? Please. Peter takes such good care of me. Like, better than anyone ever has.”

Sandra looked at her daughter for a long moment, noting how her gaze sparkled with pure, guileless excitement, how utterly at ease she seemed with her new persona. “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said at last.

“Thanks, Mom!” Chloe chirped, bouncing up from the couch. She grabbed her phone and swayed toward the door, her skirt riding higher as she moved. “You’re the best! Oh, and Peter and I are hanging out later, so don’t wait up, okay?”

“Okay,” Sandra replied, watching Chloe head upstairs.

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

Sandra was sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine, flipping through her phone when Chloe strutted in, her usual glow brighter than ever. She plopped down next to her mom, a mischievous grin already playing on her lips.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sandra remarked, sipping her wine.

Chloe giggled, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Well, yeah. I’ve been having, like, the best time lately.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Oh? Should I even ask?”

Chloe leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s Peter. He’s just… oh my God, Mom, he’s sooooo good in bed.”

Sandra choked slightly on her wine, quickly setting the glass down. “Chloe!”

“What?” Chloe said, laughing. “You wanted to know, didn’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, her cheeks coloring faintly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, now you know,” Chloe said with a wink. “And seriously, Mom, you’re missing out. Like, he knows exactly what to do. I didn’t even know I could cum so many times in one night.”

Sandra blinked, her grip tightening slightly on the stem of her glass. “I’m not sure I need all the details, Chloe.”

“Why not?” Chloe said, giggling again. “It’s not like I’m shy about it. Peter’s, like, a total god in bed. Every fucks me, I just… ugh, it’s so good. His dick has ruined me for other guys.”

Sandra’s lips parted, her breath catching for a moment as she tried to form a response. “I… well, it sounds like you’re very… satisfied,” she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

“Totally,” Chloe said with a dreamy sigh. “Like, I get why you’re so into him, too. He’s just got that thing, you know?”

Sandra’s gaze dropped to her glass of wine, her cheeks warm. “He hasn’t exactly made a move on me,” she admitted, her tone careful.

Chloe gasped, sitting up straighter. “No way! Are you serious? He totally should. I mean, you’re gorgeous, Mom. And he’s, like, so good at making people feel amazing.”

Sandra chuckled lightly, though the sound was tinged with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Well, maybe he’s waiting for the right moment.”

Chloe smirked, tilting her head. “Maybe you should make the first move. I mean, Peter’s super confident, but even he might be nervous about hitting on you.”

Sandra looked up, her gaze distant as her mind wandered. “I don’t think Peter gets nervous,” she said softly, more to herself than to Chloe.

“Well, if he doesn’t, then you should totally go for it,” Chloe said, nudging her mom playfully. “Trust me, Mom. You won’t regret it.”

Sandra forced a laugh, shaking her head. “I think I’ll leave the chasing to you, Chloe.”

“Your loss,” Chloe said, grinning as she stood up and stretched. “But seriously, Mom. If he ever does make a move, you should totally go for it. He’s… unreal.”

Sandra watched as Chloe strolled out of the kitchen, her confident sway so unlike the shy girl she’d been just months ago. Alone now, Sandra swirled the wine in her glass, her thoughts swirling just as much.

She glanced out the window, where Peter’s house stood silent and dark, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Unreal,” she murmured, the word lingering in the air.

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

Sandra was carefully applying another coat of gloss to her already shiny lips. The light caught the glitter in her eyeshadow, making her gaze pop, and her fitted black dress clung tightly to her figure, barely reaching mid-thigh. Her heels, impossibly high and sleek, clicked softly against the tile as she shifted her weight.

Chloe sauntered into the room, her towering blonde hair styled in perfect waves, and her pink minidress so short it looked more like a top. She carried a small designer bag that swung lazily from her wrist, the clinking of her bracelets accompanying every exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Oh my God, Mom,” Chloe said, her voice light and bubbly. “You look, like, soooo hot right now!”

Sandra turned, giving her daughter a playful smile. “You think it’s too much?”

Chloe’s jaw dropped, and she waved her hands in mock horror. “Too much? Are you kidding? Peter’s gonna, like, die when he sees you.”

Sandra chuckled, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “That’s the plan.”

Chloe plopped onto one of the stools by the island, crossing her long legs and propping her chin on her palm. “I’m soooo proud of you, Mom. It’s, like, totally about time you went for it. Peter’s, like, the best ever. He’s gonna make you feel sooooo good.”

Sandra laughed softly, her cheeks flushing just a little. “You make him sound like a miracle worker.”

“Duh,” Chloe said, twirling a strand of her platinum hair. “He is. I mean, Mom, you’ve seen what he’s done for me. I, like, feel soooo confident and sexy all the time now. Don’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, glancing down at herself before meeting Chloe’s sparkling eyes. “I do,” she admitted. “I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Chloe beamed. “See? I told you he’s, like, magic or something.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “And wait until you, like, get to the fun part. He’s soooo good at making you feel… like, amazing amazing.”

Sandra smirked, her pulse quickening just slightly. “You’re not helping calm my nerves, Chloe.”

Chloe giggled, waving her hand. “Oh, please. You don’t need to be nervous, Mom. Peter’s, like, the nicest guy ever. He totally knows how to, like, take care of you.”

Sandra picked up her clutch from the counter, checking her reflection in the chrome of the refrigerator. “Well, I guess I’ll find out.”

Chloe bounced off the stool and rushed over to her mom, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You’re gonna love it. Trust me, Mom. Just, like, relax and let him do his thing. You’re gonna feel soooo good after.”

Sandra laughed, shaking her head as she headed for the door. “Alright, sweetheart. Wish me luck.”

“Luck?” Chloe called after her, grinning ear to ear. “You don’t need luck, Mom. You’re, like, a total hottie! Peter’s gonna go crazy for you.”

Sandra stepped out into the warm evening, the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement as she crossed the street toward Peter’s house. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, watching her go with an almost giddy expression.

“Go get him, Mom,” Chloe whispered, twirling a lock of her hair as the door closed behind her.

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Chloe sat cross-legged on the couch, her long legs on full display, her tiny red lace bralette and matching thong leaving almost nothing to the imagination. She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger, absently chewing gum as she scrolled through her phone.

Sandra reclined beside her, draped in a red silk robe that barely concealed her naked body. Her long legs were propped up on the coffee table, her glossy nails tapping idly against the arm of the couch.

“Ugh, I’m soooo bored,” Chloe whined, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “There’s, like, nothing to do.”

Sandra smirked, adjusting her robe and looking over at her daughter. “Tell me about it. Nothing feels worth doing…except for Peter.”

Chloe giggled, leaning back and kicking her legs playfully. “Well, duh, Mom. I mean, what else is there? He’s, like, soooo amazing. Everything’s better when he’s here.”

Sandra’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Mmm, you’re not wrong, sweetie. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and I’m about ready to lose my mind.”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically, her gum snapping between her teeth. “Right? He’s, like, sooo perfect. Every time he comes over, it’s, like, the best time ever.”

Sandra chuckled, licking her lips as her gaze drifted toward the door. “I swear, just the thought of him gets me worked up.”

Chloe leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands. “Mom, do you think he’s gonna, like, fuck us again? I loooove when we double-team him. It’s, like, soooo fun.”

Sandra tilted her head, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “Oh, I’m sure. Peter always knows what we need.”

Chloe giggled again, her cheeks flushing. “Mmm, yeah. He’s, like, soooo good at knowing exactly what I want.”

Sandra laughed, running a hand through her styled hair. “Sweetheart, that man could ask for anything, and I’d give it to him in a heartbeat.”

Chloe tilted her head, looking dreamily at the ceiling. “Same. He’s, like, the best thing ever.”

Before Sandra could respond, a knock echoed through the house. Both women froze for a moment, their heads snapping toward the door.

“Oh my God!” Chloe squealed, springing up from the couch. “Do you think it’s him?”

Sandra’s grin widened, and she stood, adjusting her robe as she moved toward the door. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Chloe bounced on her toes, her excitement palpable as Sandra reached for the handle.

Sandra opened the door slowly, her heart racing as her lips parted into a welcoming smile.

“Ladies,” Peter said smoothly, stepping inside without hesitation. “Miss me?”

Chloe practically squealed, rushing to close the door behind him.

Sandra’s smile deepened, her voice dripping with anticipation. “Always, Peter.”

[cameronspecial]

Let Me See It, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never wants Y/N to not be able to do something she wants because of her financial situation.

A/N: This video is the inspiration.

Masterlist

Everyone knows Rafe Cameron is packing in his pants and his bank account. So Y/N isn’t blind to the money her now-boyfriend has. What is surprising to her once she starts dating the Cameron man is his complete willingness to give large amounts of his money to her. Not that she asks, he randomly sends her the money and will refuse to take it back whenever she tries to return it to him. He literally threatened once to stop eating if she didn’t take the money. However, it doesn’t stop her from trying to impede him from giving her the money. Rafe always finds a way though. Y/N is lying in his bed, reading a book for class while he is in the shower. Her phone on his bedside table buzzes every few minutes with a new notification and although she is annoyed by the sound, she is too lazy to turn it on Do Not Disturb. The sound of the continual stream of water coming from the shower head stops and out comes Rafe with only a towel around his waist. The drops of water slowly running down his smooth abs pull her attention from the page. Rafe catches her gaze and smirks to himself. The vibration from her phone causes wrinkles to form between his eyebrows. He raises a finger to point at the technology, “Let me see it, Angel. Please.” 

She doesn’t question his request. She has nothing to hide and she trusts he doesn’t have any malicious intent with wanting to see it. He probably wants to put it on DND or check the time. Y/N hands it over with her eyes returning to her book. With her phone in his hands, Rafe can now see who is blowing up his girlfriend’s phone. It’s her study group, which is comprised mostly of other male students. For some, this fact would bring jealousy to their partner, but Rafe feels secure in his relationship with Y/N and it also helps to know the reason why there aren’t a lot of women in the group is because Y/N’s other female friends are busy with work. What does get his emotions going is the actual messages of the group chat. 

Dinner at Greenleaf later tonight? One of the members of the group chat texts and it is followed by agreement from the other members. Rafe’s eyes find the blue bubble belonging to his girlfriend’s response. Sorry guys, I can’t. I have to start budgeting with tuition for next semester coming up. This breaks Rafe’s heart that his angel can’t go out with her friends because she needs to save money. Not being able to do something he wants to do because of money is something foreign to Rafe and he is determined to make sure Y/N doesn’t have to choose between what she wants to do and what she can afford. He grabs his phone from his desk, opening his bank app immediately. He sends an e-transfer to her and once he knows the text notification has gone through, he places her phone on her stomach. His hand yanks her book out of her hand. He tilts his head toward his dresser, where she keeps some spare clothes. “Get ready, you are going out to eat.” He struggles to not invite himself to the dinner, but he knows that it is healthy for them to have lives outside of their relationship. One of her eyebrows raised, “What are you talking about? I thought Topper wanted to try this recipe he found on TikTok.”

“He does. You aren’t going to be here for it because you are going to Greenleaf with the others.”

“Oh, Rafe, I already told them I couldn’t go. I have to start saving for tuition.”

“Check your phone,” he orders, flicking his chin to the phone on her stomach. She opens her phone to find the notification and shakes her head, “You have to stop sending me money, Rafe. I know how to budget and I can take care of myself.” “I know you can take care of yourself, Angel. But it’s not like you aren’t taking care of yourself if you take it. So put the money in your account and start getting ready before you are late,” he says, finally deciding it is time to get his own clothes on. She sighs and does as he orders. Her eyes widen at the number she sees. This is the largest sum of money he has ever sent her. “Rafe, ten thousand dollars! I’m not going to spend that much on dinner,” she argues, already making it her mission to send back ninety-nine percent of it. He shrugs, “It’s fine. Get whatever you want and you can pay for everyone else’s bill too. I also might have to get you to get me something in case Topper decides to go off-book with the recipe.” “Even if I got all that, it still wouldn’t break a thousand,” she persists. He takes her phone out of her hand and points at her clothes, “Don’t worry about it, Angel. Start getting ready. You don’t have to use all the money for dinner tonight. I’m only making sure you have enough money in case you need stuff for school or home or something.” 

Upon seeing the time, Y/N ceases the small argument and begins to change. She kisses Rafe once she has her clothes on, heading out the door with the exchange of I love yous. Y/N may have agreed to take the money and knows he wants her to spend it on her, yet it won’t stop her from getting the new ring she knows he has been eyeing for a while now. Just because Rafe’s love language is gift-giving, it doesn’t mean she can’t give something right back to him.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

EWAN MITCHELL PHOTOGRAPHED AND INTERVIEWED FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES MAGAZINE.

ABOUT BEING RECOGNIZED

Like most people, Ewan Mitchell is accustomed to anonymity.

So during a recent trip to Manhattan, he was surprised by what a hotel doorman asked when he arrived: “You haven’t packed your eye patch?”

The actor is still getting used to strangers making the connection in public.

“I wouldn’t think people would recognize me, but they do.”

“I think it’s because of my strong chin.”

“When I’m dressed up as Aemond and catch myself in the mirror, he scares even me a little bit.”

When he’s not in character, Mitchell is soft-spoken and occasionally flashes a boyish grin, though he retains much of Aemond’s seriousness and quiet intensity.

He is also very private: He stays off social media and in the past has shied away from sharing much with the public.

“Once you lose the mystery, you can’t really get it back.”

HE KNOWS THAT AEMOND'S KEY ROLE IN S2 MEANS HE MUST ALSO EMBRACE THE SPOTLIGHT

“There is a point where you have to go, now’s the time to pull back the curtain.”

Like Aemond, Mitchell is a second son.

He grew up in Derby, an industrial town in the middle of England, and his parents expected him to follow his older brother’s footsteps and work at Rolls-Royce (the aerospace and industrial technology company, not the carmaker).

HIS INSPIRATIONS AND BECOME AN ACTOR

Inspired by films like “Citizen Kane” and “Taxi Driver,” Mitchell knew early on he wanted to become an actor.

When he was 13, his teacher asked each student in his class what they wanted to do when they grew up.

“Then it came to me, and I said, ‘I’m going to be an actor,’ and everyone laughed at me.”

His family could not afford tuition for drama school, so Mitchell attended a two-year vocational school, where he studied design and technology while working part-time at a restaurant and in customer service at a local soccer club.

Midway through the program, at 17, he was accepted into the Nottingham Television Workshop, a drama group that trains young people in acting.

Through the Workshop, Mitchell landed a leading role in a 2015 short film called “Fire,” about a young man who leaks fire from his hands.

Once the short was released, Mitchell downloaded it onto a dozen CDs, took the train to London and stopped by the offices of every agent he could find, handing them each a copy.

The one person who called back continues to represent Mitchell.

“By hook or by crook, I wanted to make sure that I was going to be in this business.”

ABOUT BEING CASTED AS AEMOND TARGARYEN

Aemond’s growing prominence in the show requires Mitchell to embrace the spotlight as well.

“There is a point where you have to go, now’s the time to pull back the curtain.”

But being cast as Aemond in “House of the Dragon” has been his biggest professional turning point by far.

“Since landing him, I feel like I’m able to now steer the course of my career.”

Mitchell had been rewatching the classic Hollywood adventure film “The Vikings” (1958) and musing about how he wanted to play a morally dark character similar to the one played by Kirk Douglas when he received an email inviting him to submit a taped audition for Aemond.

When he eventually auditioned in person, he left a lasting impression on Ryan Condal, the showrunner for “House of the Dragon.”

“When Ewan came into the room, he just had this presence to him that I can best describe as unsettling,” Condal said.

“It was kind of quietly terrifying the way he performed it, and it was totally different than everybody else. And then he thanked us very politely and left the room.”

Condal recalls asking Kate Rhodes James, the casting director, “Is he always like that?”

She replied, “Oh no, he’s just a very intense northern boy.”

To prepare for his role, Mitchell did not watch “Game of Thrones.” Instead, he read portions of “Fire & Blood,” the book by George R.R.

Martin that inspired the show, and studied the performances of Michael Fassbender in “Prometheus” and Peter O’Toole in “Lawrence of Arabia,” each playing a figure who wields power for his own ends.

ABOUT MATT SMITH AND DAEMON TARGARYEN

On his first day on set, Mitchell consulted with Condal and decided that he would avoid interacting with Matt Smith, who plays Aemond’s similarly menacing uncle and rival, Daemon, in order to heighten the tension between the two characters.

Mitchell had grown up admiring Smith’s performance in “Doctor Who.”

But on set Mitchell avoided any eye contact with him, keeping his distance until the climactic scene near the end of the first season when Aemond and Daemon finally face off.

“There’s this addictive kind of quality when you’re in the shoes of a character.”

“When you lose yourself for a moment, it’s almost like a dream.”

ABOUT HIS HOME AND HIS DOGS

When he isn’t acting, Mitchell still lives at his family home in Derby and spends time with his dogs, three whippets named Eva, Bella and Bonnie.

“Now that I’m on it.”

“I’ve just got to stay on the dragon.”