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luxaofhesperides · 3 months

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Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke

Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically.

Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries.

It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham.

So.

Danny Fenton is technically innocent.

Duke is trying to prove that he’s not.

Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.

He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native.

There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up.

Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.

He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.

Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras.

But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them…

It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.

A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is.

Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all.

All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.

According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything.

And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own.

He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort.

It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking.

Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight.

He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds.

He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight.

Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—

Danny disappears.

Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground.

The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.

He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading.

It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes.

The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924.

The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom.

He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds.

Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found.

Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?

But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling.

Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.

Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything.

A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface.

Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air.

There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”

He steps back and bumps into Duke.

Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes.

“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”

“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist.

“I just have a few questions!”

“Well, I have a question: why?!”

“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”

Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.

“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”

“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.

He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”

Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch.

“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”

There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”

That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.

“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”

“Ghosts are real, alright?”

“Yes.”

Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”

“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”

“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”

“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”

Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”

“Yeah, those people were already dead.”

The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure.

“They were…”

“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”

“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”

“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”

Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…

“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping.

Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”

“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”

Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts.

“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.

It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow.

He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”

Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions.

Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.

Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen.

“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”

“Cool. I gonna go now!”

He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before.

As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it.

For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER.

If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.

He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #could not do a meet cute/weird in this prompt so i made it a meet disaster lol #heres danny trying to focus on his education!! and then ghosts start popping up asking for help bc gotham wont let them leave #so danny has to make a few contraptions to be able to help them (mostly ecto tracking/measuring/containing) and it looks SOOO sus #the ghosts also have a weak ecto sense which is how they find him bc hes FULL of ecto #and that means hes robbing houses during the day/late evening bc the night is for homework and stress #duke is just... trying his best lol.#sorry if the last part of this is rushed or confusing i am slightly sick and can Not focus #anyways i hope u enjoy!!#thanks for the prompt!!

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bitchlessdino · 8 months

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I have this in mind, maybe svt member x reader where they are classmates from college, they are close but not THAT close lol. Until one day they started talking about house prices and how the rent is so expensive, but still with the desire of living alone, so he (maybe hoshi or woozi) proposed that they should find a place together to split rent. It started as a joke, but then they found a really good place and decided to try to live together for at least one semester.

so yeah at first everything is great since both of them are always busy, so they dont really see each other that often around the house.

until it could be that they are sexually frustrated and start a friends with benefits relationship (but in secret, so their circle of friends dont know about it). However, reader always had a big crush on him, but never said anything. idk what else to say

Pairing: college roommate!soonyoung x afab!reader Genre: smut Word count: 5.9k tags: pwithplot, established friendship, roommate au, friends to fwb, pining, pervert!reader, pervert!soonyoung, mentions of alcohol, mutual masturbation, blowjobs, missionary, doggy, praise kink Summary: When it comes to the economy and needing a roof to live under, having a roommate is your best option, especially as any desperate college student. When arrangements are made with Soonyoung, a friend you admittedly have a visceral lust for, things take a turn one messy night. Making this arrangement more of an edible arrangement. author note: so i may have run wild since hoshi posted those thirst trap photos haha. im very proud of the header i made for this. this was something i planned on posting before my unprepared hiatus, and hopefully i'm still in spirits on continuing this. please anticipate more of me and remember that writers love interaction, criticism or not <333

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

“That’s funny, Soonyoung’s looking for a place too.”

You looked over at the man in question to see him mid-feast on a sandwich bigger than his face as it puffed his cheeks full like a common squirrel. “Why are you looking for a place? I thought you made plans with Seokmin?”

The man struggled to swallow down the larger-than-life bite, barely managing to do without scratching the back of his throat before answering. “His parents convinced him against it. I should’ve known he’d back out when he didn’t know how to do his own laundry.”

“Do you know how to do your own laundry?”

“I know there are colors and whites, detergent and softener—I’d figure it out.”

“I’m hearing a no…”

“Youtube exists. How hard could it be? But yeah, I’m looking for a place.” He set his sandwich aside to lean in closer, washing down any remnants with a swig of his Jihoon’s stolen Coke Zero, who at the moment couldn’t be more distracted with Physics paper. “It’s not easy that’s for sure. A single bedroom is way too much on its own and anything bigger I can barely cover half of.”

“Here’s an idea,” Mingyu suggested like it wasn’t on his mind for the fifteen minutes you’ve been complaining about being essentially homeless, “Why don’t you guys figure something out together?”

“Really? Me and Soonyoung?”

Your counterpart couldn’t help the offense washing over his face. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know if you’d be a good roommate.”

“What makes you roommate of the year?”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve known each for what, a semester and a half, and I don’t know what your living habits are. I’ve basically lived alone all my life with my parents working all the time. How do I know you won’t push all the housework on me?”

Scoffing, his lips twisted up in a cocky smile. “You’re looking at the flail youngest of two who did almost a decade of housework for a hundred dollar allowance for a week. I don’t waste Pinesol, I hand wash dishes, and I keep my 50 pairs of shoes neatly out of the doorway and in pristine condition.”

“You can do all that and not operate a washing machine?”

“The buttons and colors confuse me.”

“So,” Mingyu interrupted again, “How about it? Sounds like you guys a both a little desperate. The housing market isn’t getting any lower.”

“I guess you don’t sound all to bad to live with then,” You replied with a tinge of a tease.

“What do you bring to the table?” Soonyoung interjected.

“Discounts for food at my work, a Netflix account, a pack of scrub daddies, and a decent amount of disposable income for half an average month's rent and fun stuff if we ever get bored. Down?”

Soonyoung stroked his chin as if to think, but his head, the deal sounded as good as it can get. If he was being honest, he was desperate, but after the berating, he couldn’t let you know that. “Add in some salon-quality shampoos and conditioners and we have a deal.”

You groaned. “Fine, for a semester for now, but you’re getting laundry stuff and learning how to use the machines.”

You hadn’t expected to be apartment shopping with Soonyoung looking like a pair of newlyweds, but here you were doing exactly that. There wasn’t anything particular about him that bothered you, (except maybe the harboring attraction you had for him since freshman orientation that you blanketed over with over argumentative banter and an aloof attitude when he was around).

But as far as you knew, you were morning and night. Sure, you’ve gotten along in social situations, but you knew how drastically different your lives were. When you aren’t working, you were a homebody and he’d bring bodies home. He lived differently than you did to put it plainly.

And perhaps the idea of waking up with him every morning possibly shirtless and/or naked frankly made you both terrified and aroused all at once.

The moment you shook his hand to agree, you were already feeling some regret, but hey, maybe that’ll actually do you some good. Maybe you’ll finally get over this school crush on this unattainably hot guy after seeing how disgusting he is leaving his underwear and socks in every corner of the place. It’s inevitable things can only go down from here, right? Right?

“A few ground rules should be in order.”

Soonyoung nodded, putting away the remainder of the edible arrangement gifted to you by your collective friends in the fridge. “Like what?”

“Chores should be switched off every week so we know how to handle all types at all times, but we do our own laundry. No exceptions. Dinner is a group effort. If we get takeout, always tell the other at least an hour in advance and costs are split. Groceries are bought biweekly with a set budget.”

“Strict, but ok. I’ll do my best to follow them. Anything else?”

You were reluctant to bring up this last one. You cleared you through, taking a second to properly form the words before letting them out. “If we have someone that we’re getting involved with, it’s either done at their place or in an empty apartment with plenty of notice.”

Soonyoung can’t help but bust out a wide and perfect grin, crossing his arms seeing the timid expression on your face. “Fine. I’ll make sure when I have sex with someone, it’s under those guidelines.”

“Ha, thanks,” You awkwardly respond, “I’ll abide the same.”

His eye narrowed at you dubiously. “Wait, you’ll actually get around?”

“Why are you doubting me?”

He chuckled, shrugging smooth broad shoulders through his black sleeveless tee. “You just don’t really seem about that. There’s nothing wrong with it, but—“

“You don’t know every detail of my intimate life so butt out.”

His arms rose up in defense, nodding along. “Alright, okay. If that’s all, I have a few rules of my own.”

“Okay. Have at it.”

He mused to himself for a few seconds. “Bathroom schedule: first come first serve.”

You nodded, easy enough.

“At a few hours of the day, the living room becomes an at-home gym when needed.”

Okay, that one had a little kick to it. “Alright.”

“And we have a safe word.”

You blinked back at him, heart pounding a little louder than it should, legs clenching as if they were being pried apart, and sweat burning the temple of your forehead with the unnecessarily dirty thoughts running through your mind. “A w-what?”

“A safe word,” he repeated as a matter of fact, “a word we can use when there’s conflict and something wrong and we just completely stop what we’re doing.” He grinned a little. “It’s not just for sex you know.”

You shoved him, earning his chuckle. “I know that, jerk. But fine, what do you suggest?”

“…Tiger.”

“How did I know that’s what you’d say?”

“Because we’re good friends.”

“How about ‘hamster’?”

He frowned. “No.”

“But look how effective that was.”

For the most part, things went smoothly. It helped that things got busy and tasks barely needed to get done with the exception of laundry. You saw each other more in your friend group gatherings than at home in your shared arrangement, and despite everyone knowing you live together, neither of you made it a point to make a big deal about it, even if everyone else does.

The countless times you had to fight Seokmin, Jeonghan, or Jihyo about the possibility of something developing between you and your new roommate romantically pained you with their inaccuracy. It seemed left and right that’s all everyone could talk about since it was arranged. It seemed as if there was nothing better up for discussion. Soonyoung dealt with it all the same, being constantly asked what kind of nefarious doings are being done behind closed doors that no one knows about. It always came as a disappointment when it was broken towards them that nothing was happening and that nothing ever will.

Even to you. Surprising enough.

If you learned anything from living with Soonyoung, it was harder than you expected it to be, especially with a still festering crush that is only developing into something almost tangibly heart-wrenching and stomach churning. It seemed to have taken a turn for the worse when Soonyoung started to take advantage of the home gym more due to the massive heatwave in town.

The damn pull up bar.

You’ve only realized the time you’ve wasted after hearing the kettle whistle you put out apparently ten minutes ago. Your mind was too clouded by the flex of his biceps lifting his body in the air. Or the contracting and releasing of his shoulders that were lightly misted by perspiration. Or were too preoccupied with wanting to lick off the veins of the poor man’s lower abdomen. Or thinking about what those arms could do flinging you upside a—

“Oh, early class?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s a lot more traffic today, so I'm getting there earlier than usual.”

His feet landed on the ground with a thud and he grabbed a towel to wipe over the sweat that was making his body glisten like glaze on a smooth buff donut. “I’m guessing you have no time for breakfast then?”

“Unfortunately,” you respond, quickly pouring your tea into your thermos before getting to your shoes, “I was gonna grab something at the Starbucks on campus after.”

“Here.” He tossed something from a box behind him and watched as you flimsily caught it from the front door.

“Oh.” A protein bar, a good one from your experience of raiding his side of the pantry. “Thanks.”

“And cancel all previous engagements. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

You squinted at him, “Why?”

“We’ll have something nice for once tonight,” he grinned, “be home at 8 tonight.”

Soonyoung’s plan for dinner was a free courtesy of Mingyu who found a nice little gig as a sous chef in a trendy place uptown. The whole circle celebrated together and you only got around to knowing after Soonyoung kept you updated on news knowing you’d be too busy to look at the giant groups chat you’re in. You should’ve been appreciative. That should’ve been your first instinct, not…entitlement. Not envious of him making eyes and flirting with the waitres. Not embarrassment for expecting something more from his brazen invite to dinner with you.

So, by then you’ve had a bit to drink. Okay, a lot to drink. Just enough to drink to have you stumbling on the center dance floor that garnered the attention of prying eyes. At that moment, nothing really mattered. You knew where lines lie, but lines eventually blur.

One second, you’re alone swaying to Britney Spears’ “toxic”, another second, Seungcheol’s crotch is up against your ass. It was a nice sentiment since you were definitely craving a bit of attention tonight, although you weren’t sure if you could look your friend in the eye again after that. Fortunately for you, it only got so far until a shapeless, but familiar, body pulled you away from the scene, forcibly putting you away in a bright yellow car. With your many failed protests, they managed to reach the footsteps of your building and finally reached for keys in their front pockets to open up your apartment.

“Hold still. Please…God, I am not sober enough for this.”

“Soonyoung….” You whined like a lost child.

He gripped you tighter by the arm to lock you in place, preventing you from falling. He was used to being taken care for and the grass was not greener on the other side. He has a lot of people he needs to apologize to. “Almost…okay, okay. I’m in. Go. Go shower and sober yourself up.”

You tugged him at the wrist, pulling him towards you. “Shower with me…”

He scoffed, a smug smile forming on his face. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Go before I make you, and I really don’t wanna have to make you.”

“Fineee…”

Logic flew out the window tonight. Not paying it a second thought, you began stripping yourself of your clothes in the middle of the living room, from socks to immediately your shirt. Soonyoung’s eyes nearly shot out of his skull as he scrambled to cover you in your abandoned shirt before it almost hit the ground.

“Undress in the bathroom please.” Even in your intoxicated state, you could feel the tension of his muscles brush against your back, causing the heat to creep up on your skin.

You let yourself melt into him giggling, turning your head back to meet his cautious eyes. “Maybe you’d like to help with that.”

You can see the bit of shock in his eyes, fluttering back to something more composed once he internally reminded himself this was the ramblings of a drunk person. “You really don’t know what you're saying.” He then pushed you inside the restroom, holding the door by its knob, “Shower and brush your teeth. I’m not letting you out until I’m sure you’re done.”

“Soonyoung…”

“Please, just do it.”

Eventually, he finally convinced you to do as he asked and he hears the shower running, but a mere second later a thud follows. You busted out in a fit of pain, slipping on the already wet floor and immediately your roommate comes running in concerned. “What happened?”

He turned his head the second he processed your fallen body on the ground was bare naked. Shower water poured down on your head, drenching you from head to toe, and glistening your body like a wet dream. Your eyes lit up at him in a timid demure, barely covering your intimate parts with your arms and hands. He coughed dramatically, pinching himself to find restraint, and repeated his quarry of concern with avoidant eyes before you pointed out the obvious, “I fell.”

“Hold on to the rails, that’s what they’re for,” he groaned.

“Sorry.”

He sighed, slightly glancing. “Do you need help?”

You shook your head even when he wasn’t looking. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Good. Just be careful and tell me when you’re done.”

And you’re alone again.

You pulled yourself up from your pathetic state and then the warm water run through your features, letting out a loud sigh. You finished up the best you could, ridding yourself of a night full of grime. Grabbing a towel on the rack, you wrapped it around your damp nude before letting Soonyoung know from the other side of the door. He finally let you free from his handmade prison before watching you go scurry to your bedroom in a concoction of drunken embarrassment.

You muttered to yourself scoldings for letting something like that happen, clenching your legs together in bed the moment you hear his round of shower hit the tiles through the thin walls. A groan unexpectedly sounds off abundantly clear, and your shameless thoughts take action while he’s preoccupied.

Still naked, you let the towel fall to the ground and you crawl under the sheets of your bed, not caring in the slightest about your hair getting your pillows wet. Your hands slowly trail down to your chest, ghosting over your skin until the pads of your fingers finally found what’s between your legs. You moaned at your self-discovery. Filming your fingers with your filthy arousal, a smile derived from self-indulgence shaped on your face. There you let your fingers slide between your folds and you shudder.

Meanwhile, Soonyoung couldn’t get your image out of his head. The glimpse alone was enough to make him think of you in compromising positions. Lips around his angry stiff cock, your tongue sliding against the veins of his shaft. He’d then hear the wet suction, the vibrations of your mouth humming around his skin, moaning his name like the perfect dessert you were. He groaned again to himself, pressing his length against his abdomen, not thinking you’d hear.

But you do. In fact, it’s so coherent, it makes you wet enough seep past your thighs, trailing down your legs. Your fingers plunged in you deeper while the palm of your hand rubbed against the shape of your clit. Your hips heave up from the mattress, pressing deeper into your palm as the image of Soonyoung’s face stayed a constant in your intoxicated head.

Soonyoung could hear your moans through it all, even if you didn’t think they did, and you only further fed his imagination. He braced against the wall behind him, thrusting into his fist with gritted teeth. The squeeze he had on his girth was merciless and all he had to rid of his overwhelming sin. In his head, you batted your pretty eyes back him, trailing your hands over his body, mouth gaping that looked ready to be filled one way or another. He threw his head back, whispering your name softly. “Oh, baby…you look so good swallowing my cock.”

You felt tears soak your eyes, swallowing a desperate breath.“Mmh, fuck…just like that please…”

“Gonna fuck your pretty pussy…” His thrusts roughly pulled himself at his base, clenching the life around it.

“You’re so deep, fuck, you feel so good—“

“You’re gonna make me cum—“

“Shit, I’m gonna cum—“

“Shit—“

Simultaneously, you both were freed of your tension, a sudden release of breath escaping your lungs. The spilled cum fell at Soonyoung’s feet, melting in the heat of the water before it followed down the drain, while you fell slumped in bed in your own filth. You lazily reached out for your towel to clean the rest of the mess, tore away your dirty sheets, and settled into a tired slumber.

Soonyoung, overwashed with shame, hung his head down as he quietly cursed to himself. He shut off the shower head and reached for his towel. He finally concludes this evening, having taken a load off. There wasn’t much left on his mind that night, only teh thought of wanting it to be over.

The morning comes sooner than you realize and you find yourself at the mercy of a shirtless Soonyoung like most mornings, except this time he wasn’t doing pull-ups. Instead, he walked to you, a vigor to his stride and he decidedly met your eyes, while you were still focused on his body.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Soonyoung—“

“Should I just give you what you want? Should I fuck the shit out of you until all I can hear is my name?”

An answer was caught in the tightness of your throat when he lifted you off the ground and instinctively made you wrap your legs around his bare torso. The heat of his body is all you could focus on until he planted you flat on your kitchen counter, parting your legs to reveal the sudden bareness beneath your oversized t-shirt.

He licked his lip, tensing up his abdomen excitedly before he found home between your thighs. Your fingers threaded through his hair, crying out in soft breaths, and pulling his head back to meet his pretty eyes glossed over with lust.

He mumbled into your skin, specifically one thing. And he said it over again and over again. Unable to make out what he says, you asked him to repeat it more clearly. It was then he rose up to the surface, a sticky sweet sheen of your arousal in his lips before he drew them close to your ear. His breath fanned your skin, shivers running down your spine, and finally what he says makes sense.

“Wake up.”

Your eyes ripped open like the ground beneath you should’ve. You ran a hand over your face, groaning at your own dismay. “What the actual fuck…”

It took a minute for you to pull yourself out of bed, groggy and with a raging headache to blow over throughout the day, only to be met with nearly an identical circumstance you met in your dream. Your roommate’s bare back stared back at you as brightly as the morning sun. You shrunk back at the reminder of your dream, walking on eggshells towards him to reach the fridge. “Morning.”

Soonyoung coughed on his water recognizing your presence, timidly greeting you back.

“Plans today?” You asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, classes in the afternoon.”

The silence couldn’t be more deafening.

“You.”

“Yeah, me too. Will be back at home at 9 after work.”

“Cool.”

And soon you parted, embarrassed that encountered ever happened.

The rest of the day, there was much of seeing each other like most days, but this particular instance felt there was more of a reason to it. Even when it came around to your mutually available time at lunch, you made the extra effort not to run into him. How could you?

After making a pass on him and making the half-conscious decision of touching yourself to him while he was in the shower?

You’d be insane to go about things as if they were normal. They weren’t.

When you came home that night, he was home like he always was, yet nowhere in sight. You knew he was home when you noticed his bike locked up where it normally was and shoes placed at the front of the door. You were tempted to call out his name but refrained when you reminded yourself you were yet ready for that confrontation yet.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have a choice in the matter as Soonyoung seemed to be already walking out of his room, shocked to see you actually home despite it being the time you said you’d be home by. “Hey…”

“Hey.” You let your stuff down before heading to the kitchen. “Did you eat yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I got pizza with a few Chan and Seungkwan.”

“Cool. I’m just gonna make myself something real quick.”

“Alright.”

“Did you need something?”

“Hmm?”

You pointed to his door. “You came out of your room.”

“Right,” he quickly scanned the floor before claiming nearly finished bottle of water on the couch's corner table. “W-water. I got thirsty.”

Obviously, it was an excuse, but you weren’t going to point it out with your lack of backbone. “Okay, well, I’m out here if you need anything.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Before he retreated back to the room, a halt was squeezed out of your throat, catching him in his eager steps. He turned to you with unfocused eyes, hard swallowing in an attempt to calm himself down. “What is it?”

“I need to get this off my chest. Yesterday…I’m really sorry for everything yesterday.”

He sighed. That’s what all that was? “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Also. Shit, um. I don’t know why I’m saying this because it's not like it matters. Well, it does a little bit. It could totally come off wr—“

“Hey,” he interrupted, “I doubt it’s as big a deal as your making it out to be, and I’m okay with not knowing.”

“But you should know actually.” You steadily approached him, letting out an exaggerated exhale. “Yesterday, you were showering and I don’t know what got over me. Well, I was drunk, so I guess there was that bit. Anyway, I heard you, you know, and I guess I—“

“Touched yourself when I was in the shower?”

You shut your eyes, preparing yourself for the worst. “Okay, we’re getting right into it, but yeah. It just felt weird not telling you, I just—“

“You knew I was masturbating?”

“Well, yeah? It was obvious if I’m being honest. Not the point. I invaded your privacy and indulged in it. I don’t know, maybe it’s been a while since…I just want to apologize.”

“For what, overhearing me whack myself off,” he took a step closer, eyes a lot like your dream meeting yours, “or for cumming to the thought of me?”

You breathed out through your nose. In and out. Your eyes for the life of you could not stay steady. “B-both?”

“If we’re being honest here, I should come clean too, shouldn’t I?”

Your hand steadied on the couch, almost letting the force of gravity pull you down along with your sanity, but tried maintaining eye contact as if that would change the dynamic even a little bit. “About what?”

Soonyoung finally found the humor in the situation to smile, one that caused the stagger in your step. “About how your face would come up when I touched myself in the shower.”

“Soonyoung—“

“You can be mad at me, but I won't be mad at you for doing the same thing I did. I don’t regret it because that was the best orgasm I’ve had in mon—“

You silenced his lips with your own, launching you into him until all you felt was the heat of his furnace of a body. His hands claimed the small of your back before pressing your curves into his hollows. He received your lips feverishly, moving against you as if in heated debate, and crashed your body into the furniture closest to you.

“Didn’t know you were this eager,” he mumbled, “you should've told me.”

Your hand gripped his hair, your teeth taking his bottom lip between and pulling, emitting illicit whines that filled your stomach with warmth. Your leg propped to his side, embracing him hungrily there wasn’t even space to breathe. His hips knocked back into you, his bulge grinding against your clothed heat as he arched you over the back of the couch.

“You’re a bit mean. I like that.” He giggled.

“Shut up,” you mumbled.

“May I remind you, you kissed me.”

“And I can back out right this second.”

“Oh, but we can’t have that,” he utilized his upper strength to lift you off the ground looped tightly around his torso, a gasp leaving your lips. You reunite with his eyes that are now leveled with yours. You’ve looked into them before but it shocked you with how dark they are, how earnest they look. “You see it, don't you? How much I want you? I see it in your eyes too.”

“T-this a tactic you use on all people you sleep with?”

He shook his head. “Just you, and only because I really want you.”

Your hand planted against his cheek, the curve of your palm hugging his jaw. His breath hitches from the mere tenderness in your eyes. His body has ever only told him he was you carnally and raw, but that gaze. If he would just bottle that gaze and show off like a trophy.

Your hand crawled over to the nape of his neck, there your digits ran up his hair, pushing him innately close to yours, and you whispered cautiously, “We can never tell the others.”

“I’ll take this to my grave if it’s what you want.”

You nodded. “Good boy.”

He transported you to his room, dropping you on his mattress with him to follow. Your lips stay glued together a perfect mold, tongue clashing in a union that you’ve only even dreamt of having. Soonyoung only briefly pulled away to reveal his torso. He was firm, flushed to the touch, and heaving under the heat of your palm.

You gasped as he pressed his body against your touch, smiling against your skin as he asked if you liked what you were seeing. All you could do was nod, somehow lost in the trance that you never wanted to escape. His mouth took your neck, roaming starved as his hands undressed you down to your underwear.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He slipped you out from your sleeves and made skin contact. Chest to chest, waist to waist, hips to hips. You sense his want through touch alone and for once being wrong felt so incredibly right. What a relief to know, he felt what you did. “I never wanted someone this badly before.”

“Soonyoung…”

He nipped your neck, teeth scratching against your skin. “You say my name like that, I’ll have no choice but to ruin you. Be careful around me. Or don’t. I’d show you a good time either way.”

“You’re—mmp—such a…ah—s-sweet talker.” You could hardly talk back. He made love to your skin as if he’d done it before, touching every pressure of your body like a skilled lover, both attentively yet without remorse.

“I’m only saying what I’ve been thinking. Like how desperate I am to feel myself between your thighs.” He tugged down your underwear to your feet and let the fall to the ground, allowing your legs to hook around him. “Or how your lips taste like caramel coffee, the candy you eat every time you need a ‘pick me up.’”

“You pay attention to that?” You asked, fiddling over the button of his pants.

“I don’t make an effort to, I just do.” He found your hands, aiding you in your efforts, soon you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor. He held your gaze still, guiding your hand over his hard cock, taking from the base up to the shaft. You swallowed memorizing his shape, his length, his weight. There was so much you wanted to be able to share with this part of him alone. “Now it’s your turn to pay attention to me.”

Your lips stretched over your cheeks. “What makes you think I don’t?”

You trace over something particular with your other hand, something that bulges at you even with his pants on. You lifted yourself to sit up, folding your calves behind your thighs. Stroking his length with one hand, you admire your veins leading down his lap with the other. “I’ll have you know, my patience is admirable. It took a lot within me to blatantly ignore these pretty veins you have on your stomach.”

“Someone’s never called them that before,” he chuckled, “no one’s even acknowledged them before.”

“I guess no one’s been privileged enough to see them as often as I do. Lucky me.” You thumbed over the blue, scrapping over its stroke as you lowered your head and your lips wrapped around the head. You covered his underside, tugging your lips around him, and watching his jaw drop lower when you began covering more of his length.

“I’m the lucky one,” he acknowledged, his hand dropping to the crown of your head before caressing the length of your hair. “You should see how good you look sucking my dick right now. I’m never gonna see this image without wanting to cum on the spot.”

You steadied yourself at his hips, tongue gliding over the underside, and you hugged your cheeks tighter around his girth. Eyes fluttered back at him, and you wretched to take more of him, already felt him hit the back of your throat. When you heard him moan, it fed you more encouragement, giving your best efforts to fit all of him. You coughed at the tightness in your throat but remained resilient. The vicious substance of your saliva coated him from tip to base as your hand stroked him repeatedly, pushing him deeper into you until your vision grew weary.

Soonyoung told you to take it slow, stroking the back of your head with a gentle hand. You inhaled him for as long as you could, the sounds of your efforts growing dim the deeper he made it past your mouth. Ultimately, tears ran down your cheeks, oxygen cut from your airways, and you felt no choice but to pull him out, resting his cock between your fingertips as you gasped for breath.

That breath was quickly stolen when Soonyoung dived in to claim it, his body caging yours. His weight against yours was comforting, enticing, addicting. He moaned your name sweetly like a song, and it filled your stomach with embers of desire. “You’re so hot…I’d make you do that again if I wasn’t worried about killing you.”

You pathetically scoffed in an attempt to cover up discomfort. “That? Pff, I’m fine.”

He grinned, kissing you long and deep. “You’re so cute when you lie. I’ll make sure to return the favor now.”

Pulling at your thighs, he dragged them towards him, barely touched your eager heat, and his twitch urging you to pull him close. He leaned over somewhere behind you to tear open a condom, rolling it over himself. As he drew closer, so did you, feeling the inviting head of his cock glide over your wet cunt, you trembled in thought. Soonyoung, just—

“Put it in me.”

“Now, now. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiled cheekily.

“Soonyoung,” You whined.

Your impatience is rewarded when he plunged himself in slowly, but completely, embracing the stretch of your walls as he filled you out. “So…needy...”

His initial thrust is deep, strong, and then he landed another, quickly adjusting to the plush of your pussy. You held your thighs back to your chest, and spread your legs wide for him. Your pretty lips weren’t shy with praising him, asking him for more of his pretty cock, and earning just as you ask. “You’re mind-numbing, shit…what a good fucking pussy…”

“Your cock’s so g-good in me…you feel so good inside me, Soonyoung…”

“Fuck, say my name like that again.”

He flipped you on your stomach, pressing his fingers into your as he found his pace from behind you, ramming into you until your cunt has tasted every inch of his cock. You gasped as his hand maneuvered you to push back against him, like a toy to be played with he used every bit of you, your energy, your sexuality, and he embraced it. You felt amazing.

“Soonyoung, I’m—ah—I’m gonna cum.”

“You’re gonna cum around my cock? Hmm? Is that it? My cock fucking you that good?”

You bit into his cheeks nodding, in the urge to respond before the wave of arousal crashed into you. You were clenching your stomach as his name came in tidal waves, grinding towards him to prologue the high. Loudly, you cursed, balling the sheets underneath you into fists.

Soonyoung nodded proudly, the shaky view of your body trembling beneath him fuels his ego and it’s not long before he orgasms, filling the condom until it nearly burst. He pulled out of you finally, quickly discarding the trash before he joined you in bed, hugging your fatigued body to his side and there was silence. Only silence.

And breathing. Mainly Soonyoung’s. And that went on for a good fifteen minutes until someone spoke again.

“I’m glad I waited for that.”

You looked up at your roommate curiously, the smile on his face felt warmer every time you saw it. “What was that?”

He met your gaze, hand softly moving over your hair. “I feel like I’ve gotten closer to you. I always wanted that.”

“Really?”

He nodded, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Who knew sex would make us closer friends?”

Your body ran cold, in the distance you could hear the shattering of glass far off from reality. You stayed frozen under his touch as he embraced you closer to his naked body, hooking his chin over your neck. “We should do this again. I wouldn’t mind getting used to this.”

That’s what you were scared of. Getting used to this. To this arrangement. To the sensation of his cock inside you. To the sense that it’d never be more than you hoped it would be. You’d never have Soonyoung be yours, but you knew somehow you’d always be his.

#svthub #seventeen smut #hoshi smut #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung smut #hoshi #kwon soonyoung smut #svt hoshi #seventeen #seventeen hoshi #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #hoshi x y/n

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persevereforahappyending · 11 months

Text

He Hung Up

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Ooh,” you said excited, jumping up from the couch. You reached out making a grabby hand already. “Give me the phone, I’m great at pissing people off.”

Warnings: Violent Threats

Word Count: 3k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You and your friends trudged up the many many steps to the Carpenter sister’s apartment. You were at a party with your girlfriend and her friends when a drunk frat guy decided to get a little handsy. Luckily for you or more like lucky for him Sam showed up. Sam tasing him was generous because if you had gotten your hands on him for what he was about to do with Tara you would have beaten the shit out of him.

Sam also showing up meant Tara had been caught. Meaning you were now all in trouble for going to the party. Chad and his roommate Ethan took up the rear, while Mindy and her girlfriend Anika, held hands giggling and walking as close together as they could get as if they were in their own little world. You were in front of them while your girlfriend and her sister led the way, arguing, like usual.

You had been holding Tara’s hand, but she really liked gesturing wildly when she got into it with Sam, so she eventually dropped your hand. You tried intervening a few times but after Sam stopped, turning her furious glare onto you, you quickly shut your mouth and dropped your eyes to the ground. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of you already and as much as you wanted to stick up for your girlfriend, even though you agreed with her sister to an extent, you didn’t want to add any more reasons for Sam to hate you. You knew Tara didn’t care about Sam’s opinions when it came to you, but you still wanted the older Carpenter to like you, at this point you were grasping at anything to win you points.

When you got to the apartment you all piled in, you and Anika dropping onto the couch, Ethan shuffling himself into a chair off to the side. Sam quickly locked the several locks on the door before moving into the kitchen with the other three. You could hear the core four as Chad had stupidly nicknamed them all whisper arguing about the night’s events. Quinn slipped out of her room after hearing the commotion you all must have been making and plopped herself down in the other chair.

Your eyes had drifted to the TV that Anika had turned on though she kept the volume muted. You weren’t paying attention until you noticed it wasn’t just a normal boring news report.

“Hey guys,” you shouted getting the others’ attention. “You need to see this.” You reached for the remote, turning up the volume as the others re-entered the room.

Everyone was silent as the story played. Some college students were killed and a Ghostface mask was left at the scene.

“Oh, hey it’s those weird guys from class,” you commented when the news threw up a picture of the two students who were killed. “That one,” you pointed to the picture that had the name Jason under it, “is the creepy one that always stares at you.” You turned to give Tara a I told you so look.

“He didn’t stare at me,” Tara weakly defended.

“He paid more attention to you than to the class.”

“How would you know?” Tara raised a brow. “Unless you weren’t paying attention either.”

“I’m your girlfriend,” you put a hand to your heart. “When I stare at you it’s adorable.”

Tara didn’t say anything more, she just playfully rolled her eyes.

Tara had turned her attention back to the TV, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her. The class you shared with the weird Jason kid was where you first met Tara. She sat next to you and despite it being the first day you were completely unprepared, you had asked her to borrow a pen then ten seconds later asked for a sheet of paper.

After that first class you slowly started trying to talk to her during quiet moments of class or if you were lucky and she got there early enough before class. You could listen to her all day discuss the deeper meaning of her ‘elevated’ horror movies.

You were sitting in the very spot you were now on her couch a few months ago. You had come over to Tara’s place to work on a paper for class, she was hesitant because her sister didn’t like unknown guests, but she said since her sister would be at therapy it would be fine. And you were fine, quietly working on your paper, stealing subtle glances at Tara.

You had been crushing on her hard since you first saw her but didn’t have the courage to do anything about it. With her history you weren’t sure she wanted anything more than friendship. During one of your subtle glances though you caught Tara openly staring at you. You dropped your pen, turning with the intention to ask if everything was okay when she leaned forward, grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into a kiss.

You instantly reciprocated the kiss, turning your body to fully face her. You brought up both of your hands, running them through her hair. You could feel her smile into the kiss as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss even more.

You broke away, lightly laughing when you needed air. You shyly looked at Tara, despite the fact that you had just been making you, you saw her wearing the same smile as you.

“Sorry,” she said. “I waited so long, and it didn’t seem like you were ever going to make a move.”

You silently laughed, nodding before pulling her in for another kiss. You repositioned so you were kneeling on the couch, Tara doing the same. She started to slip your jacket off, neither of you breaking the kiss. You were both so caught up you didn’t hear the door open. You didn’t break apart until someone angrily cleared their throat, followed by a loud door slam.

You both jumped apart. You pulled your jacket back on, clearing your throat as if you hadn’t just been caught doing what you were about to do. You glanced towards the door to see Tara’s sister fuming.

“Sam,” Tara said, trying to sound casual. “You’re home early. How was therapy?”

You didn’t move, you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Sam. You had just been making out with Tara and now her sister was home and blocking your only path out. She hadn’t acknowledged her sister in any way, she just continued to glare at you.

“Get out,” is the only thing Sam said.

You quickly shot to your feet, throwing your stuff into your bag, and swinging the strap over one shoulder, not bothering to zip the bag up. You turned to Tara, smiled, and gave a thumbs up, then quickly scurried out of the apartment as Sam stepped out of the way, opening the door for you. You didn’t turn back but you could feel Sam’s burning gaze in the back of your skull. She hadn’t stopped glaring at you to this day.

You were brought back to the present when you heard Tara gasp and saw her eyes widen. You turned back to the TV and saw it.

“Holy shit,” you said, leaning forward to make sure you were seeing correctly. “That’s our film studies professor.”

The news reporter continued, saying how your professor was found stabbed to death in an alley. Then went on to say that the knife used was found in Jason’s apartment with his prints on it.

“Damn, I guess class is cancelled next week,” you said. You turned to say something else, but Tara was giving you a deadpanned look while Sam was once again glaring at you. You really needed to learn to shut up sometimes.

“We’re leaving, pack your stuff,” Sam announced, breaking her silence for the first time.

“Wait, what?” Tara asked. “We don’t even know if this has anything to do with us. It’s Halloween, there are thousands of people dressed up.” Tara tried to find any excuse to not leave. She turned back to you with a worried look. “Quinn!” she quickly turned to her roommate. “Call your dad, see what he knows.”

Quinn nodded, pulling out her phone. Before Quinn could start the call though another phone rang. Everyone in the room froze. All heads turned to Sam as she fished out her phone from her back pocket.

Tara moved closer to her sister, looking down at the phone. They both just stared at it in Sam’s hand as it continued to ring, no one moving to answer it.

“Ooh,” you said excited, jumping up from the couch. You reached out making a grabby hand already. “Give me the phone, I’m great at pissing people off.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Sam mumbled. You pouted but took the phone. She didn’t hand it to you, but she made no move to stop you.

“Hello?” you asked, a smile playing at your lips.

There was heavy breathing on the other end before, “You’re not Samantha.”

“No, sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message?”

“Put Samantha on the phone. I want to play a game with her.”

“Really?” you scrunched up your nose, looking towards Sam. “Have you met her? She’s not much fun.” Sam glared at you. “However, I’m much more fun. I love playing games, especially with her sister.” You winked at Tara who switched to glaring at you as well. You smiled, trying to keep in your laugh.

“Give Samantha the phone or my knife will find a home in your heart.”

“Sorry, my heart is already taken.” You winked at Tara again. She stopped glaring at you but only to roll her eyes at your antics.

“Don’t worry I’ll make sure to carve it out and deliver it her.”

“Well, I have always said the best presents come from the heart.”

“Stupid girl, do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“Let’s see, late night phone call, death threats, ominous creepy sounding voice,” you mumbled off. You tilted your head as if you were thinking really hard about who could possibly be on the phone.

“You really have a death wish, don’t you child?”

“Wait wait wait,” you said excitedly. “Wait, am I talking to the one and only Ghostface?” You paused, furrowing your brow as your eyes left the group of friends and drifted up to the ceiling in thought. “Well technically there’s usually two of you and technically you’re like the,” you started silently counting, using your fingers to keep track, “the tenth one? Whatever, anyway, it’s an honor.”

“I will gut you,” Ghostface growled out.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure. Can I make a request about my death?” You turned to your friends who were watching you with curious looks, waiting to see what you’d do next. “Just make sure I suffer. I don’t want to go out easy.” You started pacing, your friends now going from curious to concerned. Even Sam seemed concerned, it brought a small smile to your face, maybe this was how you won her over.

“My knife will carve out your insides.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered shyly. “Who told you I was into knife play?”

You turned back to your friends when you heard a cough only to see Chad choking on his water. Mindy was smacking her brother on the back to help him out. He seemed to be trying to keep the water in his mouth through the coughing, but he was clearly failing as the water finally sprayed out of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as Chad doubled over in a coughing fit. Sam and Tara ignored him as they continued to watch you.

“Has anyone ever told you how irritating you are?” Ghostface asked. He was using a voice changer, but you could swear he sounded tired.

“I’m an acquired taste,” you said. You shot your girlfriend a glare as you caught her nodding in agreement. She stopped when she caught your glaring, smiling innocently and mouthing ‘love you’. “Now for my death,” you continued, getting back to the important stuff. “Remember, slow and painful. I’m not just some side character.” You spun around pointing your finger even though you weren’t facing Ghostface. Though when you thought about it, he was probably watching you. “I’m not just some character that’s written off with a quick death. No, I’m the memorable bitch. I might not be the main but I’m the death you remember, you feel me?”

There was a long silence as you waited for his response. Your friends all leaned closer waiting for what would happen next even though they could only hear your side of the conversation. You furrowed your eyebrows when it had been over twenty seconds of silence.

“Hello? Hello?” you asked, pulling the phone away from your ear to look at the screen. “Hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head at the blank screen. “He hung up.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you turned back to your friends. You held out your hand, handing the phone back to Sam as you saw the shocked expressions of your friends. Everyone was staring at you wide eyed and mouths agape.

“So, does this mean I won or that I’m gonna die even more horribly than originally planned?” You asked. You raised your eyebrows waiting for a response as they continued to stare at you.

“You got Ghostface to hang up on you,” Mindy said in disbelief.

You shrugged. “I just have a way with some people.”

“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Sam said, pushing off from the dining table she had been leaning against.

“Can Y/N stay the night?” Tara asked, coming to stand by you.

You smiled as Tara wrapped her arms around your mid-section. You quickly put an arm around her, you would never turn down a hug and potential cuddles. You looked up at Sam with a smile. Sam shot you a tired glare, but you kept the smile on.

“Tara,” Sam groaned. “One phone call doesn’t mean I like her.”

You lost your smile, pouting at the older Carpenter. You had thought you did pretty good with the phone call. You had actually kind of enjoyed it, minus all the death threats you got.

“But she’s in danger now,” Tara argued. “If we send her back to her dorm alone then Ghostface can attack her and after that phone call he’s going to kill her horribly and painfully.”

“Wait what?” You asked, you head going back and forth between your girlfriend and her sister.

Sam tilted her head, raising her eyebrows slightly. Her head bounced around as she seemed to debate Tara’s words. You swallowed, gripping Tara a little tighter as you pulled her closer to you. You knew Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of you, but you didn’t think when it came down to your life that it was actually up for debate.

“Sam!” Tara snapped when it seemed like Sam had started to lean more towards sending you on your way.

Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had a small smile on her face, a smile she tended to only reserve for Tara when she was messing with her. “Alright, fine,” Sam said. “She can stay the night.” Sam lost her smile as she turned her attention back to you. She slowly made her way closer, glaring at you without blinking. “No funny business,” she pointed her finger threateningly at you. “Or I will throw you out.”

You nodded your head rapidly, letting out a small sigh of relief. Sam smiled sweetly as she turned away from you to face the others, but you could still see the lingering threat in her eyes. You shifted, tightening your grip on Tara again. She looked up at you smiling and despite just being threatened by her sister you couldn’t help but smile back. You were excited to be able to cuddle your girlfriend all night without the worries of waking up early to sneak out.

“Do you guys want to stay as well?” Sam asked the rest of the group.

“Nah, we’re good,” Chad said.

Sam nodded and walked them to the door. Chad and Ethan left, followed by Mindy and Anika who were wrapped up in a hug. Sam instantly got to locking the various locks on the door. Quinn pushed off her chair and went to her room with only a wave as a goodnight.

“Wait,” you said, causing Sam and Tara to look at you. “How much danger am I actually in?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m going to bed,” is all she said. She walked past you and Tara and made her way to her room. “Goodnight!” she called out, giving a final wave of her hand before you heard the room to her door close.

“But seriously, am I next?” you shrieked, leaning back to look Tara in the eye.

Tara bobbed her head back and forth, opening her mouth to say, “Well-”

“Oh god!”

“Baby don’t worry,” Tara placed a hand on your chest in an attempt to comfort you. “I’ll protect you. For now,” she moved out of your embrace, moving her hand down until she could intertwine it with yours. “Let’s enjoy this rare occasion of you not having to sneak out and go cuddle.”

You succeeded in your goal to piss off Ghostface it seemed. Your life was in even more danger than it was before by just dating Tara, Sam willingly allowing you to stay the night at the apartment confirmed that. Though you were reasonably terrified of your potentially upcoming death you couldn’t focus on that. The girl you were crazy about was standing before you and asking you to cuddle. You wordlessly nodded, allowing her to drag you to her room. You would never deny her after all.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #he hung up

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oncasette · 7 months

Text

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗦 (𝗦𝗢 𝗗𝗢 𝗜)

KINKTOBER ACT II, eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 2.7k

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in.

or the one where eric has a specific taste for blood. yours.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, significant age gap (eric is like 1000, r is early 20s), dub-con, mind control on the low, blood drinking, high sex (eric's blood/v), smoking

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

When vampires had first come out of the coffin, you’d been barely above the age of seventeen, and their integration into the mainstream had been a whirlwind you’d been utterly unprepared for. Being from the south, your parents had instilled a deep sense of distrust in your fanged counterparts. Or, in your own words, fear.

Your parents had nearly tried to keep you out of college because of it, claiming you’d be much safer here at home, but you’d nipped that in the bud fairly quickly. Still, that didn’t mean you were going to let it slip to them where you were going on your evenings spent at home over the summer. All they needed to know is that you’d be home in the morning.

Your friends had been begging you to go to this bar across town with them for ages. They’d been going for years, but, being the only one in the group not willing to get a fake ID, you’d been left out of all the fun. Now, though, that you were over the legal drinking age, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out seeing as your friends seemed to like it so much. Or, as you came to find out, seeing as they apparently liked the owner so much.

“You’re gonna freak when you see him,” Rachel says, looking over at you from the driver’s seat. You’d been friends with Rachel for forever, longer than you can remember. She’d gone off to school somewhere in the northeast–a liberal arts college with less than two thousand total students–and it’d been ages since you’d last seen her.

“I don’t get what’s so special about him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel squeaks. “About Eric fucking Northman?”

Anyone who’d been west of Baton Rouge knew the name Eric Northman. It was undeniable. Someone could whisper the name in a corner of a packed ballroom, and a hush would fall over the crowd.

And, yet, somehow, despite living in Shreveport since your conception, it hadn’t crossed your path.

“Yeah?” you drawl. “He’s probably just some guy.”

“Some guy,” Gina scoffs.

“He’s quite literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” she says as she fiddles with her engagement ring. “He’s a fucking god.”

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes.

It isn’t much longer before you’re pulling into a shady parking lot behind a vacant liquor store. There’s a couple other cars in the lot, mostly what your father would call shit-boxes that have either been sewn together with duct tape or have bumpers that have been left to drag the ground. Slamming the passenger door shut, you reach into the pocket of your jacket to take out the pack of cigarettes, stamping one on your bottom lip as you dig further in the pocket to find your lighter.

Your friends have already walked across the lot to step into line when you finally get a light, shoving your materials back into your jacket as you jog over to where they are at the back of the, thankfully, fast-moving line.

“Really?” Rachel asks.

“Just be glad I didn’t do it in the car, okay.” You offer a squint of your eyes in a pseudo smile.

“Whatever,” she sighs.

The bouncer lets the three men in biker jackets ahead of you in and stops to examine you. She seems to recognize your friends and nods at them to follow the men, only to stick a manicured hand out in front of your chest as soon as you take a step.

“I’m with them,” you huff, tapping the ashes out of your cigarette.

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m gonna need to see some ID,” she drawls. The sweetie comes out in a sharp bite that has you taking a step away from her outstretched arm. She grabs the butt from between your lips and stamps it out beneath her stiletto’d heel.

“Fine,” you say. Digging in the other pocket of your jacket, you grab your wallet and hand over your driver's license. You’re thankful you’d just recently gotten your ID updated and have the horizontal one now, or you’re sure she would’ve kept you back. Where, you’re also sure, your friends would have left you to sit for the rest of the night.

“Have a good night,” she says, handing it back to you and allowing you to step into the crimson bar. As soon as you’re through the door, you dig your pack out and light a new cigarette. Bitch.

Your eyes gravitate toward the stage. A very large throne sits to the side of it, flanked by two overgrown men with their eyes scanning the small dance floor at the foot of the stage. The man in the throne is bigger. Much bigger. Large to the point that he dwarfs the chair you think would swallow you whole. You watch as he sits up, spine straightening as he looks the crowd over.

You don’t think anything of it until his gaze falls on you. He seems to smile, and it’s then that you see the sharp canines extending out of his gums.

You suppose coming to a vampire bar should’ve made you mentally prepare to come into contact with a vampire or two.

The man on the throne appears before you in an instant, fangs retracted as he gives you a softer smile than he’d had previously. It unnerves you, still, with the way his eyes seem glazed over and his body hovers over yours. You glance back at the stage, eyes flickering nervously back and forth as if it’d just been a trick of the lights and you’d catch him lounging there again if you blinked hard enough.

“You are… a pretty thing, aren’t you,” he says, voice growling in a register lower than you’d been expecting. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s tall. Frighteningly, inhumanly tall in a way that has you cowering beneath him. Even seeing him on the stage before, it’s much more shocking up close. “It’s a shame you feel the need to taint it with that.”

He gestures to the stick between your lips with a flippant gesture, plucking it from your mouth to stamp it beneath his boot. What’s with everyone stealing your cigarettes tonight?

“Hey-”

“Still,” he leans down until his nose is inches away from your jaw and inhales. You don’t have the time to push him back before he’s returned to his full height.

“Who the fuck are you?” you ask, attempting to take a step back only to bump into one of the bustling–and fairly sweaty–bodies behind you. The man raises his brow in surprise.

“My, my,” he says. “Coming all the way out to my little bar and you treat me this way?”

“Eric,” you exhale. Your friends were right. He’s beautiful.

“And you are?” You give him your name in a huff.

“Follow me,” he says.

“I don’t know-” His fingers come up beneath your chin to tilt your face so that you’re like him in the eye. Something swirls within them, something you can’t place. You do your best to ignore the dull throb emanating beneath your dress.

“Follow me.”

Your legs seem to move of their own accord, hand reaching up to take his as he leads you across the dingy floor towards a door beside the bar. You dodge bodies crumpled together between tables and chairs and slink behind him as he nods at a bouncer guarding the door. Once it’s open, he gestures for you to enter first.

It’s a small office looking room. Various pictures and files line the walls and every surface is drowned in boxes and other small objects. You don’t have the time to get a good look at any of them, though, before Eric is spinning you to face him once again.

You can see the way his lips twitch as you meet his gaze, nostrils flared. His hand lands on your shoulder, dragging down the side of your arm as goosebumps sprout in its wake. You want to blame it on the fact that he’s freezing, on the fact that he’s got fangs. On the fact that he owns this whole bar and now you’re standing in his office with the door locked. Not on the fact that he’s probably got decades of experience. Or, god forbid, centuries.

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask. It comes out in a whisper, voice hoarse from swallowing hard. Breath hitching, your knees do their best not to buckle as Eric steps into you, forcing you back until your ass hits the edge of his desk. His leg comes to press between your thighs. With a nudge, his knee would be pressing directly against you, and you’re thankful he gives you the space. You inch up the desk until you’re halfway sitting on it. There’s no reason for you to be as hot as you are right now, and less of a reason for him to know about it so soon. Honestly, he can probably smell it on you.

“Why do you think I brought you back here?” he asks, hands falling against your thighs. There’s no pressure, just their presence.

“I don’t fuck random guys in bars,” you say.

He stalls, hands crawling up to rest on your hips.

“I’m the owner.”

“So I was right,” you say. “You lured me back here just to fuck me.”

He hums. You can’t tell if it's in agreement. His knee presses into you fully and you hope he chooses not to comment on how you’re pulsating against it.

“Would you like that?” he asks. He brings his hands down again, this time to the hem of your dress. He begins to push up. Slowly. Oh, so slow, you barely register it until it’s bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’re not sure why you nod. You think if asked you at a different time, a second before or after, you would have shaken your head and allowed him to lead you back out to the patrons, to your two friends who would lose their minds if they knew where you were right now.

His mouth finds yours as he pushes your dress the rest of the way up. You can feel the way you’re leaving a damp spot against his pants and try not to whimper as he applies more pressure with his knee. You don’t succeed in that venture. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It’s not nearly as rough as you had expected it to be, but it’s far from soft. His tongue is in your mouth, licking at the flats of your teeth. His fingers dig into your skin as he thumbs at the seam of your panties, pressing it to the side enough to gather the wetness coating your slit and drag it up to your clit. Your hips jump against him.

He disconnects your lips to trail his kisses down the dies of your face and down your neck. Pulling back, he draws your eyes up to look, and the dark swirl from earlier returns. “Don’t scream,” he says. “Unless it’s my name.”

Before he re-attaches himself to your neck, you watch as his fangs click out, and you feel the cold rod of fear as it slides down your spine.

“Eric,” you squeal. You’re already dizzy, his tongue laving at the skin of your neck. Finally, he pulls back and you feel seconds away from passing out. His fingers are still inside of you, massaging your walls. His free hand comes up to his mouth, and you watch as his fangs pierce the skin there and he’s holding his bloody palm up to your mouth.

“Drink,” he says. You oblige and suddenly you’re dizzy in an entirely different way. Every touch feels heightened, every item in the room seems to glow, and Eric truly, honestly, looks like a fucking god. The open wound on your neck stops aching and you swear you feel the holes close up.

“Eric, please,” you whine. He tugs your panties down first, balling them up in his fist and tossing them somewhere behind his desk. Then his belt comes undone and he’s yanking his pants down just enough to pull his cock out of the confines. And if you thought his fingers were big before.

“That’s not gonna fucking fit,” you gasp. He jerks himself until he’s fully hard.

“Trust me, sweetheart. It will,” he says as he notches himself against your entrance.

“No, I swear, you’re gonna rip me in half!” “Trying hard not to do that, already,” he says. He pushes in with one solid thrust. Even only halfway in, you can feel him in your throat. “Feel even better than you taste.”

Your ankles link around his back and your feet dig into his ass in an attempt to get him to move, to push into you until you can feel his pelvis against yours. He does. One thrust, then an agonizing pull back before he slams back in.

Every part of you trembles as his pace picks up.

“Oh my god? Oh my god,” you squeak.

“Just me,” he quips and his head falls back. He’s fucking you at a superhuman speed, hips snapping into yours with so much force you think he’s close to bruising your cervix. And still. It feels good. It feels so fucking good. Every touch leaves you tingling and you think you’re going to explode with his hand finding your clit again. He pushes your legs open wider, allowing him to press into you further.

You’ve never been this wet in your life. Not with your vibrator, not with any of your boyfriends, not even with the one you swore you were in love with when you were a sophomore in college. The squelch of his cock driving into you rings in your ears and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound. A coil within you begins to wind tight, your body on the precipice of turning into jelly in Eric’s hold.

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart,” he growls and it’s enough to send you flying. You clench around him, walls fluttering and throbbing as you feel his dick twitch in you.

As soon as you’ve regained your consciousness enough to offer him a weak smile, he’s pulling out of you and spinning you around so that the front of your hips are against the desk. He thrusts into you swiftly once more, never once faltering from the ruinous pace he’d started up previously. Your back arches into the desk. Your pussy feels raw, overstimulated, melting into the pleasure he’s driving into you. Another orgasm is sure to follow. And quickly.

“You are mine, whether you agree to it or not,” he growls. His thrusts begin to grow sloppy, cock twitching with every pump of his hips. With a final push in, he cums and offers you the first bit of warmth he’s been able to give you all night. You fall down the same rabbit hole moments later. Your entire body twitches as you do and you can barely feel anything as he pulls out of you.

He gives you a minute to catch your breath, to gather yourself and spin around to face him as you tug your dress back down your thighs. You’re panting, still, as he wipes the semi-dried blood off of your neck and brings it up to his lips to lick clean.

“No more cigarettes,” he says. “I can’t wait to see how you taste when you’re… pure.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” you say.

“You will.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He’s gone before you can ask what he means by that.

#eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman smut #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #true blood #kinktober #kinktober 23

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charmandabear · 2 months

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Five

Summary:

Astarion can barely contain his jealousy when he sees you and Dr. Dekarios having a friendly chat over coffee, and you're really not a fan of how it makes you feel.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.9k Tags/Warnings: possessive Astarion, jealous Astarion, praise kink, rough sex, library sex, I might get too deep in the weeds about theatre in this one, sorry

Y'all we are well on our way to a pivotal chapter. I'm not sure if you're ready for it. I'm not sure if I'm ready for it. But for now, have some flirty banter and jealous library sex.

Both Gale and Astarion screenshots provided by our queen, @zipzoomzaria.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Ahh, we've given up on life then, have we?”

Astarion's voice pierces through the din of students shuffling and chatting as they settle for class. You're just passing through the hall on your way to get a much needed pick-me-up from the student union.

“C’mon Ank-yunín, it's college, we all wear PJs. Ain't no one cares how you dress.” Mol’s signature twang rises above the rest, and you can't tell if she’s deliberately mispronouncing his name or not. Knowing her, she probably is.

“Hells, Mol, are you positive you're registered for a 300 level English course?” The sneer in his voice is evident.

You poke your head in the doorway to watch him banter with his students before class. He is, in fact, particularly well-dressed today - and gods does he look good. He’s wearing a crisp and well-tailored white suit dressed down with a black v-neck tee shirt. He stands with one hand in his pocket and the other lightly sifting through papers on his desk. He's looking over his glasses with disdain at Mol and immediately your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes flick up towards you and your cheeks flush when you realize you've been caught. His lips curl into a mischievous smile.

“Oh Professor,” he calls to you, voice dripping with honey, “I was so hoping you'd stop by. We’re discussing iambic pentameter today, care to give an impromptu lecture?”

“Oh!” He's completely caught you off-guard and your heart speeds up. His smug little grin reveals he knows exactly what he’s doing. Not wanting to get roped into something you’re unprepared for, you hesitate, “Well, I'm not sure, I'm a bit busy…”

“Nonsense! You're not on your way to a class, are you?” He plants his hands on his desk and leans forward, grinning devilishly. You're not sure if he’s memorized your teaching schedule, but you wouldn't put it past him.

“I'm not, no,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

“C’mon miss, you know loads about this stuff,” Mol chirps enthusiastically, leaning dangerously on the back of her chair. “Way more than Ank-yunín over here.” She jabs her thumb at him and rolls her eyes.

“I suppose… I have time for a quick overview,” you say reluctantly, and Astarion’s smile grows. You walk into the classroom and glare at him as soon as your face is out of view of the students.

“That heart of yours keeps giving you away,” he murmurs when you're close enough to hear. You ignore him and turn to face the class.

“Oh, Thaniel, I didn’t know you were in this class!” you say when you recognize your student’s face. “That's a lot of Shakespeare for one semester, isn't it?” The class titters and your face grows hot.

“Unfortunately for you, that's Thaniel’s twin, Oliver,” Astarion says behind you. You clench your jaw in embarrassment.

“I'm so sorry, I didn-”

“No big, it happens a lot,” he waves you off. His energy is so much more confident than the timid kid in your Classical Acting class. You feel even sillier for not having realized it.

“So how much have you all actually done on Shakespeare's meter?” You shift your glance between Astarion and the class, trying to assess exactly what he’s pulled you into.

“None at all, they're a blank canvas,” he smirks, enjoying your discomfort far too much. He sits on the edge of his desk and folds his arms, watching you closely.

Fine. He thinks he can fluster you? You've taught iambic pentameter a thousand times, you can practically teach this lesson in your sleep.

“Fantastic, so I won't need to undo any of Dr. Ancunín's mediocre teaching,” you return his smug grin, a silent declaration of two can play at this game. “How many of you have heard the phrase iambic pentameter?”

A smattering of hands go up in the air. You nod and turn towards the white board. Not a single marker in sight. You turn to Astarion with a blank stare.

“Where the fuck are your white board markers.” It’s less of a question and more of an accusatory statement. He shrugs noncommittally.

“I don't need to write things down, that's what they do,” he says, jerking his head towards the students. You roll your eyes and shove him off the desk so you can rifle through the drawers.

“Does anyone know the first line of the prologue for Romeo and Juliet?” you ask once you've procured a marker.

“Two households both alike in dignity!” A redheaded girl calls out enthusiastically. You nod and write the line on the board.

“Awesome! What’s your name?” you ask.

“Yenna,” she states with a beam of pride that you’re showing interest in her. You feel like you can tell everything about her from this small exchange.

“Any chance you know the next one, Yenna?”

“No, that's all I've got.” She frowns a little, clearly wishing she could show off more.

“That's okay, let's talk about the first four lines.” You turn and write the next three lines of the prologue.

“Dang, d’you have the whole thing memorized?” Another student pipes up, a Tiefling with indigo locs.

“Well, I've been in R&J a few times, and I've seen it many more,” you shrug casually, and his eyes light up.

“No way, didja have to learn the whole thing?” he asks, just as another student chimes in, “Who did you play?”

“No, just my lines, but I heard the prologue a lot,” you say to the first kid, then turn to the second, “I played Juliet in high school, and a few years back I played Mercutio over at the Rosewood.”

Several students start to ask questions at once, and you hold up your hand to stop them.

“Woah woah, slow down, I'm only one person. Gods, do you ever talk to them about how these plays are actually performed and not just words in some dusty old book?” you ask Astarion incredulously.

“Who do you think Dr. Ancunín would play in Romeo and Juliet?” Oliver calls out from the back.

“I think Dr. Ancunín would make an excellent Tybalt.” You flash him a coy smile. “Just the right amount of obnoxious.”

“Doesn't Tybalt kill Mercutio?” Yenna asks. Astarion looks at you more salaciously than he should in front of students.

“I'm certain I could offer a little death,” he croons in a low voice, sparking a flame deep in your core. You press your lips together, trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Aaaaaanyway,” you say quickly, moving the conversation back to the text and away from his flirtatious banter.

You’re surprised by how much fun you have teaching Astarion's class. His students are lively and eager participants, if not to actually comment on the subject then at least to try to get in a jab at his expense. By the end of the three hour lecture, most of them have completed the scansion for the entire prologue on their own.

“Alright, we’ll meet again in a tenday,” Astarion calls over the sounds of everyone putting their books and papers back into their bags. “Don't forget that your soliloquy explication is due next class. And don't bother asking for an extension because you know I won't grant it.”

“I hope you enjoyed using me to slack off during your class,” you say to him quietly as the last few students trickle out. He lets out a throaty laugh.

“I do enjoy using you, it's true,” he hums, and you involuntarily press your thighs together. “Although you cannot deny that you had fun.”

“With you? Always.” You toss your hair and grab your bag. “Now I'm headed over to the student union for coffee because teaching your class wore me out.”

“Hmm, I would've thought you had a little more stamina than that.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and your ears grow pink. You start to move away to leave but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into a heated kiss. You need to force yourself to push him away.

“Astarion!” You hiss, panting and lightheaded. You whip your head around to see if any students are left, but the room is empty.

“Just wanted to remind you who’s in charge here,” he says with a haughty grin and you roll your eyes.

“Goodbye,” you say pointedly and make your escape, but not before he gives your ass a cheeky little pinch.

***

Of course the student union is swamped when you get there. The long line to the little university cafe is moving agonizingly slowly. The work-study students behind the counter are taking orders as fast as they can, but it's clear they don't have enough coverage for the between-class times.

After waiting for about ten minutes, you’re considering getting coffee off campus when you see Dr. Dekarios crossing the union. Reminded of the conversation he had with Astarion while you were trapped under his desk, you call out to him. He turns and there's a vague note of recognition in his wave.

You glance at the four people in front of you still and the half dozen or so orders hanging off the espresso machine. Deciding it's not worth the continued wait, you bound over to the arcana professor.

“Dr. Dekarios, I'm so glad I caught you. I wanted to chat about your theory regarding bardic magic and the humors,” you say excitedly. His face lights up and then falls confused.

“Oh, I hadn't told you about that, how did you-” he begins and your stomach drops when you remember that you were not technically a part of that conversation.

“Uh, Astar- Dr. Ancunín mentioned that you were looking for me,” you say quickly and your eyeballs feel like they're about to melt out of your head. Not wanting either of you to spend too much time remembering the state he caught you in with Astarion, you continue.

“Tell me a little more about this theory, because I think it tracks, but I want to hear the basis of it first.”

“Oh, but you were just about to get some coffee, weren't you? I feel terrible that you stepped out of line on my behalf,” Dekarios frowns, peering over your shoulder at the cafe behind you. It’s beginning to peter out as the time approaches the beginning of classes.

“No worries, I should probably save my money anyway,” you say with a shrug.

“Well then allow me to treat you at least,” he implores, and he beckons you back into line.

The wait is significantly shorter, and when you approach the counter he says, “Hello, good afternoon. I'll have a small black tea with just a splash of that vanilla almond milk you know I love so much,” he says with a secretive chuckle and the poor work-study behind the counter plasters a pained smile on their face. Dekarios then turns to you and says, “And for the young lady?”

“I'll have a large iced double dirty chai with oat milk, thanks.” The student barista turns to start making the drinks and Dekarios’ brows pop above his wire frames.

“Goodness, that amount of caffeine this late in the afternoon would keep me up all night,” he laughs.

“The caffeine barely impacts me anymore, at this point I just need it to get through a rehearsal,” you respond with a polite joviality.

The two of you sit at a small table in the student union to talk. For a pretentious arcana professor, he’s surprisingly easy to get along with.

“Walk me through your thought process, because I think you're onto something here, but I need a little bit more,” you ask, taking a sip of your chai. Dekarios gestures wildly while he speaks, clearly very enthusiastic about the subject.

“Well, we know that Shakespeare was responsible for a massive shift in how playwrights and audiences alike thought of characters, yes? From a balance or imbalance of humors to something more complex?”

“I mean, he wasn't solely responsible, it was more or less an inevitable cultural and technological shift, but yes, he was definitely at the forefront of that shift.”

“Oh fascinating,” he murmurs as his eyes grow wide and he leans forward on his elbows. “So do you think the advancement from from the College of Swords to the College of Lore was inevitable? Do you think they were related?”

“Related, yes, but not in the way you're suggesting, I think,” you muse, absentmindedly pressing your drink to your lips. As you're contemplating your next thought, you're startled by a hand on your shoulder. You look up and Astarion is looking down his nose at you, eyes gleaming.

“Dr. Ancunín, what a surprise!” you say in a strained voice, trying to decipher his body language. “Thank you so much for telling me about Dr. Dekarios’ theory regarding bardic magic, it's really a fascinating subject.” You lean heavily on the lie, although truth be told, all three of you know that you were in his office that day.

“Of course, darling, I thought you might find it intriguing.” As he speaks, he runs his fingers through the hair at the base of your neck, and the shiver that runs down your spine isn't quelled by the confusion blooming in the back of your mind. Why is he being so affectionate? And in public, no less?

He shifts his gaze to Dekarios and his eyes narrow.

“Dr. Dekarios, how are you faring? Well, I hope?” There's a slight venom in Astarion’s voice. Is he… jealous? The realization fills you with conflicting feelings of annoyance and arousal.

You can practically feel Shadowheart’s judgemental stare down from across campus. Possessiveness is not cute.

And yet…

There’s a thrill in the grip of his hand on your neck, the ice in his voice as he speaks to Dekarios, the flagrant PDA almost as if to say “This one’s mine.”

Maybe a conversation for your therapist later.

“Well, I'll leave you to it,” Astarion’s sharp voice breaks through your thoughts and you bring yourself back to the conversation. “Dr. Dekarios, always a pleasure. Darling,” his voice drops into a register that fills you with an intense heat. He pulls your chin up with his finger and plants a kiss on your lips that’s borderline inappropriate for being in public. It's certainly inappropriate for your workplace, but your head is too fuzzy to protest.

“I'll see you later,” he breathes and walks off. At minimum, he's left you flustered and embarrassed, but far worse than that, you are now insatiably horny. You press your legs together for some relief as you shake your head to clear it.

“I'm sorry,” you say to Dekarios, your cheeks unbearably hot. “I don't know why-”

“No worries at all,” he says, holding up a hand. “Far be it from me to get in the way of young love.”

“I don't know if I'd go so far to say love,” you murmur into your drink, but he seems to not hear you, or at least he pretends not to.

“Anyway, where were we?” Your voice returns to full volume as you try to expel the x-rated thoughts running through your head.

Your conversation with Dekarios - well, Gale, he insists - is delightful, in spite of Astarion’s peacocking. He's wonderfully knowledgeable about bardic magic, something you've always wanted to learn more about but struggle to find the time. Meanwhile, you're able to provide the cultural context and connections that are completely unfamiliar to him.

You eventually realize just how much you've lost track of the time.

“Oh gods, I need to go, I have to grab something from the library before it closes,” you say in a rush, picking up your bag.

“My apologies! I've monopolized your time, completely unthinkingly.”

“No worries, I enjoyed our conversation. And I will definitely check out that podcast that you mentioned. Remind me of the name?” You throw away your and Gale’s long empty cups.

“If Books Could Kill. Wonderfully informative, and the hosts are enchanting and amusing.”

You nod and mentally file it away for later.

“Great, yeah, I'll look into it. Thank you for a lovely conversation, we’ll chat again soon.” You wave as you scurry in the direction of the library.

***

You make it to the library about 20 minutes before it closes. You dash up to the third floor and make a beeline for the 800s.

You're scanning through the book titles when suddenly you smell that telltale combination of bergamot and rosemary. Before you can move, he’s pressed into your back, his hands tight on your waist and lips on your neck. You exhale in a long shudder and bite your knuckle to stay quiet.

“Astarion, what the fuck?” you accuse in a sharp whisper. You're fairly certain the floor is empty this late in the day, but you'd rather not take your chances. You grip the shelf as he pushes you into it and try desperately to suppress the moan threatening to tear from your throat. He breaks from his assault on your neck just long enough to put his lips to your ear.

“I don't like the way he looked at you,” he growls and reaches his hand around to grab your breast. You gasp and find yourself grinding into him despite your best judgment. It's like all logic evaporates when you're around him.

“I can talk to whoever I want, Astar- ah-” you manage to keep your voice steady until his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your skirt. You can feel his length along the cleft of your ass and you catch the whimper on your tongue.

“Of course you can, I wouldn't dream of stopping you.” His voice is a honeyed poison and his hand continues its journey south, sliding through the hair on your mound. “Just as I can be jealous of whomever I please.” He slips a finger into your folds and your hips buck into his hand.

“We- hnng- we can't do this here,” you pant even as your grip on his arm tightens, pulling him more into you.

“We can if you're quiet,” he breathes and runs a slick finger over your clit. You let out a high-pitched squeak that may have been mistaken for a mouse by someone wearing headphones. Maybe. He roughly pulls away and spins you around so your back is pressing into the shelves behind you. He hikes up your skirt and pushes his growing bulge into your core. He swallows your moan with a heated kiss and you grasp at the collar of his clean white suit. Which, given the way he’s grinding against your now drenched panties, might not be clean for much longer.

“I've half a mind to bite you just so everyone knows you're mine,” he hisses into your neck and pulls your leg around his waist, giving him unfettered access to your cunt. You let out a cry and he slaps a hand over your mouth, turning the cry into a soft grunt. Your pussy clenches in anticipation, waiting to be filled by him.

“But we don't need them to catch us to find out, do we?” he snarls and you let out another muffled moan. Every controlling grab, every fierce growl, every possessive word turns you on more. You want to let yourself succumb, be consumed by him. A quiet voice in the back of your head tells you “No, this is wrong, he’s being an asshole, don't reward that behavior.” But there is a much, much louder voice that works its way out of your throat.

“Ffkkk, msstrnn.” His palm catches his name from your lips. One of your hands grips onto the shelf above you while the other slides down his front and fumbles awkwardly with his belt. His hand leaves your leg to help you unbuckle his pants and your ankle hooks around his thigh.

His cock springs free and your breath hitches to see its pink bulbous tip already leaking precum. Your voice gets high and needy, your breath coming out sharply through your nose. He grinds his now bare erection into the wet fabric covering your pussy and presses his cheek to yours so his lips are right on your ear.

“Would you like that? Do you want me to claim you as mine? Mark you so everyone knows who you belong to?” With every word you gasp and twist against him more wantonly, rolling your hips to increase the friction.

“Say it,” he rasps and pulls his hand away from your mouth. You gasp and the words tumble out of you in a breathy whisper.

“Yes, gods yes. Mark me. Make me yours,” you plea, gripping the shelves even more firmly so you can arch into him, indifferent to the pain of the books digging into your back.

“Good girl,” he grunts and clamps his hand back over your mouth just in time to catch the loud whine that his praise elicited. He yanks your panties aside and sinks into you, and your slick lets him easily slide up to the hilt. You tilt your pelvis forward to feel even more of him inside you.

He pounds into you with short rhythmic strokes, making the books on the shelves behind you shake. Each thrust lifts you off your toes slightly, your one foot stretched to stay on the floor while the other remains firmly wrapped around his hip.

His breathing grows ragged with the effort, his breath warm and wet on your shoulder. You tangle your hands into his hair, tugging on his curls as you guide his lips to your neck. He sinks his teeth into the marks that have been taking longer and longer to heal. He drinks deeply as you keen into his hand, and it doesn't take long for your blood to reach his cock, making it throb inside you.

The increase of sensation sends you rushing to the edge. Your arm curls tighter around his neck as the uneven pace of your jagged panting increases. You feel the familiar tightening in your core and your toes curl as heat and pleasure flood your body. You bite down on his hand as you're on the precipice and he unlatches from your neck. His feral growl, bloody mouth, and disheveled hair falling into his glasses send the orgasm rocketing through your body, and you feel him follow moments after. His dick pulses with seed and when he pulls out, you can feel it dripping down your leg.

The only sound in the library is the two of you trying to catch your breath, until, horrified, you hear a timid voice from a few stacks down.

“Um… the library will be closing in five minutes, please bring your books to the checkout counter.” You can hear little feet shuffle away followed by the door to the stairwell opening and slamming shut. You're silent for a moment longer before you both break into a fit of giggles.

***

You sit in your car in the university parking lot as you start and erase about a hundred different texts to Shadowheart. You're so conflicted that you don't even know what advice to ask for.

You finally settle on a simple, “I'm coming to your place. Open a bottle.”

339 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 11 months

Note

you’re killing me with all this angst!! 😭 any possible unrequited but happy ending with Eren when you have the time and will? Or just anything fluffy really, just to put a dinosaur print bandaid on all the broken hearts 😭

🎶 You've got my heart bursting at the seams, maybe you're the boy of my dreams. 🎶

Title: Dream Boy

Pairing: jock!Eren x shy!reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

cw: unrequited crush, fluff, college au

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Eren Jaeger for a while now. He’s the captain of your university’s swim team who also happens to be a fellow engineering major, like you. For months, you’ve admired from afar, letting yourself daydream about being his girlfriend. But that’s all it is: fantasy. Until one day, when you’re invited to a beach outing with friends, and he happens to be there too.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request, anon! Going with a common trope here, hope you don’t mind! I’ve always been a sucker for popular jock x shy nerd, so I hope you like this one! Also, fair warning, I have never surfed in my life, and I had to do some research on this, so major apologies if I got any of these details wrong, please don’t be mean to me LOL. Title is inspired by the song "Dream Boy" by Beach Bunny! Listen if you want to set the mood right. Divider credit to @/saradika.

With the weather getting warmer and the sun shining brighter, a trip to the beach sounds like the perfect idea to get away. Midterms just ended and finals are fast approaching in a few weeks. This is the only weekend when it makes sense to relax before you have to start the grind once more.

It’s your roommate, Sasha, who originally plans this little weekend getaway. When you’re not too busy studying, you’re hanging out with her. She’s become your closest friend since you first lived with her freshman year, always friendly and making the effort to include you in all her social affairs, even when you decline so often. Through her, you met Mikasa and Annie, who have been nothing but kind to you, despite having strong personalities. You’re excited to get to know them even better by going on this trip with them.

With Annie’s car packed with all of your belongings, the four of you set out on the hour-long journey. Mikasa offered her parent’s beach house to stay at which works out perfectly for broke college students. Using your meal plans, you collectively purchased enough snacks and beverages to last the next two nights. So far, everything is working out swimmingly.

You arrive to your destination, stoked to be spending the weekend with the beach as your backyard. Mikasa points out the other car parked in the driveway, groaning. “Oh no. Eren’s here. And he probably brought the rest of the boys.”

Sasha turns to face her. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“That’s his car. And those are their surfboards on the rack. They’re definitely here.”

Your roommate directs her question at you. “Are you okay with this?”

You smile, a little taken aback that you’ll be sharing a home with a few strangers, but fine overall. “Yeah, should be fun. By the way, who’s Eren?”

“Eren Jaeger, my brother.”

Upon hearing his full name, you do your best to swallow the strangled noise in your throat, playing it cool. Eren Jaeger? Captain of the school’s swim team? Fellow engineering student and your classmate for two of your current courses, three last semester? The guy you’ve had the hugest crush on since you first laid eyes on him freshmen year, when you used to live a floor above him? That Eren Jaeger?

“Oh, cool,” you say, totally not meaning it. Still, you have to keep your composure. Knowing this information has you feeling self-conscious. You didn’t pack your best clothes, under the impression this was just a girl’s trip. And you realize that he might see you in your swimsuit, which you’re horrified about. Internally, you’re freaking out, unprepared for this recent development. You contemplate calling a taxi, faking an illness to avoid any possible embarrassment you’ll display in front of him. Before you can, Sasha drags you into the house, both your bags in hand, announcing your arrival. “Eren! We know you’re in here!”

Mikasa and Annie follow, carrying the rest of the luggage with them, inspecting the house. “Hey, Jaeger. Get out here,” Annie demands.

He strolls in from one of the hallways, hair down, in a white t-shirt and basketball shorts, slides on his feet. Looking as cool and attractive as ever. You hide behind Sasha, cheeks already hot.

“What are you doing here?” he asks Mikasa, placing a hair tie between his lips, fingers running through his hair to put it up in a ponytail.

“Carla and Grisha said I could use the house for the weekend. What are you doing here?”

“Brought the boys to surf and chill. I guess I should have asked Mom and Dad first.” He shrugs, unfazed.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “You should have told me you were coming. I have guests.”

He glances at the rest of you. “So? It’s just Sasha and Annie. What’s the big deal?”

“My roommate’s here too!” Sasha mentions, stepping aside to reveal you. “And it’s weird sharing a house with boys!”

You give him a small wave, a weak grin on your face. “Hello.”

He steps towards you, squinting as if he’s studying you carefully. “Hey! It’s you!”

You blurt out a confused, “Huh?”

He says your full name, shocking you further, before he continues. “You’re in my class. Physics and Materials Science, right?”

You’re surprised that he recognizes you, that he even knows your name. Up until this point, you were convinced that you were invisible to him. You nod, momentarily speechless when he smiles at you. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. We can leave if you want us to.”

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Annie comments, crossing her arms over her chest.

Before anyone else can speak, you say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to leave.” If you’re going to grow up and move on from this crush, you can’t chicken out on things like this. And besides, you don’t want to be the one person who ruins all the fun.

“Are you sure? It’s not a big deal. It’s just an hour drive. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. The more the merrier, right?”

He grins. “As long as you’re okay with this.”

Mikasa, on the other hand, says, “Well, what if I’m not okay with this.”

“Fine. Then you be the one to kick out Jean. He was really looking forward to surfing today.” At the mention of that name, Mikasa blushes, not responding. The rest of you girls have an idea about Mikasa’s crush on Jean, so it’s not surprising when she doesn’t pester Eren anymore. Even Annie’s eyes light up when Armin comes out of one of the rooms, greeting you.

After settling in, everyone gathers in the living room, planning what to do next. Collectively, you agree to head outside to relax on the beach while the boys surf. You try to contain your excitement at seeing Eren in a skin-tight body suit, holding onto the giant board, hair tied in a messy bun like a male model for Billabong.

You lay towels and blankets all around the sand, setting up umbrellas to block out the blistering sun. Annie dumps all the snacks in the middle, while the four of you stretch out comfortably. You hide yourself under a towel, self-conscious about in a bathing suit in front of Eren, who probably doesn’t notice anyways.

Sasha plays music on her Bluetooth speaker while you and Mikasa open your books, reading. Annie watches a movie on her phone, headphones plugged in. An hour later, Eren comes running up from the shore, dripping with ocean water, hair matted, still gorgeous. He glances at you first, flashing his brilliant smile. “Hey, do you want to try?” He knocks his fist against the surfboard, waiting for your answer.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll be good at it. In fact, I think I’ll be very, very bad at it,” you admit.

“It’s okay. I can just show you how to sit on it. We won’t actually ride the big waves. You know how to swim, right?”

You nod, placing your book in your bag. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up, especially since it means quality time with him. However, you can’t help but feel nervous, expecting to make a fool of yourself. Sasha encourages you. “You should go try it! It’ll be fun.”

Mikasa adds, “Yeah, Eren is surprisingly a good teacher.”

Convinced, you stand up, hesitantly letting the towel fall to expose yourself in your swimsuit. You avoid his gaze, too flustered worrying about what he thinks of you. He leads the way to the shore, you following close behind him. The rest of the guys sit on the sand next to their boards, chatting. When they see you, they wave, giving you some motivating thumbs up.

Eren turns to face you, pausing. “First, you have to attach the leash.” He squats down, hands near your foot, peering up at you. “Do you mind?”

Unaware of what the leash even is, you remain calm, trying to ignore your excitement with him this close to your bare skin. “Go ahead.”

He wraps the Velcro around your ankle, fingers brushing against you delicately. He readjusts it three times, asking on the third, “Is this too tight?”

“No,” you answer, still staring out towards the sea, unable to meet his gaze.

He stands back up to explain the basics of surfing. It’s all too much to retain in a short amount of time, but you listen and appreciate how well he describes each step, memorizing the most important details.

“We should practice getting on the board first before we enter,” he suggests, placing it flat on the sand, beckoning you to get on it. “Just lay on it, face down, and get used to how it feels against your body.” You get down, pressing your stomach to the deck, gripping to the sides.

“Good job.” He squats again, level with you. “Once we’re in the water, you’re gonna want to move fast. You have to push the board forward against the force of the waves, then quickly hop on. It might be a little tough, but I know you can do it. The waves are strong, so if you can’t get the timing right, make sure you lift your board up with the peak and hold on tight, so that you don’t get dragged with it.”

You nod, getting increasingly anxious. With the information locked in your brain, you follow Eren into the ocean, board floating steadily on the surface, your hand on the center. He isn’t exaggerating; the waves are intense, even the tiny ones close to shore. Once you are waist deep, Eren, who’s farther away from you now, turns up the volume of his voice louder, cupping one hand around his mouth, the other pointing to the incoming wave. “It’s coming!”

It approaches fast, almost too quickly. Before you know it, the force drags you backwards, falling in. Wet from head to toe now, you resurface, grabbing the board to reposition yourself, grasping both the tail and the deck, remembering his instructions from earlier.

“Are you okay?” he yells out, concerned.

“Yeah!” you respond, preparing for the next one. With more determination and confidence, you push forward, hopping on successfully when the wave rushes in.

“Great job!” he exclaims from behind you. Your chest swells with adrenaline and pride. There’s no time to waste as the next wave approaches. The next task is to straddle. You get in a push-up pose, grasping the side rails. It’s not enough though; it slides out from under you, knocking you back, a stream of salty water flushing your nose causing you to choke momentarily. Eren ruses over as fast as he can, waddling in the water, worried. “Are you okay?”

You laugh, an electrifying buzz coursing through your body. “Yeah! Let me try again.”

He smiles brightly, amused by your resolve. “Okay. Hold on really tight and make sure to slide the board slightly forward as you sit up.”

It takes you a couple more tries, salt water now burning your nose and throat, until you finally manage to straddle the board. You raise your fists in the air, turning your neck to face him. “I did it!”

Beaming, mimicking your celebratory gesture, he happily yells, “You did!” When the waves come, you and the board flow with it, bobbing up and down on the water. After minutes of struggling, covered in sweat, dripping with ocean water, you finally feel at peace. You enjoy riding a few more waves, dehydration slowly sinking in, surely from all the salt you’ve unintentionally swallowed. You glance at Eren, who’s watching you from a short distance away. “I think I’m good for the day! I need some water.”

He walks over, standing next to you. “Oh yeah, definitely. Great job, by the way. That was awesome seeing you like that.” He pats you gently on your knee, grinning.

You giggle. “Thank you. So, uh, how do I get off this thing?”

“Well, this is going to the last thing I teach you, okay? You’re going to paddle out and towards the shore. Think you can do it?”

With whatever leftover determination you have, you nod, leaning your chest down to the board. He helps you readjust yourself so that you’re facing the sands. “The wave is coming! Get ready to paddle!”

Like a dog trying to swim, you flail your arms as if your life depends on it, successfully riding the wave until it comes to a stop on the shore. Armin, Connie, and Jean, witnessing this still sat in the same spot, cheer. When you stand up, your equilibrium is all off, losing balance. Luckily, Eren runs up to catch you, steadying you. “That was awesome. You did so good!”

Catching your breath, tired from all the physical exertion and adrenaline, you breathe out, “Thank you,” giving him a weak smile. The two of you walk to the rest of your friends, Eren’s hand on your back, in case you lose balance again. As you approach the girls, they applaud, beaming with joy.

“That was epic!” Sasha exclaims, handing you a water bottle.

Suddenly, he’s gripping your shoulders, squeezing affectionately. “She’s the best. Never gave up, totally committed.” He turns his head to look at you, voice lower, speaking directly to you. “You were really great out there. I mean it. I never doubted you for a second. You’re the smartest person in class, so I knew this would be a piece of cake for you.”

His last statement almost leaves you speechless. Voice trembling from exhaustion and his kind words, you reply, “Thank you. You’re a really great teacher.”

He gazes at you, seemingly forever, sliding his hands down to your elbows, lingering for just a moment longer until he lets you go. Clearing his throat, he announces, “I’m going to catch a few more waves with the guys. I’ll see y’all later.” Is it your imagination or is there a slight blush on his cheeks? It’s most likely from the sun, so you disregard it, not wanting to get your hopes up.

You spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing beside your friends, like you had originally planned. The novel you started earlier is open in your hands, your mind definitely not focused on the words. Instead, you daydream about Eren, relishing what just occurred. All those times in class, fantasizing about different scenarios with him, always convinced that nothing would ever happen. Now, you can’t help letting your imagination run rampant. Still, when you all pack up to take the short trip back to the house, you let those fantasies disappear. There’s no way he feels anything for you beyond friendship. And you’ll just have to live with that.

Later in the night, with everyone sun-kissed and clean from beach residue, you collectively decide to get cozy in your pajamas. Mikasa ignites the fire pit out on the balcony, perfect for the cool breeze. When four boxes of pizza are delivered, the eight of you huddle around the flames, enjoying the meal as you laugh at the stories being shared. Connie tells a hilarious tale about him and Jean streaking in the dead of night for a dare that resulting in almost exposing themselves to the university’s president. Annie mentions her roommate, Hitch, and how she slapped a creeper at a frat party, who wouldn’t stop annoying her. Sasha asks for advice on how to approach her crush, Nicolo, the young chef at the campus cafeteria who makes her breakfast burritos especially tasty.

After a while, Eren suggests, “How about some s’mores? I brought the ingredients to make them. What do you say?”

Everyone hums in agreement. He directs his attention to you. “Can you help me in the kitchen?”

You obliged, surprised that he chose you specifically. Following him, you slide the door closed, quiet inside the house except for the muffled voices of your friends outside. In the kitchen, he reaches up for one of the cabinets, grabbing two bags of marshmallows, two big bricks of chocolate, and a box of graham crackers. In another drawer, he retrieves metal sticks to roast the marshmallows. In the meantime, you search for a large baking tray, eventually retrieving it from the oven. “Maybe we can set everything up on here so that It’s easier.”

He smiles at you. “Good idea.”

At the counter, you start unwrapping the chocolate, breaking them into sectioned pieces. Eren does the same with the graham crackers, the two of you working beside each other in a comfortable silence. Halfway through, he asks, “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun! Thank you again. I really had a blast.”

“I did too. It was a lot of fun hanging out with you today.”

“Maybe next time, I can actually learn how to surf for real,” you say, not thinking anything of it.

He leans closer to you, arm brushing yours as you lay out the chocolate on the pan. “Yeah, next time.”

It’s silent again. You finish the chocolate, washing your hands clean to move on to the marshmallows. One bag in your hand, the other in Eren’s. “So, um, do you have a boyfriend or something?”

This catches you off guard. “No, I don’t.”

“Cool, cool, cool. I’m single too. In case you were wondering.” You’ve never heard this type of nervous energy in his voice before. It’s unusual to hear him like this. You’re unsure how to respond, unprepared for where this conversation is possibly heading.

“Well, if you ever need someone to study with, I’m always available. The season is over, and I get tired of my teammates sometimes,” he says with a laugh.

“Do you want to study with me?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“I’d like to do a lot of things with you, actually.” There’s an undeniable blush on his cheeks as he pours the remaining marshmallows onto the tray. This can’t be just a sunburn, can it?

Butterflies flutter in your belly. You look at him, smiling. You can’t chicken out now. Not when he’s giving you this chance, this opportunity. You need to go for it. “Can I be honest with you?”

He faces you, eager. “Of course.”

Sucking in a deep breath for this leap of faith, you confess. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you ever since freshman year.”

His smile widens, brilliant teeth on display. “What? When we used to live at Reiss?”

“You remember?” Your mouth hangs open, shocked that he recalls living in the same dorm as you.

“Yeah, I do,” he answers. “You’re a hard one to forget.”

“I thought I was invisible.”

He shifts closer, tipping his head to meet your eyes. “Not to me.”

You face him, understanding that he’s always noticed you. He leans forward, lips inches from yours. “Can I be honest with you, too?” You nod, desperate to hear what he has to say.

Even closer now, lips grazing your ear, breath ticklish on your skin, he whispers, “I really like you. I’ve always been too nervous to do anything. I thought you’d only see me as a dumb jock.”

Immediately, you pull back, replying, “Never! I never thought that of you! I think you’re so smart.”

He laughs, eyes crinkled with admiration. “I think you’re so smart, too. And really, really cute.”

You stare at each other for a moment, wishing this would last forever. Wanting to pinch yourself to confirm this is real.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” The pink hue on his cheeks gradually turns into a red.

A little too eager, you respond, “Yes!”, resulting in him giggling again, pressing his forehead to yours. The contact sets your skin on fire, body tingling with a different type of adrenaline than from earlier. With your eyes shut, you close the gap, lips brushing seamlessly into a delicate kiss. His hand slides behind your neck, sending you shivers as he pulls you in closer.

Suddenly, there’s loud banging on the sliding door, startling you two apart. Mikasa and Annie have their fists on the glass, yelling out something incoherent, Armin tugging on their sleeves in an attempt to stop them. Connie, Jean, and Sasha holler with huge grins on their faces.

Eren laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you respond, smiling at him.

You gaze at each other for another couple of seconds, cherishing this special moment before returning outside to your friends, carrying the goods. They all talk at once, hyped about what they just witnessed, berating you with loads of questions and advice. You and Eren sit beside each other, politely redirecting each inquiry and comment until your friends get tired of non-answers, eventually changing the subject. He lays out a warm blanket for the both of you, legs covered, knees touching while everyone begins to roast their marshmallows.

By the time the s’mores are completely assembled, mouths sticky and full of ooey-gooey sweetness, you and Eren munch on your treats happily, holding hands beneath the blanket.

#eren jaeger #eren aot #eren yeager #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren fluff #aot fluff #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fluff #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger fluff #eren jeager x y/n #snk eren #snk fluff #attack on titan

469 notes · View notes

melodygatesauthor · 11 months

Text

Extra Credit

Professor Steven Grant X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - Requested by Anon - NOT in the ABD fanonverse

Kinks - Size Difference + Deep Throating

Summary

You got a bad grade on your history paper and need your professor to fix that for you.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, deep throating, size difference, reader is smol, age gap (reader is college age, Steven is 38), transactional sex, gagging, swallowing cum, Steven's a little rough, Steven's a tad OOC, rough oral sex, face fucking

Word Count: 968

“I can’t accept this grade.” You said, looking down at the big red ‘F’ on your paper about the mummification process.

You’d slammed it on your professor’s desk. Dr. Grant looked up at you over his glasses, clearly having been unprepared for your sudden barging into his office. His lips were slightly parted while he looked at you in surprise.

“You clearly didn’t do the assignment. I mean, I ran this through the program we have and it was very obviously plagiarized. You’re lucky I didn’t report you and have you expelled.” He took his glasses off and put them down on the desk.

“I can’t flunk this class, I suck at history and I need this grade, please,” you looked at him pleadingly. “I’ll do anything.”

Dr. Grant gulped, neck bobbing as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to your chest where you were unbuttoning the top three buttons of your blouse. His eyes went wide and you watched him tug at his collar as though it were sweltering hot in the room. You didn’t wait for him to answer, you just slid around the corner of the desk and stood in front of him.

“What do you say?”

He turned his rolling chair to face you, legs spread out. You could see the shadow of his erection already testing the seam of his pants. He still stayed silent, as though not saying he wanted it would relieve him of guilt if you did do anything together. You didn’t wait for an answer, and lowered yourself to the ground on your knees. Using both hands, you started at his knees, dragging your palms up the smooth fabric of his slacks before sliding your right hand over his bulge.

“Y-y’know this isn’t allowed, I could lose my job you could-”

“Sh, no one has to know. You fix my grade, and I’ll fix your…problem,” you grabbed the waist of his pants and started working on his button.

“B-but you can’t…oh god.”

You pulled his cock out through the fly of his boxer-briefs and gasped at the sheer size of it. Dr. Grant was bigger than you in every way, and this was no exception. You couldn’t even fit your small hand around the width of this girth. It felt deliciously heavy in your hand. You looked up at him when he gently brushed his thumb over your cheek.

“Don’t think you’ll be able to fit the whole thing love, d’you?” He bit his lip and furrowed his brow while he looked down at you.

“Gonna try,” you murmured, pressing your lips to the underside of his bulbous tip.

He whined, shifting in his chair slightly. You stuck out your tongue, flattening it at the base where his balls meet the shaft and then dragging it up to the head. Dr. Grant let go of your cheek and grabbed both arms of the chair. It creaked under the pressure. You weren’t even really doing anything yet. You started to wonder when the last time he’d had any action was.

You opened your mouth, bringing the fat head of his cock past your lips and feeling the satisfying way he stretched your mouth out. You lowered yourself as far as you could go until you felt his length hit the back of your throat. You came back up for air, breathing deeply, chest heaving.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want me to fix that grade darling.” You wondered what made him change his mind so suddenly, you wondered if it felt that good to have his student gagging over him.

It did feel that good to him. His entire body shook when you brought your mouth back down over him. Your tongue was warm as it lapped over his cock and you bobbed up and down. You were so sloppy with it, getting a mixture of spit and precum all over his length. After a moment, when you tried to pick yourself back off of it, Steven cupped the back of your head to keep you there. You tried to come up more for air but he held you in place.

“Stay right there please, oh-shit-that’s-oh,” he started thrusting himself into your throat, and you tried to breathe through your nose.

You let the muscles of your throat relax around him, feeling his length go down into your esophagus and stretching you out. You looked up at him through the blur of your teary eyes. His gaze was so dark and intense. He was biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed.

“God your little mouth looks so pretty stretchin’ out around me love. Look how beautiful you are, cryin’ all cause of me. Makin’ a right mess out of you aren’t I? Fuckin’ hell-you-feel-so-ah.”

He held on tight now with both hands, thrusting himself into you so hard that you felt your nose start running. You were crying uncontrollably, but if this is what you needed to do to get a good grade, you were willing to do it. You couldn’t afford to flunk that class.

“Gonna feed you a mouthful love, are you ready? Gonna fill your little tummy-and-gonna-oh-shittt-”

He held your face down over his entire length, shooting hot ropes right down your throat. His thick cock throbbed, stretching you further until finally he was spent. He fell back into his chair in a huff, releasing your head. You gasped for air, holding your hand to your chest. When you both finally were able to collect yourself he nodded and waved you off.

“I’ll have a new grade f’you tomorrow alright? Keep up the good work and…I think you’ll do just fine in my class.”

You nodded eagerly as you headed for the door, “okay, whatever you need Dr. Grant.”

----

Steven Grant Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

Melody's 1k Celebration Masterlist

Melody's 1k Celebration Post

#steven grant fiction #steven grant headcanon #steven grant fic #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant smut #moon knight drabble #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight #professor steven grant ai #professor steven grant #professor!steven grant

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

WIBTA for getting a total permanent disability discharge on my loan and leaving my cosigner father fully responsible ?

background: in fall 2020 I started college. not directly out of high school because of mental and physical health problems but a year later. this was community college, but I was very financially unprepared. i honestly didn’t know anything about how student loans or paying for college worked. but the year I spent at home was very stressful as my parents always told me “get a job, go to school, or move out” and all options were extremely difficult for me physically and mentally. I tried to explain this to them for years but they never really listened so I felt backed into a corner. We are also not very well off and my parents have never been able to set aside a “college fund” for any of us and expect us to financially handle ourselves, because there wasn’t much other choice. I got some federal loans and some grants but it ended up not being enough, and I didn’t realize that until halfway into my first semester. I spent a lot of time panicking, feeling suicidal, really unsure what to do and didn’t really know where to even start resolving the situation, all exacerbated by a severe untreated anxiety disorder. Eventually my dad agreed to cosign an $8k private loan. Fast forward to fall 2021 and I had to drop out, because of financial, medical and emotional reasons. I once again (due to a different mistake) didn’t have the funds to continue the semester and this time we absolutely could not afford another loan. In January 2022, my disabilities became more severe and now I could not attend school even if I had the means, let alone participate in gainful employment. Federal loans were on pause but that did not apply to the $8k loan, which is now over $10k due to interest. It has absolutely made my familys financial situation worse and made me suicidal. I am applying for SSI but always knowing i’ll have this massive loan hanging over my head makes life feel not worth living. if I didn’t have this loan (and if my federal TPD gets accepted) I would feel a massive weight lifted off my shoulders. I don’t know if I gain much from taking this loan I cannot pay and putting it solely on my fathers shoulders will help anything…but it does make the end of the tunnel look a little brighter. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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thelightsandtheroses · 2 months

Text

there's art to life's distraction | marcus pike x female reader

Summary: A meet cute on Valentine’s Day? That only happens in the movies, doesn’t it? Word count: 1564 Warnings: mentions of wine and canapes. Otherwise this is just slightly anxious meet cute fluff! Pairing: Marcus Pike x female reader Notes: Hi @burntheedges, here is your gift for the Space Sisters valentine's gift exchange.I hope you don’t mind me trying Marcus P for the first time. I saw him on your prompt list and meet cutes and couldn’t resist. I so hope you love this meet cute which had to be set on Valentine's for the extra vibes 💕 The title is from Hozier's Someone New because I saw some hozier lyrics on your blog bio and wanted to make a little link to that.

You meet him at an art opening. It was a personal goal to attend the gallery, expanding your cultural knowledge; self-development or something like that. It might have been because more that you hadn’t left the house except for work or groceries in weeks and you were easily seduced by warm white wine and free canapés.

The canapés were actually pretty good.

It feels less cliched than sitting alone in your apartment on Valentine’s once again, or better than some terribly organised ‘singles’ night’. Why shouldn’t you go out and spend some time appreciating art just because it’s Valentine’s Day? You weren’t meant to be on your own for this, but your friend now is working late, your other friends are all with their partners and so here you are.

You’re okay with this though. You can be cultured and sip your … well, you’re not quite sure it’s legally classifiable as wine.

It’s a mistake, this evening is a mistake.

This isn’t a nice simple introductory art gallery. This is beyond Avant Garde or a modern exhibition. This is highly experimental and bold. Apparently, it has a reputation for this, one you didn’t know about before seeing the flyer. It’s a baptism of fire and you suddenly feel so unprepared.

You’re surrounded by couples, or by art students analysing each work carefully, and your loneliness feels starker than ever. You’re not sure if you’re analysing the works correctly, but it’s all about feeling anyway, right?

You’re here though and this is meant to about broadening your horizons, appreciating art. Maybe you should have eased into this though - gone to the National Gallery of Art or Portrait Gallery, rather than straight into this.

You can do this. You’ve got this.

You move to a quieter corner of the gallery and carefully try to analyse what a particularly obtuse modern installation could mean.

Five minutes and you can go home. You’ll even treat yourself to a coffee, you think.

“Interesting,” you mumble to yourself.

“How so?” a low voice asks behind you.

You turn around. The man is good looking, there’s no denying that. He’s all deep, dark eyes and stubble, wearing a smart coat over what looks like his work suit.

There’s a warmth that radiates around him, something that makes you want to answer him, rather than ignore him and move on.

“Uh, well -” Shit, what if he’s the artist? “It’s very blue.”

“Blue?”

“Yuh huh.” You have a fucking postgraduate degree and all you can think is it’s very blue? You curse yourself inwardly. Maybe, just maybe you should have taken that art theory class in college instead of introduction to media.

Or perhaps you shouldn’t be so distracted by the good-looking man beside you.

“I see.” There’s a devilish twinkle in his eye, one that draws you in immediately.

“What’s your take then?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s really, really blue,” he replies, deadpan and without meaning to, you feel your mouth twitch, the hint of a laugh or a smile teeters.

He looks cute when he smiles.

“Well, I was onto something there clearly.”

“It’s uh, got some feeling though. Sad but hopeful. That’s my take.”

You look at the painting again. “It’s raw. Very blue, but raw.”

“Exactly.”

“Actually, I think it’s kind of pretentious.”

“Hmm, that too,” he says with a smile.

“Oh no, you’re not the artist, are you?” you ask, horror dawning on you. Why did you have to add that? Of course it’s pretentious, it’s an art gallery in DC.

“No, no, not at all I just - I like art. All art really. I think there’s something special in capturing a moment, or a feeling, or - it’s real.”

“I can understand that. I’m not really I’m much of an art expert but that’s how I feel about music.”

“Exactly.”

You don’t want to let this fleeting moment go. You want to hold on to it just a little longer, a little tight.

It’s Valentines and you’re surrounded by couples and here’s this very attractive, well put together man talking art with you and he’s not being sleazy or weird, but he seems genuinely interested in talking to you.

“So, what do you think of this one then?” you ask, moving to the next painting.

“Ooof, where do we start?” the stranger jokes.

“You’re not the artist on any of these, are you?”

“Nope, and I don’t know any of the artists, so don’t worry about my feelings. You can tell me just how blue something is. Or pretentious.”

“I think the second thing is almost taken for granted at a gallery like this.”

“How did you hear about this place then?”

“I pass it on my way home and I uh, work - I like art.”

You haven’t missed his correction and immediately ask, “Collector or historian?”

“Neither.” There’s a twinkle in his eye that implies he’s certain you won’t guess his profession.

“Appraiser?”

“Nope.”

“Critic?” you ask sceptically.

He laughs at that one. “No.”

“Aha? I know, art fraudster.”

“So close, but so far.”

“Oof, mystery man then. So mystery art lover, do you have a name?”

Who are you right now? You never act this bold, never initiate flirting like this, there’s something about him though. He makes you feel at ease, calm and reassured. It’s novel, especially considering he’s a stranger.

“Marcus,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you say before you share your name in response almost automatically, noticing the way it sounds on his lips as he repeats it back.

His smooth voice fills your stomach with butterflies, a tingling hint of desire surfaces on hearing him say your name. You think about what it would sound like outside of the art gallery, outside of this context, with him closer so you can smell that heady cologne more or have him whisper.

“So what bought you here?” he asks.

“I saw the flyer earlier in the week and it seemed like fun, or at least a better way to spend an evening.” You take a sip of the wine and wince slightly.

“That was until you tried the wine, huh?”

“The canapés really implied it would be better wine.”

“That’s how they suck you in.”

You both laugh and are immediately glared at by another patron. Marcus’ smile is magnetic though and you find yourself not feeling embarrassed.

“Would you - would you like to get a cup of coffee? If you’re finished here, of course,” he asks. “There’s a decent coffee shop around the corner and we could uh, finish our conversation? Only if you want.”

“Sure.” You get to hold on to this moment for just a little longer.

The air outside is cool but not overtly . The night has reached that moment where it’s dark but not menacing while the streetlights gleam around you. You walk side by side, your fingers very occasionally brushing as you feel the featherlight hint of his fingers against your own as you turn a corner. You brush against his coat, catch a lingering hint of a woody cologne that immediately entices you closer.

“I want to get more into art,” you admit. “It’s not something I’ve necessarily prioritised before. I mean, we’re in DC and there are amazing galleries and museums.”

“But you dived right into one of the most experimental galleries in DC?” he asks with a smile.

“I believe it’s important to immerse yourself fully,” you lie smoothly.

He coughs, suppressing a chortle. “I can respect that. There are some amazing galleries in this city to explore though. It’s one of the reasons that I like that I moved here.”

“Where were you before?”

“New York.” You don’t need an art or a psychology degree to notice the way his face shifts; how his lips tilt slightly downward, eyes avoid you. There’s a story there.

“I’ve never been,” you admit and then change the subject, sensing his unease. “What are the other reasons?”

“Coffee and we’re here,” he says lightly, indicating a small hole-in-the-wall cafe just ahead of you both. There are no fussy or brash valentine’s decorations and while you notice a couple of couples inside, it doesn’t feel as high pressure as another cafe or restaurant would.

Five minutes later, you’re both perched at a small table with steaming, hot cups in front of you.

“At least we can talk here without any glares,” you say.

“Ooh, yeah, you don’t want to mess with artists or art students. Trust me.”

The conversation flows naturally; music you like, books you’ve read and it feels like you’ve known Marcus so much longer.

There’s no pressure, no impending sense of alarm or panic. It feels right. Sitting here with Marcus feels like where you need to be now and like you’ve known him for years.

It’s shaping up for more than friendship. There’s a fission, a flare of desire and sweet anticipation.

It’s you who suggests a real date, to your own surprise. You love the way he responds, the way his eyes light up and brighten, the crinkle of his brow, the smile that feels so sincere.

“You beat me to it,” he says softly, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to go to the art opening alone on Valentine’s Day, you think. Maybe, just maybe, it was kismet.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader #SpaceSistersSecretValentine

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someone-will-remember-us · 16 days

Text

Westfield Public Schools held a regular board meeting in late March at the local high school, a red brick complex in Westfield, N.J., with a scoreboard outside proudly welcoming visitors to the “Home of the Blue Devils” sports teams.

But it was not business as usual for Dorota Mani.

In October, some 10th-grade girls at Westfield High School — including Ms. Mani’s 14-year-old daughter, Francesca — alerted administrators that boys in their class had used artificial intelligence software to fabricate sexually explicit images of them and were circulating the faked pictures. Five months later, the Manis and other families say, the district has done little to publicly address the doctored images or update school policies to hinder exploitative A.I. use.

“It seems as though the Westfield High School administration and the district are engaging in a master class of making this incident vanish into thin air,” Ms. Mani, the founder of a local preschool, admonished board members during the meeting.

In a statement, the school district said it had opened an “immediate investigation” upon learning about the incident, had immediately notified and consulted with the police, and had provided group counseling to the sophomore class.

“All school districts are grappling with the challenges and impact of artificial intelligence and other technology available to students at any time and anywhere,” Raymond González, the superintendent of Westfield Public Schools, said in the statement.

Blindsided last year by the sudden popularity of A.I.-powered chatbots like ChatGPT, schools across the United States scurried to contain the text-generating bots in an effort to forestall student cheating. Now a more alarming A.I. image-generating phenomenon is shaking schools.

Boys in several states have used widely available “nudification” apps to pervert real, identifiable photos of their clothed female classmates, shown attending events like school proms, into graphic, convincing-looking images of the girls with exposed A.I.-generated breasts and genitalia. In some cases, boys shared the faked images in the school lunchroom, on the school bus or through group chats on platforms like Snapchat and Instagram, according to school and police reports.

Such digitally altered images — known as “deepfakes” or “deepnudes” — can have devastating consequences. Child sexual exploitation experts say the use of nonconsensual, A.I.-generated images to harass, humiliate and bully young women can harm their mental health, reputations and physical safety as well as pose risks to their college and career prospects. Last month, the Federal Bureau of Investigation warned that it is illegal to distribute computer-generated child sexual abuse material, including realistic-looking A.I.-generated images of identifiable minors engaging in sexually explicit conduct.

Yet the student use of exploitative A.I. apps in schools is so new that some districts seem less prepared to address it than others. That can make safeguards precarious for students.

“This phenomenon has come on very suddenly and may be catching a lot of school districts unprepared and unsure what to do,” said Riana Pfefferkorn, a research scholar at the Stanford Internet Observatory, who writes about legal issues related to computer-generated child sexual abuse imagery.

At Issaquah High School near Seattle last fall, a police detective investigating complaints from parents about explicit A.I.-generated images of their 14- and 15-year-old daughters asked an assistant principal why the school had not reported the incident to the police, according to a report from the Issaquah Police Department. The school official then asked “what was she supposed to report,” the police document said, prompting the detective to inform her that schools are required by law to report sexual abuse, including possible child sexual abuse material. The school subsequently reported the incident to Child Protective Services, the police report said. (The New York Times obtained the police report through a public-records request.)

In a statement, the Issaquah School District said it had talked with students, families and the police as part of its investigation into the deepfakes. The district also “shared our empathy,” the statement said, and provided support to students who were affected.

The statement added that the district had reported the “fake, artificial-intelligence-generated images to Child Protective Services out of an abundance of caution,” noting that “per our legal team, we are not required to report fake images to the police.”

At Beverly Vista Middle School in Beverly Hills, Calif., administrators contacted the police in February after learning that five boys had created and shared A.I.-generated explicit images of female classmates. Two weeks later, the school board approved the expulsion of five students, according to district documents. (The district said California’s education code prohibited it from confirming whether the expelled students were the students who had manufactured the images.)

Michael Bregy, superintendent of the Beverly Hills Unified School District, said he and other school leaders wanted to set a national precedent that schools must not permit pupils to create and circulate sexually explicit images of their peers.

“That’s extreme bullying when it comes to schools,” Dr. Bregy said, noting that the explicit images were “disturbing and violative” to girls and their families. “It’s something we will absolutely not tolerate here.”

Schools in the small, affluent communities of Beverly Hills and Westfield were among the first to publicly acknowledge deepfake incidents. The details of the cases — described in district communications with parents, school board meetings, legislative hearings and court filings — illustrate the variability of school responses.

The Westfield incident began last summer when a male high school student asked to friend a 15-year-old female classmate on Instagram who had a private account, according to a lawsuit against the boy and his parents brought by the young woman and her family. (The Manis said they are not involved with the lawsuit.)

After she accepted the request, the male student copied photos of her and several other female schoolmates from their social media accounts, court documents say. Then he used an A.I. app to fabricate sexually explicit, “fully identifiable” images of the girls and shared them with schoolmates via a Snapchat group, court documents say.

Westfield High began to investigate in late October. While administrators quietly took some boys aside to question them, Francesca Mani said, they called her and other 10th-grade girls who had been subjected to the deepfakes to the school office by announcing their names over the school intercom.

That week, Mary Asfendis, the principal of Westfield High, sent an email to parents alerting them to “a situation that resulted in widespread misinformation.” The email went on to describe the deepfakes as a “very serious incident.” It also said that, despite student concern about possible image-sharing, the school believed that “any created images have been deleted and are not being circulated.”

Dorota Mani said Westfield administrators had told her that the district suspended the male student accused of fabricating the images for one or two days.

Soon after, she and her daughter began publicly speaking out about the incident, urging school districts, state lawmakers and Congress to enact laws and policies specifically prohibiting explicit deepfakes.

“We have to start updating our school policy,” Francesca Mani, now 15, said in a recent interview. “Because if the school had A.I. policies, then students like me would have been protected.”

Parents including Dorota Mani also lodged harassment complaints with Westfield High last fall over the explicit images. During the March meeting, however, Ms. Mani told school board members that the high school had yet to provide parents with an official report on the incident.

Westfield Public Schools said it could not comment on any disciplinary actions for reasons of student confidentiality. In a statement, Dr. González, the superintendent, said the district was strengthening its efforts “by educating our students and establishing clear guidelines to ensure that these new technologies are used responsibly.”

Beverly Hills schools have taken a stauncher public stance.

When administrators learned in February that eighth-grade boys at Beverly Vista Middle School had created explicit images of 12- and 13-year-old female classmates, they quickly sent a message — subject line: “Appalling Misuse of Artificial Intelligence” — to all district parents, staff, and middle and high school students. The message urged community members to share information with the school to help ensure that students’ “disturbing and inappropriate” use of A.I. “stops immediately.”

It also warned that the district was prepared to institute severe punishment. “Any student found to be creating, disseminating, or in possession of AI-generated images of this nature will face disciplinary actions,” including a recommendation for expulsion, the message said.

Dr. Bregy, the superintendent, said schools and lawmakers needed to act quickly because the abuse of A.I. was making students feel unsafe in schools.

“You hear a lot about physical safety in schools,” he said. “But what you’re not hearing about is this invasion of students’ personal, emotional safety.”

#radical feminism #radblr #radical feminist #radfem #terfblr #gender critical #radical feminist safe #terf safe #radfem safe

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

Note

Ghostlights as college roommates and maybe some identity shenanigans thrown in would be so fun! Maybe dannys doing a little vigilante work on the side as well to up the secret identity mayhem

Danny would like to say his college career is going well. Gotham isn’t where he was expecting to pursue higher education, but the engineering scholarship he got through the Wayne Educational Foundation was just too good to turn down. It even covered the cost of an apartment! Although, the apartment is shared with another student who got a Wayne scholarship.

Even with that, Danny lucked out and got a great roommate. Duke Thomas is chill, kind, respects Danny’s space and doesn’t throw wild parties or invite random people in at all hours of the day. He even joins Danny twice a week for study sessions!

Really, it would be the perfect college experience except for one thing: the ghosts.

Danny thought they’d stay in Amity Park. They had no reason to stray from the city where the portal was, and his parents are more than enough to keep most ghosts away. It took his friends, Jazz, and even Vlad to convince Danny that he wasn’t abandoning Amity Park and that the city wouldn’t fall while he took a few years to focus on himself.

He worried right up until he got to GCU and walked the campus for the first time. Then he decided to enjoy the four years he had on the scholarship to get his degree and live his own life like a normal person.

To say he’s pissed about the ghosts is an understatement.

The one thing he was looking forward to most is not being Phantom. Gotham is home to the Bats and they’re more than capable of handling everything in the city. It means there’s no need for him here and he can focus on school and enjoy going on invisible flights without worrying about being hunted down or having to fight a ghost.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as he feels the familiar chill race up his throat, A cold mist wafts out of his mouth, curling around his words, and Danny quickly ducks his head and hides it from sight.

“Did you say something?” Duke asks, looking up from where he leans against the kitchen counter, squinting at a recipe on his phone.

“Nah,” Danny lies. “Just stressing.” He gestures to the papers he has spread out on the dining table, then stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Maybe that’ll get my brain to work correctly tonight.”

“Got your phone on you?”

Danny reflexively drops a hand to his pocket, checking that his phone is where it’s supposed to be. It’s what Duke asks every single time Danny mentions going out, worried about Danny being unprepared for Gotham. It’s nice of him, though Danny does wish he can say that he’s survived a lot worse than a few muggers.

“Got it.”

“Alright. I’ll try to work on dinner while you’re out.”

Danny nods and offers Duke a small wave before pulling his shoes on at the door. He grabs his keys and heads out, double checking that the door is locked behind him.

Then he glances around the hallway, checking that the coast is clear, and pulls up the chill of awareness in his chest. Slowly, he breathes out, watching the blue mist waft out and lead towards the stairwell.

“Wonder who it is this time,” he mutters to himself, going into the cold, concrete stairwell. It always feels a little off in there, as if he’s been removed from the rest of the world when the door closes behind him. His footsteps echo oddly in the space, so Danny chooses to fly instead, keeping his feet off the floor.

A few flights down is when he sees her: pale and translucent, a faint blue glow around her. She’s a familiar face. Emilia is one of the first of Gotham’s ghosts he’s met, leading to the rather unpleasant realization that ghosts don’t only come from the Infinite Realms. There’s a strange sort of magic in the very foundations of Gotham that makes it the way it is, creating ghosts that are different enough from what he’s used to that it leaves him off balance.

Gotham keeps her dead. Few get to pass on peacefully, and most have to wait until they grow weak and wither away, a second death, before they can be released from the living realm. The ghosts of Gotham are pale and weak, for the most part, and try to cling to him so grow stronger from his ectoplasm.

Most want him to help them pass on, or give them a way into the Infinite Realms. Some want him to bring justice to their killers. Others want to kill him and take his ectoplasm for their own so they can continue their reign of terror in Gotham, unable to be stopped even in death.

Emilia gives him warnings. It’s not always her, but she tends to be the one to draw him out of his apartment, pulling him into a vigilante lifestyle because he can’t bring himself to refuse anyone who asks for his help, and the dead in Gotham have no one else to ask.

“Danny,” she greets. “Nueve is out again. He’s going after the ghosts near Chantilly Street.”

“The sun isn’t even down yet,” Danny grumbles. Nueve, an old gang enforcer who died a few decades ago, cannibalizes other ghosts. It doesn’t destroy the other ghosts, not really, but it makes them feel pain when they shouldn’t be able to feel much at all. Taking their limited reserves of ectoplasm makes him momentarily stronger, and he uses that stolen strength to try to harm the living.

He’s been successful a few times. Danny makes sure to rip him apart as much as possible these days; he won’t be here forever, but he’s hoping that within his four years at GCU, he’ll be able to permanently stop Nueve.

Times like these, he misses having a Fenton Thermos with him. Though he’s not entirely sure it would work on Gotham’s ghosts with how different they are.

Emilia follows him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Once there, Danny shoves his hand into the floor, taking out the backpack he’s hidden in it. He’s done this change of clothes so often he can do it in just a minute now, hiding his face and pulling on gloves beneath a large hoodie with old ectoplasm stains along the sleeves and hem. A gas mask is pulled on as well, covering the bottom half of his face, a necessary addition to his Ghost Work Outfit™ after he almost got caught in some Fear Gas during Scarecrow’s last attack.

“Alright,” he says, “Lead the way.”

Emilia takes off through the wall and Danny hurries to follow, going invisible as he hits the streets.

It’s still early evening, the sun not yet fully set. Plenty of people walk along the sidewalks and cars pass by endlessly, honking at each other as they try to go twenty above the speed limit. Danny does his best to avoid running into everyone, deftly dodging the reaching hands of a few ghosts who spot him as he sprints by.

They only go a few blocks away from his apartment building, turning into a dead end alley where a group of teens (living, for once) are stuck with their backs to the wall, clinging to each other as they warily watch the man in front of them carelessly twirl a gun around his finger.

The man makes a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat, and it takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s trying to talk.

Still invisible, Danny sneaks around to stand in front of the teens, ready to bodily protect them. The man looks alive, and Danny see any ghosts around save for Emilia, standing at the mouth of the alley. There’s something strange about him; his movements seem just a little off, not quite as fluid as they should be. It’s not the movement of someone on drugs. It’s something that screams uncanny valley.

The gun’s handle drops solidly into the man’s palm. He makes another few clicks, then raising the gun to point at the teens.

“Bad idea, pal,” Danny says dropping his invisibility. The teens behind him startle, gasping and trying to press themselves further into the wall.

The man’s eyes flash weakly and the pieces click into place in Danny’s mind. Nueve must have gotten strong enough to possess someone. That is… alarming, to say the least.

He rips the gun out of the man’s hand and tosses it aside. Then he pushes away the man’s arm when Nueve makes a clumsy attempt to punch him. With his chest left wide open and undefended, Danny takes the chance to shove his hand into the man’s chest, feeling for the familiar chill of a ghost.

And then he wraps his fingers tight around it and pulls out Nueve, leaving the man to collapse.

The teens behind him scream and Danny winces.

Pulling out a faintly glowing human figure from someone’s physical body does not look good. It’s the best way to end a possession, but it does look alarmingly like he’s just ripped someone’s soul out of their body.

Keeping hold of Nueve’s ghost, Danny steps to the side. “You guys should go now. Take care.”

The teens don’t need any more prompting. They take off in a run, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

Danny spares a glance to the man unconscious on the ground, but there’s nothing he can do with an angry ghost in his hands, so he has no choice but to leave him there as he flies up to a rooftop farther down the street.

“How many times do we need to do this, Nueve?” he asks tiredly, shaking the ghost.

“These streets should be mine!” Nueve howls, trying to break free of Danny’s grasp. But he’s quickly growing weak, his energy fading, and Danny’s holding back his own ectoplasm as tightly as he can. “They may have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take what I’m owed!”

“Dude, you’re dead. There’s nothing here for you. Move on.”

“You don’t get to speak on this, outsider. You think a freak like you has an say over us? You can’t stop us. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Danny squints at him. “What, are you planning a heist or something? With your gang of dead people too weak to lift a piece of paper?”

“We’re not all dead. We’ve got living folk helping us and we’ll be taking you out first when we hit the streets.”

“Good luck with that,” Danny says flatly, “Begone with you.”

Without giving Nueve a chance to say another word, he rips Nueve’s head off his body. His ghost wavers, then dissipates like smoke, fading away.

Another side effect of whatever it is Gotham does to her dead: their ghost forms are remarkably fragile and it takes only a bit of strength to tear them to shreds, giving him some peace before they reform again. It won’t stop Nueve from striking out again, gathering enough strength until he’s able to possess some other unfortunate soul, but Danny’s bought himself some time to figure out what the hell was he talking about?

There are living folk involved with whatever he’s planning. It’s probably another gang, maybe someone with magic who is able to see ghosts? Which is not great. Danny doesn’t know much about magic; even when facing ghosts who used magic or magical artifacts, his go to method of dealing with them is to start throwing hands like there’s no tomorrow.

Well.

It’s a problem for later.

For now, Danny needs to get back to his apartment and work on his calculus homework. Hopefully he can finish it before he gets frustrated enough that he gives up and lies face down on the floor until Duke manhandles him onto the couch, where he’s less of a tripping hazard.

He’s just about to get back to street level when his Fenton Luck strikes again and he hears someone land on the roof, just a few feet behind him.

“Hey there, stranger,” the Signal says. “You know, we run into each other so often it feels rude not to introduce ourselves. Why don’t you go first?”

Danny turns to face the daylight vigilante, standing with his arms crossed as if that would make him look any more approachable. He’s been popping up wherever Danny’s out dealing with ghosts, which is very not great for Danny’s plans to have a peaceful, normal college life.

Biting his tongue, Danny gives the Signal a quick two fingered salute, then goes intangible and drops down through the building. His invisibility sweeps over him and then he’s running through the streets, hoping it’s enough to keep the Signal from following him to his apartment.

He skids to a stop in the stairwell, dropping his intangibility just in time to crash into the wall. Panting, Danny waits for a tense minute to see if he’s been followed.

When the door to the stairwell remains closed, he lets out a slow breath, then pulls off all the pieces of his Ghost Work Outfit, shoving it back into his bag. He takes a moment to fix his hair, messy from the hood, then shoves the bag back into the floor, safely hidden from curious eyes.

Then he very casually walks up the stairs to the fifth floor and walks down the hallway to his apartment. His keys clang together when he opens the door, and Duke usually hears it when it does, but just in case, Danny calls out, “I’m back!”

He’s learned to announce himself after a few late night walks almost ended with him tackled to the floor when Duke thought someone was breaking in.

Duke doesn’t respond as he toes off his shoes. The stillness in the apartment feels off, as if the world is holding its breath. Cautiously, Danny walks in, trying to find his roommate.

He’s not in the kitchen. The living room is empty. Duke’s bedroom door is open and he��s not in there either.

Something cold lodges itself in his chest.

“Duke?” he tries again, looking over their apartment again for any sign of struggle, or something terrible happening, or even a mess that Duke needed more supplies to clean up.

There’s nothing. The apartment is as it’s always been, just with an empty space where Duke should be.

Worried, Danny stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out what he should do next. It’s because he’s standing so still, surrounded by silence, that he hears it: a light thud outside the window.

Danny turns and he can swear he sees something large moving outside the window, disappearing from sight just as Danny takes a step into Duke’s room to check on it. He rushes to the window and pushes it open, looking down at the street, then side to side, and finally up to the last three floors of the building.

Nothing’s there.

Slowly, Danny pulls his head back inside, closing and locking the window. “Must be my imagination,” he says, trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal.

He leaves Duke’s room and begins pacing down the hall, anxiety building steadily in him.

His phones in his hand before he can think his actions through, Duke’s contact pulled up on the screen. He should call. He should make sure Duke is okay, but Danny hesitates. Is this something to be freaked out over? Would Duke thing he’s clingy and nervous and a bothersome roommate? He doesn’t want to risk Duke asking for a new roommate next year when the lease renews.

But he’s worried. It’s Gotham and Danny just dealt with a violent, murderous ghost threatening him. Duke can deal with a stressed out, worried Danny if it means he’s alive.

He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings on and on and on until Danny starts to panic about having to find Duke’s ghost to avenge his murder.

The front door is thrown open so suddenly and so loudly, Danny jumps and his phone clatters to the floor.

“Danny! Hey!” Duke says with a bright smile, trying to catch his breath. He’s still holding onto the doorknob, slightly hunched over as he pants for breath. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

“Where were you?”

Duke straightens up and closes the door, kicking off his shoes. “Oh, just… out. Shopping. For dinner.”

Danny looks over his empty hands doubtfully. “No luck finding what you needed?”

“Nope!”

“What did you need? Maybe I can go to a different store and get it for you.”

“You don’t need to!” Duke says. “I just needed… tomatoes?”

Danny blinks at him. “We have tomatoes. Did you not know we had tomatoes in the fridge?”

“Oh, do we? Good to know.”

There’s something very weird about this conversation, but Danny doesn’t pry. Duke is weird sometimes, but it’s fine because he kindly ignores some of Danny’s oddities that come from being a halfa and a semi-retired hero.

“Do you… maybe wanna sit down? Catch your breath? I can make dinner tonight if you want.”

Duke waves a hand in the air. “No, no, it’s fine. I got this. Anyways, how was your walk?”

He definitely shouldn’t talk about the cannibal ghost and his threats to take out Danny with his gang. “It was nice. Very quiet. You know, for Gotham.” He punctuates this with an awkward thumbs up and immediately regrets it, but it’s already done so he commits to it.

“Cool! Great. Just wondering, did you see anything weird?”

“Depends on what you’re asking about?”

“Just some guy wearing black with a hood covering his face. He’s been active in this neighborhood and I saw some people talk about him online. Apparently he just appears out of thin air.”

Danny tries not to wince. That’s him, alright. Gotham’s newest neighborhood menace. “I don’t think so, but there’s a lot of people in Gotham that were all black and walk around with their hood up.”

“True,” Duke concedes. “Well, just be careful when you go out, alright?”

“I always am.” He gives Duke the same two fingered salute he gave the Signal. Duke stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and almost dangerous, then he smiles and walks into the kitchen.

“Wanna make dinner with me? I think we can figure out this recipe together. Unless you need to do your homework.”

“It can wait!” Danny hurries to join Duke, grateful for an excuse to push off calculus a little longer. He understands what he’s doing in the class, there’s just… so much work. He doesn’t even want to think about the tests. The tests make everyone cry.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then!”

“You’re in charge, chef,” Danny says, laughingly, and bumps against Duke’s side. He expects a light shove in return, something Sam and Tucker always did, but Duke goes tense instead, letting out a sharp breath that Danny is all too familiar with. “Wait, why are you hurt? What happened?!”

He goes to lift up Duke’s shirt to inspect his shirt, see the damage for himself, but Duke smoothly moves out of the way, grabbing Danny’s wrists and stopping him in his tracks. “I’m fine, Danny. I just got hit. Lightly. Minor bruising, really.”

Danny looks at him doubtfully, then wrenches a wrist free to lift up his shirt before he can move again.

Minor bruising is not how Danny would describe the blues and purples that decorate Duke’s entire side. He can see the outline of Duke’s ribs through the bruising. “How is this being lightly bruised? What hit you?”

“A car?”

“A car?!”

Duke winces, then pulls his shirt down. “I’m fine, Danny, really. It was just from a car that didn’t want to stop at a red light. I stopped another person from being hit, but the car got me pretty solidly. You know how bad Gotham drivers are.”

“Sit down!” Danny says, pulling Duke out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you’re still standing. I’ll get some ice, and I’ll handle dinner. You just stay there and stop pushing yourself for no reason.”

“Playing nurse for me now?”

“If I have to.”

“Would you wear a nurse costume for me, too?” Duke jokes.

Danny looks him dead in the eye and says, “If I have to. Would that make you follow my instructions? A tight little nurse dress?”

Duke sputters, cheeks darkening, and looks away. Danny grins, victorious, and darts back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the fridge.

“Maybe I’ll wear one for you anyways, once you’re all healed up. Only if you’re good, though.”

“Danny, you’re killing me here.”

“Better me than a car.”

Duke laughs and takes the ice pack, pressing it against his side carefully. “Oh, for sure. Thanks, Danny.”

“Hey, what are roommates for?” Danny shares a warm smile with Duke, then pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen to start making a simple pasta dinner.

Life in Gotham is weird and stressful and full of ghosts and heroes who won’t leave him alone. But it’s not all that bad, really. He’s happy with how he’s doing in college, and he’s beyond lucky to have Duke as a roommate. So long as Duke never finds out about his halfa status, then he’s sure they’ll be able to last all four years rooming together.

He just needs to keep a secret.

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #my writing #prompt fill #3.6k.... still counting this as short. i have not failed yet at my goal of keeping these fics below 5k!!#i love this prompt so much it even got me making ocs... i love making ocs this is such a treat for me #will 100% be revisiting this prompt in the future to turn into a longer fic bc i have SO MUCH to write for this #had to cut it off here to have just one scene that shows them as roommates w secrets #truly a struggle to keep this short. this could easily be 30k. the amount of identity shenanigans i can write....#also playing around with the cursed gotham thing by making it affect ghosts :) perfect excuse to make my own gotham lore :)#btw duke 100% got injured chasing down criminals and thats how he got hit by a car. he wasnt fully lying abt it #he also tried to come in through the window of his bedroom. saw danny. quickly left and went up the stairs like a normal person #duke has his suspicions. danny is trying so hard to mind his business when duke acts strange and secretive #disaster in the making :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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starfellforyou · 2 years

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– 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛. ❀

tags: genshin boys x fem!reader, college au

premise: in which you pretend to fall asleep and lean your head against his shoulder

characters: xiao, ayato, diluc, childe, zhongli, kaeya, albedo, itto

genre: fluff

xiao, on the bus. you feel his breath hitch when your head touches his shoulder, the softness of his gray hoodie pressed against your temple. you hear him scoff lightly and notice him glance at you every few seconds, but he doesn't push you away. you sit in silence for a while before looking up - only to find that he's fallen asleep, too.

ayato, in the library. he simply looks at you and grins annoyingly. "if you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just asked," he says, beaming brighter than he should have. startled, you lift your head and smack him on the arm, unprepared for the moment he pulls your head back onto his shoulder and casually resumes sipping his bubble tea, a shojo-manga open on the table in front of him.

diluc, in the classroom. at first he doesn't react, but then he awkwardly taps you on the shoulder until you sit up, feeling slightly embarrassed about the rejection. still, you swear you hear his heartbeat pick up speed when you pull away from him, and there's no denying the bright shade of red emerging on his cheeks.

childe, in the bleachers. a game of basketball had just ended, and he decided to make his way to the bleachers - where you'd been watching him play - for a quick water break. you droop your head against his shoulder and hear one of his teammates call him back to the court. "yeah, uh–just gimme a sec!" he yells back, careful not to disrupt your peaceful slumber.

zhongli, in the council chamber. both co-presidents of the student council, you abruptly rest you head on his shoulder in the midst of an important meeting pertaining to academic affairs. he smirks gently, a glimmer of warmth in his smile as he opens the book on the table and holds it up in front of you to prevent the other council members from waking you up.

kaeya, in the janitor closet. because that's the kind of mischief he gets you into on the daily. hiding from the principal, you watch as he peeks through a small opening in the closet door, a streak of light illuminating his cheekbones, and nestle your head against his neck. he stays silent while resting his head on yours.

albedo, in the park. at first he says nothing, but then you feel him lift his hand to your face and brush an elegant finger along one of your eyelashes. you jump upright, shouting, "hey! that tickles!" as he suddenly seizes your left wrist and runs his thumb across the back of your palm, the gesture sending shivers down your spine. "does this tickle?"

itto, in the lecture hall. he's unsure of what to do at first, but then, bashfully, he smiles to himself and slowly lifts your head onto the cow cushion on his lap. you both fall asleep anyway - the lecture is painfully boring - but it's your favorite one this year.

a/n: my first hc fic! i hope i did it right lol (and i hope you like the school setting <3)

✧ starfellforyou

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sunghoonsslut · 11 months

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H&H (Teaser) 18+

Pairing: Heeseung x Innocent Reader (AFAB)

Wc (teaser): 691

Final WC: sitting at 7k rn with barely any smut so 😅 expecting 15kish

Warnings (teaser): SMUT 18+ MDNI (no smut in this teaser but in the full fic), Religious themes/Religious Guilt (please don’t read if any of that that makes you uncomfortable), corruption kink, more when the fic is actually fully posted

Posting: End of June/Beginning of July probably (subject to change)

Taglist: I don't think I'll be doing a taglist unless a lot of people are interested

This fic won the poll so here’s a little treat 🤭

Dragging his Feet Heeseung makes his way down the hall at a slow pace reading over one of the group chats he was in, Jay and sunghoon on either side of him as the group walks talking, Sunghoon fighting off the lingering hangover effects. “I told you not to drink so much,” Jay reminds his friend who groans waving him off with a head shake, tinted glasses resting on his face to avoid the fluorescent lights enhancing his headache.

“I would have just skipped this lesson but apparently it’s ‘Incredibly vital for the core of the entire class premise,’” Sunghoon quotes with a grimace massaging at his temples to quell the pounding. “So next time you should actually listen to me instead of taking another shot,” Jay takes it as a moment of triumph with a smile earning an eye roll from the younger.

Heeseung can’t help but laugh raising his head from his phone and adjusting his bag eyes scanning the hall, perking up in an instant, the moment he spots you, you’re not exactly hard to miss in the crowd of people, standing out like a sore thumb, dressed in complete coverage even with the heat that continues on into the early months of the semester.

“Hey I’ll catch you guys later,” He pats his friend on the shoulder leaving Jay mid-rant over how his finance professor is an ass, Sunghoon watches the way his friend moves his way through the body of other students weaving his way over towards you. “If I had to guess that’s the Quote on Quote ‘Religious Nut’ He was telling us about,” Jay’s eyes follow over to where Hee slips next to you casually.

“Yeah, I think you’re right on that one,” Sunghoon hums watching Heeseung walk away in the complete opposite direction of his class. “Must be down bad,” Jay mumbles before continuing where he left off about his teacher.

“Hey, you should come to this party we’re having,” Heeseung throws his arm over your shoulder walking with you almost too naturally as you look over at him on your side. Casually directing you in the direction he’s walking, attention shifting from getting to this next class towards him.

Caught off guard you give him that usual surprised wide-eyed look before answering “Oh is it someone’s birthday party?” You ask with a smile lighting up at the idea as he pats you on the head lightly.

Innocent, is what comes to mind chuckling a little “Nope it’s just for fun, it’s what we do around here,”

“Oh I see, I don’t know I think I have a paper to work on,” you explain thinking of the mountain of work you needed to finish, and a big quiz you desperately needed to study for.

Heeseung stops halting your movements at the same rate unprepared. You have to grip onto his waist to stop yourself from catapulting forward “Aw come on, at least show up for me, I swear we’ll have a fun time,” he promises bottom lip pressed outwards into a pout.

“These are the experiences that make College memorable, give you a taste of that freedom you’ve been craving,” he reminds you of one of the earlier conversations you had, that longing for normalcy and to do something you never imagined.

You hesitate remembering all the warnings, the stories, everything that screamed run “Okay then,” you say as if on autopilot caving to the way Heeseung asks watching the smile overtake his face satisfied it didn’t take much more convincing.

“Perfect! And Have Mae dress you up, she knows exactly what to wear to these events,” Heeseung explains, taking in your appearance the long skirt you have on practically touching the floor, your ankles not even visible matched with a long-sleeved blouse that reminded him of something he once saw in his grandma’s closet.

“I’ll text you and Mae the details later, now get to class safe,” He lets you go running off to whatever class he had, leaving you dizzily to finger out how far you had walked past your class thanks to Heeseung’s distracting, having to backtrack down the hall.

-------

A/N: This is just one of the scenes I will say Heeseung will be pretty Mean/Manipulative in the final thing with a couple soft moments but overall meanish so be warned of that when the full thing does get posted <3

#enhypen smut #enha smut #heeseung smut #in the drafts

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volostogekiss · 2 months

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you are always my life (1/??)

A few years after post-game. Established relationship. GN!reader. Unspecified home region, so up to you wherever you’re from! Summary: Not long after you return to your present-day world, Volo shows up, too. (Various shorts about domestic, modern-day moments with Volo. Probably will continue more of these at some point!)

clothes shopping – (day one.)

One of the first things that you decided when it had finally, totally, completely sunk in that Volo had also made it to the present day, was that he desperately needed new clothes.

He couldn’t be walking around in a kimono during winter. The weather had just started turning icy. Besides that, it was clear from the moment he’d appeared beside you that people were unfortunately intrigued by him. You had too many thoughts about why, although you tried to disregard them. It was hard to neglect just how attractive Volo was though, and that he stood quite obviously a head above most others. You’d also lent him an overcoat so that he could accompany you outdoors, but it didn’t fit him properly, and that only worsened the staring.

Then, there were the comments as well.

A group of college students passing by spent much too long gaping at Volo. You even heard one of them ask if he was some kind of cosplayer. Another was raising their phone for a photo, and that was when you tugged Volo away.

If you weren’t in such a rush to find suitable clothes so your lover wouldn’t freeze, you might’ve turned back around and snapped at them, but you had more important things on your mind. Like how you’d just been reminded that Volo would probably need a phone, too.

“Ho-oh’s tailfeathers,” you mumbled the curse under your breath.

Tightening your grip on Volo’s hand, you leaned in closer to him and ignored how he blinked back at the students in unabashed confusion.

“I will say,” Volo began as he threaded his fingers through yours, “I’m quite curious to know what a ‘cosplayer’ is.”

You were too busy watching the crosswalk light to humor him, however. “See? This is a crosswalk light. When it’s red, that means we can’t cross, but when it turns green, it means we can go. The flashing numbers mean how long we have before we can’t cross again.”

Volo nodded, keeping pace with you as you hurried down the street. There were plenty of things he didn’t yet understand about your modern world, but he was doing his best to remember all of them, at least.

“Oh, and,” you said with a start, when you made it to the other side, “I’ll explain what a cosplayer is some other time.”

“Perhaps it’s not something you need to worry about at all,” answered Volo immediately, his brows furrowing. He’d noticed that you were on-edge. It was obvious that his presence was concerning you to the point where you were stressing yourself out.

You shook your head. A knowing smile flitted onto your lips, despite how anxious you seemed. “Everything about you—whatever’s on your mind, whatever you want—that’s all I think about. You’re bound to have more questions anyway, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“We all know what happens when you have unanswered questions,” you laughed shortly, some amount of your anxiety melting away when you saw him huff and roll his eye at you.

“You’re quite unfair, my love.”

“And you’re not?”

However, you were unprepared for the smirk he gave you then, followed by the swift peck to your forehead.

Volo chuckled at your startled reaction. “Hm, I suppose I am.”

“I’ll get you for that one,” you promised him as you harrumphed. “But later.”

Without waiting for him to reply (you did hear him laugh), you headed into the department store. There was still plenty for you to do, after all.

The doors whirred shut behind the both of you. The warmth of the heater at the entrance was certainly welcome, and instinctively, you gathered Volo’s cold hand between yours, rubbing it slowly. He’d been preoccupied with the splendor of the building, but noticing what you were doing, he turned to you, a gentle smile on his face. Looking at him with a similar, tender expression, you left a kiss upon his fingertips, then dropped your linked hands back to your side.

Volo squeezed your hand. You squeezed his in reply.

Then, squaring your shoulders as if you’d just received a much needed burst of energy, you announced, “Okay. Let’s get you some new clothes.”

While you rode the escalator up a few floors, you explained what the machine was, what to expect when buying clothes, and that you were lucky you were visiting during early afternoon on a weekday. Fewer people were about, and you didn’t have to deal with fighting crowds of shoppers like on weekends.

Volo seemed amused by your final point, especially after you’d likened it to the days when Anthe released a new line of clothes. It was a bit nostalgic though, to think of the time now past you both, but Volo was just glad that you were with him now.

He was pondering the memory, nearly lost in his own musings, until you told him that you’d reached the boutique floor.

With another word of encouragement, you smiled at him again—really, all Volo needed was you, and oh, your smile, how that made him practically forget where he was—and walked toward the storefront.

An employee, dressed in a trimmed suit, bowed and greeted you both as you approached. However, when he straightened upright again, you saw his eyes widen, and one of his hands nearly lifted to cover his face.

“Oh my goodness,” he said, shocked, whether by Volo’s mismatched clothes or the fact that he was alarmingly handsome, you didn’t know.

Hesitantly, you waved at him before urging Volo inside the boutique. You wanted to pretend as if you hadn’t really been there at all.

After sequestering yourselves at the back of the store, you finally breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the staff had deduced you could manage without any of their help, as they left you alone where you were. It was better if you avoided any questions, even those unspoken, and simply focused on Volo.

He was still holding your hand. He was also regarding you with a mixture of worry and kindness, so much so that your heart trembled.

You looked away, feeling an inexplicable nervousness, as if you were once again surreptitiously harboring a crush on the man.

“If you see something you like, just let me know. We’re looking for warmer clothes for now, but it would be nice to get something you want to wear,” you rattled off, trying to settle your heart again.

The look on his face changed as he dipped in close to you and whispered, “I would much rather trust your judgment about what looks best on me.”

“That may be a bit difficult…”

“Why? Is it because you prefer nothing on—”

“Volo!”

He just laughed at you. But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to take your mind off your troubles.

“I jest, my love.”

Sighing with a smile, you swung your intertwined hands forward, a sign you’d like him to walk with you as you inspected the displays. Although you’d been worried about Volo since he’d quite literally been dropped into your world only a few hours prior, you had to admit that you enjoyed this moment with him. Shopping together wasn’t really something you had often done in Hisui. It was different then, much different, despite how you’d already lived with one another for years, in your little home.

Briefly, you wondered what had happened to it.

“What about this?”

You were glad that Volo had brought you out of your reminiscing. He was here with you. That was what was important.

“Oh!” Your attention was now fully on the sweater Volo was holding. “That’s exactly what I was thinking we should look for first!”

Volo tilted his head meaningfully. “We think quite alike.”

You eyes softened.

“Of course we do.”

Reaching out, you took the sweater from him and examined it carefully. It was a pale cream color, with light blue buttons that reminded you of the markings on Togekiss. Your lips twitched upward. Of course, you probably weren’t the only one thinking of the resemblance.

You peered at the tag on inside its collar and at the rack it’d been on. “It’s a good brand, Altaria and Blu.”

“And what does its name mean?”

“They’re a family of Pokémon—Swablu and Altaria. They kind of look like clouds, but they’re actually birds.”

“Hm. I would like to see a Pokémon like that one day.”

Draping the long sweater over your arm, you returned to perusing the other options while chatting idly. It was peaceful—more than you’d thought it’d be. Maybe it was because your nerves had eased themselves a little. It also helped you overlook how much this all might cost you. You could manage. Anything, for him.

For the most part, however, Volo defaulted to letting you choose his clothing for him, despite how often you tried to get his input. It was nice that he trusted you to do so—even if he was right beside you, observing what you selected for him. Once more, you couldn’t help thinking of how regular something like this could be for the two of you.

A normal life. Maybe not like the one you’d had in Hisui, but one where you’d be together, forever. You smiled at the thought.

Volo seemed pleased, too. Maybe it was because he liked what the two of you had picked. Similar sweaters, warm cargo pants, a variety of button-downs, and some comfortable, stay-at-home clothes, among the other clothing necessities like undergarments and shoes. (The sandals he was wearing had to go.)

…Or maybe it wasn’t really the clothes, but the principle of it all. That he was just as happy to be with you as you were with him. You caught him staring at you fondly—once when you were deeply scrutinizing a trendy pair of track pants and then when you were describing the different fabrics often used for modern-day clothing. He only smiled at you when you’d asked if something was wrong, before saying that he simply loved hearing your voice.

You had to wait a moment before you could actually make your way to the register to pay.

The exchange with the cashier went about as you’d expected though. They seemed curious about Volo, but you appreciated that they didn’t say anything. They did grin when you mentioned that Volo would be wearing some of the clothes you’d purchased out.

You sighed as the two of you left the boutique. You were glad that everything had gone smoothly, even if you’d been particularly worried on the way here.

Taking Volo’s hand again, you checked the time, then said, “We’ll go shopping for more clothes on another day, but for now, this should hopefully work.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Huh?” You looked up at him, surprised by the unexpectedness of his remark.

Volo plucked the bag of clothes you’d been carrying and hooked it over his elbow. He glanced at you softly. “You were worried about me throughout the entire afternoon. I was unsure of what I could do to help.”

“Volo…”

He smiled at you, and then he was the one guiding you down the sidewalk.

“But there’s no need to worry about me. As long as I am with you, I will always be all right.”

Your heart fluttered. How could he always say such things like this…?

“More than all right, surely,” he continued, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “No amount of words describe how fortunate I am to have you with me.”

Volo leaned in and laid a kiss upon your cheek.

“I’m just happy to be here with you, my love.”

grocery shopping – (a few days.)

“What’s that?”

Stopping your shopping cart, you turned back to Volo. He was slightly bent over the open-top freezer stretching alongside you and pointing at something within one of the containers.

You poked your head over the edge of the freezer. When you saw what he was pointing at, you couldn’t help smiling.

“They’re frozen pancakes.”

Volo scrunched his nose. He seemed unsure of why they were the way they were.

“The amount of frozen food that is here is… astounding.”

You held back your laugh. It was cute to see Volo like this.

“Of course, you can make pancakes without having them frozen. Maybe we should make some tomorrow morning.”

Volo nodded, moving to you again. He laid his arms over yours as you turned to steer the cart, his chest pressed against your back.

“Lovely.” You felt his voice rumble up your spine, and his warmth was almost instantly overwhelming.

Why did it always feel like you were falling in love with him all over again?

“…You’re lovely,” you told him, tilting your head back to look at him with a grin.

Volo laughed, and before you had a chance to react, he stole a kiss from you.

cooking – (two weeks.)

You were exhausted.

Work, to put it plainly, had sucked.

What you needed now was a chance to relax, to forget about everything that had happened, and ready yourself to repeat it all tomorrow.

What you didn’t know you needed, however, was waiting for you when you opened the door to your apartment.

“I’m home,” you called out tiredly. You kicked off your shoes, unbothered by how they’d flown somewhere across the front entrance, and barely remembered to slide on your slippers before ambling farther inside.

Something smelled nice—a savory, light scent. Maybe Volo was cooking?

“Welcome back!” came the sing-song voice from the kitchen.

Immediately, a smile flickered onto your lips. Oh, this man…

Poking his head out from down the hall, Volo waved at you. He rounded the corner, and you noticed he was also wearing an apron, confirming what you’d thought earlier. You wanted to run to him, to laugh, to scream about how glad you were to see him, but instead, you could only offer him the weak smile that was already on your face.

Volo covered all the ground to you, then embraced you gently. It was wonderful to feel him so close to you, with his fingers tracing soothing circles into your back.

“Another rough day?”

“Mhm.”

“Hm. Perhaps I should ask Giratina to… pay a friendly visit to a select few.”

You laughed. That sounded nice. Giratina, scaring your terrible boss and awful coworker.

“Maybe. Maybe, Volo.”

…

Volo smiled. The two of you wandered back to the living room, where you finally saw what Volo had been up to. An array of dishes decorated the dining table, with a hot stew at the center of it all.

“It’s just something simple,” began Volo as he cradled your hands in his own, “but I thought it might be a nice to have a fuller meal.”

Warmth flooded your heart.

“I love you,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him.

He was more than glad to accept your kiss, and then he answered, an echo of your words,

“I love you, too.”

#volo x reader #i guess we're back...!?#anyway yeah domestic life with volo i think it's a very healing thought :)#i wanna write about volo working at a library or the museum or smth next >:UU

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hum-suffer · 4 months

Text

I'm yours

Ishan is a hopeless romantic. In the sense that his romantic interests never let him hope.

The most recent person that he has been head over heels for is going to give a seminar in their college and he's Ishan's favourite.

Ishan is the head of the Cultural and Intellectual Committee and as such, he's in charge of almost all the extracurricular events that take place in the college. He's always had such bloody issues with 90% of the guests and speakers for being unprepared or late that these days he just assumes that the guests will be late, but hopefully not too late.

Which, brings him back to his current romantic interest— Shubhman Gill.

The man has been guest speaker in their college twice by now, third time monday, and he has never disappointed Ishan. He's always on time, he's always perfectly dressed, and he always emails Ishan his speech and let's Ishan point out details that he would humbly request to add or remove. Ishan could have kissed him for being a half decent human being the very first time he did that.

Plus, the college being the Techno faculty, the super famous technological prodigy of India coming as a guest speaker, Shubhman sometimes gets assaulted with too many questions and people and sometimes with no good interactive audience at all and yet, he smiles and talks to the teachers afterwards.

The first time Shubhman talked to him, Ishan had been putting away the gifts Shubhman received so that the man could take them on his bike without damaging the Tulsi plant.

(And that was another thing. A famous and important personality coming on his fucking bike? Ishan drooled a little bit when he heard Shubhman softly ask Ritika ma'am for a place to keep his helmet at.)

"Thank you for inviting me," Shubhman told him in a bashful way, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

Inexplicably, Ishan wanted to bite those cheeks. He held himself in chem and smiled back,"Thank you for coming, Mr. Gill. You've been a pleasure to work with."

"Please, it's Shubhman! And honestly, I had fun coming here as well. I hear you're the organiser of the event; it's amazingly done, I must say. Your management is impeccable."

So what if Ishan let the praise get to his head? So what if he stalked Shubhman on Instagram later? They had exchanged numbers—for future seminars, Shubhman had explained, much to Ishan's misfortune— and Ishan was entitled to be a little over his head for once!

The second time they talked, was when Ishan congratulated Shubhman on his award as the leading influencer of social media. The third time was when Shubhman wished Ishan on his birthday. The fourth was when Ishan had to invite Shubhman for ALASKA organisation's collab with their college and his presence as a guest judge.

Shubhman had sought him out again.

"I had a lot of fun," he said with that damnable smile of his,"thank you for inviting me again, Ishan."

Ishan shook his head,"Thank you for coming, man. Honestly, your way of interaction makes learning more interesting for the students. And, well, throws me some points to become the favourite teacher of the year."

Shubhman laughed, a sound that Ishan wanted to get drunk on for the rest of his goddamn life. "You have those competitions?"

Ishan looked around dramatically and leaned towards Shubhman, as of telling a secret. Shubhman, that perfect man, leaned forward as well, looking completely serious about this so called secret.

Ishan reached on his tip toes to whisper,"The students do that in their classes on Teachers' day. If they do it publically, they have to give the best teacher paper crown to teachers senior than me. So, a private award for me to take."

Somewhere in the background, something huge fell and Ishan startled badly enough to almost stumble but Shubhman caught him by the arm and grinned,"Cheers to the best teacher, then. What's the other activities you planned amazingly?"

And that's how Shubhman had ended up getting VIP passes to see the Darshan Raval concert that had been arranged.

Virat bhaiya had raised an eyebrow at Ishan showing Shubhman around the campus while they prepared for the concert lightings and all, but hadn't said anything. Ishan was so thankful.

They haven't talked in the four months after Ishan wished Shubhman a happy birthday.

____________________________________________________

So, in short, Ishan is a hopeless romantic. He turns every little gesture into a gesture of love and he has many one sided love stories that live rent free in his head.

He would have romantisized this as well, to be honest, if he wasn't confused as fuck.

He's been home for all of five minutes after a damn long day— it's exam season— and all he wants to do is flop on his bed and sleep for the next four weeks. A text pops up on his phone, from an unknown number.

'Are you tired, love? Anything I can do to help?'

Ishan frowns. None of his friends changed their numbers recently and moreover, none of them use nicknames. Can't be a student, no student of his would dare disrespect him. He may be lenient most of the time, but he's tempered enough to break their audacity on the very first lecture.

'Who is this?'

The reply came instantly. 'Your admirer? Your worshipper? Your fan?' a second passed as Ishan gawked at the message. Another message dropped. 'Whatever I am, I'm yours.'

Well, damn. Someone's smooth.

'Thank you for your kind words, but I prefer not to own people. It's illegal yk?' Ishan feels like an idiot as soon as he sends the text but he can't do anything because it's seen immediately. The person on the other side must be bloody stuck to their chat.

They send a few laughing emojis. 'I could turn the world around for you to be mine, though.'

Goddamn.

Ishan leaves the message on seen as he types the unknown number on Truecaller, but there's no registered name under the number.

He's about to leave and go freshen up when another message pops up.

'Searching for me on Truecaller will result to nothing, love.'

Ishan leaves the message on delivered as he looks around himself, his big house feeling emptier by the second. He blocks the number, somehow feeling a weird mix of anticipation and trepidation. He takes a fortifying breath and nods to himself, throwing his phone on the dinning table on his way to his bed room.

He tries to get the message out of his head as he looks for another YouTube video to see while eating his dinner.

'Do you know that blocking someone in the middle of the conversation is rude, Ishan?' the pop up message reads.

'Fuck off.'

____________________________________________________

There's a swarm of notifications going off and that's how Ishan wakes up at the ungodly hour of 2:34 am.

He blindly reaches for his phone, the brightness will kill him he's sure, but somehow manages to read the notifications with squinted eyes.

It's an annual Spotify subscription? What the fuck?

He scrambles to sit up and turns on the lamp, trying to focus more. The bloody notifications are an absolute onslaught to his ears. He even has an email announcing his annual Spotify premium account but there's no SMS of deduction from his account. What even—

Before he can start to plan a schedule to go to the bank tomorrow and also somehow plan a call to the customer service of Spotify, another message from that unknown number pops up.

'Happy belated Birthday, Ishan. Sorry I couldn't get you any actual gifts this time, I'll do better next time.'

Next bloody time?

'There won't be a bloody next time. Don't interfere in my life again. And cancel this bloody premium, i don't need it.'

And he lies.

He does need the premium for when he pulls all nighters and for when he drives to and fro to college. He needs it because he needs someone to talk and listen when he wants to be awake and podcasts are the only way that happens lately when he's off work.

Yes, he has a horrid social life— as a professor often does. All his friends are his colleagues. His family usually knows that he pulls insane hours and they only call at weekends.

'Don't reject it, pls' the message comes, as Ishan ponders his lonely life. When was the last time he enjoyed his life thoroughly? Another message pops up. 'Look, I just want to do something nice for you, okay? Leave it be, it's not your money thats costing you and I've got plenty of money to spend on my dear ones, with god's grace.'

Ishan doesn't know what to reply and he is incensed at himself for it. What the fuck? Ishan has never been greedy or wanted what he couldn't have. This random person suddenly gifts him a Spotify premium, Ishan contemplates his life and he hesitates in doing the right thing?

'Pls Ishan?'

Oh god, he can hear the puppy eyes. He turns off his internet and throws the phone on the bed. Somehow, Ishan manages to sleep.

____________________________________________________

The next morning, it's thankfully Saturday. His Saturdays go great almost always.

His hand itches to listen to his Spotify playlist he's made specifically for travel, but he doesn't want to use a stranger's gift. The stranger might know him and do it out of good of his heart or whatever, but Ishan, in all good conscience cannot use someone for their money.

As he absentmindedly drinks his evening tea, Ishan contemplates any tasks he has for the next day— grocery shopping, getting a haircut, finding a plumber to fix that minor leakage in his kitchen tap. It's gonna be a long day.

"Ishan!" He blinks up like a deer in highlights as he's startled by Rohit bhaiya. "What are you thinking?"

"Kuch nahi, bhaiya," he says and grins when Rohit bhaiya puts his hand on his shoulder. Ishan has always been a fan of skinship, and while Virat bhaiya being touchy is normal and comforting, Rohit bhaiya being touchy is rewarding and privileged. "Aap batao, how was your day?"

He groans in reply,"Puchh mat, Bhai. These B.Com students look innocent but they're so not! Apparently some kids sold around a paper of Accounts saying it's a leaked paper but it wasn't and making it clear to the students as well the board members? Hell. Why did I even accept to be the Secretary there when I'm Dean here too?"

Ishan laughs,"Because you love Virat bhaiya and lost a bet?"

"Shh, don't speak about it where students can hear you!"

Ishan laughs again. Feeling happy is a natural state of his when he's around his colleagues, they're all so good to him. It's what makes him stay in the college despite him getting offers from a lot of colleges in bigger cities. He's never gonna get the same affection anywhere else and he's ready to face some separation with his family while he works here. He's already made it clear that they're gonna come love with after his father finally retires.

"Accha, tell me what is the status of overmorrow's seminar?"

The one where his celebrity crush is going to be the main speaker?

"Spectacular. I've done everything, bas I'll get the flowers and the gift watch and everything else is set. Bhaiya bas Monday ko maachis dhundhni na pade, haa?"

It happens almost every damn time. It'd be ten minutes from arrival time of the guest and Ishan would tell some student to get the matchsticks for the auspicious diya lighting and no one would find the matchsticks. With everyone else, it's fine, but Shubhman? He's a punctual man, running around like headless chicken in front of him is not how he wants to establish himself and his students.

Rohit bhaiya nods understandingly. "Pakka. Varna ye apna hai na vo, usse lighter le ke candle light karke de Dena."

Ishan shakes his head at the confusing slang Rohit bhaiya uses. Amar, one of his students, has a smoking habit and hence carries around a lighter. The idiot always saves himself by offering his lighter at times when lighting something was necessary.

"Thik. Anyways, I'm going home, bhaiya. Anything left for me to do?"

Rohit bhaiya shakes his head with a grin and lets him go.

Its almost reflex when Ishan puts his earphones in and starts Chhaiya Chhaiya.

The bloody quality makes him blink and straighten up. And oh. Yeah, he's using premium.

Even as he feels a little guilty, his head bops to the beat as he drives back home.

____________________________________________________

When Ishan comes back home again, his garden looks different.

He's convinced that it's because he's not inspecting it properly so he crouches down and cranes his neck to look at the grass and some flower plants he has. He can't put his finger on it, but it's different.

He glances around the rest of his garden and that's when it catches his eye— the mower. And the pile of grass beside.

Someone fucking mowed his garden? And somehow, to the exact way he likes it.

And then, he hears the start of a two-wheeler, and before he's even out of the gate, the person has turned the corner and all Ishan can see is the shade of their taillight on the trees.

Ishan hightails it inside his house and checks it all over.

No lock broken, no thing stolen and no money moved. Everything is as it was when he left in the morning.

His phone pings with another message.

'Sorry to leave like that, ik it was obnoxious'

'how'd you like your garden tho? Did I do well?'

And. Ishan is a weak man, okay?

He knows this is wrong, he knows he has a stalker probably, and someone with probably deep issues, but. He bloody can't accept such big help without saying anything in gratitude, okay? He's weak.

'Its fine, tho I'd like to meet you someday' what the fuck is he saying. He wants to meet a probable sociopath?

'And thanks for the garden. You've done it perfectly and it's a great help. Thank you' there. He's been polite.

Another message comes. 'I think you'll enjoy our meeting a lot, love. And your welcome'

No other messages pop up throughout the evening.

Ishan denies to even himself that he checks his phone every five minutes for the stranger.

He's intrigued, he says to himself when he goes to sleep.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @onthecloudseven @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @kyayaarkiraa @fortunatelycrazyyouth @khwxbeeda @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @ishkrisq

#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #ishman #shubhish #ishan kishan #shubhman gill

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