gravity

gravity is a force of attraction, keeping all matters in line.

—————

College sucks.

(Y/N) knew that from the second she had to pay for books that should have been provided given the extravagant amount she paid in tuition. Her viewpoint was only reaffirmed when she attended lectures for mandatory courses that had nothing to do with her major, with professors who didn't care whether or not she was comprehending the material. All she was really doing here was getting a fancy piece of paper with a seal on it in hopes of being taken seriously when looking for a job.

It only sucked worse when she felt like she was failing, and barely saw the roommate that had promised to keep her sane through the entire experience.

That was how (Y/N) found herself drunk and alone on a Friday night.

To be fair, she was having a lot more fun than she would have thought considering she was not a talented bartender and the vodka cranberry she messily mixed in her kitchen tasted of sweetened rubbing alcohol at first sip.

Loud music was blaring through the apartment (or at least as loud as she knew she could get away with, considering her neighbors weren't too keen on the college experience), with every door left wide open throughout the space. The apartment felt bigger through her hooded vision, her clumsy choreography feeling like a grandiose production with the make-believe partner she conjured out of the Ariana Grande lyrics that floated throughout every room.

It was only when she remembered she was alone that she wished so badly there was someone with her. Someone to hold her like Ariana described, to kiss and touch over her body in loving runs. That was when the fog in her mind took on a rosied tint, a yearning feeling aching to trace out the form of another.

She blamed it on the alcohol, and the fact she had been single for far too long. Since she was alone—something she had started the night grateful for—she became a little too aware of the lusted shift her thoughts were taking and how much she wished she had someone else there to relieve the ache that was sparking between her thighs. (This happened often when she drank. She was a loving and affectionate drunk, making the absence of another glaringly obvious to her).

(Y/N) didn't have even half the mind to be embarrassed as she dug around for her laptop in her room, too preoccupied by the tipsy lens she was seeing the world through, and the longing that had settled in her stomach. After finding her treasure, she settled herself on the wrinkled mess that was her bedding, and opened a familiar browser. It was a little too instinctive as she typed in the familiar website, but she couldn't find it in her to care when the lazy thoughts floating through her mind were urging her to find any kind of release.

That was how she found herself on a cam-site.

Truly, it had been a slip of the finger. All she had tried to do was click on the minuscule 'x' tacked in the corner of a shady pop-up ad on a much more legit site, but her lagging response time made it that much harder to react before she was being directed to a completely different site.

This one lacked the typically dark grey and black shading that other explicit sites utilized. This one used a green based layout, leaving the attention to be placed on the rows and rows of thumbnails dotting her screen. Across the main page, the site boasted a channel of over fifty-thousand different performers, making it easy to find something 'to your liking'. The small boxes that filled out the screen displayed different people in various states of undress (or in outfits (Y/N) wasn't aware were made in real life), some with their faces cut out of frame and others feeling no need to hide their identity. They were all stilled into a single scene from their 'stream', as it was labeled under the tile, some performing acts that she hadn't known were physically possible. Once she realized what it was that she had been loaded onto, she pulled back with a gasp.