#FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY THE TA & THE STUDENT

[bl-bam-beyond]

LOVE CLASS SEASON 2 (2023, SOUTH KOREA)

The Finale

Maru (LEE KWANG HEE) was slow in realizing his feelings for his best friend Min Woo (WOO HYO WON) or even noticing that Min Woo was in love with him but once he realized he is making sure Min Woo feels the love.

They are so beautiful together.

@pose4photoml @lutawolf

[little-diable]

All to myself - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Prof and priest fics are without doubt my faves. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Another student tries to touch the reader, so Professor Riddle has to remind his TA that she is his, only his. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral(m), power play, profxta

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!TA!reader (1.8k words)

She felt his eyes on her, watching her every move as if he was worried about her doing something wrong, messing up his classroom. No matter what she did or touched, his eyes followed her around like a shadow. A shadow sewn to his boots, unable to escape her boss, the one whose every command she blindly followed. 

“I’ll expect your papers on my desk Friday afternoon, I won’t accept any tardiness.” Professor Riddle’s voice filled the room, instantly shutting up his chatting students. All eyes were drawn to his piercing ones, staring at the tall professor who acted like their god, the deity they’d have to worship. “If you have any further questions, find (y/n), she can help you.”

(Y/n)’s eyes snapped towards the professor, hands freezing midair. Not once had he addressed her like that in class and told his students that she could help them out, hidden in the dark corners of the room as if he was scared to share her with them. She couldn’t stop the heat from flushing through her, eyes forced back down to the book she had been combing through, highlighting the pages he had asked her to prepare. 

“I’ll see you next week.” With his last words echoing through the room, the students quickly rose to their feet, set on disappearing from the room and the professor they all feared. He watched them scurry out of the room, lips pulled into an almost satisfied smirk. 

“Did you find the pages, (y/n)?” He leaned against the desk, arms crossed in front of his chest, no longer caring about the handful of students who were still packing their things. She could only nod, unable to meet his eyes, not when she was reminded of the way he had touched her not even twelve hours ago, once again finding comfort in one another’s touch.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t about comfort for him, perhaps it was all about claiming her, about owning the young woman who had joined his class as a student last year and was now working for him as his teaching assistant. A power hierarchy she had always feared, not daring to overstep, at least not till he had made the first move, not giving her a way out. 

“Good, come to my office tonight so we can prepare for next week’s class.”

……

“Thank you so much for your help, (y/n).” A tight smile played on her lips, trying to keep her distance from the student who had found her a few minutes ago. She had been on her way to Professor Riddle’s office, carrying the books of his she had borrowed when the guy had forced her to a halt. He had instantly dropped his questions on her, smirking at the already annoyed woman. 

“Of course, now, if you excuse me, I need to find Professor Riddle.” She wanted to turn from him, wanting to disappear from the student who made her feel all too uncomfortable. But his hand darted out, fingers wrapped around her wrist to keep her close. Her breath hitched in her chest at the unwanted touch, eyes flickering from her wrist to his dark pupils. 

“Why the hurry, (y/n)? I think he can wait a few more minutes for you. Don’t you find it weird how he treats you? As if you’re some toy he owns.” Her throat felt tight, mouth too dry to reply, wanting to rip herself from the man’s grasp, though without any luck. The grasp he had on her wrist only got tighter, sure to leave marks she’d have to cover for the next days. 

“Let me go, please.” The student’s laugh was drowned out by the sound of fast-approaching steps, making a shadow appear behind (y/n)’s frame. Instantly the student let go of (y/n), trying to flee from the scene as Professor Riddle stared him down. Within seconds the professor had the guy pressed against the nearest wall, forcing a gasp from (y/n).

“If I ever catch you touching (y/n), even looking at her, I will end you. Do you hear me, Mister Kerry?” No reply left the student, unable to speak up, only able to quickly nod his head. The second the man let go of him, he fled from the scene, leaving (y/n) and the professor behind. 

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, with Professor Riddle turning towards (y/n), eyes focused on her already bruised wrist. With wide eyes she watched him carefully reach for her hand, momentarily studying her skin before he began to pull her down the hallway, straight to his office. Her heart was pounding, racing against her ribcage to try and warn the oblivious woman of the danger lying ahead. But there was no escaping, she was tied to him like a boat tied to the dock, rocking with the waves though kept in place by the tight rope. 

“How did you find me?” (Y/n)’s whispers filled his barely alight office, drawing a dangerous chuckle from the man, a sound so strong (y/n)’s body kept trembling, littered with goosebumps. 

“It’s not typical for you to be late, and I seem to find you no matter where you are. I don’t share what is mine, and especially not you.” His voice dripped with possessiveness, hand cupping her warm cheek before his lips crashed against hers, leaving the woman moaning. Within a few moments (y/n) was forced against his desk, caged between the expensive wooden craft and his tall frame. “You’re mine, mine alone, never forget that, pet.”

“I won’t. I am sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologising for, and yet it only felt right to do so. The words seemed to please the professor, studying her for another second or two before an almost teasing “Prove how sorry you are” left him. Without protesting, (y/n) dropped to her knees, glassy eyes staring up at the tall man, watching him free his already hard cock with skilled movements. 

(Y/n) parted her lips like she had done numerous times before, in this very position, for the brooding man only. He forced his cock into her mouth without another warning, finding enjoyment in her gasps, the surprise filling her eyes, the trembling of her hand. She was his pet, the one he had claimed the first time she had stepped into his office, forever his. 

“Atta, girl, such a perfect mouth.” Her hum left him groaning, ringed hand finding her hair as his head momentarily rolled back. Professor Riddle’s eyes fluttered close, enjoying the fast bobbing motion, the way her tongue took care of his ache just like he needed her to. If there was one thing (y/n) found pride in, it was satisfying the tall man, drawing these sounds from his mouth – sounds she’d think of whenever her thoughts started to wander. 

“C’mon, you can take a bit more, don’t hold back, pet.” (Y/n) struggled to take more, and yet she was set on following whatever he asked of her, trying to loosen her jaw. One tear after another spilt from her eyes, dripping down onto his expensive carpet, leaving yet another stain he’d never wipe away. She wasn’t used to hearing his praises, and yet whenever he did praise her, (y/n) hoped that her mind would never forget about these moments, cherishing every sound he made.

She felt his cock twitch in her mouth, staring up at the moaning man as her hands added more speed to their movements, pumping the parts her mouth couldn’t reach. If there was one thing she was set on, it was tasting his release, wanting him to leave his stain on her tongue before he fucked her, a wish the man wouldn’t fulfill today. He pulled away before he could give in, letting go of her hair, only to pull (y/n) to her feet. The professor manhandled her onto his table, front pushed against the cold wood as his hands pulled her trousers and panties down her legs.

“Such a messy whore for your professor, look at the way you’re dripping.” His dark chuckles left (y/n) impatiently moaning, hands clinging to the edge of the table, already preparing for the first of many ferocious thrusts. She heard him spit into his hand, once again lubing his cock up before he pushed into her from behind, drawing a moan from the both of them. 

He fucked her hard, fast, not caring about her need to adjust, or the pained whimpers leaving her. No, this was a lesson, a lesson crafted for her only, reminding the young woman that she was his, his only. No other man would ever manage to fuck her like this. No other man would ever manage to draw these sounds from her parted lips.

His toy, his pet, his woman. 

Curses left her whenever his cock managed to nudge the spot that left her seeing stars, squeezing her eyes shut to try and focus on the intimate moment, the need to feel his cock forcing her walls apart with every thrust, the ache he left behind between her legs. This wasn’t about taking their time, about cherishing one another’s closeness, this was solemnly to scratch that inch inside of them, fuelled by their possessiveness. 

“Please, oh please, professor.” A hum left the man, forcing one arm around her waist to rub her pulsing bundle, driving her closer and closer to the edge. “Please let me cum, oh god, please.” 

“Cum for me, pet. Let them hear who is fucking you, who is the only one allowed to touch you.” His name rolled off (y/n)’s tongue as she came, trying to prolong the moment for as long as possible. The professor kept snapping his hips, forcing his cock deeper and deeper, wanting to leave his stain on her walls, set on imprinting himself on her cunt. His dark, raspy moans left her gasping, feeling his hand tighten its grip on her flesh as he came inside of her, giving room to one last groan.

“You’re mine to touch, mine only, don’t you ever forget that, (y/n).”

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Professor Miguel O’Hara x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: University Professor Miguel, Implications of Smut, Age Gap, Secret Relationship, Teacher’s Pet Reader, Academic Manipulation, Coercion, Abuse of Power, Miguel Abusing his Spider Abilities for Nefarious Purposes, Slight Yandere Miguel, Implied Obsession, Minor Spoilers for Miguel’s Backstory, Extra Yandere Headcanons, Forced Kissing, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Miguel knows it’s wrong to want you in the way he does. You’re his best and brightest student, after all — his magnum opus: his academic pride and joy.

Problem is, that appreciation for your work ethic and your eagerness to take heavy loads of work (and eventually heavy loads of other things) charmed him. Sure, he could label you asa kiss-ass, a teacher’s pet, a sycophant, but ever since the first day he met you, he can’t help but feel your concern for him is genuine.

You always ask him how he’s doing. Every class, without fail, you stop off at his desk on your way to your seat and ask: “How are you doing today, Mr. O’Hara?” Followed by questioning some inane, specific detail he told you off-handedly a day or week prior.

You always remembered the little details. Something even Miguel finds trouble with doing; what, with his extracurricular activities as Nueva York’s one and only Spiderman.

The fact that you’re kind to him, a luxury Miguel had long since lost along with his family, strikes a chord with him.

He’s not sure when his platonic appreciation of such a hard-working student turned to something more — a rogue daydream into the lewd — but once he started, he couldn’t get enough.

Something about your unspoken submission to him – your, dare he say, desire to perform just for him, led his mind and his morals astray, left much room for interpretation and experimentation.

Choosing to believe you liked him — like-liked him — made a brand of pride bubble in his chest that he couldn’t abandon, couldn’t find a potent enough alternative to.

He starts shamelessly, yet restrainedly, flirting with you. In his own way, of course.

“I loved your paper on the configuration of water molecules and their behaviour when observed; very enlightening stuff.”

The way your face would light up, your eyes crinkling while a small, almost relieved laugh escaped you, made his chest flutter.

He thought it was pride. How little he knows for a science professor.

Eventually, this escalated into him asking you to do things for him he “Wouldn’t ordinarily ask a student to do.”

He smiles at you, eyes deceptively kind behind his slender glasses, as he watches you so intently listen, hear, for his commands.

He wonders what other things you’d do — how far you’d really go, stretch yourself (as he hopes you’d let him) — for a good grade and a positive impression.

He has a secret weapon that he knows will work on you, regardless of how momentous the task.

“I’m trusting you because you’re my favourite student.”

There it is. The activation phrase. Your heart rate quickens, your pupils blow wide and he can feel, hear, the blood rush to your cheeks as his confession settles in.

He can expect whatever it is he’s asked you to do to be complete before the time he’s set for you to do it. And all because of your eagerness to prove that you’re worthy of such a title as ‘favourite’. His favourite.

Truly, though, you are his favourite.

He feels his heart prick and his eyes search for you whenever the door to the lecture hall opens.

Only once were you unable to come to class, rendered bed-ridden by the flu, and Miguel’s heart sank.

He thought at first it was because he didn’t have your adoring eyes following him, trailing his every movement, stroking off his ego with how furiously you’d type on your laptop, take everything he said and burn it into your memory with laser-life efficiency.

But, as the lecture drew to a close, Miguel felt…concerned about you. Your well-being.

A dangerous emotion.

He cared about you. More than just an academic plaything, a task donkey; he wanted to visit you, to care for you. In ways he knew only he was capable of.

During his surveillance of the city that night, he paid you a visit as Spiderman.

Nothing so overt as to make himself known to you; rather a sideline visit as he watched you through your bedroom window.

Truly, your physical state reflected how monumental your illness was; you lay in bed, unaware of the world around you as you slept, nose tip red and eyes ringed.

He wanted to come in, to tuck you back under the blankets you’d thrashed yourself free from, to check your temperature, to be with you.

He leaves, hand coming up to the glass, wishing to breach it — and all the rules — to see you.

But alas, the next time he sees you is in class a few days later when you’re fully recovered.

As you sidle into your seat, lecture hall (uncharacteristically) devoid of Miguel, your friends lean in to tell you all that you missed.

Though, to your surprise, it’s not academic material they’re covering.

“He kept looking over here while you were gone,” came one friend, smiling. Knowing.

“Yeah,” chimes another, leaning in even closer. “And he didn’t sound like he usually does — he sounded…” They look for the right word, term, eyes sliding upwards as if the answer lay heavenward.

The cogs click, they look at you, pointing.

“Disheartened!”

Of course, your friends knew of your admiration for Miguel, often construing it as romantic attraction, but their jibes never went past a joke – purely satirical. After all, practically every student fancied Miguel.

But, that was the first indication you’d seen that Miguel didn’t just view you as another of his students. Though, you hadn’t seen the other warning signs.

Not that youd knwo this prior to dating him, but Miguel gets unbelievably hard when you call him ‘Mr. O’Hara’. Or, even better, ‘Sir’.

Something about the way you look up at him beneath your lashes, eyes filled with the desire to please him, to get on his good side and undertake any task he set for you, was akin to him having full control over you — academic and otherwise.

It just reminds him of how much power he has over you; for the first time, he feels that he has control over the elements and objects around him — an agent of fate rather than being a subject of it. 

That, coupled with his secret identity as Spider Man, sends him on a power trip that often leads him to relieving himself of his growing burden in the privacy of his own four walls, your name laced between the groaning, the panting, the moaning; the only comprehensible instrument in his orchestra.

And, when you eventually start dating, he takes his frustrations out on you.

He makes low, raspy threats when he wants something.

“I’ll lower your grade,” he says, sliding his belt from the loops of his trousers.

The blood draining from your face, your widened stare, your mouth dropping open, make his pants feel tight. Tighter. Goosebumps erupt across his skin.

“Or,” he offers, folding the belt and holding it by the ends. He slaps the belt’s body against itself, sending a crack through the room. You flinch.

“You can be a good little student and earn your grade.”

‘Earning’ often ends with you panting and red and wet, while Miguel watches you between half-lidded, reddened eyes, contact lenses long abandoned, his true nature no longer an enigma to you.

Unfortunately for you.

Extra Yandere Headcanons:

Once you discover Miguel’s true identity, both as Spiderman and a monster, you can never leave.

And not just because you’d be endangering both yourself and him if you ever told anyone.

Miguel, quite simply, cannot live without you. And the thought that you would try to escape him is, despite his intelligence, baffling.

His delusion has blinded him, made him privy only to any positive opinion of him you may have, ignoring your reservations. Invalidating them.

If you ever do make the mistake of trying to leave, Miguel knows he cannot let you have the chance of making it again.

“Can’t risk you getting out, Darling,” he says, placing the finishing knots on the threads of his neon web, keeping your arms constricted behind your back. It’s nigh-impossible to breathe; the likelihood of you breaking your ribs against the pull of the web a certainty rather than you managing to burst it open with any manoeuvre.

He kneels before you, taking your cheek in his hand.

With fleeting defiance, you pull yourself from his grasp, only to see him bear his teeth, fangs and all, and growl. His hands snake about your cheek, your throat, and pull you to him.

“No-one will ever love you like I do,” he rasps. Before you can anticipate, his lips are on yours, parted, tongue lapping at the inside of your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing better than to bite him.

His iron grip on your wrists from last time still haven’t healed.

You daren’t close your eyes for fear that doing so will leave you any more vulnerable than you already are.

Only when he’s breathless does he pull back, eyes half-lidded and gleaming. You can tell he’s angling for something more in the way his hand drops to your shoulder, his eyes sweeping across your collarbones.

But, luckily for you, the two of you know he can’t indulge in you just yet. Not while he has you bound in his basement and a class of students awaiting his arrival.

“I’ll be back for you later,” he says, still panting, forehead pressed to yours. His smile, once pointed and serpentine, is incongruously soft compared to the current circumstances. His lips gentle as he presses a kiss to your forehead. His eyes shimmer with a tenderness that often overtook him in moments of great need – of great “love”, as he’d characterise it.

With a tight, embrace, he parts from you. His shirt is an almost blinding white against the light pouring in from the hallway, the basement door now wide open. He retrieves his glasses from his breast pocket, slips them on. His eyes are unreadable, coloured brown with contact lenses which seemed to conceal his inhumanity from all except you.

“Sit tight, Sweetie,” he tells you. And you are plunged once again into darkness with only the dim glow of his web to accompany you.

And, just like the good, obedient student you are, you obey. For you have no other choice.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[lingerina]

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀KINKTOBER ⠀//⠀day one

➤ PROMPT hate sex ➤ 1.1k words ➤ g!p student giselle x TA fem!reader ➤ brief noncon, college!au, slight degradation, creampie, squirting. ➤ aeri learns that money can’t buy everyone.

If there’s anything worse than a teacher’s pet, it’s a teacher’s assistant.

She has made enemies with all of her studious peers. Her mildly mischievous antics would land her in various teachers’ classrooms for a ten-minute lecture on ethics and morals before she gets dismissed with a mere slap on the wrist. Money buys everything, so her family wealth often saves her from suffering the consequences.

Except money couldn’t buy you.

Though you are a teacher’s assistant, you’re close to Aeri’s age. Most people who aren’t in the same tax bracket as her family statistically struggle with earning enough to live so not only is she shocked when you refuse her cash. She’s furious that you actually report her behavior, which will now show up on her clean records.

Even the threat of using her wealth to destroy you didn’t deter you from following through with your report.

Aeri always gets away with being a troublemaker, especially when joined by her small posse to wreak havoc on the “peasants” (as they call their peers). Being enabled by an equally mischievous crowd and never being told “no” by her overly doting parents culminated into unhealthy coping with negative emotions.

Because there’s only one way for her to release anger.

A bated breath escapes your kiss-swollen lips as Aeri’s cock plunges into you with ease, courtesy of your ample wetness from the student’s fingers.

What started off as an exchange of rather colorful words and heated arguments turned into you being shoved against your desk and violated by a troublemaking student who couldn’t accept that she can’t always get her way. It turned into buttons flying to the floor with loud clacks and fabric ripping as she tore your leggings open at your crotch, humiliating you and marking you while holding you down.

You briefly fought back, but your body melts at the brush of lips on your neck. As soon as kisses make contact with your skin, all you want is more. More.

Even if they are a pain in the ass.

“Fuck you,” Aeri hisses as she draws her cock out, “for ruining my record.”

You moan shamelessly when she slams back into you, uncaring of the people passing by outside the classroom possibly hearing you.

She’s massive, barely letting you adjust to the girth that’s stretching out your tight and needy pussy. The lewd view of you on your desk, shirt forced open and exposing your tits, your leggings partially destroyed and dampened around the crotch, your legs fixed upwards against your chest, fuels her urge to fuck you senseless.

And so she does.

She fucks her typically poised TA with rigor. She fucks her unnecessarily strict and cold TA with anger, the obscene squelches of your dripping cunt bearing with the abuse of her cock echoing through the empty classroom. Your breathy moans and pathetic pleas surge her already inflated ego through the roof, and her eyes become fixed on you.

She observes the pleasure (and pain) etched on your face: the crease between your brows, your eyes shutting tightly, the occasional clenching of your jaw, and your mouth hanging open when she fucks you harder. It is now engraved in her memory.

“Not so strong now, are you?,” she taunts, her nails digging into the back of your thighs as she tightens her grip.

Your thoughts have been fucked out of you long ago. You can barely control yourself as she drives into you without care, but that lack of care is what’s making you hungry for more. The roughness, the belittling, and the humiliation is what’s keeping you dripping all over the girl’s cock.

All over your desk.

Aeri’s pace becomes less calculated. She manages to remain quick with her thrusts as you tighten around her, suctioning her in. She’s noisier, grunts and hitched breaths making her less wordy. She tests your flexibility at this point, forcing your thighs all up against your naked chest as she mutters about being close.

Your back arches off the desk as she bottoms out and finishes inside you.

“Such good pussy,” she mumbles as she drags her slick-coated cock out.

She shoves back in with full force, shifting your body upwards on your desk from the impact and grins when you shudder and whine. “That’s it. Take it all in, bitch.”

She repeats the process, each thrust pushing her release deeper inside you. “Take in all my cum like the little whore you are.”

She slowly pulls out her softened cock, the only time she’s ever gentle with you. Her cum oozes out a second later, flooding the surface beneath you. As it drips to the floor, she draws two fingers up your slit and plugs them in your cunt.

She may have finished first, but she’s determined to finish you too.

She works her magic. With the proper angle and a good wrist, it requires no effort for you to reach your high. Her thumb swiping over your engorged clit with each pump is what ends it all. You grab at the edge of your desk, your eyes rolling back as you spill all over her hand. Your leggings are soiled further, and Aeri is thriving from how ruined you are. How you’re so wet and sensitive and squirting even more as she pushes you past your brink.

You sink back onto your desk, exhausted, after she removes her fingers. While you need a minute to yourself, Aeri has already slipped back into her trousers and gathered her belongings. She shuffles towards the door while checking the time on her phone, but stops and looks back at you over her shoulder.

“I expect that citation to be gone by tomorrow.”

She clicks her tongue with a wink, and leaves you sprawled on your desk—half naked, ruined, and full of cum.

Because there’s only one way for her to release anger.

And that is inside you.

[dulc3vida]

you.

rafe cameron x bunny!reader

part 1. this is my au so don't think too much about canon lore. characters, times, events, ect... might not match but PLEASE JUST ENJOY THE STORY PLEASE JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASe

warning: 18+ read at your own risk. this is a dark fic loosely inspired by the tv show you. dubious content lies ahead, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

UNC Chapel Hill: September, Sophomore Year

there was nothing rafe cameron hated more than being tutored. it made him feel stupid, needing someone to explain and break down concepts that others understood easily. ward used to lose his mind trying to find rafe new tutors because in all honesty, when rafe felt cornered or helpless, he got nasty. saying the rudest things that made these well-paid, private tutors basically discard a paycheck, was one of the first times rafe ever felt true power. the first time he ever came close to knowing what his dad felt like, even though his dad had a much better reputation than rafe ever would.

rafe especially hated english. the books were boring and he could never be bothered to sumbit more than a half baked essay regarding the text. that's how he ended up in the study room in the library sitting across from you. he remembered you from class, the TA. you always sat besides prof. callahans desk and you looked younger than any TA he had ever had, probably even his age. your face was familiar but rafe couldn't put his finger on it. you were clean, you smelled good, and your nails were done which meant you had the time and money to take care of that kind of thing when most college students forget to feed themselves. you occasionally looked up from the signup sheet as the minutes ticked 5 past 3pm, where only rafe's name was signed.

"i guess we can start now." you mumbled, flipping your notebook open. "this weeks quiz is going to cover part 1 of crime and punishment. have you... started the reading?"

rafe's hard gaze bored into yours and he shook his head without another word. he was thinking about how cute and neurotic the way you had your notes organized was and how soft you spoke to him. were you scared of him? rafe was intrigued.

"okay, no biggie. we can just start there. did you check out a copy of the book?" you asked, pulling out your own copy that was bursting at the seam with sticky notes and colored tabs. again, rafe wordlessly shook his head. "good thing we're in the library. come on, let's go see if they have any left."

rafe followed close behind you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck as you walked through rows of books before finding the one you were looking for. you showed rafe how to check a book out before returning to the study room. "okay. let's start."

you began dissecting the book from the very beginning, soft voice describing the historical context of the book. rafe was surprised at how well he was keeping up. it didn't hurt that you were cute, nose all blushed and button, scrunching up whenever you couldn't read your own handwriting in your notes. a pair of clear framed glasses sat on the bridge of your nose which you constantly adjusted due to your eyelashes hitting the glass. you had a habit of licking and biting your lips, applying lipgloss on every "brain break" as you called it. maybe all this time, all he needed was a cute tutor that he could stand looking at.

in between writing notes and flipping through the book, he caught glimpses of a "j" necklace dangling in your cleavage. did your name start with a j?

"what's your name?" rafe asked once the two of you began packing your things up. it was now 7:30 with the sun beginning to set. you told him and he repeated it under his breath.

"my friends call me bunny though." if you're bunny, who is j? you tossed your bag over your shoulder and let your hair down from the claw clip that was holding it up. it billowed over your shoulders and you tucked a few stray strands behind your ears after taking your glasses off. you weren't the shy good girl he met at the beginning of the session, no, you were different. good girl in front of everyone but he knew there was another energy in you that he wanted- no he needed to see. rafe watched you leave, staying a few steps behind, where he could comfortably watch you and before he knew it, you were jumping into the passenger side of a beat up old brown van that pulled up, and leaning over to give whoever was driving a kiss.

rafe felt a familiar, red hot anger wash over him. the first time he felt that anger was when sarah was born and ward wouldn't stop fawning over her. ward basically forgot he had a son when sarah was born which made rafe incredibly insecure. that insecurity built a home inside rafe's heart, where any little inconvenience could turn it into an ugly monster with sharp teeth and a desire to tear everything in sight into fucking pieces. this time, the monster was awakened at the reality of you having a boyfriend.

against his better judgement, rafe ran to his truck the second you took off, speeding down the road he saw you drive down. it took him a minute, but he managed to find the shitbox on wheels you were riding around in. he made sure to stay far enough away to where it didn't seem suspicious, but close enough to where he wouldn't lose you again.

he wouldn't lose you again.

he repeated that phrase to himself as he drove into jacksonville and while he parked his car a few spaces from the van in a place where your little group was fully visible. you came to the beach. there was 3 guys, 1 girl, and you. gone were your leggings, tank top, and cardigan. instead, you donned a pair of cutoff jean shorts, a bikini top, and a huge smile on your face as you settled yourself in the blonde boys lap.

rafe thought he recognized the group you were with, but he was hoping his eyes were just playing tricks. of course, it could never be that simple because rafe did know them. the pogues. what were they doing on the mainland? he hadn't seen them in a while and was getting used to not having to see or smell them other than when he went home for holidays.

jj, he knew worked in the cafeteria ever since he graduated earlier in the spring, which is probably how he met you. rafe had never been fond of jj, in fact, rafe lived to antagonize jj back on the island (if he cared for the cafeteria food, he would probably be in there a lot more to mess with him) so him having you felt like poorly timed karma. to be completely honest, rafe hadn't expected such a dramatic shift of power dynamics when coming to college because now there was at least 10 other rafe's who were dating the girls he should have been dating. he did just fine at parties, more than fine, but he was starting to get tired of drunk girls who just lied there all limp and sweaty or threw up on his dick (happened twice freshman year and he didn't enjoy it like he thought he would). the first decent, eligible girl he meets is getting her pussy dug out by jj maybank of all people and it felt like someone, somewhere was laughing at his misfortune. it almost made him want to give up on you.

almost.

he would never let jj maybank win at anything, let alone your heart. there was just something about you that he couldn't let go. the only thing he couldn't figure out was why everyone else was here too? none of them had a chance of getting into chapel hill. you either had to have perfect grades, be incredibly wealthy, or be a legacy student. thankfully, rafe managed to be 2/3 of those things.

rafe sat back in his seat and just observed you. he cracked his windows open and tried to listen to your conversation but he was too far to hear anything other than laughter and unintelligible voices. he pulled his phone out and typed your name into instagram, easily finding your very public page.

rafe decided to do some digging. he would start at the bottom. scrolling all the way back through a very curated feed (rafe could tell you pick and choose which of your old posts get to stay up and which ones ruin the feed) rafe felt his heart sink.

he knew you.

OBX: Summer 2018

"come on, bunny, i don't wanna go without you." your friend, esther, pleaded. she had been invited to rafe camerons party, a coveted event where anything and everything happened. esther was dating rafe's friend kelce, who invited her to the party.

"you're not even gonna talk to me so what's the point in going." you responded, filing your nails while you laid in bed.

"honestly, when's the last time you really went out? you only ever go to the country club and don't say your parents make you because last time you weren't even with your parents."

"well, the old men buy me drinks if i talk to them and make them laugh. sometimes they give me money. one of them gave me this tiffany bracelet." you stuck your wrist out to show off the silver bracelet with the heart tag which was branded with the company's insignia.

"that's kinda gross." esther scrunched her nose. you only shrugged your shoulders.

"so is going to a party at rafe camerons house. jungle juice is probably roofied" rafe had been the stereotypical jock douchebag who only hung out with other jocks, cheerleaders, or other impossibly gorgeous girls. you saw right through him which is why you never caved. not when he invited you to his lunch table, not when he asked you out, not when he tried to grind against you on the dancefloor at junior prom and called you a bitch when you pushed him away. at some point, rafe stopped trying trying with you and turned his attention and "where my hug at?" energy towards other girls who were much more susceptible.

"so we'll pregame. just please don't make me go alone." in a flash, esther sat on top of you and pinned your arms down while a string of "please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top!" tumbled out of her mouth.

"OKAY!" you had enough, but were still giggling. "i'll go, just get off of me so i can change."

"yay!" esther rolled off of you. "wear the black one, the one that makes you look slutty."

"aren't we supposed to be getting you laid?" you asked, looking through your closet that was practically overflowing with expensive name brands.

esther looked down at her hands. "me and kelce already..."

"no way. really?" she nodded and you squealed rushing over to hug her. "babe i'm so proud of you! wait- why do you need me there then?"

"its the first time i'm meeting his friends and i'm nervous." she explained, now looking through your clothes with you. "i need a buffer, yknow, a cute friend who can keep my boyfriends friends occupied."

you blinked. "so basically, you're whoring me out?"

"you just told me that you talk to old men for money and gifts."

"yeah and they don't even get to see me in my little black dress."

when you arrived at the party, it was in full swing. rafe caneron's parties had a reputation. booze flowed, drugs were shared, and there were enough rooms in the house for every couple to get busy in. it was the perfect haven for teen delinquency.

you were unimpressed, as per usual, with rafe's antics. he had been in the pool when you arrived, a girl on either side of him while he smoked a joint.

"how long do i have to stay?"

"until you start enjoying yourself."

you went to the bar. grabbing a red solo cup, you mixed yourself a drink of cherry vodka and coke. you chugged it, always having the attitude that when it came to alcohol you had to get right to the point. when you finished it, you made yourself another one.

"excuse me." a hand gently placed itself on the small of your back which made you jump. "my bad, didn't mean to scare ya- hey you're esthers friend right?" it was topper. "i just saw her with kelce. i'm topper." he stuck his hand out.

"bunny." you took it.

"whatcha got there?"

"chery vodka and coke."

"nah nah nah- you like the cherry vodka?" you nodded and he took your cup from you. "let me make you a drink."

"okay." you watched his every move as he fixed cherry vodka, cranberry juice, and lime in a brand new cup. "thank you. what is this?"

"it's called a cherry bounce. cheers to you, bunny. hopefully this isn't the last time i see you."

you only smiled at him, tight lipped and gently tapped your cup against his before taking a drink. "topper, this is really good. make me another?"

"you're not even done with that one yet." with that, you drank the rest of your cup. "okay, party girl." he took your cup back and fixed you another. "you wanna dance?"

you hated to admit it, but you actually were having a good time with topper. he was funny, kind, nice to look at, and he was a good dancer. the night was going so good, until esther invited you and topper to sesh with her, kelce, and rafe as the party died down.

it wasn't the sesh that was bad, no, you even managed to be polite and sociable with rafe. it was after the sesh when your drinks had caught up with you and you needed to pee. "esther can you show me where the bathroom is?" you asked but it fell on deaf ears as esther and kelce were mouth fucking.

"c'mon. i'll show you." rafe got up and began walking inside the house without another word. you quickly followed, only wanting to relieve your bladder and be alone for a few minutes to gather yourself and your thoughts that were racing on account of the sativa blunt you had just smoked.

rafe walked up the stairs, basically torturing your bladder with every step until he got into his room. "just use this one."

you were too desperate to argue about whatever his intentions were bringing you here so you went in and almost tripped over yourself getting to the toilet. you made it through, no accidents happening and feeling a lot more gone than when you walked up the stairs.

you stepped back into rafes room and he was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. "you okay? you were in there for a while."

"yeah." you stumbled over to sit next to him but he got up and went to his window. "just a little dizzy."

"everyone fell asleep." rafe watched his friends make themselves comfortable on the outside couch on this hot summer night. you climbed over his bed and looked out the window at the sight of your friend asleep on her boyfriend's chest and topper asleep, hugging a pillow.

"do i get a prize?" he cocked his head at you. "for being the last one awake at a rafe cameron party?"

"what do you want?" rafe asked you seriously and you sighed, lying back against his navy blue sheets.

"for you to not be such an asshole." you murmured and stared at the ceiling. "i mean, you're really cute but you ruin it by being... you."

"i knew you had a thing for me." rafe must have only heard half of what you were saying because he was taking his place back next to you on his bed. "c'mere." he patted his lap and it didn't take much more coaxing than that to get you crawling into his lap. he positioned himself the way he wanted you, straddling him with your crotch right on top of his. "been waiting for you to finally come around." he trailed his hands up and down from your waist to your ass. "y'gonna let me inside that pretty pussy babe?" rafe whispered in your ear, sending all your intoxicated arousal straight to your core.

if you had been in a clearer state of mind, you would have never even been in rafe's room, but here you were letting him guide your hips to grind against you through the thin layer of your black lacy panties. your short dress had already ridden up your thighs, exposing you even more than you already were.

unexpectedly, rafe tugged the top of your dress down and leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. when he grazed his teeth against your sensitive, hardened peak, you gasped and jolted against him. "rafe." you whispered, trying to get his attention because your head was spinning. instead, his hand found a place between your legs and pushed your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your folds and spreading your wetness. he used it to rub your clit in circles, encouraged by your whimpers in his ear. "oh rafe..." you felt your orgasm building quickly due to your drunken state, but you also felt a pit building in your stomach. this felt wrong.

you blinked and you were on your back. your dress had found a place across your stomach and your panties were torn off of you without your knowledge. you closed your eyes, hoping if he thought you were asleep that he would just stop.

of course, things would not be that simple.

while your eyes were closed, rafe got undressed and slipped a condom over his cock. he grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips to prop your pussy up for him at the perfect angle. he took his cock and tapped it against your clit. "wake up, sleepy girl." you only whined and tried to close your legs but he forced himself between them so you couldn't.

your eyes snapped open when you felt the intrusion of his cock. "uhhh..." you let out a mixture of a moan and a whine. the stretch burned because no matter how wet you were, rafe was objectively big, especially the mushroom tip of it. you didn't know if it was the liquor, the weed, or what, but you could basically picture what it looked like based on the way it felt inside you.

rafe gave you no time to adjust and set a punishing pace off the bat. he had one of his large hands splayed over your stomach, pushing down and making you let out a short, loud moan. "let me hear you. wanna hear how good i fuck this pussy." rafe grunted while thrusting in and out.

you, in your state, were incredibly embarrassed no matter how good he hit your spots so you were barely letting any noise escape your mouth.

"always playing hard to get... you're gushing around my cock... and making a mess on my sheets... but you still act all stuck up..." rafe spat at you through his teeth and you let out another high pitched whine. he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, his balls now slapping your ass with vigor. "gotta put you in your place, huh?"

he flipped you over and pulled you onto all fours. his hand splayed across your back this time and pushed your chest into the bed, creating a beautiful arch to your back. "so fuckin pretty." he moaned when the slid back into your tight warmth. the change of position did nothing to help you hold onto the little composure you had as he was now deeper than before, mushroom tip generously rubbing against your g-spot and his balls now smacking your clit. you were too far gone to care how you looked throwing your hips back against his. "fucking slut." he grunted, grabbing a handful of your hair. "y'wanted this huh? yeah, yeah, you been needing this huh?"

you could only moan as he painfully gripped your hair and pushed himself balls deep, rolling his hips against yours. "you like the way i fuck you baby?"

"mhm..." you had your eyes closed as you focused on the tension building in your stomach. a heavy hand landed a smack against your ass.

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..." you desperately moaned out.

"good girl." rafe pushed your head back into the bed and drilled his cock into you brutally. you were struggling to hold your hips up, but rafe held you up with one arm. "fuck... m'gonna cum. y'gonna let me cum in this pussy?" rafe grunted and pulled out, sliding the condom off before thrusting back into you. "there we go." he spoke through gritted teeth. "thatagirl, pussy feels like heaven."

you felt the difference and opened your mouth to protest but all that came out was unintelligible pants and moans.

then you saw white.

your orgasm washed over you, making your pussy clench and flutter and cream around rafes cock. you felt rafes hips stutter against yours and then you felt hot ropes of cum paint your insides. you couldn't stop moaning because rafe was still inside you, slowly thrusting and rubbing your clit. "so fucking tight..." he commented as he watched the way your pussy suctioned his cock and pulled out.

against your knowledge, rafe had been recording since he got you in doggy and was still recording. "shit..." he groaned as he focused the camera on your glistening pussy. a drop of his cum came dribbling out and he pushed it back in, earning a soft "ahhh..." from you. he played with your sensitive cunt until you came again for the camera and passed out.

when you woke up, you were alone. for a brief moment, you hadn't remembered what happened and were just confused as to where you were. you peered around the room and saw your dress and torn panties and it all came rushing back. the drinks, the sesh, having sex with rafe cameron. he must have changed you because you didn't remember putting on one of his shirts or sweats.

you checked your phone and your parents had been blowing you up since 8am. it was noon. you had missed calls from esther and a series of texts that said she couldn't find you in the morning and hopes you made it home safe. "shit." you groaned and got out of bed, legs sore from the sex you could only remember flashes of. you tidied the room up and changed back into your clothes before walking downstairs with your heels in hand. you slowed as you reached the foyer, hearing voices from the parlor.

"i don't know dude, doesn't feel right to watch this."

"she was totally cool with it, c'mon."

"you're gonna wanna see this."

you recognized the voices as topper, rafe, and kelce. then a video began playing and at first it just sounded like porn, then you realized it was your moans streaming through rafes phone.

"you like the way i fuck you?"

"mhm..."

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..."

"good girl."

you felt sick to your stomach as you heard the boys commenting on the video. how could you be so stupid? of course rafe would record you without permission while you were off your ass last night. you only blamed yourself as you walked home from tannyhill.

the video followed you around over the summer and you only managed to escape it when you went off to college.

rafe never thought twice about you after that.

JACKSONVILLE: Present.

rafe stared at your instagram feed in utter disbelief. he hadn't thought about you or the video since that summer. he honestly forgot it even happened. he wasn't a douchebag, he was a handsome young man who took all the opportunities presented to him (as he told himself). was sending the video around immature and stupid? probably. he was a kid though. everyone makes mistakes, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself as he looked through old pictures of you. did you remember him? you must have. you looked different from the last time he saw you but he looked the same. you definitely knew who he was the second he came into the study room and he didn't know how to feel about that. it made his job easier and harder. he already had a connection with you, but he would have to go through a grueling apology process that he really didn't care for. he just needed to have you.

as he scrolled into the more recent stuff, he couldn't help but notice that you didn't post jj on here at all. the page was a monument to you, all the better, and you were gorgeous on here. 2k followers with 1k likes on every post you made and comments that varied from "you're so gorgeous" to "just give me one chance." you had a highlight titled "my <3" and there was only one picture of you holding jj's hand with the song "melting" by kali uchis which was posted only a month ago.

he left your profile and went into his camera roll, into the hidden folder and scrolled back to 2018. he found the video and pressed play, his cock getting hard immediately and straining against his pants. soon enough, he had his phone pressed to his ear and his hand down his pants as he watched you and kie gathering firewood. soon enough, he was cumming in his hand to the sound of you saying that you loved his cock.

rafe managed to clean up a little and continued to watch you, well into the night as you and your friends built a bonfire and smoked a joint. it was midnight when you all had decided to leave. he followed the dirty old van back to campus and learned where your dorm was, watching you and jj head in.

rafe made it back to his dorm at around 3:30am. the more he learned, the more questions he had. rafe fell asleep with only one thing on his mind.

you.

[lau219]

Summaries for Current Kinktober Lineup

🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍

🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍

🔥 Completion of Every Inch of You — Tommy finally acts on his long-time desire for Y/N, completely surprising her and showing her that not only can the right man make sex amazing, but that a real man not only admires a woman’s curves, but thoroughly enjoys them.

🎃 Cillian Murphy x Reader — Cillian is all for charity, but not for the pointless soirées that go with it. But when the charity he’s most tied to throws a gala, he’s expected to be there. Ordinarily, he finds any theme or gimmick incredibly stupid, but this particular event’s masquerade theme means at least he can disappear among the other attendees and not be hounded. When he meets an elegant, beautiful stranger with an adventurous side, he seizes the opportunity to finally enjoy one of these events.

🤍 Jonathan Crane x Reader — Y/N has been Jonathan Crane’s research assistant for a year now, and despite his extremely stoic and clinical demeanor, she has a hopeless crush on him. But she also wants badly to impress him, and she’s constantly striving to be the ideal assistant. Little does she know that Jonathan has spent the last year carefully assessing and analyzing her, not only because he’s secretly wanted her all along, but also to learn her desires and the ins and outs of exactly how to make her fall apart for him.

🔥 Jackson Rippner x Reader — Even the bad guys have to eat, right? And the local diner is where Jackson goes for a bite at least twice a week. Of course, the beautiful yet feisty waitress who always ends up being stuck serving him has nothing to do with his frequenting there, right? Fed up with Jackson’s sexist, arrogant attitude and asshole remarks, Y/N always tries to get him out of her diner as fast as possible, despite the fact that he’s the sexiest man she’s ever laid eyes on. This toxic back and forth comes to a head when Y/N finally pushes Jackson a little too far, and he has to teach her a lesson and show her just how much of a mistake it is to test him.

🎃 Tom Buckley x Reader — How can such an insanely hot man seem to have no personality and no interests in anything other than his work? That’s the question Y/N wonders on a daily basis about Tom Buckley, her professor’s TA and colleague. But when Dr. Matheson recruits Y/N to help with a new project due to her incredibly impressive performance in class, she and Tom are suddenly spending a lot of time together outside of class. Is there more to Tom than Y/N thought? Maybe there’s a personality behind those gorgeous blue eyes after all, and perhaps Tom’s prior behavior was simply how he’s kept himself in check, and not because he hasn’t noticed this star student.

🤍 Cillian Murphy x Reader — The theater has a different energy all its own, which is why Cillian is so passionate about it, always returning when the opportunity presents itself. With the latest invitation to perform as the lead actor in a new show filled with heavy drama and romance, the actor is surprised to learn that his female co-star is very fresh, not expecting a new actress to be able to take on such weight. But besides being unbelievably impressed with her sophistication and acting abilities, Cillian also can’t stop wishing that every romantic scene between them was happening in real life. But since Y/N has followed and admired Cillian for years as she made her own way in the acting world, the fondness is definitely mutual. Not to mention the fact that she nearly melts every time he touches her. Upon the wrap of closing night, will restraint and professionalism finally give way to desire and passion?

🔥 Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader — Tommy always calls the shots; it’s the only way he knows how to operate, and that includes in the bedroom. But outside the bedroom, Y/N needs to remember that Tommy still controls her. After several busy weeks with no sex between them due to crazy schedules and commitments, Tommy decides that tonight, the foreplay is going to begin before they even make it back home. Due to her recent slip in attitude and getting sassy with Tommy, Y/N is going to quickly be reminded that she’s completely at Tommy’s mercy (or lack thereof), and he has an intimate little gift for her to remind her of just that fact.

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @allie131313 @betty21rose @febris-amatoria

@hannibellector @fairytale07 @meister95 @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @beastofburdenxo

@runnning-outof-time @aphroditeslover11 @galactict3a @natalie--rushman @wild-rose-35

@judig92 @cillmurphyslover @ladyvenera @karah-bear @k1ng-l3on

@ceirinen @peskybinders @fuseburner @shaddixlife @neonpurplestars89-blog

@garrison-girl-08 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @emotionalcadaver @muhahaha303 @mostly-marvel-musings

@darklydeliciousdesires @mamawiggers1980 @honeymoon8 @novashelby @wonderlanddreamer

@cardan-official @fmo166 @vastcapacity @mspookington-blog @teawonderfultea-blog1

@shopgirl6us @fkmarrycill @mrs-bond @sl-newsie @lyarr24

@cillianbabe @vervainandspritz @pkmonka @myers-meadow @bouquet-and-pearls

[thisismeracing]

Literature lovers | CS55 (patreon exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Professor!Sainz x TA!reader (she/her) ― Warning: implied age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties, Carlos in his mid-thirties); mentions of food and alcohol; graphic description of sex (p in v, oral –fem receiving, dirty talk); Use of Cassio Sanchez instead of Carlos Sainz for known reasons. (5.1k words) ― Summary: One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”, deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you. Of course, it was dangerous grounds, but things clicked, and as he said so himself, destiny guided you together.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Growing up, you always heard about how you had to be the best, had to run twice as fast as others, train more, and still hear how lucky you were. It was something that tired you once college came around. Yet,  it was almost like second nature to you, doing things as close to perfection as possible. That’s how you ended up getting into your master's right after graduating, that’s how you turned out being a teacher’s assistant to one of the most famous professors on campus, and coming to think about it, you guess that’s how he ended up recommending you to everyone.

That’s the reason he recommended you to Carlos Sainz, the Spanish Literature professor.

Your professor, English literature specialist, George Russell, was a posh Englishman who would occasionally forget some of his materials and schedules, always having a book on his nose and talking about it. You and he hit it off quickly. You were his favorite student, and when you became his assistant, he was even happier because you were just so organized, and punctual.

When George told you he was “lending” your teacher’s assistant’s services to another professor, because he was off, and his colleague had a few conferences that month, besides taking over his classes, you accepted. George knew you loved Spanish language literature, and he knew you and Carlos would work well together. At least that’s what he told you before sending you Carlos' work e-mail and handing you a copy of the uncensored version of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a book you had been trying to get for months but hadn’t been able to find that particular edition.

While setting some of your things for the first day with Carlos, you stared at his e-mail for the hundredth time. You didn’t know him. Your Spanish Literature classes were all completed during an exchange in Colombia, and the University was big enough for you not to know every professor by name or face.

Still, you took a deep breath and wrote an e-mail to Professor Sainz about some of your ideas for the upcoming semester, well aware that you had accepted the role and you would make it work. You liked to think that you could have denied George's request and could have told him about a personal project you’ve been working on, but you said yes.

One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”. Deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you.

***

He keeps his eyes on your face, and you smile after swallowing a bite and finally opening yours.

“I take it, you liked the dish?” His amused, yet provocative tone made you shiver the slightest.

“It’s perfect, Carlos. Now I’m feeling bad I bought a cake from a bakery, instead of making our dessert myself,” you complained, taking another bite. Carlos caught the joke in your tone and smirked, eyes finally wandering down your body, or what the table lets his big brown orbs see.

The V-neck dress was not scandalous per se, it has sleeves that go to your wrists, and it’s not form-fitting, but rather loose around your body. It showed the right amount of skin. And Carlos couldn’t have loved your choice more.

His eyes found yours after a few seconds, it’s almost like he’s making sure you’re comfortable with his gaze, and the way you lean slightly on the table giving him the perfect view is answer enough.

“Don’t worry about dessert, you know we have it covered.”

“Do we?” You add to the tension, and Carlos chuckles.

“Oh, we sure do,” he nods, taking a sip of his wine. “In fact, how do you feel about skipping the whole meal and going straight to dessert?”

“It sure sounds tempting.”

“Do you want it?”

He was still sitting and hadn’t made any move indicating he was about to go your way. You knew this game you were playing and knew that the way he was throwing the questions your way was Carlos studying you, making sure you were comfortable with the outcome. He wanted you to be comfortable. He always wants it, and you can tell from the small details.

No pressure.

Never pressure.

He wanted you to want him.

And oh, how you do!

“I want it.”

He smirked. You heard the scrape of the chair against the wooden floor and watched as he walked barefoot to you. The first few buttons of his white button-up were undone showing you his tan skin where a few dark strands of hair peek out on what you can tell was a remarkably toned body.

Carlos pushed your chair back, turning it to him. He parted your thighs the best he could with your dress and kneeled between your legs. From this angle, he looked even hotter.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this sneak peek! This piece has been on Patreon since last month, but I forgot to add the sneak peek here hihi <3 I wanted to write for Professor!Sainz for a while now, and finally found the inspo to finish this piece, and the time to finish editing the last details. A huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon) and Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading this, and to K (@dancininseptember) for suggesting the TA!reader when I posted about writing this (Ily, guys!).

If you liked this sneak peek and want access to the exclusive content, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @benstormy

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[vakarians-babe]

After a historic 6 week strike, the Temple University Graduate Students Association - the first graduate worker union in Pennsylvania - has WON.

When we went out on January 31st, I don’t think any of us thought that we would end up here. This was a long and arduous process that could never have been accomplished without everyone involved—and I do mean everyone.

Numerous news outlets have been reporting throughout the whole strike, but I’d like to run through what, exactly, it is we’ve done.

After well over a year of negotiations (we went to the table in January of 2022 after the administration delayed responding to our RFIs for months) and more than a year without a contract (it expired on February 15, 2022), we were stuck with an administrative team whose position was, resolutely, “we are happy with the contract as it is.” Their belief was that teaching and research assistants, who facilitate—at a conservative estimate—approximately one-third of all instructional work here on campus were “not a core function of the university.” Pay was structured around a tier-based system that generated inequity as part of its structure which ultimately manifested as race and gender based wage gaps, and that pay averaged out between 19k and 20k for the majority of our bargaining unit. We had only five days of parental leave in the event of childbirth. To cover a single dependent on the dependent healthcare plan required an individual to spend approximately 30% of their paycheck. There had been no substantive raises or adjustments for the cost of living since our first contract as a union.

During the strike, Temple university cut our healthcare and revoked tuition remission, attempting to break us through punitive bills and threats. They quite literally threatened peoples’ lives in addition to their livelihoods. International students were threatened for daring to exercise the rights they have as visa holders to engage in protected concerted activity. They attempted to break our will and our organization.

They failed. We didn’t.

On Monday, voting on a second tentative agreement closed. The contract negotiations team and the executive board unanimously endorsed that TA. It passed at an overwhelming 98% vote among our members. That TA, which will now become our contract, did the following:

Eliminated the tier system completely

Brought our pay up to 24k at the beginning of our contract, reaching pay of 27k by its end in 2026

Introduced 25% dependent healthcare coverage which, in addition to the pay raises, lowers the burden of single dependent care to just about 18% of one’s paycheck instead of 30%

Increased parental leave to 21 days

While this contract is not the most perfect contract, it is one of the largest single contract wins in recent history. It signifies an incredible amount of organizing power and it opens the door for future negotiations that will make TUGSA even stronger.

But more importantly, this strike and this contract are incontrovertible proof that graduate worker unions can win. They are proof that we can do it, and that administrations cannot expect to silence us through retaliation. We are stronger than them.

The fight doesn’t end here. The union of graduate workers, faculty, postdocs and more at Rutgers University has passed their strike authorization vote. The graduate workers at Duke University are fighting for their right to be recognized as employees, and that fight will soon be passed up through the nation to challenge rulings made at the National Labor Relations Board. Graduate workers at other universities in Pennsylvania and the Philadelphia area are moving to unionize. TUGSA continues to organize—our next contract negotiations will begin in less than two and a half years. Now is the time to support graduate workers. We cannot backslide. We have to fight for each other, because when we fight, we win.

[bobfloydsbabe]

burning flames | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: A heated argument reaches a fever pitch for Bob and his TA.

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, mutual jealousy, SMUT (fingering), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST (new form–please sign up again if you haven't already)

SPECIAL THANKS to @cherrycola27 for letting me rant about professor bob and for sending thots when i ask for them. you're a real one.

A/N: very loosely inspired by the song style by taylor swift for the wonderful @laracrofted's 1989TGM writing celebration. this was supposed to be a mob boss bob fic, but that made me cry, so i switched gears and now here we are. i'm sorry this is so late, ames. enjoy!

“That’s all we have time for today. You’re dismissed.” He closes his book and listens to the sound of laptop lids being shut, chairs scraping against the old wooden floor, and chatter amongst his students. It’s a sound he’ll never tire of, no matter how long he teaches.

One sound is distinctly different, though. The sound of her voice. Sweet and soft. Lifting his eyes, he sees her talking to one of his students. Mike something. He can’t quite remember, but she laughs and puts her hand on his arm, making Bob clench his jaw.

Another student, Alicia, comes to his desk to talk about the upcoming assignment and what she can do to improve her grade. Normally, he would tell her to make an appointment at his office, but then Imogen laughs again, making heady eyes at that Mike guy, and he decides he has all the time in the world to talk to Alicia.

He tries to pay attention to his student, to answer her questions, and even tries to smile, but he can feel Imogen looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Her dark gaze is intense and sets his skin on fire in a way he’s been trying to ignore for weeks.

“So,” he hears Mike say. “What are your plans this weekend?”

Bob freezes. He lets his eyes wander over to Imogen, who’s still smiling. Next to him, Alicia is still talking, but her voice is far away and barely audible as he focuses on his assistant.

“I’m revising my dissertation proposal,” she tells him. “They rejected the last one for being too broad, so I have to narrow it down.”

Bob’s on that committee and strongly disagreed, but other members outnumbered him and he was forced to dissent. Dr. Kazansky had given her the news, and Bob remembers the heartbroken look in her eyes when she came to his office afterward. He’d wanted to comfort her then.

“Too busy to have dinner with me?”

Bob straightens his back, eyes still trained on Imogen as he dismisses Alicia, telling her to make an appointment if she wishes to discuss things further.

She mutters a thank you and scurries away. Imogen opens her mouth to answer, but Bob interrupts, certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer she’ll likely provide to this Mike character.

“Miss Van Doren,” he says, barely recognizing the hardness in his own voice. “My office. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, but gathers his books and leaves the lecture hall without a glance back to see if she’s following. It doesn’t take long for him to hear her marching footsteps behind him, so he leaves the door open for her.

She slams it shut, so it rattles on the hinges.

“What is your problem?”

She’s furious. Nostrils flared, heavy breathing, and a delicious flush paints her cheeks pink.

“My problem?” he asks, placing the books on his desk. “What’s your problem?”

She drops her bag to the floor and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The gold necklace with her initial catches in the light, drawing his eyes down.

“I don’t have a problem,” she insists, taking a step toward him. “But you constantly berating me is getting old.”

He says nothing. He can’t. Not when she’s looking at him like she wants to wring his neck. Not when all the blood in his body is racing south, and he’s trying not to look at her legs, but they are on full display in that tight little skirt she’s wearing. Again.

He swears she’s doing it on purpose to rile him up.

He hates that it’s working.

She takes a deep breath, pushing her shoulders back, and looks up into his eyes. He’s always found hers unsettling, like she sees the parts of him he’s been hiding for decades.

“I know you don’t want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she says, gesturing around his office, making her short skirt even shorter, revealing more of her supple thighs. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, but you could at least show me the courtesy of not undermining me every time I talk to students.”

He frowns. “I don’t undermine you.”

She scoffs, gaze leaving him as her frustration fills the room. “You interrupted my conversation with Michael not five minutes ago,” she argues as her eyes find his again. Dark brown meeting ocean blue.

He steps forward, eyes wandering over every inch of her exposed skin, making his head spin with barely contained desire. “It was an inappropriate conversation.”

“He asked about my dissertation.”

Bob shakes his head. “No, he asked you out.”

“So what?” she throws her hands out to the side, exasperation turning into full-blown anger now. “He’s been trying to ask me out for weeks, but you always manage to interrupt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do it on purpose.”

He freezes. His heart’s beating painfully in his chest and his face feels like it’s on fire. There may even be steam coming out of his ears.

He watches Imogen run her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots, and he truly wishes she wouldn’t. It’s conjuring up very vivid images in his head that he shouldn’t have of his teaching assistant.

She looks at him expectantly, thinking an answer is going to come, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to respond to that in a way that’ll make sense to her. It barely even makes sense to himself.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bob says finally.

She scoffs. “Yeah, well, he treats me better than you do, and I know that’s a really low bar, but it’s better than—”

Bob crashes his lips against hers, swallowing the gasp she emits. For a moment nothing happens, and for a second he thinks he’s made a grave mistake, but then Imogen’s arms circle around his waist and she sighs against his mouth. 

He walks her backward until her back hits the wall behind his desk, and he presses her against it, trying to get closer.

He pulls away a few inches to look at her. Cheeks flushed, hair a little out of place, and pupils dilated. She’s never looked more delectable, and he knows she can feel his hard cock against her hip. He doesn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes search his face for something, but it’s unclear whether she finds it. “Why did you do that?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. There’s no hint of regret, but the rational part of him knows this is a bad idea. He’s her superior, after all.

“You wouldn’t shut up.”

“So you kissed me?” she asks with an adorable wrinkle between her brows.

He frowns. Now sure he’s misjudged the situation, Bob leans back and squares his shoulders, letting his hands fall away from her neck.

“Oh no,” she tuts and grabs a handful of his sweater, pulling him back in. “Get back here.” She stands on her tiptoes and captures his mouth with her own, tongue dancing at the seam of his lips for entry.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He leans his weight against her, pushing her against the wall, and groans into her mouth when she tugs on his hair.

His hands travel down her body. Grazing across the swell of her breasts, into the dip of her waist, the hips that have occupied his thoughts for weeks, and finally, her thighs. His lips never leave hers, and his tongue explores her mouth and the taste of mint that lingers from her toothpaste.

Imogen shudders as his fingertips tickle the back of her knees, whimpering at the touch.

His hands slide up the back of her bare thighs, feeling her soft skin under his palms. She moans into his mouth and it’s the most arousing sound he’s ever heard. He can’t help the roll of his hips, desperate for friction, for relief, for something warmer than his own hand.

His hands travel up under her skirt, feeling the plumpness of her ass in his hands make him push against her again and she’s meeting him with her own movement.

“Professor,” she moans, as he trails wet kisses along her throat, running his tongue over the skin afterward.

He hums, kneading her ass-cheeks, growing harder as he rocks against her. Even separated by layers of fabric, the friction is enough to drive him mad.

“Dr. Floyd,” she says, pulling his hair hard enough that his lips detach from her throat. Her pupils are wide and hungry, mirroring his own, and their heavy breaths mix in arousing unison. “I’m still mad at you.”

A smug smirk spreads across his face. “I know,” he says and removes one hand from her ass. He uses it to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t go out with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hang in the air. Bob keeps one hand on the side of her neck while the other remains under her skirt, playing with the edge of her panties. He holds her gaze, waiting for her to make the next move. To tell him where she stands, what she wants.

He sees the moment she decides, the corner of her mouth turning upward just enough to be a smile.

“Show me.”

Yanking her panties to the side, his fingertips glide along her folds, feeling her already soaking for him. Her mouth forms a perfect o as she gasps, and he wonders what else that pretty and vicious mouth can do.

Her fingers curl into the hair at his nape, gasping when he finds her clit. “So pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing the underside of her jaw.

“Professor,” she whimpers. “Please.”

“Come on,” he says, leaning back to watch her. Her brown doe eyes have gone dark with hunger and desire, arousal clear from the bead of sweat on her temple, and his cock is so hard he’s about to go insane. Yet, he still leans in close, his lips featherlight against her ear and whispers “moan for me.”

He leans back just in time to catch the look in her eyes when he presses his thumb against her clit and she lets herself moan. Louder than he expected, so his hand flies over her mouth, keeping her quiet, but feeling her smile beneath his palm.

His thumb massages her clit while his index finger finds her entrance, warmth begging him to enter. Bob meets Imogen’s eyes, asking without saying the words because he doesn’t trust either of them to keep their voices down.

Her nod sends him to heaven.

She moans into his hand as his finger slides inside her. He’s hot all over, groaning into her neck at the sensation of her. “So fucking tight,” he mumbles against her skin, making her clench around him.

Tightening her arms around his shoulders, she whimpers against his palm, and her hips meet his motions as he pumps his finger inside her. Her juices spread across his hand, and before long, he adds a second finger.

His office fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, muffled moans from Imogen, and barely contained groans from himself. He can feel her getting close, her legs trembling, struggling to stay upright. Leaning his forehead against hers, he removes his hand from her mouth. “Quiet,” he mutters against her lips.

She nods as she kisses him, open-mouthed and desperate, and his thumb draws tight circles on her clit as he angles his fingers against that spot inside her. She’s there. He knows it. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Cum for me.”

She does. Gushes around his fingers, writhing in his arms. He guides her through her high, holding her against the wood-paneled wall behind her. Her head falls against his shoulder as she comes down, and a long whine escapes her throat as he withdraws his fingers.

Leaning back to give her a little space, he takes in her unkempt hair, swollen lips, and the breathtaking pink flush in her cheeks. Her eyes flick down to his hand, then turn to the very obvious bulge in his slacks.

“I–”

She takes his hand, the one with fingers covered in her cum, and brings it to her lips. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she closes her mouth around his digits, swirling her tongue around them, tasting herself. He’s entranced, can’t stop watching her when she hums as if it’s the most delicious meal she’s ever had.

She withdraws his fingers with a pop, letting his hand fall back at his side. They stay there, looking at each other, processing what just happened between them. Not only is she his teaching assistant, but he’s on her dissertation committee. He has power and influence, and while she’s not his student, he is her superior.

“I…” he tries again, but trails off.

She smirks, squaring her shoulders. “Close your mouth, Dr. Floyd,” she says and sidesteps him, adjusting her skirt. “You’re too smart to be a mouth breather.”

She crosses the office, gathering her bag from the floor where she dropped it, and he gets a peek at her panties as she bends over. White lace. His slacks have never felt tighter.

Unsure what to say or do, he stands there watching while Imogen tries to make her hair look presentable. “Alright,” she mumbles after a minute. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closes behind her, leaving Bob in his office, surrounded by books, paper, a chessboard, a laptop he’s forced to own, and the memory of his TA coming undone on his fingers.

There’s only one word to describe the situation he now finds himself in.

“Fuck.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @kmc1989, @bradshawsbaby, @cherrycola27, @wkndwlff, @yanna-banana, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @yuckosworld, @have-a-nice-day-k, @writingshae, @the-whitegirl-is-back, @dizzydisaster, @floydsmuse

[elsewhereuniversity]

Once again, some engineering undergraduates have overestimated their own prowess and summoned something when they should have been finishing their homework. The engineering TAs would like to take this moment to remind all the engineering majors that it is not a part of our jobs to track down whatever you summon and that you will fail any and all assignments that summon anything. As per university policy, we cannot grade summonings.

As a precaution, until further notice, the maker’s space is now closed to all students. Access will only be allowed under the direct supervision of a TA (good luck finding us) or a professor (assuming you can find one outside of office hours). All senior theses must be hypothetical - any practical theses proposals have been retroactively rescinded. Laboratory research is expected to continue as usual.

Safety is everyone’s responsibility when working with the unknown! Your TAs have prepared some helpful reminders to reduce the chances this happens again.

Complete the mandatory Elsewhere Lab Safety Training! If you do not complete this by the end of the quarter, things will befall you! Don’t test our patience!

Never work alone in the lab! Not only is this bad practice for most experiments, but two are better than one when it comes to stopping unusual lab problems.

Carry your iron rod, salt packet, and water bottle at all times. Replacement rods are available at the academic advising office, salt packets can be taken from the dining halls, and water bottles can be found at the athletics department.

All projects must be made out of iron. For iron alloys and composites, consult a TA, professor, or postdoc to see if the iron percentage is higher than the threshold.

Follow university policy regarding safety best practices in the classroom and around campus.

Bioengineers: only use samples acquired directly from other labs. Neither Elsewhere University nor the Engineering Department can guarantee that samples arrive uncontaminated (remember the Great Homunculi disaster?).

Electrical engineers: the efficacy of copper against the Fair Folk is still yet to be determined. Do not listen to the upperclassmen who tell you that copper works just as well as iron. This has been suspected to be a way of hazing new students and violated the university hazing policies.

Chemical engineers: use the fume hoods. Accidents happen much less often when working in a well-ventilated area.

Civil engineers: your steel pins may contain too little iron to be useful. Do not rely on them in a pinch. Yes, they look cool, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Your faculty advisors will be conducting iron checks to ensure you have enough iron on you at all times.

Mechanical engineers: how many times do we have to remind you that just because something could work doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to build it? Remember the machine that nonstop summoned things for weeks? And how hard that was to stop? Please don’t build that again, or anything like it.

And, as always, report accidents to the relevant safety authorities. The sooner the damage is evaluated, the sooner it can be contained and fixed.

On behalf of the entire department, we preemptively thank you for adjusting to this change in departmental policy.

Please understand that your midterm grades will be coming out late, as we are working hard to understand what was summoned and how: if anyone has information about it, please direct it to the Dean’s office.

- your engineering TAs

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Games in the library 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader (Tutor/gamer au) Fluffish and also smuttish

Tags: smut, library fucking, public sex and nerdy gamer references.

Cool devider credits: saradika

🔷Summary: Your GPA is tanking and you need help. Luckily there is the grumpy antisocial Aemond to help you out.

🔷Author's note: Based on tutor aus but I made my own spin on it.

🔷Wordcount :7324

🔷Warnings: Au universe, smut, desk fucking, p in v, dom/sub, reader x aemond, fluff, gamer references, cozy gamer gf and shoot-em-up bf (found something else? Let me know)

There have been quite a few storms lately, causing more rain and making the world a little gloomy. You don’t mind, however. You have always been a fan of rain. Unlike today, where it’s an extra reminder how much you rather spent inside, cooped up with a good game with a warm cup of hot chocolate, not running around your campus with your bag above your head, as if life depends on it.

You are relieved when you make it inside, in the beautiful library that was built long before you began this study. You notice a silver-haired boy with a missing eye sitting in the corner of the room, with his math books in front of him, impatiently glaring around, unaware you are already there. “Hi!” you enthusiastically say, placing your Starbucks coffee cup and handbag on the table in the big messy library you just entered. It’s a saturday so most students would not want to be found death here at this time. 

You have a reason to be here, sadly. You are failing math, falling behind more and more on the subject. So your professor, Borros assigned you a very unwillingly tutor, Aemond Targaryen. He sighed when Borros suggested he should tutor you, even going as far to say that there is no use in tutoring someone who does not want to learn. There is truth in that, but the issue is not that you don’t want to learn. It’s something else.

Aemond glares at your cup before standing up and checking the time on his expensive smartwatch. “Why are you late?” Great. You were afraid of not getting here in time, seems like your Starbucks trip took a little longer than you had planned out.

You take out your phone. You are exactly 5 minutes late. There was a big line in front of Starbucks. And you forget you had tutoring today, to begin with. “I—uhm—forgot the time.” You lie.

He looks at your Starbucks cup accusingly. If it had feelings, the cup would feel attacked, perhaps even insulted, before it would hop off the large wooden table and into a nearby trashcan, ending itself. You would gladly follow it in the rabbit hole trashcan.  “I’m sacrificing my free Saturday for you. The least you could do is get here on time.” There is always a bit of a gruff, Gringe-like edge to his voice as if someone just stole his presents and he is pissed.

You huff. He acts so high and mighty, and yet you know there is nothing personal about this. He does not help you because he is some godly angel. He helps you to get points. This is not a charity project for him, or a social project this is cold selfishness and part of his plan to become the best student of your class, likely a step 4 in his 10 plan step to world domination.

You smile sweetly when adjusting your ponytail. “You aren’t sacrificing anything. You get points and the chance to become Borros’s TA.’’ You tell him, dangling his reward in front of him as if it’s a carrot, just in case he thought about bailing.

He dreams of that position for some reason, though you can’t for the love of the gods figure out why. Perhaps for status, power, future learning references or just to get close to Borros? Your teacher  had hinted that if he could somehow get you to improve your grades, there might be a chance he would become his teacher's assistant. That was enough to sway Aemond into teaching you.

Aemond briefly pushes his gold-rimmed glasses back on his nose, smirking at you.  You feel a little nervous under his gaze. “Correct. That means that I decide how this lesson will proceed.’’ 

His cryptic description makes your mind wander back to the familiar gutter you have come to know so well. You  make a mental note to stop reading dark romance books with tutors for a while. 

You ignore him. That makes him eager to get your attention back. “No calls, no texts—for the next hour, you are at my mercy.” Sweet gods.

His soft pink lips briefly smack before breaking into a grin that sends shivers down your spine. You are thankful for the small bolero that covers your dress.

Aemond is a huge nerd. Kinda cute, but he doesn’t know how innuendos work. And he is certainly not aiming his innuendos at you. 

“Okay. So, you’re like good at math, right?’’ you ask, a little insecure. You are worried he might not actually teach you anything at all, though he is smart, his hands almost always scorching through the air as though Borros is personally offending him with his questions. He reads advanced math books whenever you and your girlfriends hang out in the library, shooting glares whenever you are too loud, giggling or gossiping.

He seems insulted that you think so lowly of him.”’I’m the best in our class.” You never really kept eye on who is the best of the class, and you do not really ever cared. Who cares, as long as you keep up your GPA it is all fine.

But you are not dumb, you need to keep him as your friend for now. At least your ally. Your accomplice? You don’t know. You think you would be all the way at the bottom. ‘’Impressive.’’ You say, but you can’t bother to meet his eye before taking a sip of your very delicious pumpkin spice late.

His head tilts slightly when he narrows his eyes suspiciously, reading you as a open book. He huffs. “I can tell you don’t give a damn. Take out your notebooks, study books and whatever else you might need. It is time we start.” Whatever else you might need? You feel dread and anxiety fill your chest as you become aware of your thoughts traveling already far away from the lesson.

He brought an adorable little digital clock, that he puts on the table gently, before turning it on, exactly 120 minutes. He really does not want to be here a second longer than he has to be.

You faithfully take out your notebooks decorated with Sanrio stickers, Pokémon stickers and panda stickers, as well as your textbook, and your collection of Hello Kitty gel pens. You put it all out for him to see, flicking the textbook open in front of you. 

Aemond stands up, briefly looking over your handwriting in your notebook. He wets his lips before speaking. “Good girl.”

You roll your eyes.

He gets up from the chair across the table, walking to the empty seat next to you. He sits down, glancing at some of your previous sums, together with little drabbles and doodles. “So—what do you have problems with?” 

You can feel the warmth of his body and smell the fabric softener he uses on his clothes. He probably does his own laundry. 

This will be a long hour. You sigh, before summing it up. “Addition and subtraction, analog time, multiplication and division…’’ And you forget dozens of other things.

Anything and everything that involves numbers. You have been that way since a kid, throwing tantrums whenever you were forced to do math or make a puzzle. Your brain blacks out whenever you are forced to make a sum, and after a while your brain is just completely fried.

He wrinkles his nose, thinking. “So, everything?’’ he summarizes dryly. 

You nod. “Yep.”

His good eye slightly widens. “I can do this,” he mutters, to himself more than to you. He taps on an empty page of your notebook with his fingers.

‘’Write down ‘twenty-five plus eighty-seven’.”

You obey, faithfully writing the sum down in your notebook with your favorite Hello Kitty glitter pens. 

Aemond looks at the pen with a sigh, bending over your notebook to see what you wrote down. His brows furrow. 

You try your best to focus on his voice and his words rather than the fact that he sits so close to you and smells like fresh strawberries.

‘’Alright. Next, write down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine plus ninety-four’.” Again, you write it down as best as you can, in a reasonably readable handwriting. You hear him curse under his breath, exhaling.

“Five hundred and thirty-two plus six hundred and fifty-six..” 

You write a bit faster, messing up a few of the numbers in the process. You are glad you are starting with the addition sums, as they come the easiest to you.  

“Lastly, three hundred and fifty-five plus four hundred and sixty-six.’’ He looks at your sums. With one glance at his face, you can tell you’ve already fucked it up. “I said ‘one hundred and ninety-five’, but you’ve written down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine’. I said ‘six hundred-and-sixty-five’, but you wrote down ‘six hundred and fifty-six’.” 

Great. He must think you are doing it on purpose. Embarrassed, you quickly scratch out the numbers you wrote down before sighing, cursing yourself for thinking this was going to solve anything.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he wonders. “Do you even want my help?” The nerve of this man. 

“What do you think?” you snap, placing the cap back on your Hello Kitty gel pens. “You think you’re my first tutor? You think you’re the first who’s tried to help me? I’ve done all of this before, but none of it matters. Nothing will stick anyway.” 

Your voice becomes squeaky. You blink rapidly to avoid ruining your mascara. He must think you are so stupid. You are. So, so stupid.

Aemond looks over your work again, sighing and rubbing his face. “No,” he murmurs quietly. “You turn them around. Some of the numbers.” 

That has been an issue since you were introduced to numbers. That and the bigger they get, the bigger the chance you mess it up.

“No shit,” you huff, searching your handbag for your tissues. You find them buried under your perfume bottle and use them to wipe at your eyes. 

His feet move under the table, briefly touching yours.

“Don’t get mean. Just making an observation.’’ He scratches behind his ear. “What do you mean, ‘nothing  will stick’?” 

Great. He will piss himself with laughter when he hears this.

You’d rather not tell him, or anyone, really. It is embarrassing. You are a twenty-two-year-old girl who can’t divide the simplest numbers and, without a digital clock, you’d get nowhere on time. You wouldn’t even know the time. People can and have taken advantage of that just to bully you. “It’s complicated,” you say.

His usual gruff voice softens. “Alright. So, tell me.”

What is the harm? you wonder. Who is he even going to tell?

“I’ve got a non-verbal learning disorder,” you mumble. There. He knows.

“What?” he asks, a little too loud for your liking. Even if he had whispered, it would have been too loud. There is no one here, yet you are worried somehow someone heard.

You growl back, “Non-verbal learning disorder. NLD.” 

It is a little less common than dyslexia—a lot less common, actually. You have heard that dyscalculia and NLD is a very common combination. That might be the reason you are so horrible at math. Part of your brain just refuses to understand it, which frustrates you, which makes you upset, and all that means you’d very much rather not do math at all. 

Aemond becomes very quiet before admitting something you never thought you’d hear. “I’ve never heard of that.” 

Where could he have, though? He is very clearly a math expert, not a learning disorder expert. 

You look at your polished pink nails with gold glitter.

“Hm. Not surprised. You are perfect after all, aren’t you?” you ask.

He becomes grumpy and unbearable, as you become mad and perhaps jealous that he is so perfectly fine and normal, and boring. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” 

Aemond takes out his phone. You thought they were ‘forbidden’. Didn’t he say so earlier? You glare, insulted. You have a social life, after all, and the world suddenly seems far more beautiful than it had been before you began your suffering here. 

“So, are you telling me you don’t know how late it is now?” He shoves a Wikipedia page in your face. He looked it up.

You take out your phone. “Of course I do. It’s fifteen-thirty.” 

You don’t say the correct time. You say ‘fifteen-thirty’. Fifteen thirty. Not half over past something, am or pm bullshit. You say it how it is. It’s fifteen-thirty.

Aemond draws a clock in your notebook. You quite like the way he uses your Hello Kitty gel pen for it. “And in analog time, that would be?” He wonders, his voice trailing off when his one remaining good eye glances at you.

You shake your head as he draws two hands on the clock, and multiple numbers. “Oh, no one cares about those lame old clocks,” you smoothly lie, and it is part of the truth. 

No one uses those old lame clocks anymore. Everyone and their mother has a cellphone. Why bother reading a clock if you have a cellphone? And in your case—why bother reading a language your brain seems to not understand anyway?

Aemond sighs, reading you easily. He scratches the clock out. “You can’t read them, can you?” He asks after he has scratched them out. You can either deny it or lie about it but why waste energy and time?

This man is too observant. 

“I know that the big one up means ‘twelve’,” you say with a little smile, very proud that one thing did decided to stick.

You can see it on his face—it’s becoming more and more clear that you don’t need a tutor. You need a miracle.  

He blurts out a question. “How did you even leave high school?” he asks. You don’t think he meant to hurt you, but he still does.

“How did you lose your eye?” you ask, lashing out.

Aemond sits up a little straighter. “That’s quite a personal question—” 

You smile back, still furious and hiding your displeasure by ripping your nails.  “Exactly.” you groan.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’m sorry. I’m impressed, if anything.’’

Fake sympathy. Yeah. 

This is a waste of time, you didn’t learn years ago, why would you learn it now? Why did you even came here to begin with? A little voice reminds you of just why you came over. “You don’t need to lie to me. I know I’m stupid,” you mutter when playing with your bracelet. 

Aemond grabs your wrist, letting go almost the second his skin touches yours. “You’re not stupid. I know you can be very clever and an absolute pain in the ass when you want to be.” He grins. “Just… not with numbers.” He closes your notebook.

“Really?”

You know you are clever on other fronts. It’s just difficult to believe you aren’t stupid when you see how advanced your peers and friends are and you still struggle over middle school math.

He nods. “Yeah. I remember for a while in History and Language that you were a threat to my position as best student.’’ 

You’d liked History for a while, it’s true. You were good at it—that is, until you got a social life and it became an afterthought. What might have happened if you had stayed on that path?

You don’t understand why he wants to be the best. “I mean, you are already first in math, aren’t you?” 

He should not push for perfection as much as he does.

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have to be the best in everything.” It sounds empty. You might not be the only one with problems.

You try telling him what you think. “That’s a little… unhealthy.”

He snaps at you, suddenly scowling. “Well, I don’t have a rich daddy to pay my way into school.” 

Ah. That is his issue with you. He thinks you’re a rich little girl that has a daddy that pays for everything.

You stare at your pink nails, briefly ripping at them before speaking. “I don’t either. Mine died when I was two. I have a stepfather, but he’s too busy fucking my mom and arranging vacations to Dorne for the two of them to bother with me.’’

Aemond’s chest sinks a little, regret written across his face. “I’m sorry.” 

He sounds sincere. And, just like that, you realize your math session has turned into a therapy session. 

You laugh despite your sadness. “Look at me, trauma-dumping all over you. Sorry.” 

You open your notebook at the same moment that Aemond grabs your fingers.

“I think you’ve earned a break.” He awkwardly lets go of you again.

That’s fast. “We haven’t solved a single sum,” you say. “I mean, we can solve one. I think this one is doable…” 

You look at your crossed-out sums. Oh, yeah. That happened. 

His silver-haired head nods up and down, but he does not answer at first, staring at your nails. “Perhaps not. But we have discovered why you have issues with this. Go take a break. That’s an order.”

He cheekily smirks at you, causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Perhaps not butterflies—perhaps just straight-up lust. You want to pull this guy in by his sweater and give him a good tumble.

You lick your lips. ‘’Yeah? What will you do if I don’t, sir?’’

He leans in a little closer, his eye flickering to your ruler lying untouched on the table. “Let’s just say… you wouldn’t like to find out.’’

Aemond takes a bottle of water from his bag and a sandwich while you grab a hot chocolate from the machine in the library and a freshly baked muffin from your bag. 

You eat your muffin and then take out your Nintendo Switch bag, starting the device up for a brief moment of relaxation. You play Animal Crossing for a few minutes, forgetting the world around you as you’re sucked into your peaceful little island.

Aemond is very silent as well, staring mostly at you.

“I’ve got one too.” You are sucked out of your island and back into reality. 

‘’Huh?’’ He nods to the switch.

He means a Switch. You didn’t think he would be into games. You think he would be too busy studying, really.

“What game are you playing?” he asks, tilting his head, coming a little closer so he can see for himself, almost touching your skin in the process as he clumsily bumps into you. ‘’Sorry.’’ He murmurs.

“A very intense one,” you comment as a compilation happens on your screen. You want to restore your island from desertcore to cottagecore and right now, one of your villagers has decided to be a menace. 

On Aemond’s lips grows an almost dreamy smile as he stares at you playing on your Switch. “Oh—like Xenoblades? Zelda? Hades?” 

You’ve heard of all three, but haven’t played them. They are not games you think you would like. They sound difficult, full of combat, full of puzzles and full of realisation that you are stupid. So you stay far, far away from them.

“Animal Crossing!” You turn your Switch so he can see your former desert island as you turn it back into a cute aesthetic-worthy village. 

He tries to blink, but he only has one eye so it looks a little awkward. “That is your definition of ‘intense’?” 

It can be. It can be so intense you rage-quit. Some of these animals have no manners—you’ve certainly bullied a fair few off your island. 

“You try terraforming your island when a lazy villager sits in the way!” You point with your finger to the panda cub that sits in the way, right where you want to plant a bush. “That’s Chester, and right now he’s making my life hell—” 

The panda, or Chester, enjoys a sandwich while smiling at your avatar, unaware of the misery he is 

causing.

“That panda is?” Aemond asks, confused. “The panda is the issue? Can’t you tell him to move?” 

That would be so helpful. But, unfortunately, no—that is not an option. 

You nod, turning your Switch back to you. “He just won’t leave. I can hit him with a net, but he would hate me,” you mutter. “Pushing him is useless. He’s, like, glued to this spot.”

Aemond smiles to himself. “Perhaps he is saying we should return to studying.” Chester would say that, the menace. He has not given you his photo either, the bear knows too much.

“He says to me that I can have five more minutes,” you say, smiling and blinking your eyes innocently. 

He sighs deeply, exhaling before putting his arm under his head, watching you terraform around your island. “Cute.” He sits up straight, blushing and quickly pointing to your Switch, decorated with stickers from Stardew Valley. “I meant, uh, the stickers.” He quickly mutters, and you can’t hide your own smile.

The stickers are cute, but you can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t talking about something else. “Thanks, they’re from Stardew Valley.” 

“I heard that game—” Whatever Aemond would say next would forever be a mystery. He is rudely interrupted by your fan dumping all over him, telling him the plot, the main features, and your personal opinion of the game in the world-wide record of 4 minutes as you ramble. “You’re kinda supposed to help this town flourish by bringing crops you grow, artisan stuff, to this community center. You can also romance and have children and have a pet. There is like magic too, but I wish it was more fleshed out-’’ You shut up quickly. You put your switch down.

He nods, but you can tell you are losing his interest. 

“You can slay monsters, too,” you blurt out. “And you have different swords, weapons and stuff. Sorry. I kinda ramble.”

“I like it. It’s cute when you ramble.’’ Damn it. You feel your cheeks redden. Aemond watches the rain outside, before asking another question about Stardew Valley. ‘’Can I kill my spouse?” he asks as a follow up. 

You know the modding community is very active, but they are like about dogs and cat breeds, about teleportation hacks and making portraits better. Not about you know, full-blown murder. “No…”

He frowns as if that surprises him. “Is there warfare? Can I take other people’s farms? Is there a princess for me to save?” No, no, and no.

You understand you two play different games.

“No, not really. It does have multiplayer, though.”

Aemond’s scoffing little smirk returns but it does not meet his hurt and very glossy eye. “I’m kinda a loner.” He laughs but there is a hidden sadness there. A sadness you relate too all too well.

“I am, too,” you say. 

“You have dozens of friends.”  You can still have friends and be alone.

He refers to the girls that you hang out with. Are they friends? You don’t hang out aside from the weekend. You can’t call them, if something has happened to you, and they definitely don’t know you game or have NLD. 

“Yes,” you say, “but…none of them game, I guess? Like, in that way, I’m alone. And I don’t make friends easily. Not everyone likes the games I play. Some wouldn’t even call it gaming. So, what kind of games do you like to play?”

He suddenly becomes interested in his very well cared for nails, and you know you hit a weak spot.

“Crusader Kings II, Zelda, Hades, Xenoblades and shooters.” He tells you. ‘’Mostly single-players.’’

You don’t know Crusader kings, but judging by the name, you do not have a cute farm at day and a run a witchy cozy coven at night. “The bloody ones.”

He snaps his head to you, smirking a bit.

‘’Zelda is not bloody.’’ Before he looks at your hair and your lipstick. ‘’I think you actually like it, if you gave it a chance.’’ He says. ‘’I mean, there is dozens of npcs to talk to, a wonderful open world, and ingredients to forage and outfits to collect and to find. In a way, it is Stardew Valley but without the Valley.’’

He definitely heard about Stardew Valley before. ‘’You know a lot about Stardew.’’

He nods. ‘’My sister, Helaena, she plays it a lot. I wouldn’t know how to play it, however.’’ He confesses, slightly tilting his hands. ‘’It’s beyond me how you get anything done with a time limit and a stamina bar.’’

You smile, and you never thought you would in his company. ‘’Describe the story. Of that Zelda game.’’ 

He needs some time to think before telling you the main story. ‘’You see, with an adventure game that’s…that would defeat the purpose of playing. So: You are a hero, named Link. After 100 years, you awake in a shrine, and you hear a voice, and you need to save the kingdom and the princess.’’ It sounds very …male-written and male-aimed. You aren’t sure Zelda is for you.

You have another problem with it too.

‘’That sounds horrible. Imagine waking up from your nap, and suddenly you got to save the world.’’

At first he is confused but the moment he knows you are joking, he laughs, a very delightful sweet and welcoming sound. ‘’It starts very locked, but there’s so much you can do in the game, in my honest opinion it's one of their best entries in the series. There’s cooking, horses-’’ Horses? There are horses? And cooking? ‘’There is combat, but you learn quickly, at least I did. The monsters are actually clever, and in the beginning, its best to avoid them until you get decent weapons.’’ You aren’t sure. Combat? The monsters in the skull cave of Stardew Valley regularly kick your ass.  ‘’There are puzzles too-’’ That is where you draw the line. No puzzles.

‘’Hell no. I hate puzzles.’’ You did as a kid, and still as an adult you can’t figure out how some people enjoy putting together these images, made up of 1,000 pieces and when they finish it, they destroy it too. Like what is the point? And it does not help you can never figure out where to start.

‘’I know.’’ That catches you off guard. Aemond does not pressure you into it. He simply accepts it.  ‘’But they are fun. We can solve most problems in multiple ways. You can’t fuck this up, if you are scared of that. Even if you die, you can restart as many times as you like. And no one is going to call you stupid for it.’’ He promises you, when leaning in a little closer, touching your face gently.

‘’Not even you?’’ You ask, for confirmation, not sure why you care but you hate for him to laugh at you for doing something very rookie. 

He shakes his head.  ‘’No. It took me a lot of time to get the hang of it too, if you must know.’’ So he is not as perfect as he pretends to be. ‘’I already told you: I don’t think you are stupid.’’

You lean in a little closer to him, staring at his soft pink lips. You make your voice as dry as possible. ‘’What if I call ‘’Link’’ ‘’Zelda?’’ You ask him with a cheeky grin. Nothing annoys Zelda fans more than that.

He grins back, but has faith in you. ‘’I know you won’t.’’ That is true. You know that the Princess is called ‘’Zelda’’ but the person you play as is called ‘’Link.’’ To confuse the two would be like calling JojaMart Pierre’s general store.  

‘’But what if I do?’’ You ask, getting a little cheeky. ‘’Hm? Sir?’’ You ask, pushing his buttons a little more as you grin. 

He needs to make an effort to hide his smirk, quietly muttering when eyeing the stickers on your switch. ‘’Don’t push me, we are alone after all, and I’m very bored.’’ He murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine when his voice gets that rough edgy little dark edge.

‘’Are you …Interested?’’ You ask, surprised.

He lifts his head, a bit insulted. ‘’You think I would not avoid you like the plague if I wasn’t?’’

All this time you thought he hated you, but he had a crush on you. ‘’I thought you hated me! That I annoyed you!’ 

He blushes, quickly cleaning his glasses for some reason. ‘’No, I just don’t like it when I can’t control my feelings. Like I become very different around you.’’ You noticed. He puts walls around himself.

‘’You become a little angry bird or a Goomba.’’ You know for sure he knows what a Goomba is, and you know it as well. They are the adorable little creatures from Mario games that try to murder Mario and look grumpy.

He chuckles, mortified by your description.

‘’Please, no, gods, not a Goomba.’’ 

You do find the courage to tell him your final thoughts, before flipping your notebook again, picking up where you left with the sums. ‘’If it helps, you are kinda cute too, Aemond.’’ You tell him, and you mean it. ‘’Not that I’m into Goombas, but..Yeah. You’re cute.’’ You tell him.

He nods, absently before he becomes serious again. ‘’Did you ever try motivational tutor lessons?’’ Motivational what?

‘’What uhm do you mean?’’ You ask, a little lost.

He shrugs, smiling. ‘’Well, people are more likely to succeed if there is a reward for them in it.’’ You notice him biting down at his lips, avoiding your eyes.

‘’And uhm, what would my reward be?’’ You ask your body to betray you within mere seconds as you think of how he will reward you. You, on the couch on top of him when fucking him-

He grins, when slowly touching your legs, going to the space between your legs, to where your dress ends. ‘’Whatever you like,’’ he purrs softly in your ear. ‘’ A cup of coffee, a donut…’’

You nod, a little disappointed and curse your dirty mind. That man is a saint for trying with you. Aemond reaches out to grab something close to your textbook and your eyes follow his fingers. ‘’People are likely to succeed more if they are disciplined too.’’ He is just teasing you, you tell your very dirty minded mind.

You know he will make you stand in the corner or perhaps take your phone away. ‘’And what would my punishment be?’’ You ask, dryly when you copy the sums from the textbook.

Aemond sighs. ‘’I won’t do anything you don’t consent to, that is the first lesson.’’ You were taking a sip of your cold coffee and nearly spat it out, all over your textbook as your cheeks burned with interest.

‘’But if you are into a little motivation, I guess I can show you another use for this pretty ruler.’’ He mutters, tapping with the ruler against the palm of his hand. You notice he has excellent self-control. This will be fun.

Yet you are surprised, that the red sweater glass-wearing sniveling little best of the class into BDSM. ‘’You’re into Kink?’’ You ask, your voice is a bit strangled.

‘’That’s not an answer, little brat.’’ 

He totally is. Gods, just your luck, stuck with Aemond Targaryen who is secretly into brat taming. Whatever sums you wanted to make, will certainly get fucked up now.

‘’Do you expect me to really learn better?’’ You hope he understands that your brain is just not a regular brain. It won’t magically solve things now that you are motivated. 

Aemond shakes his head. ‘’I kinda don’t. But it’s alright, love. I won’t get upset with you. Not really, at least.’’ He tells you with a grin. ‘’But I won’t lay a finger on you until I get your consent.’’ Such a gentleman. 

‘’Fine, you’re free to touch me.’’

On his lips, grows a dangerous smirk as he grins, before sitting next to you. ‘’What is the square root of 48?’’ He puts his left hand on your knee and slowly makes his way to your thigh…

Fuck. ‘’Uhm, 4.’’ You blurt out. It is a gamble but you don’t care.

Aemond chuckles before tsking as a disapproving teacher, before grinning and telling you the correct answer. ‘’That would be 6.’’ You growl, a little angry you didn’t know it. But he softly murmurs in your ear, when his hands go over your body. ‘’Take off your coat.’’ He tells you coldy. 

You let out a little squeak. He grins, adding softly. ‘’Again, if you want to, of course.’’

‘’I want you to strip too.’’ You tell him after you have taken your coat off. 

He chuckles, thinking you can’t defeat him. That you don’t know his weakness. But he told you, earlier today without him realizing so.  ‘’You can ask me questions but I know a lot more about math-’’

You interrupt him, smiling.

‘’What year did the Titanic sink?’’

Aemond gawks at you, before thinking deeply. It is a random event that did kill people, but it had no major consequences. ‘’1910?’’ He guesses. You grin. 

‘’1912, take off your shoes.’’ You tell him.

‘’Fuck.’’ he murmurs, but obeys. ‘’If I go with the train at 9:20, and the train takes half an hour-'’ No way you will get that one, so you take your dress off, zipping your zipper down and exposing your black bra and matching knickers. Aemond’s breath catches slightly, exhaling when his pupils enlarge.‘’Good girl.’’ That is enough to worsen your arousal and to harden your nippels. Aemond watches as it happens, a pleased contemptuous smile on his lips. 

‘’Tell me, little Brat. Darwin’s father has four children, Red, orange, yellow and-’’ It is a pattern question. A clear question. Red orange yellow are colors represented in the rainbow. ‘’Green?’’ The moment you said it, you repeat the question silently before growling.

‘’No! "It's Darwin!” You grow out.

He chuckles. ‘’You can keep your pretty knickers and bra on. I want you to sit on my lap.’’ You sit down on his lap, making sure to rub him a tiny bit in the process, to make him wild. He groans in your ear when forcing your ass down. ‘’Such a naughty little brat. And so wet for me too.’’ He murmurs in your ear when his fingers smoothly slide in your knickers, before toying with your folds, touching before inspecting your wetness. You twist on his lap, trying to force the finger to move deeper, harder, and rougher. Aemond pulls you tightly to his chest to avoid you moving at all.

You enjoy his control more than you should. ‘’Fuck…’’ You quietly mutter. He muses happily to himself as you squirm and twist on his lap. 

‘’So tense, are we shy, little brat?’’ He is toying with you, torturing you.

‘’Aemond, please.’’ You beg, helplessly as he begins to fuck your body with his fingers, and you happily fuck his hands, clenching yourself whenever you are allowed. 

You need to find release soon, and he knows it very well judging by his smirk. ‘’I’m afraid I won't listen to that name. You will call me Sir or you will refrain from speaking at all.’’ He says, and your fucked up little brain enjoys it too much.

That is so hot. He has an authority kink. ‘’Fuck!’’

He grins, as he takes a stance behind you.

‘’I’m afraid I can’t allow such crass words.’’

Oh shit. You feel your heart race and your stomach flutter with lust and butterflies and your curious mind wanders. ‘’Aemond…’’ He grabs you briefly by the throat, but he does not make it hurtful. He raises a brow. 

You look at your shoes.

‘’I meant, Sir…’’ Your face is pressed down against the wood of the table, before Aemond growls.

‘’Nothing will save you now, little brat. You are all mine.’’

He grabs the ruler and your cheeks are spanked first with his fingers before he moves on to the iron ruler, hitting your cheeks with precision but hard enough for you to like it. You squirm on the desk, certain you leave a trail of wetness as Aemond uses the ruler on both your ass cheeks, finding a torturous rhythm. And yet you like it. You want it to happen again, you want to brat. ‘’Fuck,’’ you cry out as three of his fingers enter your pussy. His left hand is feeling you up, when his right continues to punish you for your sins. ‘’Sir, sir please!’ You moan.

‘’Are you sorry?’’ He asks, between fucking you on the desk with his hand and spanking you. You nod, furiously. He sighs, letting go of you and his fingers leave your spent wet cunt. ‘’Good. Don’t be naughty again or I will punish you again.’’ He warns you. You want to brat. And you want to brat so hard that he will punish you with his cock this time. 

You bring your own fingers to your entrance but before that you can shove them in, Aemond has grabbed your wrist, painfully twisting it. ‘’Seems like someone can’t behave herself.’’ You nod, furiously as if you regret it deeply. Aemond sighs. ‘’Pull my pants down for me.’’ He tells you, and you inwardly cheer. You get to work, unbuttoning his jeans for him and pulling them down first, before staring at his boxers which barely hide his erected cock. 

You pull his boxers down too, freeing his cock as the red swollen tip is pushed in your face, with clear precum on the edge. ‘’Get on the desk.’’ He tells you. ‘’Bent over it, the way I know you want to.’’ You know what he means very well, and you obey, bending over the desk so he could take you on it.

He sighs before grabbing one of your hands and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘’Make me go wild, and I’ll fuck your little needy pussy.’’ You obey, your back turned to him as you try to please him with your fingers rubbing his head and his balls. 

You are bended, and Aemond opens your legs roughly and sharply, before going inside of you with his cock, filling you all the way with his length as you silently whisper. Aemond starts to trust and you become lightheaded and carried away on your pleasure. He fits so well. ‘’Sir,’’ you weakly mutter as he fucks you on the table, your book and hello kitty gel pens still present. Aemond grunts as an animal before grabbing the ruler, smacking your cunt this time, causing you to cry out in pleasure. ‘’Sir!’’ You repeat your own cry, before slamming your hips against his own, begging him to finish you. ‘’Please!’’ 

‘’Such a needy cunny. I’m going to come inside of you, little Princess. You are going to tell all your little whore friends about this, that you got fucked by a man in the library, used as a glorified slave. You will tell them how red and throbbing your little pussy was, and you will not tell anyone it was me. Is that understood, or do you need me to fucking explain it another way?’’ You understand, but you would love another explanation because it sounds so dirty.

‘’Another way. I’m pretty stupid.’’

He glares as if he disagrees with that.

‘’Very well.’’

Aemond grabs you by your hips again, fucking you.

‘’’N-no, Aemond, I have a party tonight-’’ You tell him, begging him to be a bit gentle.

He groans. ‘’I don’t care. Fuck your parties.’’

He did not get invited.

‘’Nhn!’’ You cry out as his cock cruelly fucks you, not giving a damn about your warnings.

Aemond’s lips briefly kiss your sweaty forehead. 

‘’Delicious, such a good cunny.’’ He murmurs, rubbing your cunt until blood sticks to his fingers. You need a little push. Just one tiny push. ‘’And now, you will come for me, my slut. When I tell you, you will come all over my cock, soaking me.’’ You nod, bracing yourself.

Aemond fucks you harder and faster and it becomes difficult to hold your orgasm in. You need to release it, you need to find a release fast. ‘’Sir, please.’’ You beg, helpless. He grins, spanking your needy pussy.

‘’I know, but try to show some self-respect, my little brat.’’ 

You wordlessly wail. He sighs, before impaling you thoroughly and resting his hands on your hips. He whispers in your ear. ‘’Come.’’ You obey, freed from a prisoner and let go when you two fuck each other roughly, your muscles hurting from the rough fucking on the desk. And finally, you come all over his cock, just as he promised you would. He takes you two more times after that, bringing you close to two other orgasms, before denying those two. You are taken without warning and lose your control, coming all over him, earning you a spanking and a rough fucking before he comes inside of you as well, with a lot of curse words and grunts. 

‘’Fuck, Y/N.’’ He murmurs, in your ear. You put your underwear and bra back on. The timer ends, revealing that two whole hours have passed. Aemond dresses himself quickly too, looking at your messy hair and glassy eyes. 

You become aware of the feelings and the urge to run far away from them. ‘’I have to go.’’ You tell him.

Aemond stops you, gently and you know he has become himself again, dropping the dom-act.

‘’No. You seem to know some things about Kink, but after playing with my ladies, I give them aftercare. You deserve a bagel, or a donut, or fuck it, another Starbucks if you want. If we were at my place, I’d prepare a bath for you or give you a message.’’ He rambles on. ‘’Let me buy you something nice for your lunch, and at least walk you home.’’ He asks, no, begs. Your face melts at his sweet manners. 

You put your stuff in your back, as Aemond zips up your dress for you, careful to avoid your hairs. He has done this before. You wonder how many times and with who. ‘’She is judging us.’’ He suddenly whispers, nodding to your hello kitty gel pen. 

After two hours he has become just as mad as you have. ‘’She knows too much, I might drown her into my Starbucks later.’’ You tell him.

He does not approve of that idea.

‘’That would be sad and torture.’’

‘’Fine, I’ll just…put her in my pencil case.’’ You do as you promise him, putting the gel pens in your pencil case.

‘’That’s it, good girl.’’

He winks before following you to Starbucks.

‘’Hey, uhm Aemond?”’ You ask after you are waiting for your order. Aemond looks around a little amazed. He has never been here before, calling it a capitalistic hell. 

‘’Yeah?’’ his hands nervously play with his rings. He can be so adorably shy.

‘’What are you doing tonight?’’ You wonder, hoping you don’t regret this. As in, he does not say no.

‘’Not much, I might actually play Zelda. Why?’’ He wonders.

‘’Want to come to this party with me?’’ You blurt out with a smile.

a/nthank you for reading let me know what you think. there might be a part 2 but i havent decided yet.

The eh creatures above the a/n are goombas.

[blue-sadie]

The Married One

Jonathan Levy x TA Reader

Series Masterlist

Prt 5 of the Different Versions Series

Summary: waking up in a classroom being taught by... marc?

Warning: ta = Teachers Assistant, classroom sex

Yn/3rd person pov

I woke up to someone tapping my shoulder making me grogily raise my head rubbing my eyes harshly before opening them the blurring of colors slowly coming into focus.

"Who know my class didn't only bore students but my ta as well" my eyes moved to the man talking it was a slightly older marc with a few gray hairs, a beard and wore glasses "am I that boring" he asked teasingly as he leaned onto his arms that was settled on the edge of my desk.

"Hmm" I hummed not really hearing him the sleep fogging up my mind "I said" he paused his voice turning into a whisper "am I boring to you" my face blushed as he leaned a bit closer to me his breath fanning over my face "Mr levy" I felt relieved as a student called out to him making him stand and turn away.

"Yes ms wilson" he asked walking over to her desk, I looked over the class the board was covered in information and diagrams of the brain before they drifted back to the man he chuckled from something the student said, his curls swayed as he threw his hear back.

I was lost in thought but was abruptly brought back into reality as the loud bell echoed through the room "ok class remember the assignment is due next week thursday no extensions" he clapped his hands together as he spoke to gain the attention of the class.

The students packed up their things in a rush to get out only a few taking it slow as they spoke to their friends "you look beautiful ms yn" my eyes snapped to the students as I heard one call out from the crowd making a few of the other students laughed "that'd enough Jaden" Mr levy snapped loudly making the boys shut up.

The classroom immediately became quiet as the students left and Mr levy walked to the door and closed it "thank you" I murmured putting my hands into my lap as my eyes stared down at my small desk "he's a fucking asshole" he swore as he made his way to his desk sitting down with a sigh.

I nervously tapped my thigh as we fell into silence I looked around biting my cheek I didn't know what to do, leaning my head back against my chair "still bored" I straightened up as he spoke my eyes meeting his as he looked at me over the lense of his glasses a few pieces of his hair falling into his face.

"I don't know what to do" I murmured turning my chair to him, his eyes moved up and down my body I could see him bite his lip before sighing "we have no more classes for a few hours so please go to the office and print these" he said grabbing a few papers and holding them out for me to take.

I quickly rose from my seat and took them from him "don't be too long in the office I'll need to over a few of those before class" he mumbled as he typed away on his laptop I nodded my head not sure if he'll see it or not, I quickly made my way out the door looking for any directions or something to lead me to the office.

"Hey yn wait up" I turned around as someone called my name to see a man running towards me, he looked a little older then me with blonde hair that fell into his face as he ran "heading to the office" he asked panting as he slowed down beside me "yes" I murmured he nodded his head acknowledging my answer "i-i'll walk with you" he muttered breathlessly and started to walk with me.

I followed a little bit behind him as he lead me to the office "oh what's this" he asked taking the papers out my hands before I could protest his eyes scanning over them as he rambled on "I can't before you actually like that man as a person" he laughed making me narrow my eyes at him "Mr levy" I asked confused on what he ment "yea that man is a complete asshole do you hear him and his wife are divorcing" he muttered looking at me ever few seconds but not my face my breasts.

I didn't feel comfortable around this man, I wrapped my arms around my stomach nervously "he's probably perving on you every chance he gets" he growled 'kinda like you you sick fuck' I rolled my eyes and was relieved when I saw the office sign "I think I'm ok from here thanks" I murmured taking the papers back from him before walking slightly faster to disappear into the room.

I went to the printer placing the paper inside and pressed print "you know if I was your boyfriend I would never let you leave home" I tensed as I felt his breath on my neck "please leave me alone" I said shakely making him chuckle and place his hands on my hips stopping me from moving.

"I think it's what you want deep down to stay home to be looked after" his words made me cringe away from him as he leaned over to whisper in my ear "it's not" I stated "I think your ly-" he dwindled as he heard the door open "I suggest you back the fuck away from my ta Jenkins" I felt relieved as I heard levy's voice "jonathan levy why can't you just leave us alone I'm not hurting her so what's the problem" the man removed his hands from my waist as he turned to jonathan.

"Yn get to my classroom now" mr levy muttered looking over jenkins shoulder to me I nodded and left without a word, I wondered around the hallway intill I found my way back to his class the uneasy feeling somewhat subsiding as I closed the door I slumped over to the desk sitting on the edge of it as I waited.

It was only a few minutes before he returned, my eyes wondered over looking for any injury or something else the only indication of something happening was the reddening of his knuckles "what happened" I asked going to him as he shut the door "he won't bother you anymore" he growled as he pushed past me to get to his desk.

I fumbled with my hands as I walked back towards him "thank you" I whispered "you've saved me more then once today" I stopped infront of him nervously intertwining my hands "is there anyway I could repay you" I asked making him bite his lip and groan leaning his head back "don't fucking do this" he growled adjusting himself on the table.

"But what if I want to" I whispered stepping closer to him, he stared at me with danger and hunger in his eyes his labored breaths made his chest heave as he grabbed me to pull me close turning us around so I was pressed up against the desk "fuck I wanted this for some long" he muttered before pressing his lips against mine.

I moaned into his mouth as he ran his hands up and down my thigh slowly inching its way up my skirt "I fucking need you, begging for my cock" he grunted moving my panties aside sticking two of his fingers inside, "fuck mr levy" I whined my knees buckling making him push me more onto the table "fuck say my name baby just like that" he muttered curling his fingers making me see stars.

"Please mr levy" I moaned but whined out as he pulled his fingers out, he slowly brought his glistening fingers to his mouth licking them to get all of my juices while maintaining eye contact with me "sweeter then I thought" he growled and forced me to lay down on the desk my eyes followed his hands movement as he undid his belt and zipper and as his hand slowly slid into his boxers fetching out his cock.

His eyes became half lidded and full of lust as he slowly pumped his cock a few times before pressing it against my entrance, "beg me for it" he muttered sliding the tip up and down my slit "beg me to fuck you" he growled I whined loudly squirming on the desk "please, please fuck me please" I whined he chuckled darkly and slowly pushed in.

I moaned out as he leaned onto his arms pressing his dick further inside me "your so fucking tight for a little slut" his words made me whine and shake underneath him "my little slut" he said bringing his lips to mine, our lips molded together as he started moving in and out of me "fuck" he groaned against my lips.

He moved his lips to my neck sucking harshly at my skin as he thrusted "m-mr levy" I moaned out throwing my head back against the wood "please" my shook as I moaned I felt myself clench around him as I neared my climax and so was he, his groans and grunts fueling my desire "fuck fuck fuck" I cried out as I cam around him and soon after he did too filling me up with his seed, the panting of my breathe made me tired and my eyes fluttering.

"Good thing I can use you whenever I want because you are my little slut"

[little-diable]

Pleasure - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Just a small Drabble about our fave fucked up, dark professor. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Riddle threatens to fail the reader, something she won’t accept. Just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, degrading, orgasm denial, Tom being Tom, power imbalance

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (1.2k words)

“You threaten to fail me? Are you out of your mind?” Her voice boomed through the class room, eyes set on the professor whose assistant she had been for the past months now. His piercing eyes didn’t meet hers, he kept his gaze set on the papers, correcting the homework she had collected minutes ago. All before he had dropped this bomb on her, telling (y/n) that she was about to fail his class. “Look at me!”

“Careful, (y/n).” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, voice sharper than a knife. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest while staring at her like a snake about to snap at its prey. He had always been a dangerous man, a man whose aura was a warning itself, set on pulling her into his dark trap. But today he had something else to him, something even more ruthless.

“Tell me why!” She was fuming, set on letting go of a piercing scream. This must be a joke, a prank he was pulling on her - her grades were better than most, she was always on time, and when she was working for him, she did everything he asked of her.

“I don’t owe you any explanations. And your behaviour proves to me that you’re not mature enough to work on it. Leave.” (Y/n) didn’t move, she kept staring at Professor Riddle who slowly rose to his feet. A part of her screamed at her to leave, to run before it was too late, but the more stubborn part forced her to stand still and watch his every move. “Is this how you want to play? This is my last warning, (y/n).”

Her body was trembling in anger and need, all while her mind brought back flashes of a similar moment that had happened weeks ago. Back then she had left this room with trembling thighs and his handprint burned into her behind. The following hours had been spent hidden away in her room while pushing herself over the edge numerous times with his name burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I am not scared of you.” She cocked her head, chin pointed in his direction while she looked up at him. It was a foolish game she was playing - a game she was about to lose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t worry about any wins or losses, knowing that whatever would happen between them would count as a win in her book.

“You should be.” His ringed hand found her throat, tugging (y/n) in for a teeth clashing kiss. She moaned into the touch, unable to stop her hands from wandering, from finding the back of his neck to keep him close. (Y/n) felt her surroundings spin, throwing her into another dimension while the professor moved her backwards to heave his TA onto his table. With her legs wrapped around his waist, (y/n) kept him close, not daring to think of parting just yet. “You try to distract me with those pretty little things you wear, you try to make a fool out of me, but you’ll never have this much power over me. You’re mine, (y/n), I’m the one guiding you.”

She could only moan in delight, feeling his hand disappear beneath her skirt to press his fingertips against her clothed heat. Slowly, he began to circle her bundle through the fabric of her panties, feeling them grow damp beneath his touch. A soft chuckle let him, buzzing through both their bodies while his lips moved down her throat, sucking on the spots that drew moans from her.

“You’ve been asking for it for months, so now you’ll take my cock like the desperate slut you are. But I won’t let you cum, not this afternoon.” His words drew a protesting moan from (y/n), eyes wide while she stared at him. No words managed to pass her parted lips, unsure how to speak up as the sounds reaching her distracted (y/n).

Within seconds he had freed his cock, pushing a condom down his length before her panties were tugged aside. Her fingernails left crescent marks on the spot where his shoulder met his neck as he pushed into her, forcing her tight walls to adjust to him. A part of her wanted to beg him to slow down, to give her some moments to relax before taking all of him, but that part didn’t get a chance to speak up, silenced by her loud moans.

Professor Riddle fucked her ruthlessly, he was using her body, set on chasing his own high while sticking to his promise. Tonight he wouldn’t let her cum, at least not for a few hours before finding his way to her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the back of his hand which was still holding her throat. She was torn between focusing on the way he perfectly stretched her, about to push her over the edge, and the way he held onto her all too possessively, leaving her heart jumping in excitement.

“This is why I need to keep you around, love.” The nickname had a condescending touch to it, leaving her gasping while she tried to focus on his words. “You’re all for me to use, all for my own pleasure.”

(Y/n) nodded her head while another gasp left her, head wanting to roll back - though without any luck as he kept holding onto her. She felt his cock tearing her apart with every thrust, drunk on the feeling of him fucking her this posessively. With moans ripping their way through her, she clawed at his skin, giving into the subconscious need to mark him up to have the same claim on him.

“What would you ever do without me, huh? You’re so needy, such a pathetic little girl.” She was close to letting go, high on the low tones of his raspy voice, on the way he spoke to her with spite and adoration dripping from his tongue. With one hand still clinging to him, she let the other find her pulsing bundle, circling it a few times to give herself the needed push. Something he instantly stopped her from doing after a second or two.

“I told you I won’t let you cum for now. I don’t make empty threats, love.” More tears fell from her eyes as she stared up at Professor Riddle. Her walls clenched his cock, hoping to pull him into her trap - something he didn’t seem to care for as he pulled out of her to cum on her thighs.

“You’ll wait for me tonight, and perhaps if you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

[guzhufuren]

South Korea 🇰🇷 A Guide to Some of the Best Queer Asian Shows

Full list here.

1. Love for Love's Sake inside of a video game; high school setting; healing

At the age of 29 Tae Myungha finds himself transported into a fictional video game, and now 19 years old, he meets Cha Yeowoon, who is in the darkest moment of his life. And a translucent window appears where he receives a mission — to make Cha Yeowoon happy.

iQIYI (better subtitles) or GagaOOLala

2. Semantic Error enemies to lovers; university setting

A serious programmer and a rebellious artist clash over a school project. Their animosity keeps escalating to new extremes, defined by petty pranks and feisty arguments.

Viki

3. Love Tractor farm setting; farmer/city musician

Sunyeol, a city man with zero ability to survive in the countryside, comes to his grandfather's rural home. In front of him appears Yechan, a passionate and kind young farmer. While learning about rural life and assisting with farming tasks, Sunyeol gradually finds himself drawn to Yechan's warm and straightforward nature, while Yechan helplessly falls for Sunyeol.

iQIYI

4. Our Dating Sim high school friends to lovers; office setting

After 7 years, Lee Wan meets his first love, Shin Kitae, in a gaming company. When they were best friends in high school, Lee Wan was in love with Kitae. But he ran away and disappeared after confessing his feelings to Kitae after graduation. When the two of them begin working on a new dating simulation game and get more immersed in the project, old feelings are rekindled.

Viki or GagaOOLala

5. She Makes My Heart Flutter wlw; bar setting; niece and aunt dynamic

The extroverted Gang Seol is hired by her aunt Jung at her only-women bar. Even though they are both lesbians, they seem to be worlds apart and have very different love stories.

YouTube

6. The New Employee office setting; boss/intern

Excited to be interning at a successful advertising company, Seunghyun’s enthusiasm is curbed almost immediately when he meets his incredibly handsome, yet unbelievably cold boss on the first day of work. 

Viki

7. Light On Me love triangle; high school setting

One day Tae Kyung, a high school loner, starts questioning his own judgment about human relationships and gets advise from a teacher to join the school's student council. He meets the Vice President of the council, Shin Woo, who is somewhat cold toward him. However, he also meets the super-attractive President of the council: Da On, who appears to take an instant shine to him. The beginnings of a romance appear to be in the cards for Da On and Tae Kyung, but Shin Woo does not seem to approve.

Viki

8. The Eighth Sense university setting; trauma; surfing

Ji Hyun, a new student from a peaceful rural town, struggles to adjust to the bustling city life of Seoul. He meets a senior student Jae Won, who has just completed military service. Ji Hyun joins Jae Won’s surfing club and they begin to develop feelings for each other.

Viki

9. Sing My Crush best friends to lovers; musicians

Baram learned from the painful failure of his first love that he should be cautious with his feelings. During his high school days, he met Hantae in a disastrous first encounter. But then the two strike up an unlikely and close friendship in the aftermath. Baram becomes a part of a band, while Hantae is his manager. Years later, will Baram be able to keep his crush on Hantae a secret any longer?

iQIYI

10. Love Class 2 university setting; love class; TA/student; best friends to lovers

Love story of 3 couples: - Cheerful and optimistic Lee Hyun starts following cold and aloof tutor Kim An around like a puppy. - Joo Hyuk is an older student who has a thing for his university's teaching assistant Sung Min. - Student Min Woo is stuck in a confusing romantic situation: he has a secret crush on his best friend Ma Roo.

Viki or GagaOOLala

11. Bon Appetit neighbours; secret crush; food

Doohoon, a dedicated marketing manager, finds his life monotonous, filled with nothing but work. However, his new neighbor, chef Yoonsoo, seems dedicated to transforming Dohoon's lonely days around.

iQIYI

12. Unintentional Love Story rural setting; pottery; slow burn; secret agenda

Ceramic artist Yoon Taejoon disappears from society, while Ji Wonyoung is an employee who was dismissed from a large company. Ji Wonyoung is intent on winning over the heart of Yoon Taejoon in order to get his job back as Wonyoung is the company chairman's favorite artist.

iQIYI

13. Choco Milk Shake animals turned to humans; roommates

One day, two handsome strangers enter Jung Woo's house and claim they are Choco and Milk, the reincarnation of his childhood pets, a dog and a cat. The arrival of the two embarks on a new beginning and the quest to discover love.

YouTube

14. Tinted With You hinted at polyamorous trio; period drama; time travel

A high school student gets magically transported to the feudal period. Confused by his surroundings, he encounters a banished prince and his devoted bodyguard. The three characters live together and fall in love.

Viki

15. Blueming coming of age; university setting

Cha Siwon, a college freshman majoring in film studies, does a lot to maintain his image because of his past life of unpopularity. He meets Hyeong Dawoon, a classmate of his with perfect looks, good grades, and everything at his fingertips. Siwon’s feelings of wariness for his classmate soon change into something else.

iQIYI

16. All the Liquors chef/foodie; food

Han Jiyu is an employee on the marketing team of a liquor company. Park Kihoon is a skillful chef and an owner of a famous restaurant. When Jiyu is asked to contact Kihoon’s restaurant in search of potential collaboration, he runs up against a few walls—namely, Kihoon’s flat-out refusal to sell any alcoholic drinks in his restaurant. But Jiyu is not ready to just give up.

Viki or GagaOOLala

17. Mr. Heart sports; university setting

Jin Won is a university freshman who has a talent for running marathons. Sang Ha maintains a smile despite his difficult environment. A romance drama about the love and friendship between a rising marathon star and his new pacemaker.

Viki

18. Cherry Blossoms After Winter secret crush; high school setting

Ever since his parents passed away, Haebom has been living in Taesung’s house. And now, being a 12th grader, he enters the same class as Taesung, which makes the whole situation way more awkward. Living together 24/7, Taesung and Haebom's relationship is bound to change.

Viki

19. Jun & Jun office setting; childhood friends; boss/intern

Lee Jun becomes an intern at a cosmetics firm. Here he is reunited with his childhood best friend – a highly talented (but also highly flirtatious!) general manager named Choi Jun.

Viki

20. Kissable Lips vampire/human; university setting; unhappy ending

A campus romance between Jun Ho, a vampire who is walking the path of extinction, and Min Hyun, a human with pure blood.

Viki

21.  You Make Me Dance dancing; loan shark/debtee

The story of Song Shi On who is an aspiring contemporary dancer with a broken heart because he is not receiving love from his family and of Jin HongSeok, once a keen pianist, who has given up on his dreams to pursue a lucrative but unfulfilling career of a loan shark. But spending time with Shi On changes his perspective on life, and the duo forms a close bond.

Viki

22.  To My Star celebrity/chef

Actor Kang Seo Joon was once one of South Korea's biggest and most popular stars, but after he's rocked by a public scandal he goes into hiding. In his hideout, he gets acquainted with his new roommate, a young chef who leads a modest, unassuming life. Despite having wildly different personalities, the two begin on a relationship.

Viki (S1) & Viki (S2)

23. A Breeze of Love high school friends to lovers; sports; insomnia; university setting

Do Hyun, the captain of the basketball team, is preparing for the championship. The team manager brings Dong Wook, Do Hyun's first love, to fill in for an injured teammate. Dong Wook has insomnia and can only sleep well when he is with Do Hyun.

iQIYI

24. Bump Up Business real idols as the show’s actors; idol romance; music

Eden is about to make his idol debut. His agency pairs him with an experienced idol Jihoon who used to have a scandalous past. Eden is told by the company that their music duo will be doing a Business Gay Performance – they will have a fake romance to attract fans. For the sake of his dream, Eden agrees. What kind of feelings will develop between the two of them? Featuring the members of a real kpop boyband OnlyOneOf.

GagaOOLala

---

You can watch some shows for free on the streaming websites by setting VPN to South Korea. In other cases I recommend paying for subscriptions to show appreciation and support of content in order to get more of it in the future, but if you can’t, watch on KissKH (better quality), Dramacool or get files from MkvDrama. Enjoy!  🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[wttcsms]

hi mini porn w/ (some!) plot fic series idea but it’s abt broke college student reader whose boyfriend goes viral for filming and uploading a sex tape of him CHEATING on you with your actual best friend. (guess the title “CHEATING ON MY GIRLFRIEND WITH HER HOT BLONDE BEST FRIEND! CLOSE UP CUMSHOT” wasnt just a clickbait title…) humiliated, heartbroken, and still horribly BROKE, you’re in a tough spot. you just lost your boyfriend and best friend all in one go, she moved out of your shared apartment to be with him - which means you have to pay rent by yourself - and people on campus are either pitying you or laughing at you.

after getting drunk one night, you decide that enough is enough. you create your OWN account and you are going to film the hottest fucking porno that was ever uploaded on the internet. the only problem is 1) you have no one to film it with and 2) you can’t PAY anyone yet since you’re barely staying afloat + any freak who wants to have filmed sex, free of charge, is - well - a freak!!! cannot be trusted!!! all the people who responded to your ad are weirdos.

except for one: the TA for one of your classes.

if him being the person who grades every single one of your assignments isn’t a problem enough, try factoring in the fact that he’s the guy who took your virginity in a frat house during your freshman year of college, and then immediately after you two finished, you sprinted out of there like the hounds of hell were chasing after you.

after all that, he wants to film a fucking sex tape with you????

desperate times, desperate measures. you two post the video, it blows up, and suddenly you’re skyrocketing on the app as one of the hottest creators. people can’t get enough of you two together, and seeing the tips pouring in, you have an idea.

it’s a business partnership with simple, easy to follow rules: you split the profits 50/50, the videos all remain faceless, and this means nothing. you’re not friends, and you certainly aren’t lovers.

so, it’s a fic with a lot of fucking and two idiots falling in love 🤭🤭🤭

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Summary: There are a few bumps in the road during your travel to Italy and your first day there. Bradley’s not a regular professor, he’s a cool professor.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, themes of eventual infidelity, mentions of travel sickness and throwing up, wc: 4.5k

…

“I can’t do it, I just can’t go,” You throw yourself back against the leather seats and cover your face with your hands. Malcom drives a Rolls Royce corniche from last year with a black exterior and brown leather seats. You’re parked outside of Ithaca Thompkins Reigonal airport, your suitcase is in the back and your fiancé’s stroking tenderly at your cheek. “It’s going to be hell.”

“It’s a summer in Italy, honey, not jail time.” Malcolm laughs at you, lifting your jaw and giving a calm shrug of his shoulders. The sun on your face, the two of you had practically the entire winter to celebrate your engagement, it seems fitting that his last summer is his and his alone. His heart squeezes at the thought of the autumn to come. Your honeymoon, a short stay at his father’s place in the Bahamas.

Then, the rest of your lives together. The thought is enough to make you concede finally.

“It’s hardly a vacation.”

“You’ll be home before you know it, and then you’re gonna be my wife. I’ll take you on all the vacations you could want.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” You point, tone begrudging as you finally move to pull open the car door. Your fiancé follows you out of the car, leaving the roof down as he

reaches into the back to grab your suitcase. It’s a gift from your mother, part of a matching his and hers set that should’ve stayed pristine until your honeymoon. Bringing it back tarnished isn’t an option.

He lifts it out of the car and walks around, closing your door for you and then wrapping an arm around your waist.

“This will all be a funny little thing that we look back on. Something to tell our kids the first time we take them to Italy.” Malcolm’s thumb nudges just slightly under your white t-shirt, stroking a gentle circle on your waist. He squeezes you against him, pleased with himself for finally drawing a smile from you.

“Alright, two, four, six…” Bradley counts the young adults in pairs, his brows drawing together as he searches for his seventh. There’s no need to wonder who it is that’s missing. Eight minutes after nine, he’s giving you two more before he leaves you behind.

“Hey, Bradley,” Luke is Bradley’s favourite TA. He’s not supposed to have favourites, but he’s also not supposed to have any tattoos. He’s supposed to wear a tie at work. ‘Supposed to’s’ haven’t mattered much to Bradley in the course of his career. Luke is a little shorter than Bradley, athletic and dark haired. He’s going to teach in France in the Autumn, inspired by his favourite professor. “Did you hear back from that guy in Sicily about August?”

Luke listens. He really cares about what he studies, Bradley likes that about him. They share the same sense of humour too. He smiled a little, and then shakes his head.

“No, I think he heard the American accent and made up his mind before I’d even asked him about it.” Bradley gives a small shrug, like it doesn’t matter, but they both know that would have been the opportunity of a century.

Luke’s sympathetic in his nod back. They leave it at that. Bradley lifts his arm and checks his watch again. As he’s about to turn and leave, he catches sight of you, strolling in and talking away to your fiancé like you aren’t holding everybody up.

“You’re late.”

You turn your head and look him over. He’s wearing beige shorts and white converse tennis blancs. No other professor you know would show up to a work trip in sneakers. The first impressions are set.

You’re late, he’s underdressed.

“Sorry, man. We hit traffic on Warren Road.”

It’s a maybe thirty minute drive from the furthest part of campus. Bradley doesn’t say anything at all. He just stares. Just the look on his face makes you seethe, wondering silently what kind of woman could have raised such an impolite adult.

His eyes pull away from Malcolm and fall down to the nice, white suitcase that you’ve brought along with you. It’s Ralph Lauren with an extendable handle and wheels. From this alone, Bradley knows that you haven’t spared a second to look at the itinerary. You watch him scrutinize your luggage, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Alright, well, since we’re already late. Let’s move.” Bradley decides, bored. He turns and hoists lifts his much more manageable suitcase into his right hand. Like ducklings, the other students gather quickly and follow him as he turns towards the check in desk.

“You can’t seriously expect me to spend three months in the middle of nowhere with that man,” You shake your head adamantly, folding your arms over your chest and looking to your fiancé for support. “I’ll wind up murdering him.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say murder in an airport, honey,” Malcolm teases. He pulls you into his arms and kisses the top of your head. “You’ll be back before you know it. Go, see the world. I’ll be right here to listen to all your stories when you get back.”

“I love you.” You mumble begrudgingly into his Tommy Hillfiger polo. He grins and kisses your temple, then tells you the same. Finally, he takes you by your shoulders and pushes you towards the other group of students.

You swallow dryly as your loafers carry you forwards. One of the students, dark haired and grinning, leans in and says something to Bradley while his eyes remain on you. Bradley chuckles as it and shakes his head, dropping his suitcase onto the scale.

Glancing back over your shoulder, trembling starting in your chest and spreading along your nerves, Malcolm smiles and nods for you to go ahead. He’s tanned already from the start of the golf season, cheeks dimpling, straight brown hair falling into his eyes a little. He’s going to have to cut it once he starts working for real, but you like the boyish look for now.

Pausing, you take your time to look him over. Taller than you by just a few inches, strong from his years of baseball, slim from his years of track, smooth skin and blue eyes that are just to die for.

Your gaze falls down to the rock on your finger. The knowledge that if you can withstand these two months, you’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted is enough to finally make you turn back around and set your suitcase down on the scale.

The next twenty four hours will be the worst. Your itinerary, which is wrinkled near the bottom from the stream of tears that had been pouring onto it the night before, tells you that it’s about seventeen hours of travel. A short flight, first, two Newark airport. Then, a six hour flight to London. Finally, a two hour flight to the north of Italy.

Bradley settles into his seat on the flight to Newark and glances behind him to search for his seven students. Three sitting together, two sitting together, Luke’s at his side and then you’re sitting on your own between an elderly married couple. His lips quirk to himself as he turns back around. It’s only fair that karma pays him back a little bit.

He’s less than thrilled about you being here. It just doesn’t seem fair that someone missed out on this opportunity because your daddy was able to pull some strings. You don’t give a shit about this trip. So, if it’s miserable for you, Bradley really couldn’t care less.

You rub at your temples, the volume of your Walkman turned up as loud as it will go, Joy Division blasting in your ears as the Houseman’s lean over you to argue with each other. Lifting your head, you find Bradley soundly asleep, arms folded over his chest and lips parted slightly — perfectly comfortable aside from his knees pressing into the seat in front.

He couldn’t care less when you’re panicking in the lounge at Newark airport, thinking you’ve lost your passport. Or when you’re stuck next to a screaming baby on the flight to London. Or, when on the flight from London to Turun, there’s such bad turbulence that the first thing you do upon landing is rush down the steps and puke.

“Oh, here — did you want some water?” Abigail offers. Bradley doesn’t know her that well other than the fact that she is the only person he knows who has never gotten less than an A in his class, and that she’s probably more intelligent than he is. And apparently, more of an empath. She rubs her hand along your shoulders soothingly and offers you the unopened plastic bottle.

You step back from the trash can, letting go of your hair and groaning quietly, blinking the tears from her eyes.

“Thank you,” You seem surprised by her kindness, taking the bottle from her slowly like she might have snatched it back from you. Gratitude. That surprises Bradley. “That’s really sweet of you.”

It’s not your fault that you were taught early on that there’s no such thing as a free handout, or that selflessness is a myth. Abigail comes from a much different background. Her mom does soup kitchens and charity drives, she taught all three of her children the meaning of kindness early on. Your mother taught you the value of womanhood early on.

“It’s no big deal.” She smiles, reaching into the pocket of her light washed jeans and pulling out a packet of gum. “You can keep this.”

Bradley watches the exchange, then checks his watch again. As much as it seems fair to watch you suffer, the last thing he needs is for you to call your father screaming on the first night.

“Alright. It’s a twenty minute ride to the hotel, there’s a bus for us outside. Are you going to be alright?”

Exhausted, your ears are ringing and this is the most professional that he has acted all day; you know not to push your luck with him. You nod weakly at him. He can’t help but notice how colourless you’re starting to look at baggage claim, and how much trouble he’s going to be in if you die on the first day. You chew tiredly on the peppermint gum, trying to pretend that the motion of just chewing alone isn’t enough to still make you queasy.

You should be in Malcolm’s television room, right now. Sitting curled into his side with your legs across his lap, watching some action movie that will keep his attention long enough for the two of you to finish it. Closing your eyes and picturing that you’re there just doesn’t cut it.

Stepping out of the airport, an iron-tight grip on your suitcase handle, you inhale deeply. The fresh air makes you feel a little less light headed. You sip slowly at the water. Everyone keeps looking at you.

It’s not half as warm as you had expected it to be. When you had pictured Italy, you had pictured vineyards and thick heat. Tonight, you’re in a city, and it’s actually a little cold even with the thick denim jacket you’re wearing. The chill helps breakthrough that sick, sweaty feeling that you’ve got going on though, which is nice.

“Mr. Bradshaw!”

Bradley’s lips turn up into a big grin as he locks sights on the short, bald man that’s grinning at him from in front of a black minivan.

“Pasquale!” He chuckles as he speaks, dwarfing the older man as they hug. You’ve never seen him that pleased to see anyone. “How’s it going?”

“Same old, same old,” Pasquale shrugs, giving Bradley a knowing wink. They share a laugh again. “Big group this year.”

Bradley turns to look at all of you over his shoulder, then nodding slowly. His gaze lingers on you. “Uh-huh. They’re a little tired.”

“Well, then, let’s get the kids to bed.” Pasquale jokes. He grabs the handle and tugs open the middle door to the van, then walks around to tug open the back doors.

Everyone hands their bags to him, then finds a seat inside. Making the most of the fresh air whilst you’ve got it, you’re intentionally the last.

Pasquale grunts as he lifts your suitcase off of the ground, struggling with the weight of it. Bradley shoots him a look and then grabs your arm, stopping you before you can step into the van.

“Sit up front. In case you puke.” He instructs, grabbing the passenger side door and pulling it open for you. Waiting for the ground to just swallow you whole, you nod weakly again.

Bradley was right. It’s a twenty minute ride to the hotel. He just hadn’t warned you that it was going to be the longest twenty minutes of your life. Turin has a tram system and passing over the tracks, and the bumpy roads makes your stomach churn. Pasquale tries to make conversation but there’s not really much you have to say. Everyone behind you is in pretty good spirits, looking out of the windows and talking about the city.

“Alright, everyone gets a roommate — are we going to be mature about this and buddy up, or do I have to treat you like you’re six?”

You’re blinking at him now, knowing that no one here will want to share with you, hoping that you get assigned a room so that you can finally pass out. The hotel is ninety years old and it looks older, cracks through the paint and cobwebs in the corners, but you just can’t find it in you to care. Dust fills your nose and makes you blink like you’re going to sneeze. The entire place smells like cigarettes. Speaking of cigarettes, Bradley’s just itching for a couple of seconds away from you guys.

Everyone around you buddies up. Your eyes widen, finding that there are only seven students.

“Uh, no, no — you two cannot share a room. I’m not taking anybody home pregnant. Luke, you’re with me.” Bradley snaps his fingers, frowning sternly. You turn your head and watch as he takes his arm off of the girl’s shoulders. She whines, frowning at Bradley. “That goes for all of you actually. You’re all adults, just — I’m not your dad, don’t make me act like it. Okay?”

“Okay…” Come a few begrudging agreements as Luke sulks over to Bradley.

“Cool. That leaves you two.” Bradley decides, nodding to you and the girl who just had her evening’s plans ruined. You swallow, nudging the toe of your shoe into the faded red carpet under you. “Okay. I’m going to give you your keys, there’s one per room so don’t be a dick and lock your roommate out. Don’t lose your key, there’s a twenty euro replacement fee and I’m not paying it.”

What no one had mentioned to you about Italy was the stairs. You’re still fairly naive about it as you drag your suitcase up to the third floor — you’ve got a long summer ahead of you. Your room is at the furthest end of the hall. Bradley makes his location known to all of you, and then suggests that you try to get as much sleep as you can.

“Dibs on the bed by the window.” Your roommate, who you now know to be named Robin because of a conversation you heard as you were coming up the stairs, declares before the door is even open.

You’re far too tired to argue, and not really bothered by that kind of thing anyway.

It’s a twin room with dated paint on the walls and patterned sheets, heavy curtains covering the window and faded carpet under foot. You swallow softly as you look around you. Quickly, you realise what’s missing.

“What? — Not what you’re used to?” Robin teases as she lifts her bag and drops it onto the bed by the window. It’s most definitely not what you’re used to. Your mother wouldn’t touch this place with a ten foot pole and your father dismantles businesses like this one just for the fun of it.

Still, the decor isn’t your biggest issue. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Huh,” She stops to look around the room, frowning, then shrugs and turns back to her case. She unzips it and flips the top open. Your eyes land immediately on the box of trojans at the top of her belongings. “I don’t know. Ask Brad.”

You’ve never heard anyone call him Brad, or heard him introduce himself as that. You don’t like it. But, you turn and walk down the hall anyway. All that you want right

After approximately thirty seconds of peace, Bradley winces at the knocking on his door. Something in his gut tells him that it’s you, or something you’ve done, before he even answers.

“What?”

The force with which he swings the door open makes you jump. You almost shrink away from him, pushing your sweaty hair back off of your face, then remember everything that your father taught you about being taken seriously. You swallow, straightening up again, “Our room doesn’t have a bathroom in it.”

“There’s one at the end of the hall. It’s right next to your room.” Bradley answers, resting his hand on the chipped paint over the doorframe, nodding his head in the vague direction of it. He watches your face change in realization. You look more sick now than you had when you were hunched over that bin.

“Oh. It’s… a shared bathroom?”

“Yeah. It’s for the floor.” Bradley’s tone tells you that he thinks you’re even more stupid than you feel. You don’t even share a bathroom in your own home. Safety is the first thing that crosses your mind.

“What if someone tries to get in while I’m in there?”

“Locks are still a thing here.”

Luke snorts in amusement from inside of their room behind him.

“I know that,” Your tone slowly starts to stray from sheepish to snappy. It’s been a long day and being made fun of isn’t how you would like to end it. “But, I really need to take a shower and I—“

“Luke, go stand outside of the door until she’s done.” Bradley’s already turning away from the door, bored by his conversation with you and starting to pry open the buttons on his blue shirt.

“Me? — Why do I have to do it?” Luke frowns from his perch at the end of the twin bed closest to the door.

“Because I want her to shut up and quit whining at me, and you owe me a favour. Remember?”

It seems unprofessional for Bradley to be close enough to one of his students that they’re now owing each other personal favours. That’s something to think about another time. You shift back awkwardly as Luke pushes himself up from his bed and starts towards you.

“Alright. Go get your stuff.”

Exhausted, you’re on the verge of blacking out the entire time that you’re standing under the stream of water. It’s lukewarm and the pressure is poor, but it helps.

You brush your teeth quickly and dress yourself in your pyjamas. Sitting on the floor, Luke falls backwards into the bathroom as you tug it open.

Now laying on his back, you catch his gaze starting to wander. Even about to fall asleep standing, you’re awake enough to jump back before he can sneak a peek up your nightdress.

“Pig.” You mutter, stepping around him without thanking him for standing guard. He watches you wander back to your room and slam the door shut, then pushes himself up laughing.

He walks calmly back to his room and lets himself in, swinging the door shut behind him. Bradley’s on the bed by the window, a cigarette dangling from his lips and a stack of six books, all opened to different pages sitting in front of him.

“D’you think she’s really going to make it two whole months?”

Bradley looks up, scratching an itch on his bare shoulder and then taking the cigarette from his mouth. He exhales, then shakes his head with a breathy chuckle.

“Buddy, the sooner that she calls her dad to come and get her, the better.” He mutters, flicking ash from the cigarette into an empty water bottle and picking up his pen to scrawl a few notes onto the page of one of the books.

Luke drops down onto his bed and tucks his arms behind his bed. He wishes all of his professors were as cool as Bradley is. “She wears a nightdress like my freaking grandmother.”

Bradley scoffs, taking a long draw on the cigarette, his dog tags dangling between his collarbones as he flicks through the paperwork for the trip. His lips quirk up slightly as he shoots his friend and student a playful look, “Well, what does your grandmother wear?”

Luke pulls a face and then shrugs, running his hands through his feathery, raven coloured hair. “I don’t know, it comes down to like here. Hers was this cute little yellow with cap sleeves and a heart shaped kinda neckline.”

Bradley’s smirk grows around the thin cigarette as he looks over. “Didn’t you say your Mom was one of six kids?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Maybe your grandmother was onto something with those little nightgowns, huh?” Bradley taunts, chuckling and turning back to work while Luke gasps in horror at his side.

“You’re sick.” Luke complains, amused but playfully offended as he turns onto his side and presses his face into his pillow. Bradley just laughs to himself.

The next morning, you can’t help but notice that Luke seems to have modeled himself after Bradley. Both of them are wearing nearly the same thing. A half buttoned, cotton shirt — Bradley’s is a pale yellow, Luke’s is a deeper blue — and five inch shorts.

Once again, you’re late, he’s overdressed.

You’re in a cute little sundress with a sweet little purse in your shoulder and a pair of expensive, Dior sunglasses on your face.

“Did everyone eat?” Bradley asks, tucking his Ray-bans into the opening in his shirt by their arm. He’s got a baseball cap on today, his auburn curls peeking out from under it. You bet Luke’s pretty upset that he didn’t get the memo on hats. A chorus of quiet yes’ come from your class. “Good. Because lunch isn’t for another five hours and we’ve got some walking to do.

“Now, remember,” He pushes his hands into his pockets and looks straight at you. “You’re a big group of kids in a foreign city, so watch your stuff because someone will try to take it if you’re not careful.”

That seems like common sense. With Pasquale as your tour guide, you’re led through the streets of Turin. Bradley already seems to know his way around well enough, walking ahead of everybody else, studying the streets as he passes. This is his sixth summer consecutively spent in Europe, his fourth year spent in Italy. Turning his face towards the sun, indirectly looking up at the laundry hanging between apartments over his head, he misses it here more than anything.

As much as this is a research trip for himself and his work, it’s also somewhat of a cultural exchange. So, the first stop is a museum near the centre of the city. Today’s itinerary starts with this place, the museum of national something something. You cross your arms over your chest and look over the detailed architecture. It’s pretty, but you can’t pretend that you wouldn’t rather be sat on a rooftop in Manhattan with your girlfriends on this sunny morning.

Although, back there it would be the middle of the night, barely 3am. It still feels like 3am for you, you would have happily spent another five hours in bed just to avoid returning to that shared bathroom.

“Who knows what this place is?” Bradley stops and turns on his heel. Everyone seems to know at once, spouting off the name of the museum whilst you’re still standing there with your arms folded. “Cool. And who can tell me what Risorgimento is?”

“It was the nineteenth-century Italian movement of unification.” Abigail answers calmly, tucking a braid behind her ear. She’s well prepared for the day, wearing her backpack on her front so that she can keep an eye on it.

The streets are busy already, the centre of Turin at almost 8am is bustling with people trying to get to work and tourists trying to get to the sights.

In retrospect, it was a bad place to stop. Standing in front of a big museum with a group of students. It’s practically a target. You, with those fucking Dior sunglasses on your face, are a target. The man isn’t dressed like a thief. He’s wearing blue jeans and a green Ralph Lauren polo, walking quickly like he has somewhere to be. You don’t take any mind as he bumps into you, inhaling quickly as you’re surprised by the impact, but then stepping out of his way without much notice.

Bradley has watched as the man had sped up, knocking his shoulder into yours and curling his hand around the strap of your bag. With one swift tug, he has the strap off of your shoulder quickly. Your brows draw together, surprised and confused as you turn to look.

Immediately, Bradley steps forwards and catches hold of the back of the man’s navy shirt. He tugs hard and pulls the man back swiftly before you’ve even registered what was happening. Bradley tells him something in Italian, the man lets go of your bag accordingly and then sneers at your professor. He mutters something back that you don’t understand Bradley lifts his hands and shoves hard at his shoulders.

The man stumbles, sneering at you as he turns and hightails it away from your group.

“What did I tell you? — Watch your stuff.” Bradley mutters in annoyance, like it’s your fault that you were almost mugged. Your mouth opens to back with an immediate protest. He narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not going to babysit you this whole trip.”

“No one’s asking you to.” You bite back.

“Hey, he did a nice thing. Maybe stop being such a bitch.”

Bradley and you both turn to look at the same time, finding Robin tucked under Luke’s arm and looking at you like you just kicked her. You gaze darts quickly back to Bradley, waiting for him to scold her.

Instead, he just looks at you like it’s all your fault and then turns away, calling for the group to follow him inside. You flinch as someone bumps into your other arm, finding Pasquale smiling at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” You answer Bradley’s friend begrudgingly.

He’s older, maybe in his late forties or his early fifties. A little shorter than you, with a seemingly perpetual smile on his face. He guides you after your class with his hand on the elbow. “Seems like Italy doesn’t agree with you much,” You’re not certain if that’s a polite way of him saying that Bradley doesn’t like you much, you leave him without an answer anyway. “Stick with me, I’ll help you find your feet, miss.”

…

If you’re wondering what her nightgown looked like, it’s the yellow one on the right

tags:

@thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @littlemissobsessedwitholdermen @sunflowerziva @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawseresinbabe @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard