#i made it for class and passed with flying colors...

[poicyss]

Finally retiring my like 5 year old TV head icon for my much cooler irl TV head icon smirk

[bacon-pancakes]

Actual conversation I had with a friend, regarding a personality quiz I had to turn in as my final exam. Convo had Scarab and Prismo vibes to me.

— Mod E

[phopollo]

I'm not sure if maybe I'm just unlucky here, or maybe there's like.... something wrong with a larger system?

But why have I taken 5 Spanish classes and only managed to learn anything in one of them? And why is the college class the one I've learned the least in?

[thebigqueer]

oh my god there is no fucking way i just flunked the one class i thought would be perfectly fine. im going mad

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! - G.S.

Synopsis. You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid… …is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, banter about physics, cunnilingus, oral sex (male + female), 7 minutes in heaven, college! AU, 69, Satoru is a tease down bad for you (and has a big dick), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.2k

A/N. I really don’t like physics. Art by @_3aem on X.

Life truly has an awful sense of humor - almost as bad as Gojo’s, which you discovered on the first day of Advanced Quantum Physics. 

The air charged with nervous energy and the scent of freshly printed syllabi, you quickly snag a seat right at the front row of Professor Yaga’s class. 

Ah, you’ll never forget how peaceful those few seconds to yourself after introductions were - before the devil incarnate dramatically swung open those lecture hall doors and plopped himself down right next to you. Late. 

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” a voice hums from beside you, shattering your daydreams of passing this class with flying colors and riding a wave of glory into becoming a Nobel prize-winning physicist. 

With a slight scowl, you turn your attention to the source of disturbance - only to meet eyes with (self-proclaimed) campus sweetheart, Satoru Gojo, leaning on his chair with an air of nonchalance. At your silence, he repeats, “I said any closer-”

“I heard what you said.” you snap, irritation flaring at the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the mirthful grin that spreads across his lips at your reaction. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you’re sitting here too.” you raise a brow.

“Oh me? That’s because I’m already fucking his wife, sweetheart.” he deadpans with a blank expression. 

What? The tense silence that follows is deafening - for the first time ever in your life, you were shocked into speechlessness. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Before Gojo bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. “You- you shoulda seen the look on your face- HAHAHA-” he gets out between uncontrollable laughs. Face burning, you train your eyes forward and will yourself to not glance at the 6’3 mess cackling beside you.

Ugh. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just think happy thoughts - kittens, quantum mechanics, being valedictorian. Desperately attempting to block out the giggling thorn at your side, you recoil at Professor Yaga’s extremely disapproving look in your direction. 

Panicking, and dreams of being his ace student slowly flushing down the drain, you quickly flip through your notes, attempting to catch up to where the lecture had now started. 

“Looks like we’re in trouble, partner~” Gojo’s dramatic stage-whisper catches the attention of students around you, them chuckling at your expense. 

“Hey, you’re the student president, right? Hey~ Heyyy prez~” As Professor Yaga continues his spiel about the syllabus, you continue to very obviously ignore the incessant comments that spill out of Gojo’s lips, to stifled laughs from his fast-forming entourage. 

The harder you tried to focus on Professor Yaga’s words, the louder and more absurd Gojo’s comments became - as if he’d made it his personal mission to enrage you. A sense of impending doom looming over you, you glare at him with a look that could’ve melted steel, hissing out, “Do you ever in your life shut the fuck up?”

Eyes widening in mock innocence, he grins “Oh~ I didn't know our student prez could get so feisty. Maybe I should take notes instead of doodling hearts around your name in my notebook.”

Ears ringing in embarrassment and frustration, and mind a whirlwind of how bad it would really be if you killed Gojo right here, you almost miss Professor Yaga’s question, “Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Teetering on the edge of your seat, you raise your hand, scrambling to salvage whatever is left of your academic reputation. You and- Gojo?

You start at the call of your name from Professor Yaga, “The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Gojo basically falls out of his seat in eagerness to answer after you.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Gojo.” 

You internally groan, ready for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth. 

With a deep breath, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Professor Yaga raises an intrigued eyebrow at Gojo’s statement, the class collectively holds a breath - as if awaiting the impending academic battlefield.

Gojo, with a cocky grin, plows on, “Think about it. The Pilot-Wave theory suggests that particles have definite positions and paths, unlike the uncertainty principle of the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's like predicting where a ball will land after you throw it, rather than saying it could be anywhere until you look."

Oh? He wasn’t a complete idiot?

Yet, you roll your eyes, “But the Pilot-Wave theory is too fanciful, it brings in too many hidden variables that have their own set of problems. It goes against the measurements and principles of locality!”

Unbothered by the challenge, Gojo leans back further in his chair, “What’s a couple complications? It’s a lot clearer on a microscopic level, none of that weird uncertainty of the Copenhagen Interpretation.”

Irritation running through your veins, you scoff at his condescending tone, “It might seem intuitive, but experiments and observations support the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics.” You’re almost out of your chair at this point, an accusing finger pointed at Gojo. “Despite its weirdness, the Copenhagen Interpretation has proven successful in predicting outcomes.” 

“Oh yeah? And it’s also only used by hardasses that just want to shut up and calculate, sweetheart.”

“Big talk for a little bi-” 

“OKAY STUDENTS, that’s enough for now. Let’s put a pin in this discussion and move on with the topic.” Professor Yaga, who had been watching the debate with amusement, promptly ends it once you two begin to get overly heated. 

The rest of the class, on the edge of their seats and probably hoping for some fists swinging between the academic titans, now sit back in disappointment at the fight cut off early. 

You sit back in indignation, fuming at how Gojo had gotten you so worked up. And he was wrong too! 

The lecture continues as if you two were never two curse words away from each other’s throats. 

But, in the midst of it all, your glare meets blue, sparkling with amusement - a jolt of electricity runs through your body at the glint of recognition of the other’s brilliance. An unspoken yet undeniable competition.

You’ve avoided Gojo like the plague for the past few months since then - which isn’t doing much when said plague follows you around everywhere with incessant calls of “Hey, hardass prez~”. The only time you seek him out being to gloatingly show off the large, red “100” on your tests - to which, unfortunately, he does the same. 

It’s stupid. It’s childish. Honestly, sometimes you think he just tries to get under your skin for the hell of it.

But you don’t have the time to think too deeply into that.

Just like you don’t have time for this frat party. 

Music and alcohol thrumming through your veins, it’s always the same thing. You’d rather be holed up getting ahead of your physics textbook than be here. Yet, you owed a favor to your friend Haibara - and he’d been bugging you to come to this party for weeks now. 

You’ll just stay another hour then leave, you sigh.

Zoning out as Haibara plays an overly-intense game of beer pong, you’re startled by an arm around your shoulder. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our lil’ prez looking like she’d rather peel paint than be here.” The expensive cologne hits you before the realization of who this was. “Drooling over the jocks? I recommend the STEM majors, sweetheart, jocks aren’t that great in bed.”

Quickly shrugging off his arm, you scowl, “Not like STEM majors are any better. And unlike some people, I have goals beyond being the life of the party.”

Decked out in slacks and a slightly too-unbuttoned shirt, Gojo chuckles, “Yeah, like what? Banishing fun?” Cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief, “You gotta let loose for once, sweetheart. Not everything in life is about academics and accolades.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Well not like I-” but whatever snarky retort gets caught in your throat as Gojo seizes your hand, effortlessly pulling you onto the dance floor. 

Caught off guard, you can do nothing more than sputter in surprise as he leans down to murmur in your ear, above the bass reverberating the walls, “C’mon hardass, sometimes in life, you just gotta- dance!” 

Gojo spins you into a dramatic dip, his silver chain brushing your face and his hand on your back burning into your skin.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment - yeah, embarrassment - as the people around you cheer in amusement at the science department’s biggest rivals navigating the dance floor with surprising chemistry.

This was ridiculous. And yet, music ringing in your ears, you almost crack a smile. Almost. That is until your eye catches Haibara’s surprised ones from the side of the dance floor. Wait - here you were dancing with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Immediately pushing him off with a hand to his chest, you don’t listen to whatever spills out of his mouth as you make your way to Haibara, disappearing with him into the crowd.  

“Hey, hey you okay? Wasn’t that the guy you were manifesting would step on Lego with his bare foot?” Haibara’s concerned voice speaks up from wherever you were dragging him through this sprawling frat house. 

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even- Anyway, how did the beer pong go?” you snap out of your reverie. What happened there? You were almost…enjoying yourself with Gojo Satoru of all people. 

Listening to Haibara brag about his dominating beer pong win thankfully took your mind off of your little endeavor with Gojo. 

“And then Yuji totally-”

“AH, THERE YOU ARE! Perfect, come join we’re two people short!” your kinda-friend Shoko’s drunken drawl breaks through the conversation. You can barely get a word out as she forcefully drags you two into a dimly lit room against your protests. 

The atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter, she plops you two down onto the floor in a neat circle of people before taking her seat beside you. “GREAT! Now we’ve got everyone, we can finally start.”

With a mischievous grin, Shoko declares, “Alrighty, folks! Time for the ol’ classic - we’re playing 7 minutes in heaven!” pulling out an old-fashioned, tattered hat from behind her back, to a collective mix of groans and cheers from the circle. 

“Where did you even find that ratty old thing, Shoko?” a sharply handsome man - Geto, you think - chuckles from his seat opposite you. And beside him- your heart stops. Gojo.

A smirk curling his lips and twinkling blue eyes locked on you. 

As if on instinct, you move to get up - only to be brought back down by a hand on your wrist. “Nuh-uh, no one’s escaping, c’mon it’ll be fun.” Shoko smirks, beginning to hand out pieces of paper to write down your names.

Apprehension pooling in your stomach, you share a glance with Haibara, who was honestly just happy to be here. Reluctantly, you scrawl down your name, tension building as it drops into the abyss of the hat.

“As our first attempted escapee, I think the prez should go first.” that agitating voice you knew too well speaks up. If looks could kill, Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing all over his grave with a textbook on the Copenhagen Interaction. 

To agreeing laughter - and your impending doom - the hat is promptly placed in front of you. God, you knew you should’ve stayed home. With a shaky hand, you delve in, grasping onto a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Not Gojo. Please not Gojo. Literally anyone but Gojo- 

Turning it over.

Satoru Gojo.

You jolt in surprise, rereading the hasty handwriting over and over - as if willing it to change. This must be some kind of sick joke. Eyes meeting Gojo’s, a flash of surprises passes his face before a self-satisfied grin takes over. He looked way too fucking pleased with himself.

“No fucking way.” Shoko mutters as it dawns on the group just who you were paired up with. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupt, filling the room as Satoru stands up extending a hand theatrically towards you. “If her highness the student prez would do me the utmost pleasure of joining me.”

You scoff, jeez it would be a surprise if you two didn’t kill each other in there. “Unless she’s…intimidated?” he bats his long lashes at you mockingly.

Intimidated? Of who? Swatting away Gojo’s hand, you stand up. “Intimidated? Don’t make me laugh.” 

He leans down, retorting, “I’ve tried but you don’t seem to know how.”. The room holds their breath, attention squarely on the two of you.

A beat of silence passes as you glare at him. You really could smack his annoyingly pretty face right now, but you shouldn’t - too many witnesses. 

“Now now, you two. Save it for the closet.” 

Ever the mediator, Geto ushers you two in the direction of the - very cramped - closet tucked into a corner of the room. 

Before you know it, the creak of the heavy wooden door rings in your ears as the door closes behind you. The loud click of a lock resonates, plunging you two into darkness. 

The muffled sounds of the party seem miles away as you try to focus on your breathing - trying not to let your mind drift to Gojo. You could feel the heat of his body, the ghost of his presence less than a foot away from you.

“So…” you flinch as Gojo’s voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You still alive and breathing after being trapped in a tiny closet with me?”

You huff, desperately wanting to break out of this closet, “Yes, but you probably won’t be if you don’t stay on your side.”

“This closet is barely a closet, there’s no ‘side’, sweetheart. And that’s my leg you’re resting on.”

You immediately scramble to move away from the warmth of Gojo’s leg that you’d been subconsciously leaning yours on. In the chaos, you probably did a bit more damage than solving. “Ah! Wait- watch the crown jewels, hardass.” 

You distance yourself as much as possible in the small space, knee burning where it had brushed up against Gojo’s that.

God, you were making a fool of yourself.

“As much as I like forceful women, you better take me out on a date first, sweetheart.” As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting filtering in through the slight crack of the door, you could make out that signature playful grin. 

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface. Gojo always knew how to get under your skin. 

“Don’t you worry your empty lil’ head, I wouldn’t fuck you even if I was paid.” you bite back.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “You sure about that, prez? I’ve been told that I’m irresistible.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, irresistibly hard to not smack.” 

“I always did like ‘em feisty. Makes our little debates all the more interesting.”

“Our debates would be a lot more interesting if you learned to keep that big mouth shut.”

“Oh? C’mon, prez, you love this ‘big mouth’. And you love the challenge. I see the way you look for me every time you answer one of Yaga’s questions, y’know.” Gojo murmurs, gaze piercing into yours.

He leans in closer - now definitely not on his side of the closet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it chemistry. Admit it and I might consider not calling you ‘hardass’ for a whole week.”

“What- That’s just because- I’d rather be called ‘hardass’ for a lifetime than admit to having any chemistry with you. I can’t even tolerate you for seven minutes here.” you sputter at both his proximity and his (absurd) accusations.

“As the student prez, isn’t your entire job to tolerate everyone? You’re a walking contradiction, sweetheart.”

“I am not. You have no effect on me.” you protest, standing firm. In the heat of your argument, you and Gojo have drawn closer to each other. His breath now fanning your face as he hums, voice a seductive tease, “I do, admit it. There’s a part of you that likes our chemistry.”

A defiant spark ignites in your eyes, “I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Then…hit me like I know you want to if you don’t want this.” he whispers, voice breathless. He closes the distance.

Gojo’s lips meet yours. 

Soft, they were so soft. 

Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to - to what? Smack him away? Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other subconsciously finding its way to his cloudy locks. Tugging. Kissing him back. 

Satoru kisses you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, he knows - he probably won’t.

Lips searing against yours, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste. Sweet - so sweet - just like candy, with a hint of Baileys and everything that he’ll never be able to have. 

A strangled groan leaves his throat when you bite down on his lips. Tugging with your teeth. Shit, fuck him and his bigass ego, he wanted to be the one showing off his irresistibility but really it’s the other way around. 

Mouth opening to let you in, he drinks in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Large hands on your face pulling you impossibly closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying - almost as if it hurt to part, drawn by that familiar magnetism that always seems to hang around you.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip - he doesn’t have enough time. He probably never will.

A hand rests firmly on your hips. Awaiting. Breaking away - just a fraction - he breathes out urgently into your lips, “I need to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

“Desperate, huh?”

Your gaze pierces through him, it always does. Immediately after your disoriented nod, he presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. God, he could do this forever.

You shudder as he hastily bunches your tight dress at your hips, sending blood rushing straight to his cock. Shit, this was not how he expected these 7 minutes to go.

Hurriedly falling to his knees, the pain doesn’t even register when he comes face-to-face with your clothed cunt. Panties already so wet - just for him. Cock twitching carnally, he needed to taste you now. 

Tongue flattening across your swollen folds through your underwear, just a slight taste of your wet pussy and Satoru already thinks he might pass out. Ah, so good - of course you taste heavenly.

“Ah! Gojo- more.”

Pulling away, he feels drunk off the whimper of disappointment that escapes your mouth. “Call me Satoru.” he hums, fingers deftly sliding your soaked panties down your legs. His hot breath fanning your entrance has you clenching your thighs together, desperate for any friction.

Mouth watering at this, Satoru curses the darkness inside the closet - can’t even admire your pretty pussy right. You flinch as his face meets your cunt. Shit, this was better than he’d ever imagined on those lonely nights pathetically fucking his fist.

He breathes you in so sinfully, tongue sliding teasingly between your folds in a leisurely rhythm that almost has him forgetting however many minutes you two have left. Frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either. Sinful squelches fill the confined space, along with your quiet moans of his name. 

“Hngh- S-Satoru. Feel s’good. Faster.” 

Ah, it’s really music to his ears. Your voice plays on repeat in his mind. He doesn’t even realize the call from outside until you look down at him, eyes dazed and kiss-bitten lips moving to panickedly mutter, “Satoru, we only have three more minutes.”

Ah, guess he’ll have to take his time in his dreams. 

“I only need two.” Satoru purrs, lips ghosting your wet core, voice sending goosebumps down your spine - all the way down to your dripping cunt. 

“W-well, stop hngh- running your mouth then.” you retort.

Satoru’s smirk against your plush folds is the last thing you see before he dives nose-deep in your pussy. He doesn’t waste time, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hah- yes! Satoru jus’ like that!” you hiss out, desperately trying to keep the moans ripping from your throat to a minimum, in fear of the others outside hearing. 

Noticing, Satoru snakes a hand up to your mouth - bullying his ringed-fingers in through your swollen lips. His index caresses your tongue, speeding up his movements on your pretty pussy as you gag around him. Moans catch in your throat as you struggle to accommodate him, the pleasure of being stretched from two ends too much. 

Satoru only has to take one look - tears clinging to your lashes and drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as you suck on his fingers - before he thinks he might just cum in his pants. Fuck, it was so lewd. 

You tighten your grasp on his hair, sure that your knees would give out if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he had on your hips, keeping you firmly on his mouth. Unable to run away. 

Shit, for someone so tight-laced, you were so messy on his mouth. He moans as your slick pools in his mouth, dripping down the corners of his lips. The  tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor rings deafeningly in his ears.

Ah, so this is why they call it 7 minutes in heaven. Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind dying if it was in between your legs being suffocated by your cunt. 

Your entrance clamps down desperately on his tongue, forcing him to bully it into your snug pussy, fucking you unrelentingly. His nose rubbing against your swollen clit over and over. 

At this point, Satoru doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or your cunt, throbbing and achingly needy for his mouth. His nose stimulates your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body that have you bucking into him for more.

Voice slightly muffled by his fingers, “Fuck- Satoru, keep going. Hngh- I’m gonna cum!” 

The way your walls desperately try to fuck his tongue has his cock straining so painfully against his trousers. Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt mercilessly, the harsh pace making you squeal and buck into his face. Your juices are now all over his mouth, gushing around his tongue. In and out in and out in and out-

“Satoru!”

You cum hard - all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Now, Satoru loves when you run your mouth and infuriate him, but he might just love it even more when you’re falling apart and speechless under his touch. 

Riding out your high on his features, you can feel yourself quivering around his tongue as he laps up your juices as if it were a delicacy. Deep moans leaving his mouth and vibrating across your soaked cunt, making you jolt at the overstimulation.

Pulling back, Satoru admires your unfocused eyes and bruised lips. “For someone that so fucking despises me, your slutty pussy sure is sucking me in so desperately.” he murmurs, slightly out of breath after what just transpired. 

“Sh-shut up.”

Ah, if only he got to see this view more often. 

You can’t help but feel the same way. Seeing Satoru fucked out, vibrant eyes half-lidded and blown out, your slick prettily glossing all over his mouth and nose. A small voice in the back of your mind wishes he was more like this and not whatever he is when he’s getting on your nerves.

“ONE MORE MINUTE! Finish up whatever devil’s tango or death match y’all are having in there!”

Those troublesome thoughts are pushed out of your mind as soon as you hear Shoko call from outside.

The bubble is broken. Jumping apart as far as possible in the cramped closet, you press yourself into the closet wall as you two wordlessly rush to make yourselves slightly more presentable. The air, once charged with overflowing tension and sex, now so strained.

Bending down to feel for the panties that Satoru- no, Gojo had thrown god-knows-where, your hands graze his - still slightly wet with your spit. Snatching your hands back as if it burned, you make out Gojo’s figure pocketing something.

…

Your panties??

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, face burning at both his actions and the idea of going outside without panties.

“Just think of it as repayment for the fun.” he hums, mirth spilling into his tone. And before you could snap at his antics, Shoko is ripping the door open and looking around the closet for what you can only assume to be missing body parts and blood.

“Aw, man. And here I was thinking Satoru would be six feet under by now.” she groans, walking off disappointedly - for which you were eternally grateful otherwise she’d have seen the few suspicious stains on the floor.

“Remember, you owe me twenty, Shoko.” Geto speaks up from the circle. Were they…betting on whether you and Gojo would kill each other in there?

Finally stepping out of that godforsaken closet, you catch the smirks and raised eyebrows from some of the people from the group.

Meeting Gojo’s eye, a smirk curls around his swollen lip as he swipes a thumb across it. Agonizingly slow. Teasing. 

Your cheeks flare, something pooling in your stomach. Ugh, this is why you hate frat parties.

“You alright, man? You look…flushed?” you hear Geto question, pointedly staring at Satoru’s slightly disheveled look.

It was all getting too much - the alcohol in the air, the thumping of the overplayed pop music, and him. You felt so lightheaded. Ripping your gaze from Gojo’s you leave without so much as a goodbye to him, only stopping for a reassuring nod at Haibara. You make a beeline for the exit, dashing out of there and down the winding staircase as fast as you could. 

Focused on navigating the packed party, you almost don’t register Gojo rushing after you. Ignoring whatever words were tumbling out of Gojo’s mouth, you silently thank the sorority that had just pulled up - clinging onto him in greeting, making it impossible to follow after you. 

The cool night air washes over you as you finally step outside. You sigh in relief as you leave the chaotic sounds of the party - and him - behind. 

Impatiently waiting for your friend on the way to pick you up, only two thoughts echo in your mind.

He actually only needed two minutes.

What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back in that heady room, Shoko nudges Suguru, the latter still watching in amusement where Satoru had run after you in the door. “Hm?” he asks, absent-mindedly.

“Why do most of these papers have Satoru’s name?”

---

You pass through the next morning in a daze. The hardest part was probably trying to get dressed without making eye contact with the purple finger marks on your hips that Sato- Gojo had left to remember him by.

You still can’t believe that happened. 

It’s alright, it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment - you just have to forget it ever happened, right? But that’s easier said than done when your last class of the day is Advanced Quantum Physics.

Cursing your timetable, you step through the crowded campus. You pull your sweater tighter around yourself, the fabric doing nothing to stop your skin searing where Gojo’s lips had been just last night.

Alright, you just had to get through this one class today. There’s a lot of people in Professor Yaga’s class - it’s not like you’ll necessarily see that bane of your existence-

“Yooo prez, fate just seems to bring us together hmm?” 

Gojo almost topples out of his chair, waving in your direction. As your eyes sweep across the room, you can feel your heart sinking. Shit, you really feel like you’re being Punk’d right now. 

Cursing whoever was up there for this cruel joke, you make your way to the desk beside Satoru’s - the only empty one. 

Slumping down onto the chair with a frustrated huff, you sink into yourself - eyes trained firmly forward and ignoring the playful grin in your peripheral vision.

To your surprise, Gojo doesn’t say a word throughout the lecture. Not a single comment about fucking any professor’s wife - or your cunt. Huh, did last night cause some type of qi deviation or something?

As Professor Yaga drones on about quantum entanglement, you find the words going in one ear and out the other, too focused on wondering what Gojo’s game was.

It’s only towards the end of the lecture, at the introduction of some new assignment that you find yourself finally letting your guard down. Okay, see, it wasn’t too bad. Now time to go back to your apartment and study whatever quantum entanglement was for the next five hours.

“Ah- And remember, the midterm assignment pairings are posted on Canvas.” 

What was that?

God, you hated working with other people. It was much more efficient for you to stay in and finish this paper in one sitting.

“So, partner~ My place or yours?”

What?

The bell rings, its metallic chime resonating in your mind almost as loud as Gojo’s words. Signaling the end of class - and probably the end of your sanity. 

You wish the ground would swallow you up at this very moment. These days have really not been your days.

---

“Literally what do you bring to the table?”

“Comedic relief and my undeniably good looks.”

“...”

“...and also the case study and background information.”

The air at the stuffy café just off-campus was a mixture of freshly ground coffee and hushed conversations - of course, occasionally disrupted by the chaotic debates that erupted from your little booth.

Not too long ago, as everyone moved to file out of the classroom, you were frozen, glaring at your open laptop so intensely you half-expected it to combust - scrutinizing the neat arrangement of Gojo’s name next to your own over a million times.  

Finally sighing in defeat, you nodded in surrender at Gojo - who was whooping in victory. But, you were still adamant on meeting somewhere in public. The last time you two were left alone ended up…interesting. 

“Then you do that and I’ll take care of the rest of the theoretical analysis and evaluation. Okay, sounds good, Gojo.” you deadpan, rubbing the sides of your forehead in frustration. 

“Ouch, no Satoru?”

Ignoring his comment, you promptly slam your laptop closed, gathering your things with a determined sigh. Ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cafe. “So you do that and put it on the doc, and I’ll do the same with my parts. See ya.”

That’s when you feel a large hand covering yours - the same one from- “Hey there now, hardass, stay a little longer - gotta make sure you don’t slander quantum entanglement in our essay the same way you do with the Pilot-Wave theory.” Gojo interrupts your intrusive train of thought. 

“What? Unlike you, I don’t slander any scientific theories. Although, I do think the idea of entangled particles jumping around like you do is hardly the hallmark of a stable scientific theory.” you retort, face burning but setting down your bag nonetheless.

Resting his face on his hands, he grins at you. “Oh yeah? I think stability is overrated, prez. Quantum entanglement challenges you because it’s a realm where your precious stability crumbles in the face of non-local correlations.”

God, was he glad he begged on his knees to Yaga to pair you two together. He was having way too much fun with this. 

“Just because particles can communicate faster than you can comprehend doesn't mean we should abandon reason.” you raise a brow. 

“Well, I think you should just embrace the uncertainty, sweetheart. Life is a game of chance, just like quantum entanglement.”

“Oh, really?” you drone out, sarcastically. 

“Yeah, think about it. For instance, I never thought I’d still be alive and breathing after last night. But here I am.” at your stunned silence, he continues. “I for sure thought you’d have the coffin ready as soon as I kissed y-”

You panickedly place your hands over his mouth to shut him up, those blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “When I said you had a big mouth I really wasn’t lying, huh.” 

Slowly removing your hands once it seemed like Gojo wouldn’t spill your endeavors in this family-friendly cafe, you sigh, “Okay- We’ll get some shit done today, alright. But this is the last time I’m meeting with you for this.”

“Mhm~ You got it, prez.”

It was not the last time you met with Gojo for this. 

Nor was it the second-last.

Or the third-last. 

Each and every time you two worked together on the assignment, you’d spend more time bickering about anything ranging from what you’d learned in Professor Yaga’s class that day to whether the old lady who frequented the café was a part of the mafia. 

“I’m telling you, she handles those knitting needles like they’re a weapon.”

“Mhm and she sips her Earl Grey like she’s plotting espionage. Now, get to work before I use my teaspoon as a weapon.”

“I’d rather investigate her than this damn Qiskit simulation.”

“Sure, Gojo. I’ll add her to our list of groundbreaking research projects.”

“Don’t come crying to me when I rub it in your face once we see her on the news as a mafia queenpin, prez.”

You’re pretty sure the café employees have a love-hate relationship with you and Gojo - too lively to be one of their favorite regulars, but arguments too amusing to kick you two out. 

And as for your relationship with Gojo…well. It’s not as if you can’t go 7 minutes without being somewhat civil, and yet that’s exactly the issue, isn’t it?

After what had happened that night, it feels as if there’s something charging the air whenever you two are together.

You chalk it up to just lingering tension, but that still doesn’t explain the way Gojo’s eyes hold a warm twinkle whenever he looks at you - gaze a little too warm than you’d expect a rival to have. But it’s fine, you just have to ace this assignment and then this strange dynamic can go back to normal.

It’s only towards the end of your assignment that you realize how wrong you really were.

---

Out of breath and darting across campus towards where you knew Gojo was waiting, you half-wish you joined the track team instead of the student government. Damn student reps, can’t keep proper archives.

As much as you got a kick out of getting on Gojo’s nerves, you hated to keep anyone waiting.

“Ah! Prez! Was heartbroken thinking you’d stood me up, y’know?” Satoru calls once he spots you bolting towards him on that dimly-lit pathway. Wow, maybe you should’ve joined the track team.

You trip. Ah, maybe not.

Feet automatically hastening your way, he catches you. Well, more like you fall into his arms.

“Just in time, huh?” he chuckles, thankful for the sun dipping below the horizon - otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Arms wrapped around your waist and supporting your waist, Satoru almost coos at the surprised look gracing your face. You always did something to his heart.

Hastily distancing himself from you once you stand on your own, he rambles - anything to drown out the banging of his heart against his chest. “So, I’m assuming you were out there doing all your president-ly duties?” 

“Ah! Yes, I’m so sorry, the meeting ran overtime and-” 

Listening to you rant, Satoru thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. He’s only snapped out his reverie at your disappointed groan. Oh, what was this? He didn’t even realize his feet had carried him to the little café already. 

Ripping his eyes from you, he turns to what moping at. A sign with red writing is plastered over the very locked café entrance - Sorry! Staff training today, hope to see you tomorrow!

“Seems like everyone’s got meetings today.” he hears you grumble. Satoru knows it isn’t right, but his heart leaps slightly at the chance to get to know you outside of that familiar cafe.

You, meanwhile, felt tension - and something else - pooling in your stomach. Shit, if the sanctuary of your café is no longer available…

“Well, we could just go home and finish off the paper by ourselves. It’s only the last bit anyway.” you suggest, voice slightly shaky at the idea and anticipation of actually being alone with Gojo after so long. 

“But Suguru’s such a loud snorer, I’d never get any work done.” Gojo whines. Well, there goes that plan.

“The library?”

“I hear it’s haunted this time of year.” he answers right away. 

“Ghosts are seasonal?” you ask absent-mindedly, too focused on weighing between the need to finish this assignment today and the uncertainty of what would happen between you and Gojo.

A tense silence fills the slowly darkening street as you go through all your options. Finally, watching the long shadows casted now, you sigh. “Fine. We’ll go to my place.” you mutter out. 

“Would you get angry if I celebrated right now?”

“Maybe.”

The walk to your apartment is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It was almost peaceful - if it weren’t for Gojo’s excited chattering about god-knows-what. 

Your mind was running a million miles a minute. Was something like last time going to happen? Were you a lecher for expecting it? Why didn’t you mind the thought as much as you think you should?

You risk a glance at Satoru, who was in the middle of a passionate speech about how ketchup was a valid condiment on pasta. Soft sunlight paints his hair an amber hue, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features, eyes sparkling with passion and mischief. He was beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

“Hey isn’t this your apartment building or is walking past it a pre-entrance ritual?” 

Ah. Whoops.

You snap out of those ridiculous notions, gathering whatever dignity you have left to walk back to the apartment complex you’d left in the dust while wrapped up in your thoughts.

“Oooo, didn’t take you for much of a decorator, hardass.” Gojo comments, flitting about your cozy apartment to look at all the little knick-knacks and pictures 

“Did you really think I lived in some sterile lab?” you retort. Gojo’s almost-endearing curiosity amuses you enough to let go of the electricity thrumming through your body at having him so close. In your home. 

“Well, I expected more beakers and fewer fairy lights, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be offended. “Believe it or not, Gojo, hardasses can have a sense of style, too.”

He continues his exploration, stopping in front of a photo on the wall. “Who’s this model?” he grins, pointing at a picture of you in stuffy formal attire at some conference.

You sigh, knowing exactly which photo he's referring to. “That, Gojo, is me at a conference presenting a groundbreaking research paper.”

“Groundbreaking, huh? Is that what they call it these days?” he hums, arching an eyebrow playfully. 

“Yes, and six feet under is what they’ll be calling you if you don’t get your ass here and finish this paper.”

“...yes, prez.”

Writing the conclusion and inserting citations is always the fun part. If you could write an essay on whatever you want, it would be only conclusions and citations, you think.

After a few hours of working on your paper, apparently Gojo does not feel the same way.

“Fuck Noodletools. All my homies hate Noodletools.”

“This is why you only have two friends, Gojo.”

“Hey! I’m a very likable person, y’know.” 

“...”

He sets his laptop down leaning closer to you over where he was seated opposite you on the coffee table, clearly bored of citations for the time being. “Also, aren’t we friends, sweetheart? Technically I have three.”

You raise a brow, this was the first time Satoru had ever addressed the strange dynamic you two had. “Are we?” you ask, genuinely. 

A deafening silence envelopes your living room. This was the first time you’d seen such a serious expression take over Gojo’s face as he answers, voice even, “I’m not sure.”

The atmosphere thickens with a charged tension, the weight of Gojo’s words lingering in the room. A spark flickers in his eyes. You feel like you could almost get whiplash from the contrast between the heated banter to where you two were now. Was it always so hot in this room?

You let out a strained laugh, attempting to diffuse the seriousness and go back to a trivial territory you were more familiar with. “I never thought the great Gojo Satoru would be uncertain about something.” Your eyes flicker unwillingly from his intense gaze to his worry-bitten lips.

The mischief returning to his gleaming eyes, he smirks “Uncertainty can be thrilling, don't you think, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what to say to that - and you don’t have to. Because before you can respond, Gojo swiftly leans over the coffee table - catching your lips in a sudden, electrifying kiss. 

Time stands still. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that you didn’t want to push him away. At all. In fact, you grab a fistful of his soft locks, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss. 

Pulling away mere millimeters, Gojo’s hot breath fanning your mouth as he whispers, “Told you the uncertainty is thrilling, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” you grumble, irritated because his lips ghosting yours was not enough.

Before you know it, Gojo has you pinned against the plush couch. His lips finding your, the kiss deepening as he yearns for that desperate connection - as if each breath depends on smothering you with dizzying kisses. 

The room seems to shrink, right now only filled with the heated exchange of breaths and the feeling of Satoru’s lips searing into yours. 

You think he tastes like caramel and uncertainty - yet, this time, you fall into the unknown with open arms. Wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your arms around his broad shoulders - bringing him to you so close you’d think the laws of physics were taking a coffee break.

It almost hurt. 

The intensity of the moment only growing, the atmosphere in your homey apartment crackles with a tension that you knew in the back of your mind had been building for so long - ever since that party.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. You knew this would happen.

And a part of you needed it to.

His fingers trace a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat - you shudder, craving for more. 

“Gojo, I want you.” you breathe out, words muffled by Satoru sucking sinfully on your lips. 

He pulls away slightly, delicate strings of saliva still connecting him to you. Every fiber of his being resisting to part.

“Don’t call me that.” he purrs out, the intensity of his half-lidded stare sending a jolt straight down to your heated core. “It’s Satoru when we’re fucking, remember?”

Looking into his sultry eyes, for the first time ever you decide to heed what Satoru says. “S-Satoru, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up to meet his own. You can feel the large outline of his achingly hard cock straining against those stupidly overpriced trousers, pussy quivering in anticipation. 

Now, there have been three times in his life that Satoru thinks he has died and gone to heaven. The first being when he discovered that the ramen joint by his dorm also had free Wi-Fi. Second, that first day in Advanced Quantum Physics when you snapped at him told him to shut the fuck up. 

And finally, right now, as he’s got you needy and squirming underneath him - such pretty gasps of his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips. 

God, navigating quantum physics is a walk in the park in comparison to what you put his heart through. 

“Hmm, never in my life thought I’d see his view, sweetheart.” he whispers lowly into your ear, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt along your alluring body. How did he get so lucky?

Hastily pulling down your shorts, his mouth waters at your wet panties. Another prize for him, hm? Throwing them along with your panties to god-knows-where, Satoru drinks in the sight of your bare pussy - a privilege that he didn’t get in that godforsaken closet. 

Ah, so ready and dripping for him already. Your slick glistens out of your heated entrance as you clench around nothing. “Aww, they’ve faded.” he whines, heart lurching at the lack of his marks from last time.

It’s alright, he can just make more.

Not one to waste time, with a bruising grip holding your hips steady, Satoru grinds his painfully hard cock into your needy cunt, savoring the pretty mewls that leave your mouth. The way your swollen pussy quivers against him makes him throw his head back, seeing stars already. 

Nipping along your neck, leaving marks he knows you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. “Sit on m’face,” he murmurs into your skin.

“W-what?”

Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, Satoru breathes you in. Fuck, he prefers the smell of your skin to any scent in the world. “Sit- on- my- face.” he repeats, words punctuated with erotic kisses to your hardened nipples, tongue flicking them through the fabric of your clothes. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” you gasp. Yet, still shifting on that cramped couch. Why do you two always fuck in the most inconvenient places?

Satoru’s legs hang off the end of your couch as he lays on his back, you’d almost find the position funny - if it weren’t for you straddling his head. 

His hot breath on your wet cunt sends waves of electricity though your entire body as you hover over his mouth. Your needy pussy right above where his mouth is, hesitating. Your slick oozes slowly through your swollen folds - drip! drip! drip! onto his awaiting tongue, brows furrowing and eyes rolling to the back of his head at your sweet juices.

“Mhm, and I hope that you’ll be the death of me.” he hums, tongue savoring your taste.

It’s the last thing said before Satoru surges forward, plunging mouth-first into your heated cunt. 

Despite not being on a time crunch this time, Satoru doesn’t waste a moment teasing - he already has you splayed out and aching for him, what more could he want?

He bullies his tongue into your snug cunt, pushing past the first ring of muscle. You twitch around him, sweet moans spilling incessantly from your mouth. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru! Fuck s’good.”

Your sounds of pleasure going straight to his dick, he bucks into your hands. Ah, more. He needs your touch more. 

The feeling of your plush walls clamping down on him only spurs him on further, fucking you at a ruthless pace. One hand gropes across your body, resting a thumb on your clit that rubs tight circles, making you grind down further into his mouth. 

“Your pussy is so honest, sweetheart. She wants me so badly.” he murmurs, voice sending vibrations that make you let out a loud moan which he suspects your neighbors would be complaining about. 

You were so perfect for him, Satoru thinks he might go insane.

You were definitely going insane.

Satoru shows no mercy, his abuse on your dripping cunt only speeding up at every buck of your hips into his tongue. It felt so fucking good. 

Closing your eyes, his pressure on your core has you seeing spots behind your vision. You could feel the curl of his signature smirk against your folds as your pussy tries sucking him back in at every thrust. Too good to let him go. “Knew you loved this ‘big mouth’, hardass.” he murmurs. 

Shit, you can’t be the only one acting so needy like this.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Satoru drawls, voice muffled by your cunt as he feels the breeze of his lower abdomen hitting the heady air of your living room.

“Payback.” is all you mutter out as you fumble his trousers down his long legs. Curse these gyms. Curse squats. Why did he have to be so perfectly sculpted? An Adonis in his true form. 

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as his boxers come into view - rock-hard cock straining painfully against it A patch of pre-cum pools at his head - he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Hands shaky from the way Satoru’s incessant tongue was fucking into you, you shuffle his boxers down. 

Satoru’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. Fuck- how the hell were you supposed to take him? Life was really unfortunate - water was wet, and Gojo Satoru has a huge dick.

“S-sweetheart, you don’t have to-” he murmurs against your swollen pussy. 

From all your times shutting up Gojo Satoru, this one might just be your favorite. 

His words catch desperately in his throat as you spit out a pool of saliva onto Satoru’s furiously flushed head. A low hiss leaving him as you teasingly lick his sensitive slit. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, Satoru attaches his lips with yours once more. He groans lowly into you, the stimulation making you yelp in surprise. 

“So, it’s like that, huh?” 

Satoru doesn’t have the time to ponder your words before you take in as much of his length as you can in one go. “Ah! Hah- Oh fuck, prez. Always knew you were a forceful woman.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste of his precum. Gagging around him, drool drips down the corner of your mouth as you try to take him in inch by fucking inch. It was so fucking messy.

Diving nose-deep in your cunt once again, Satoru continues the merciless pace of his tongue once more. Both your muffled moans fill the heated room, lost in the pleasure and the heat of the moment.

Shit, you knew by the way your walls clenched down on his tongue that you weren’t gonna last long. And judging by the urgent twitching of Satoru’s cock - he wasn’t going to either. 

He fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth, your eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat. Ropes of spit and precum decorate your lips. Even the staunch part of you that never backs down for anyone cheers at being so used. It’s so fucking debauched.

Your hand moves down to massage his heavy balls, tugging and pulling at a rhythm that matches the rapid ministrations of his thumb on your swollen clit.

Mind spinning and pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming as you both lean closer and closer to your highs. With a final mewl around his thick cock, your juices are gushing all around Satoru’s mouth. 

Your mind blanks as you cum, the only things registering being the tingles of your oversensitive pussy as Satoru rides you through your high on his tongue and the taste of Satoru as he cums in hot spurts in your mouth. Salty, with a hint of sweet - the flavor making your pussy twitch.

Fucking his seed into you, your mouth milks his cock. His cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth, all thoughts of dirtying your couch go out your brain when you hear the fucked out whines at the back of Satoru’s throat.

Fuck a refractory period, you wanted to hear that more.

You remove yourself from him with a lewd pop! Cum flowing smoothly down your throat, you lock eyes with Satoru over your shoulder. His jaw drops, pupils blown lustfully as your tongue sticks out - showing the way you’ve swallowed every single drop of his seed.

“Now, Satoru. I need you to fuck me with yours cock just as you did with your tongue.” your words still strained from your orgasm.

Wordlessly, Satoru nods, eyes shining - still reeling from the sinful sight of your bruised lips glossy with his cum - his cum that you swallowed as if it was a delicacy.

Meanwhile you were thinking that you should fuck Satoru more if it meant you got him to shut up and be pretty more often. 

Slightly more clear-headed now, just as lustful. 

Your couch creaks in protest as you shift positions to face Satoru once more. He seizes your lips in a passionate kiss, mouth attacking yours with a desperation for your essence.

Your head spins as you taste yourselves on each other, words tumbling out of your mouth in the haze, “Satoru, bed- now.”

But when has he not challenged you?

“Mhm, anything you say, prez.” he whispers raspily against your lips, still-hard cock teasingly dragging along your swollen folds. 

“Satoru.”

“Fuck yes. Say m’name, sweetheart.” he groans out, throwing his head back against the armrest. Your slick pools all over Satoru’s thick head, dripping sensually down his length to where he gripped tightly at the base. 

Swollen lips dropping into a small “oh”, he slides a ringed hand up his member, spreading your juices. Cock twitching carnally at the way your pussy was leaking all over him, he grits out, “Need to feel you around my cock now, sweetheart.”

So he does.

Thick head pressing into your tight entrance, a low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully tight you were. Fuck, he could just about pass out right now.

“S’tight, sweetheart. So good.” he fucks up into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips - impatience quickly waning. You yelp at each thrust, walls burning with the stretch of Satoru’s thick head. 

You try to steady yourself as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. In the midst of it all you still manage to impatiently slur out, “I-if you’re gonna fuck me then hah- fuck me like you mean it, Satoru.”

Oh, that did it.

Your words make the last bit of sanity Satoru had left snap. 

In a swift movement, he sheaths his throbbing erection in your wet cunt completely. A gasp gets caught in his throat at the way your walls were clamping down on him in surprise. 

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and a dangerously predatory glint in them that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck me like I mean it, huh? You’re quite bossy, y’know that, prez?”

Before you can retort - and probably dig your grave deeper - he stands up in one fluid motion, your legs around his waist and cock still buried deep in your snug pussy. You moan at the change in angle, his tip now kissing your cervix so deliciously painfully. Shit, you feel so full. 

Hands moving down to grope your ass firmly and support your weight, he grins lowly in your ear, “You’re lucky I love that part of you.”

The wall is cold as Satoru shoves your back against it. his body making the air leave your lungs as he presses into yours, ramming into you at a merciless pace. Your tight cunt clenches so tightly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving. 

Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy. His lips capture yours once again in a rough dance that matches the cadence of his hips.

You mewl against his mouth at the feeling of his heavy balls stinging your skin as they smack your ass. The power behind each harsh thrust has you bouncing against the wall, legs pulling tighter around his toned waist to bully his cock impossibly deeper in you. 

“Where- fuck! Where’s the bed?” he moans breathlessly against your lips, voice sounding as if each thrust of his pulsing cock into your plush walls sends him spiraling deeper into insanity.

“Down- down the hallway. Hngh- fuck, Satoru!” you not far behind.

Your mind is foggy, barely even registering as Satoru moves blindly towards your bedroom with powerful strides - not yet pulling out of you.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s got you sprawled over your bedroom floor, your carpet digging into you as his cock slams into your abused cunt with that feral pace he loves so much. Not even making it to the bed.

“Ah! Hah- Satoru, what happened to the bed?” you sputter out in-between uncontrollable moans. 

“Too far. Hngh- need you now.” he answers around your breasts, teasing and tweaking your sensitive nipples.

“Wh-who’s irresistible now?” you manage to smirk, relishing in the huff of laughter that escapes him. Even now, you always did manage to one-up him.

“Mhm, you’ve always been irresistible, sweetheart.” he mutters, moving to press a chaste kiss against your forehead, not sure whether the words were even meant for you to hear. 

And you know it’s just pussy-drunk talk, but right now you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, heartbeat ringing in your ears. 

Not sure how to respond to that, you pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his burning face in the crook of your neck. Maybe right now neither of you needed to speak, your bodies doing enough talking as Satoru continues his relentless cadence.

Your hips bucking up to meet his, you whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room as Satoru moves down a hand to draw rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. It was all too much. “S-Satoru.”

“Me too, my sweetheart. Me too.” is all he gasps out, teeth digging into your neck at the pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Satoru’s tight balls twitch as they smack your ass, cock glistening with cum and slick. He sees stars behind his eyes - or maybe those were tears at the overstimulation. He really doesn’t know anymore. 

Head spinning and thoughts racing with only Satoru Satoru Satoru, you’re very much in the same state. 

“Satoru?” you whine out, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You pull him into an intense kiss, pussy clamping down on him desperately as his lips brand yours - it sends you both over the edge. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums, and you were probably an angel. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your walls white, cunt quivering around him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forms around his base as he fucks his seed into you desperately, marking you so obviously as his. All thoughts of Plan B run out of your mind at the overstimulated whimpers leaving Satoru’s ruby lips.

His dick twitches inside you as his unforgiving thrusts slow down to shallow grinds of his hips, nothing more than to keep his cum inside of you as your highs bate.

Body collapsing onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight, Satoru pulls you closer to him. And despite everything that happened this evening, he thinks that this might be what makes his ears burn red the most. Your body so vulnerably connected with his own. Just the two of you in this quiet world.

The silence feels intimate and fragile. Brain still hazy from your orgasms, you don’t think you’ve ever quite looked at your bedroom ceiling from his angle. 

Strangely enough, Satoru’s warm weight on you feels comforting. Neither of you speak now. Nor do you speak when Satoru carries you to bed, searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe you clean with. 

It’s only when he lingers at the foot of your bed - uncertain - that the silence is broken. “Get in, stupid.” you scoff, opening the covers invitingly.

Of course, an elated smile overtaking his face, Satoru jumps in your bed with enough force to send you both bouncing. It was childish. It was so ridiculous. It had you barking out a surprised laugh at his antics.

In your joy, you don’t even realize that Satoru has stopped moving - frozen, smile slipping off his face and staring at you with an unknown spark in his eyes. 

“What?” you question, feeling strangely self-conscious. 

White locks tousling as he shakes his head, he breathes, “It’s the first time I’ve made you laugh.” The words hang in the delicate atmosphere, tension so thick you think it could snap any moment.

You hide your face in your hands, palms clammy. “You- you make me sound like some sort of evil witch.” you stammer out, embarrassment pooling in your gut. The tension in the air dissipates, yet the intensity in Satoru’s gaze remains.

Satoru understands, smiling blindingly. He pulls your naked body to his, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist as you both bury into the covers. “Well, more of a hardass than an evil witch.”

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You still have to finish your citations.”

A/N. Can be read as a standalone BUT part 2 planned for next longfic Sunday!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[kitasuno]

dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed. 

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas. 

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market) 

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once?? 

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you. 

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?” 

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone. 

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.” 

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh. 

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?” 

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate. 

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?” 

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent. 

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.” 

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck. 

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?” 

he smiles. “with flying colors.” 

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?) 

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him. 

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?” 

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

 is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease. 

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir. 

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone. 

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes. 

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?” 

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom. 

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!” 

he nips at your neck. 

“bedtime. now.” 

zayne

3 years older than you 

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car. 

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend. 

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you. 

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.” 

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!” 

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place. 

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car. 

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine. 

“drink up. doctor’s orders.” 

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. 

“thank you for waiting for me.”

[bucketbueckers]

ONLY MINE

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

content: filth, azzi and reader are just down bad asf there's no real top just vibes, nipple play, ab riding, oral, teasing, freaked out as fuck, academic validation as aftercare, kinda short and not proofread 😕 i apologize to paige bueckers and paige bueckers only

wc: 5.3k

synopsis: After bombing your most recent thermodynamics quiz, you’ve been locked in and busy on practice sets and worksheets in preparation for the next one. Maybe a little too busy, in fact, because your girlfriend is feeling needy and neglected, and, well, who are you to deny her any longer?

notes: i am not an engineer. yes i spent 10 minutes scrolling through sample thermodynamics practice sets to find a word problem that appears once (1 time) in this fic. im not just committed to the bit. i am married to it. yaps aside, i am trying my hardest to be responsible and stay on top of my classes LMAO 😭 butttttt i hope you like this ⬇️ anon (and good luck on your finals goat)!! im working on time management so i definitely will not be writing as much as i used to but i am still chronically online. feel free to send in an anon to say hello but as always i hope y'all like this one and happy pazzi hard launch day to those who celebrate 🫶

Saturated liquid water enters an orifice at a pressure of 100 psia and is throttled to a lower pressure of 20 psia. Determine the outlet temperature (F) and the specific entropy difference (Btu/lbm-R) between the outlet and the initial status. Assume steady state, steady flow, negligible heat transfer, and negligible changes in kinetic and potential energy.

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hopelessly lost.

The word problem stares unblinkingly at you. You’ve been meticulously working through this problem set for the past five hours, only pausing to use the restroom, refill your water bottle (because apparently you hydrate really well when you don’t know what the fuck’s going on), and grab a healthy, energizing snack (a handful of Starburst), but it’s starting to feel like you’ve been staring at this worksheet for years.

You never really struggled this much with a class. Math, physics, chemistry, you name it – there was always a pattern that you were good at isolating and exploiting. It made solving problems a lot easier, but thermodynamics? Figuring it out was taking a lot out of you. To make matters worse, nothing seems to help, either. Not even your go-to tutors on YouTube who could explain quantum physics to a five year old with little difficulty.

At this point, you’re convinced it’s just some weird energy in the universe that has severed the connections between your brain cells. This couldn’t possibly be your fault. You bombed your thermodynamics quiz on Wednesday, which was strange because you’d walked into the lecture hall with the confidence of a man who was sure he knew where the clit was. Maybe you were a little tense – who wouldn’t be? You were juggling four classes, a TA position for a calculus course, and research into reaction engineering.

A heavy workload never deterred you, though. Not to the point of failing a quiz you thought you’d pass with flying colors. And nothing else had really changed for you either. Your routine was basically the same, you studied for the same amount of time, exercised and ate properly. Your girlfriend, Azzi, did have a string of away games that kept her out of Storrs for about a week and a half, but saying she’s the reason for your poor performance is kind of ridiculous, even if you do sleep better when it’s next to her or because she always listens to you ramble even if she has no idea what you’re talking about.

Now, Azzi is back, and she doesn’t have another away game for about two weeks. That’s a fact that would otherwise excite you, but you’re just trying to pass your classes. Your scholarship relies on your GPA, and without your scholarship, you might as well kiss UConn goodbye. You and Azzi were always intentional about understanding each other’s schedules. Basketball was demanding, possibly more demanding than engineering considering travel and recovery, so the both of you tried to maximize the amount of time you were able to spend together, even if it just consisted of Azzi quietly watching film next to you while you worked through your homework.

After burying your head in your hands, rubbing your temples, and reminding yourself of how sexy future you would look sitting courtside at one of Azzi’s WNBA games, chatting with the other WAGs like, “Oh, Dr. Fudd? Yes, that’s me,” you reach for your iPad with a deep sigh, rereading the word problem once more. Then you write down what you know. P₁ = 100 psia. P₂ = 20 psia.

Your hand stalls. You check the formula sheet, the swirl of letters and deltas and constants making your head ache. You blink again.

Your pen falls onto the couch cushion next to you as you heave another shuddering sigh, feeling like you’re about to crash out. You can’t fathom why this is so difficult for you.

Azzi’s voice is sudden, soft – it would otherwise startle you if you weren’t ready to be swallowed up by the ground and never return to earth. “I think you need a break,” she says, her voice coming from somewhere behind you, and you can hear the gentle footfalls of her sock-clad feet as she makes her way closer to you. Her hands find your shoulders, kneading gently, and you sigh again – this time in relief – as you melt into the couch.

“Can’t,” you mutter, grunting when her thumb catches on one of the knots. “I’ve already taken like…a million just from zoning out and losing my mind. Wasted enough time.”

You don’t have to see her face to visualize the amused, if not slightly concerned smile gracing her lips. “Are you not also wasting time by forcing yourself to work when it’s getting you nowhere?” she murmurs, her lips closer to your ear now. For that, you truly have no rebuttal, and she presses a lingering kiss to the edge of your jaw. Humming to yourself, you tilt your head, baring your throat, and her lips trace a deliberate path down the curve of your neck.

Her hands leave your shoulders, smoothing down your chest, and you intertwine your fingers together, getting lost in the heady scent of her perfume. You’d missed her – you really did. You and Azzi have been together long enough that you’re used to her having to travel a lot, but sometimes, it takes a little bit longer for your body to catch up and get the memo, too.

“Take a break,” Azzi whispers, her tone pleading, edged with a sort of neediness that makes you want to give in. You almost do – the warmth of her lips against your skin and the weight of her hands over your chest turning your brain into mush. “Let me take care of you. You’ve been so busy lately. You’re wearing yourself out.”

The first part of her statement has you ready to turn off your laptop and give Azzi whatever she wants from you. But the second? All it does is remind you about the quiz you’d just failed, the fact you have another quiz in less than a week, and how you’re not any closer to understanding the material. It sobers you instantly.

“Later,” you whisper, feeling a little guilty. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with Azzi – God, it’s all you’ve wanted to do since she got back to Storrs, but you knew you’d just fall into shitty time management problems if you didn’t get your work done.

“Babe,” Azzi complains, her tone exasperated and needy all at once. Her grip on you tightens ever so slightly, leaning fully against the couch to press her cheek to your temple. You fall back into her, your eyes slipping shut despite yourself.

“Sorry, Az,” you say apologetically, turning your head slightly to kiss the closest patch of skin you can reach, which happens to be the hinge of her jaw. She sighs softly, then brushes her lips across your forehead before releasing you. You miss the contact immediately but she makes her way to the front of the couch and sits down on the cushion next to you. Intertwining your fingers to get her attention, you squeeze her hand gently. She glances over, doe eyes wide, simmering with a heat and want that makes your stomach flip. “Let me finish this problem, then I’m yours. I promise.”

She crosses one leg over her knee, a petulant expression on her face as she sinks into the cushions. “Better be worth it, Dr. Fudd,” she grumbles, which makes you smile a little. You plant a chaste, innocent kiss on her lips, smirking when she chases after you. You release her, reaching for your pen and your iPad again, but you swear you hear her muttering under her breath, “Cockblocked by an engineering assignment. This is what I get for dating a smart person.”

Her indignance and impatience amuses you, which just motivates you to finish this problem as quickly as you can. You start over again, rereading the problem and isolating the facts that you know. You check your formula sheet again, struggling to find the one you need given what you have and what variable you want to solve for. All the while, you can feel Azzi’s gaze on you, dark and beseeching. It honestly makes it difficult to focus – knowing you have your very needy girlfriend sitting on the couch next to you and begging for one ounce of attention, but you know she’ll thank you later when you’re a super rich engineer and you build her a custom library in the house you’ll share together.

(Granted, she’ll be a super rich baller, so she wouldn’t exactly be hurting financially without you and she could get the library, but as long as you were around, you were committed to ensuring that Azzi wouldn’t have to lift a finger.)

Azzi allows you to struggle in peace. You make zero progress, just as she predicted. You read a few pages in your textbook. You watch a YouTube video on the process and still, you get nowhere. Already feeling a little frustrated, you try another approach.

But then Azzi’s palm finds your thigh. It breaks your focus immediately – not like it wasn’t already hanging by a thin thread – and you glance over at her, one brow raising in amusement. She doesn’t look the least bit remorseful about distracting you; in fact, she’s wearing a smug little smile that breaks down all of your defenses. “You promised, Az,” you remind her.

“You promised, too,” she declares. The confusion must be clear on your face because she explains, “Girlfriend code. You have a duty to give me attention.”

“Oh, do I?” you echo, biting your lip to stifle a smile.

Azzi’s dead serious, though. Her eyes meet yours, temptation laced in her pupils, a pout tugging at her lips. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to stand your ground against that, but you have to pretend to have some sort of academic responsibility.

“You do,” she confirms. “Agreed to it when you said you loved me, in fact.”

“I wasn’t aware that was in the fine print,” you respond, tangling your fingers with hers before she has the chance to inch her palm further up your thigh.

Azzi narrows her eyes at you. “Well, it is,” she insists. “And I want you.”

“Is that what this is about?” you murmur teasingly. “My girl needs me?”

Azzi nods, her expression a devastating mix of hopeful and needy, and it makes you ache. But you glance down at your iPad, at the word problem staring back at you — unsolved — and you hate yourself for what you do next.

You kiss her again, your free hand reaching to cup her jaw, and she melts into you instantly. You draw back just before it grows too intense, murmuring, “After this problem.” You’re sure that Azzi almost fucking growls, her brows drawing together tightly. In any other situation, you’d find it endearing, but you can’t help but feel guilty. You have work to do, and you know that Azzi wouldn’t let you rest until the sun is in the sky again. “Sorry, baby.”

But Azzi is out of rationale — and patience. She leans away from you long enough to shut the lid of your laptop on the coffee table, then she yanks your iPad out of your hands. It lands somewhere on the far end of the couch as your pen clatters harmlessly onto the floor, rolling somewhere out of view, and you hardly have the time to react before Azzi straddles you in one quick motion. Her lips are on yours immediately. You gasp, hands reaching out to grip her hips, and she swallows the moan that tumbles from your mouth.

Her hands are around your neck, drawing you in closer to her, yours roaming across her sculpted thighs, tightening in the loose fabric of her shorts. They ride up on her legs the more she presses against you and you take advantage of the miles upon miles of tanned skin laid before you. It makes you keen, sighing into her mouth, and Azzi slips her tongue inside, brushing against yours.

It’s all heat from there — Azzi’s hips roll against yours in a slow, methodical grind, her fingers trailing down your chest to tangle in the hem of your shirt. She breaks away from your mouth, lips swollen, spit-slick and urgent as she mutters, “Off, please.”

You don’t have the words to deny her, not that you would in the first place. Not when you can feel the heat of her core against your thigh, the dampness that’s seeped through her underwear and shorts all at once. Pulling away from her, you raise your arms, allowing her to pull your shirt off, intent on getting your hands back on her, but Azzi stops you with a palm to your chest — your bare chest, having neglected a bra for comfort that morning. 

Her eyes are glazed over, pupils dark and wanting. The way she stares shamelessly would make you feel insecure and vulnerable if you weren’t able to read the desire in her features, the way her jaw goes slack at the sight of you. It’s not new — Azzi has seen you in various states of undress over the course of your relationship. A sheer bikini on cruises, in nothing but her jersey and a flimsy pair of her boxers, or as naked as the day you were born. It doesn’t matter how many times Azzi has sat upon your lap with your breasts cupped in her hands like she’s holding the world in her palms – she thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and if you had any sensibility, you’d probably ask, “Has she seen herself?”

Not wanting to be alone in your nakedness, you reach for the hem of Azzi’s shirt, glancing up at her through your lashes for permission. She nods quickly and you don’t waste anymore time before pulling the dark blue shirt off of her, your own jaw going slack as you take her in. She’s all muscles and tanned skin, firm sinew in most places yet soft in others. You want to get your hands on her immediately, so you do – pressing heatedly against her stomach, grazing her belly piercing and the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against you like you can’t get enough of her skin against yours.

She reaches for your wrists to pull your hands off of her body. You make a noise of protest, but she silences you with a deep kiss, insistent and hungry as she shifts to the side, tugging you down on top of her now as she positions herself against the pillows and the armrest at the end of the couch. The change has your head spinning, especially when Azzi pushes her knee between your legs, the muscle of her thigh dragging against your clit in a way that’s almost devastating.

Your entire body is pulsing, suddenly aware of the need building in your body. It feels like it’s taken root in your bones. Like all you’ve needed these past few weeks were Azzi, not anything else. And judging by the way her fingers slip under the waistband of your sweatpants, pressing firm against your skin and tugging the restricting material down? Azzi is more than willing to give herself to you – in whatever way you need it.

You try to grind down onto Azzi’s thigh, searching for the contact, but she takes your hips in your hands, perching you precariously over her body, only inches away from what you need. You break away from her lips long enough to brush your mouth across her jaw, finding her ear to beg, “Please, Az, need it.”

A smirk curls her lips, slow and smug. The tables are turned now – she’d spent so long asking for you to put your assignment down, and now you’re the one pleading for her to touch you. Azzi is a competitor by nature. You may never truly understand how much she enjoys watching you break beneath her.

“Where have I heard that one before?” she murmurs, dragging heated kisses across your chest, lips wrapping around a nipple as you open your mouth. Your next words get caught in your throat, a moan taking its place, and you curl a hand around Azzi’s neck, pulling her closer to you.

“‘M sorry, baby,” you gasp in between stuttered breaths, your hips twitching when she bites gently at your bud. Azzi hums against you, sending vibrations up your spine as your body arches into her mouth and her wandering hands. Remembering where you are, you allow your hands to drop from Azzi’s neck down to her waist, fingers hooking into the band of her shorts. “Lemme make it up to you,” you plead, trembling with need. You want so badly to pull these shorts off of her, but she hasn’t given you the all clear yet. You may be the one on top and the one who wants to please her, but if she wasn’t going to allow you, there was little you could do.

“I wonder if I could make you come like this,” Azzi mumbles instead, releasing your nipple with a wet pop, and one of her hands reaches up to rub the spit across the bud while her lips trail to the other one, biting gently to make you shudder. Your breath catches, hips still hovering overs hers. “Dripping all over me while I take my time. Do you think I could?”

“Fuck,” you whimper, arching into her hands again, moaning when she pinches you with the right amount of pressure to send white hot desire to your core. Your head falls onto her shoulder, fingers abandoning her waistband to brace yourself against the couch cushion for stability. “Whatever you want, Az, just make me come – please.”

It wouldn’t take much. You’re already worked up, both from Azzi’s efforts and the stress of the week melting away into something softer. You hadn’t realized how much you truly needed this – the break away from your homework to breathe and just be. But you feel Azzi’s smile growing against your skin, her tongue poking out from her lips to circle your nipple, before she whispers, “Another time, maybe,” and she pulls you onto her bare stomach.

The first press feels like fire. It punches a gasp out of you, pleasure and relief coursing through your veins in simultaneous streams. Azzi’s abs are firm, inviting, and you rut against them desperately, needing to get off. Your aching clit catches against the piercing on her navel and a wrecked moan spills from your lips. Azzi’s muscles contract, providing you with a harsher slide, and your eyes all but roll into the back of your head when she carefully bites down on your nipple, her fingers rolling the other.

The free hand not occupied with your chest curls around your waist, helping pull you down against her. Eventually, Azzi begins to control your pace as you’re struggling to keep yourself up, and the sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. You’re impossibly wet, sliding against Azzi’s stomach with little resistance, angling your hips to get the best friction against your clit. You wrap your arms around her neck, tears pooling in your eyes because it feels so good, and holding on is all you can do, moaning breathlessly into her ear.

Azzi pulls away from your chest with a wet noise, her lips swollen and slick, eyes glazed over with want. It makes you breathless for an entirely different reason now. You’re the only person who gets to see Azzi like this, needy and determined to make you fall apart. You were the first, but to know that you’re also the last? You will your hips into a firmer grind, the slight possessiveness making your head spin.

But then she releases you, something dark, smug, but also reverent clouding her expression. “Take it,” she murmurs, leaning back against the armrest slightly. She’s no longer holding you up by the hips, but her hand lingers at your chest, tweaking and pulling your bud until it juts out firmly, wet with her spit. “You wanted this so bad? Show me. Take it.”

Groaning, you tighten your grip on her shoulders, pressing yourself further against her body for stability as you rock into her. Her face is screwed up, sweat beading at her temples, and you can’t be sure if it’s from the heat of the room or from the sheer determination of clenching her abs. Either way, you can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to hers, swallowing her indulgent moan as you chase your high. 

Her piercing catches against your clit again, causing you to lose your rhythm momentarily. Azzi bites your lip once in warning as she orders, “Faster.” Your thighs and core burns from the exertion, but the desire coursing through your veins motivates you. When your pace returns to her liking, she rewards you with a blinding smile and a “So good for me, baby. You wanna come?”

You nod shakily against her, forehead pressing into hers, and she kisses you once more – slow, lingering, filthy like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste when you’re desperate for her. Azzi takes your hips in her hands again and she aids in your rhythm, pulling you onto her harshly, drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm until a cry rips from your throat. “So close, Az,” you whine, meeting her eyes. They’re more black than brown, her pupils blown wide, and the sheer need reflected there makes you weak. “Please, please, please, Azzi.”

“Let go,” she murmurs, her voice dangerously sweet compared to the way she’s dragging you across her stomach. “Take what you need. Gonna give it to you, you know that.”

And that’s all you need. You rut against her once more, twice, your jaw dropping with pleasure, body tingling as you fall apart over her. You press your lips to hers to silence your cries and she swallows each and every whimpered sound like it energizes her. She’s still guiding you, her movements slowing now, letting you ride out the aftershocks as you come back down to earth. You’re a little boneless, your forehead pressing to her clavicle, and she ghosts a kiss across your temple as she rubs your back soothingly.

Clearly, Azzi can’t seem to help herself, because she presses a smile to the crown of your head as she jokingly mutters, “So much better than homework, right?”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and you try to not think too hard about the fact that your throat feels scratchy and rough. “Much better,” you agree, feeling the weightlessness and ease seep into your bones, something deliciously heavy and comforting that makes you feel refreshed. New. “You’re so needy. Couldn’t wait twenty minutes.”

Azzi gasps indignantly. “I’ve waited like, two weeks!” she exclaims, nudging you halfheartedly. “A girl has needs, you know.” She says this last part with a snooty raise of her nose, which makes you shake your head, giggling again as you press a chaste, innocent kiss to her lips. She chases after you when you pull away, but the distance makes her eyes narrow, brows pulling together like she’s just realized something. “You couldn’t wait either. It was all ‘please, Azzi,’ this, ‘make me come, Azzi,’ that. You’re dirty.”

That makes you lean away from her, disbelief in your features. “Me?” you echo, aghast, fully aware that the both of you are arguing like toddlers at this point. “You’re dirty. You made me ride your abs–” Azzi raises a challenging brow which has you backtracking immediately. “Okay, I don’t know about made me. That was really hot, by the way.” You punctuate your point with another kiss, one that lasts not nearly long enough so you can get back to the point you were trying to make. “Also, you should probably disinfect your piercing.” Azzi hums, arms curling around your waist, and she ghosts her lips across your collarbone as you continue to defend yourself. “Either way, you’re still dirty.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything. She glances at you with an amused grin, then glances down at her stomach, where she glistens from a mixture of your slick and her sweat. Mostly your arousal, though. A flush creeps up your neck at the sight. You hadn’t registered how soaked she was. Having made her point, she swipes her finger through the mess, raising it to the light as if inspecting it. “You did this and I’m the dirty one?”

“Yes,” you deadpan, but the corners of your lips quirk up with amusement. Her smile softens, but morphs into one of confusion when you slide down her body, knees pressing into the cushions in between her legs. “Let me make it up to you?” you offer, palming her thighs, fingers slipping under the waistband of her shorts once more. You can tell that her breathing has picked up, her mood shifting as easily as you crawled down.

“Yes, please,” she affirms, lifting her hips to help you pull her shorts and boxers down in one quick motion. You groan to yourself when her cunt is revealed to you – she’s soaked, her arousal having seeped into the cotton of her boxers, and you press a quick kiss to the inside of her thigh. “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never,” you lie, and then tease her anyways. You avoid her cunt completely, opting to lick a thick stripe across her stomach, gathering the slick pooled there on your tongue.

It makes her hips jump up, her voice pitched and a little breathless with shock as she mutters, “Shit, baby…” You smile to yourself, glancing up at her through your lashes, taking in her wrecked expression and the way her pupils are blown wide. Azzi is gripping onto the couch cushion like she’s teetering on the edge of falling apart already.

You don’t stop until her stomach is clean. Before you can settle between her thighs again, she grabs you by the shoulders, hauling you up until she can kiss you again. Azzi deepens the kiss immediately, her tongue searching for yours, for the taste of you, and the moans greedily as you squeeze her hips.

When she breaks away for air, her chest is heaving, and she looks ruined, ready for you to give her what she’s been craving for two weeks. You plant a farewell kiss at the edge of her jaw before trailing your lips down her body, sucking hickeys into her skin, soothing each one with your tongue.

Finally, you reach her cunt, and the sight of her spread out before you makes your mouth water. She tangles her fingers through your hair, guiding you closer, and you don’t make her wait any longer before you kiss her clit gently, smiling when her hips buck. Your tongue swipes through her soaked folds, her body shuddering when you moan indulgently into her, and you wrap your arms around her thighs to keep her stabilized.

You fuck her like you’re starved – which you may as well be. Your nose brushes against her sensitive clit with every motion you make, making her cry out, her hand pushing you to the spot she likes as if you don’t know her body like the back of your hand. Still, you listen to the direction, allowing her to pull your head towards her clit. You suck it into your mouth, cheeks hollowing from the pressure, rubbing the broad side of your tongue over it when she moans softly.

Her thighs enclose around your head, the pleasure causing her hips to buck wildly, and this? You could die here, in between her legs, and you wouldn’t even be able to think of a better way to go out. Azzi’s cries are like music to your ears, her taste like nectar.

When her fingers tighten in your hair, her hips beginning to gyrate in search of her high, you press a little further into her, allowing her to grind against your tongue. Your hands rub soothing patterns against her abdomen, eyes slipping shut at the sound of her moans, and before you know it, she’s whining, “Close, baby.”

You take her free hand in yours, squeezing gently as her body trembles, and she holds onto you as she comes, her body melting into the couch cushions as you work her slowly, helping her come back down. You know Azzi gets oversensitive fast, so you listen for her cues, letting up on her when it becomes too much. Drawing back, you plant one last kiss to her thigh, her navel, her collarbone, then to her lips, where you feel her smile grow against you.

You smooth out her hair by her forehead where a few of the strands have escaped from the tie. Her eyes blink open, her gaze impossibly tender, her smile soft. It makes you fall a little bit further in love with her, which is probably a feat in and of itself. “Okay?” you whisper.

She turns her head to kiss your wrist. “Okay,” she confirms, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you flush against her. Then, in a quieter tone of voice, she confesses, “Missed you.”

You kiss her cheek, tucking your head into the crook of her neck. “Missed you too, Az,” you respond. “Never travel for two weeks ever again.”

She laughs gently, her nails skirting across your skin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The both of you fall into a calm silence until you break it. “I’m sorry I neglected you,” you say genuinely, feeling a little remorseful. “I just wanted to get my work done, but I think I got a little too obsessive about it. You were right to say I wasn’t getting anywhere with it.”

“You know I understand your schedule,” Azzi says softly. “You have a lot to do. I just needed you.” She doesn’t say much else – and she doesn’t need to. That’s just the truth.

You smile a little as you kiss her jaw. “I know,” you murmur. “I’ll do better.”

She tightens her arms around you. “Good. You can start by helping me into the bathtub and ordering takeout.”

That makes you laugh, your nose brushing against her cheek. “Yes, ma’am.” The room goes quiet again, nothing but the gentle hum of the AC and your breathing filling the space. The drag of Azzi’s fingers against your skin lulls you into a sense of peace, the pressure alleviating from your shoulders, and –

You pause. Your eyes blink open, your gaze falling onto your iPad. Pressure?

Saturated liquid water enters an orifice at a pressure of 100 psia and is throttled to a lower pressure of 20 psia–

You close your eyes in disbelief, the gears in your brain turning at rapid speed. You’re so fucking dumb.

“Az,” you murmur. She hums, letting you know she’s listening. “Can I start a little later?”

“What?” she mutters, but you’re already reaching over to the coffee table, grabbing your iPad and the pen that had rolled under the table leg. Azzi sighs dramatically as she watches you open it, but she presses a smile to the crown of your head as you work through the calculations. It only takes you about a minute, but you circle your answer with finality, latching the pen to the magnet on the device and closing it. “An orgasm was all it took to get that brain working, huh?”

“Maybe,” you admit a little sheepishly.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she says with faux indignance, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

And all you can do is stare at her, a soft little smile on your face. Because you are. You really, really are.

[ghostfacd]

𝙄𝙉 𝘼 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘿 𝙁𝙐𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙀𝙉, 𝙃𝙀’𝙎 𝘼 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x fem!slytherin!reader

genre: fluff, sweetheart enzo, brief suggestive content, enzo is a big softie basically

summary: in a world filled with men, there’s lorenzo berkshire, a sweetheart and gentleman

Lorenzo Berkshire was a sweetheart.

Everybody knew that the down to earth Slytherin couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to, and weirdly did not fit the stereotypical mean Slytherin persona despite hanging with Draco and his friends.

In fact, a lot of things that Lorenzo did were out of the ordinary for his crowd of people. Whenever Draco would pull a first year by their backpacks so their bodies would fling back, Lorenzo always muttered an apology after, offering the first year a cookie the next day. It was just who he was; he was a sweet boy, and that often meant he was also very clueless.

Sure, he was smart in his classes, but in everything else? Lorenzo was practically the virgin of all virgins.

“Her eyes are up here Enzo,” Pansy teased, watching as Lorenzo’s eyes finally shifted off your chest to look at Pansy in the eyes.

“Huh?”

“Well I know they’re nice,” you tease further, “but it’s rude to stare, y’know.”

“Oh,” Lorenzo’s eyebrows furrow, clearly confused. He’s either great at playing the dumb role or he genuinely has no idea what you and Pansy are inciting.

“What do you mean?” Lorenzo then moves his hand over to touch the gold colored necklace on your neck. “I was just looking at the new necklace you got. It’s nice.”

Oh. You didn’t think anyone would notice your new necklace. You bought it over the holidays when you went back home with your family, and had just started wearing it now.

“Thanks Enzo,” you say, placing a kiss on his cheek. He pulls back flustered, but he mutters a you’re welcome under his breath.

“LO BOY!” Lorenzo is quickly pulled into a headlock by no other than Draco Malfoy, who seems to find his friend struggling hilariously funny. “Oh what’s wrong Lo? Got your head in a knot?”

“Boys.” You and Pansy mutter, rolling your eyes as you both get up from your seats, heading to the much more quiet Great Hall.

- - -

The next time you see Lorenzo is in your Potions class. He’s on the left of you, and you’re almost falling asleep at the boring lecture of your professor. He always seem to talk more than actually teach how to mix potions.

“Pssst,” Lorenzo mutters to your partner as he hands her a slip of paper. “Be a peach and pass it to Y/N?”

Your partner, who has developed a little crush on Lorenzo only blushes, accepting the piece of paper and tapping you on the shoulder.

“Here,” she says, “it’s from Lorenzo.”

Your eyebrows quirk up, slowly unfolding the crinkled paper.

Your hair is pretty today

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. Lorenzo just knew how to swoon a girl over, didn’t he? He doesn’t even have to try and your knees would still feel weak.

So my hair isn’t pretty on other days?

You scribble down, passing it back to your partner who passes it to Lorenzo.

His eyes grow wide when he reads it, opting to shake his head quickly.

“Not what I meant,” Lorenzo mouths.

“I know,” you mouth back, giving him a smirk. “Thank you Enzo.”

And you both end up more pink than the potions that were made in class that day.

- - -

“What do you even do in your free time?” Theodore asks, poking Lorenzo’s cheek repeatedly to annoy him. “Like read?”

“Like read?” Lorenzo mimics back. “Yes, I read. You should too Teddy, it’d be good for you.”

Theodore rolls his eyes, “I don’t need to read. And don’t call me Teddy.”

When you arrive in the dining hall, Theodore and Lorenzo already make a space for you to sit in between them. Usually, Pansy and Draco would be sitting across from the three of you, but today, they were off doing Godric knows what.

“Pans and Draco not here today?” Lorenzo asks, still focusing on the assignment he was finishing up before dinner ends.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “No idea what they’re doing.”

“Oh,” Theodore chuckles, “I have a few ideas.”

That makes the two of you burst out laughing, and Lorenzo finally looks up from his paper.

“What?” He asks. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh Enzo,” Theodore places a hand on his friend’s back, “never change.”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes, shrugging Theodore’s hand off. “Whatever that means.”

When Theodore finally heads off to the Slytherin common room, you and Lorenzo are left alone, the small conversations of the other students surrounds the two of you.

“Working hard on that assignment,” you say quietly to Lorenzo, bringing up your hand to pull a few strings of hair that were poking his eyes.

“Well someone’s gotta be the smart one in our friend group,” he says teasingly.

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not smart?” Your hands start to wander, coming to each of Lorenzo’s sides to tickle him. He was especially ticklish around his abdomen.

“H-hey! Stop that!” He laughs, pushing your hands away. “Okay okay, we’re both the smart ones.”

“And Pansy,” you add.

“And Pansy.”

- - -

When you walked out to the lake that sat across from the Slytherin common room, you didn’t expect to find Lorenzo feeding the ducks. He was crouching, softly throwing a few pieces of crushed up bread at the ducks that now surrounded him.

“What are you doing Lo?” You ask, walking beside him.

“Not too loud,” Lorenzo says, “you’ll scare them away.”

He continues doing what he does before he runs all out, deciding to finally turn to you and throw an arm around your shoulder. “Evening.”

“Evening Enzo,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was out of habit, and you did it regularly, but it didn’t stop Lorenzo from blushing every time it happened.

“I was feeding the ducks,” he explains, although it was pretty clear what he was doing. “I like them, they’re nice and pretty. Draco sometimes throws rocks at them, so it’s kind of my way of apologizing for him.”

You ruffle Lorenzo’s hair slightly, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Oh Enzo, you sweetheart.” But he doesn’t hear you, instead, choosing to admire the scenery of the lake.

- - -

“You know what’d be funny?” Mattheo says, already laughing before he could get out the rest of his sentence. “If we pied the girls. Pansy and Y/N.”

Lorenzo’s ears perk up at this, but he keeps quiet. Why was his friends always looking to get into trouble?

“They’d totally kill us,” Theodore comments.

“That’s why we have to do it.”

The boys had already gotten two pies and their plan figured out before Lorenzo could stop them. He watched as they hide it behind their backs, approaching you and Pansy who were both engrossed in your conservation.

“Wait,” Lorenzo mumbles, quickly following his group of friends. When he sees their hand from their back move as they speak to you and Pansy, he steps in front of the two of you, getting hit straight in the face with the two pies.

“Huh..” Lorenzo says, wiping away the whipped cream that was covering his eyes. “Key lime.”

“Enzo,” you say, knowing that this was probably one of Mattheo or Draco’s dumb ideas again. “You guys apologize to Lorenzo right now.”

The three boys sigh defeatedly, muttering a quiet sorry to their brunette friend who’s still wiping the whipped cream from his face.

“Why’d you do that Enzo?” You ask him as the two of you sat down on the grass. You’d finally got all the whipped cream off his face with a towel, and although Enzo won’t admit it, he was kind of grateful he did end up getting pied. After all, a pretty girl was cleaning him up after all, and not just any pretty girl, his close friend.

“Cause you’re too pretty to get pied.” He shrugs, which makes you smirk.

“Too pretty?”

“Well yeah,”

You laugh at Lorenzo’s honesty, and finally, you lean in to give him a kiss on the lips instead of the side of his cheek.

“Did you just-”

“Shh,” you say, grabbing ahold of his hand. “Just let me appreciate you right now. In a world full of just men, you’re a gentleman Enzo.”

And Lorenzo only smiles, knowing he’s finally got the girl of his dreams.

[demie90s]

Barbie Got Her Billionaire

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Nika Mühl X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ MASTERLIST All PARTS

Part 2

⭑ pairing: Nika Mühl x you (fem!reader)

⭑ summary: You’re the chill, unbothered rich girl on the UConn team—generous by nature, but especially when it comes to Nika. She’s your favorite, and everyone knows it.

⭑ genre: fluff, soft romance, slice-of-life, college chaos

⭑ warnings: none

⭑ word count: ~2.3k

The dorm was loud. Again.

KK was throwing a pair of socks at Ice, who was dramatically lip-syncing to a Nicki Minaj song. Azzi and Aubrey were seated on the floor, holding up index cards with scores as if Ice’s performance was part of some ongoing, un televised talent show. Jana and Ayanna were tucked into the corner, focused as hell on a 2,000-piece Lego set, both muttering over which brick was which color. Paige? She was running the live, flipping the camera between everyone while sipping a smoothie and narrating the madness like it was a nature documentary.

Me?

I was at the far edge of the couch, legs sprawled out like I paid rent on the whole dorm and owned the air, hoodie up, laptop on my thighs, typing out the last few lines of my psych paper while someone’s foot bumped my shin. I didn’t even look up. I just adjusted the cursor and kept going.

That’s when Nika walked in.

No announcement. Just that usual Nika walk graceful, effortless, and knowing damn well she looked good in that oversized tee and gray shorts combo. She didn’t even say hi. Just wandered behind the couch, stopped next to me, and slid her fingers under my arm.

I tilted slightly, giving her access.

She reached in, grabbed my wallet, pulled out my platinum card like it was hers, and turned to leave.

I didn’t blink. Didn’t ask. Didn’t flinch. Just adjusted my posture again and tapped “Command + S” to save my essay. The others didn’t even react anymore either, except KK who muttered, “Damn. She really Barbie for real.”

Azzi snorted, “More like Nika’s Barbie. And that’s her Ken.”

“She’s not even Ken,” Paige grinned, looking dead at the live camera. “She’s a bank. She’s the bank.”

I ignored them.

It wasn’t that I didn’t hear. It just didn’t matter. Nika needed something—food, probably a pastry or a matcha run—and I had it. She didn’t even have to ask.

“You’re not gonna ask what she bought?” Ice called out.

“Nope.”

“What if she flying to Paris on your dime?” Aubrey asked.

“Then I guess I’ll see her when she gets back,” I replied without missing a beat, flipping the page in my notebook.

The room howled with laughter, and I didn’t even smirk.

See, the difference between me and them? I was never trying. I didn’t have to flirt with Nika. I didn’t have to post her or fight for her attention. She got it. Always had it. She’d come back from errands and drop a cookie on my desk like it was nothing, touch my wrist when passing by, sometimes slide into my bed at 2 a.m. just to fall asleep.

And I let her.

Always.

Not because I was desperate. But because… it was her. And if Nika wanted something, I gave it. No questions. No hesitation.

People tried to say I spoiled her. Paige said I was setting the bar too high. KK joked about me being in my “rich auntie era.” And maybe I was. Because when Nika wanted to go to Hawaii for 36 hours just to taste a mango lilikoi shaved ice from a place she saw on TikTok—I booked the flight, sent the itinerary, and made sure she had a seat by the window and was sat in first class.

She didn’t even look surprised.

She just kissed my cheek and said, “You’re unreal.”

I shrugged.

“Only for you.”

And I meant that.

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 3 | l.n

summary: house parties in college? truly, what can go wrong?

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, sexual themes mentioned (stamina), a lot of banter, lando's playboy vibe is back and in full swing! and who're oscar and lily secretly seeing?

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

“so the answer for number four would be fifty-six,” you said, pointing to the formula on the lined sheet of notebook paper. you had been helping lando with his econ homework since you got out of your last class of the day, meeting up at the cafe on the other side of campus. 

you looked up to see that he wasn’t paying attention, his face buried in his phone as he smiled, fingers moving a mile a minute as he texted. you huffed, rolling your eyes before reaching across the table and snatching the phone into your hands, locking it and tossing it onto the table next to yours.

“hey!” 

“you asked for my help and you’re not even paying attention,” you said, “did you even hear what i said?”

“sorry, but this is important,” he said, “the guys are throwing a party tonight and we’re going over the checklist for all the supplies.”

“which entails what, exactly? booze and bitches?”

“no!” he scoffed, sending him a pointed look as he sighed, “well, we don’t call them ‘bitches’.”

“lando, this is serious!”

“so is this!” he said before taking in your very clearly annoyed facial expression, “okay, okay, fine. all my undivided attention is going to you now, i promise. im sorry.”

you took in a breath before walking him through the problem again. he nodded in understanding, asking questions about certain things but shortly getting the hang of it once you talked in through it. he had made a decent amount of progress in the short 4 weeks you had been holding up on the deal the two of you made. your painting was slowly coming along and he was on track to passing his econ final with flying colors.

maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

his phone buzzed next to you, which you ignored as you continued explaining the next chapter to him. the buzzes got more consistent, making it impossible to ignore as you tried to help him study. 

okay, last statement retracted. 

finally you sighed in defeat, pushing his phone towards him, “we’ll cover more on monday,” you said, “i think whatever is going on requires your attention a little more.”

he sent you an apologetic look as he opened his phone, “oh, no way! jackson got some of the girls from the cheer squad to come!”

you nodded, packing your things into your bag, “sounds like a good time,”

“you should come,” he said, “you can bring lily, too. ‘s gonna be fun,”

“hard pass,” you sent him a tight lipped smile, “a bunch of college guys, cheer women and booze in the same room? absolutely not.”

“there’s gonna be other people there,” he contested, “i’m pretty sure oscar’s going, that is if he can get the balls to ask the girl he’s been non-stop talking about to come with him.” 

oscar and a girl? this was the first you were hearing about this. definitely something to take mental note of and pester him about later. 

“lando-” 

“just say you’ll think about it, yeah?” 

you huffed, grabbing your coffee cup from the table as he stood from his chair, “fine, i’ll think about it. no promises, and it’s for sure looking like a 99.9% no and a .1% chance of a yes.”

he shook his head as he followed you out of the cafe, holding the door open for you as you made your way back outside into the harsh winter weather, cold wind hitting like a smack in the face. he had made it a habit to walk you back to your apartment if you were studying somewhere that wasn't yours. 

you bid him a short goodbye and thanked him for walking you back before heading inside and up to your floor. you opened the front door, lily immediately calling to you from her side of the apartment.

“hey!”

“hey!” you called back, throwing your things by the front door, making your way to her bedroom. she sat at her desk, mascara in hand as she studied her appearance in the light up mirror. you fell back onto her bed as she raised her eyebrows at you.

“that bad, huh?”

you hummed, sitting up on your forearms, “that’s the thing, it’s not bad,” you sighed, “i hate to admit it, but i think he’s growing on me a little bit.”

she wiggled her eyebrows at you as you groaned, “gross, not like that!”

“i’m kidding!” she laughed, “who knows though, maybe all that deep hatred you two have for god knows what reason will lead to really hot sex!”

“please, shut up!” you let out an even louder groan, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“i’m just saying!” she laughed, putting her hands up in fake surrender, “i mean, c’mon! do you know how many girls would kill to be in your situation right now? he’s hot, single, and it’s not like i don’t see the way he looks at you. he definitely is feeling something he doesn’t want to show just yet,”

“never in my life will i ever hook up with lando norris,” you said sternly, “even if he was the last human on planet earth.”

“whatever you say,” she said, placing her makeup back in the bag, “what’re your plans for tonight?”

“well, i was gonna ask if you wanted to get wine drunk and have a shitty rom-com movie marathon, but clearly you’ve got other plans.”

“i do,” she smiled, “you know that guy in my chem class i’ve been kind of talking to?” when you nodded, she continued, “he invited me out to a party one of his friend’s his having. told me i could bring someone,”

“what is with people and parties tonight?”

she shrugged, “could be because it’s almost the end of the semester, dunno.”

you shrugged back at her, “you’re going?”

she nodded, giving you her signature pleading look. the one that had always worked in the past and you knew was always going to work in the future. 

“please come with me,” she asked, “it would be a lot more fun with you there.”

“i don’t know, lils-”

“look at it this way, if you go and you find a hot guy, he’ll take your mind off of all the lando bullshit,” she said, “plus, we won’t get to go out next year, we need to make the most of it this year while we still can.”

you hated how good she was at convincing you to do something. she was the master at things like this. 

you sighed, “okay, fine!”

she smiled and cheered in her chair, the two of you rushing off to your side of the apartment to pick out an outfit for you. you opted on the simple black dress, slipping it on and fixing up your makeup before running a hand through your hair.

simple, but effective. you looked and felt hot. maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. after letting her snap a few mirror pictures of the two of you, you were out the door and heading to the house where the party was. 

the walk to the off campus housing was longer than expected and the chilly nighttime air made the two of you walk a little bit quicker. as you neared the house, you could hear the music from outside the house. 

lily practically dragged you inside, the air thick and humid from the amount  of people jammed into the house. there were people everywhere, drinks in hand and dancing together. the cliche couples making out against the walls, and obviously it wouldn’t be complete without the beer pong table set up in the middle of the dining room. the scene looked like it was straight out of a teenage coming of movie. 

“i’m gonna go get a drink, you coming?”

you nodded at the light haired girl, following her into the kitchen. you grabbed a cup, letting her pour some of the vodka into your cup before you topped it off with whatever kind of juice was on the counter. you took a sip, taking the opportunity to actually take a look at the people around you. 

you spotted a blonde in a cheer squad uniform, clearly arriving just after practice. the conversation you had with lando re-entering your mind as you looked around the house. 

lily looked down at her phone before smiling softly at you, “chem guy is here, i’m gonna go find him. are you gonna be okay?”

you nodded, smiling softly, “yeah, yeah! go ahead! have fun,”

she smiled, “i’ll text you!”

“don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!”

she laughed, exiting the crowd of people who had found themselves in the kitchen. you heard cheering coming from the dining room, pushing through to see what the commotion was about. you looked past the bodies and found lando with his hands up in the air, beer in hand as he celebrated beating the other team in the game of beer pong.

“no fuckin’ way, mate! how’d you manage a comeback like that?’

“the master never tells his secrets,” he smiled, giving the guy who was on his team a handshake before he felt your eyes on him. he smiled when his eyes met yours, whispering something in the blonde’s ear before he started making his way towards you. 

“looks like that .1% managed to overpower tonight, huh?”

“lily asked me to come,” you spoke loudly over the music, “the guy she’s been talking to is here.”

he nodded, smirking, “you can tell me you came for me, i won’t tease you about it.”

you rolled your eyes, cocking your head to the side, “does your ego ever get tired?”

“stamina,” he smiled, “which i happen to have a lot of.”

“gross,” you scrunched your nose up, “didn’t want a visual.”

he took in your appearance, coming to the conclusion that you looked good in just about anything. he swore you could pull off a trash bag if you really wanted to.

“i like this,” he said, pointing to your dress, “suits you.”

you smiled softly, he looked good too. a little too good for your liking. his curls were wild, slowly growing a little bit longer and he was wearing a white button up t-shirt matched with a pair of black pants. 

one thing you couldn’t say was that he wasn’t attractive. sure, you had known this before, but especially right now. the top few buttons of his shirt undone, a silver chain hanging from his neck. the way his tanned skin looked under the dim lighting, the flashy watch sitting on his wrist. 

god, stop it. you’re not supposed to find him hot. you’re supposed to hate him.

 “not too bad yourself, norris.”

why’re you feeding into it? stop it. 

“can i let you in on a secret?” 

you held your breath as he leaned in closer after you softly shook your head. his expensive cologne filling your nose as he spoke lowly into your ear.

“i was really hoping you’d show up.”

[flokali]

— Concept: Student Yandere and Professor Darling

Warning: GN! Reader, blackmail, n/on-con, d/ub-con, age gap, student-teacher relationship, push-over reader, unfair ending, n/oncon recording, uhh ask to tag!

A/N: just a concept that plagued me for a while... hhhhhhh;; i'm so normal ab this

Any dynamic that involve an authority figure and a subordinate, no matter how innocent they may initially seem, are doomed from the start for both of the parties involved.  There’s always going to be an underlying power imbalance, someone who holds the authority over the other; there is no nice way to put it, unfortunately. 

Most of the time, in fics, I see a lot of Yan professors creeping on their students, but the thought of a student Yan harassing their beloved professor has been plaguing my mind. 

The relationship starts sweetly, you’ve noticed a certain student in your course that’s been falling behind, making mistakes that should have long been addressed, their work is always late or partially done and you’re growing slightly annoyed at them for wasting your time and misusing theirs as well. You ended up offering them private tutoring when you found out you were the only professor’s whose class who they’d been treating like a joke. 

They reject it immediately; seemingly embarrassed that you’d even offered. You try to calm their nerves down, you’re pretty young yourself, you only graduated a few years ago and you won’t charge them, it won't be a daily thing but they can pop into your office so you can review and work on assignments and other material they’ve been failing at. The hesitant look on their face seems to slowly be melting off the longer you explain your reasoning.

You continue insisting, you lay out the facts as they are; they’re a brilliant student who has been passing all other courses and extracurricular activities with flying colors, so why is that your course has become such a challenge to them? You have seen them work and the way they behave during class, you’ve even noticed how some students go to them to try and clear up any questions and ask to study together with them. You’d heard your colleagues rave about them being easily one of the college’s star students, so it’s either that they’re making shit up and lying to just you, which you sincerely doubt since you’ve seen their work in other classes and you’d never been singled out in anything before, or they were purposefully trying to fail your class.

Maybe they thought it’d be easier, decided to try it and got it in their head they didn’t have to try once they realized what classes were like – after all, it wasn’t as if all of the work they’ve handed is bad, there’s some clear understanding of what they’re doing, it’s just that they keep on messing up, even if it means inconsistencies in their work. The assignments that made up less percentage of the overall grade were done well enough, but anything that was actually important was clearly half-assed. It was a little weird and confusing how they would be nailing the basics in one essay and then completely misrepresenting them on the next. You didn’t want to accuse them of cheating, but it didn’t look good - you know?

You explain your concerns; you’re genuinely worried your class might hold them back from graduating with their peers, if things kept going on like this, they’d fail your class and if they did, they’d have to repeat the semester and risk graduating a year or so late - which meant more money, more time in college, etc. It’s not the end of the world to repeat a semester, but it’s just so clearly avoidable in their case and you don’t understand why they seem to insist on failing.

It’s then that they pull out a card they’d been holding on to dearly for a situation such as this, they’d been waiting for so long for you to approach them, they’d hooked you in with a months long performance and it all relied on this moment, it was a disgustingly perfect story meant to pull at your heartstrings and lead you into their honey sweet trap;

They start going on about a sob story about their parents’ jobs and finance, how they had been struggling for a while since their parents cut them off for choosing a college out of their town, and how they’re supposed to provide for themselves and pay rent and bills, about how their schedule is always so busy trying to balance college, their friendships, mending their relationship with their parents, and their job on top of all the studying they’ve been doing. Your class had unfortunately been the least of their concerns and that they’re immensely sorry to have worried you and that they are willing to do anything to make up for their past grades. They can’t believe they’d let themselves go in your course and they’re deeply ashamed because they enjoyed it greatly, but they understood why there was little they could to catch up now.

You can empathize with such a dilemma, being fresh out of college yourself, the memories of balancing relationships, work, and academics are still freshly etched into your mind. 

They clearly seem burned out and your heart aches seeing a student as promising as them dim down so drastically. You’d hate to be one class that impedes them from graduating on time, you don't want to be the lone profesor responsible for slowing down such a valuable asset to society.

You sit them down and try to offer them some advice, you were in a similar situation when you were in college yourself, you try to explain the ways you managed to survive and bypass college, going into detail about your own problems and how you were able to live through it all. They seem visibly more relaxed during the conversation, nodding along and explaining their own feelings and hardships, you both manage to sympathize with each other and come to an arrangement.

It’s completely under the table since you are worried about what it might look like, but from now on until the end of this semester you’d use a more relaxed, less strict grading system for them, after all, they did have a legitimate reason for their behavior and they were willing to make up for it. That is, under the condition that they start taking tutoring classes from either yourself or a fellow classmate, they weren’t able to balance the studying schedule necessary so you’d try and manage at least one aspect of it for them to try and make their life a little bit easier. You reiterate that this must not come out, fully aware that you were breaking multiple rules but you were too much of a bleeding heart.

They agree gladly, but not before asking if you could be the tutor, when you’d questioned their request they explain themselves, seemingly embarrassed for their own reasoning;

“I don’t want it to get out that I’m failing your class, professor…” The smile they wear seems genuine and shy and you nod in understanding, college students are only older teenagers, after all, most of them are still stuck in their high school mentality and you wouldn’t put it past a bunch of immature people to try and mess with someone who was struggling. While the mindset eventually wears off, you understand why they could be self-conscious about it.

What you don’t know is that they’ve been planning for something like this to happen from the get go, always going out of their way to purposefully present themselves as a stupid, pathetic and incompetent student that would need their hot professor’s (your) help to pass the course.

During your first couple of sessions they work extra hard to make themselves seem as ditzy and clueless as possible, making as many mistakes and errors as humanly reasonable without getting you too annoyed at them. They even begin to dress in slightly more provocative ways than they would have before, their speech slowly morphs into a more flirtatious tone, their touches being lingering on your shoulders for longer than necessary, but you brush it off, trying to ignore the signs. Opting instead to think of it as a silly crush, choosing go try to focus on helping them get through this semester with either an above average grade.

It didn’t take too long for their grades to get better but with the current pace, you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough.

So, you ignore the uncomfortable, sinking feeling in your gut and suggest making your tutoring sessions more frequent - instead of once a week maybe twice, or even thrice if you could fit it into your schedule, if it was really necessary.

You didn’t expect them to suggest going to your place.

Originally, you’d suggested either the library or a cafe, but they said they felt too embarrassed and self-conscious at the idea of their peers watching them, they claimed they’d probably make fun of them for needing help for a course they’d been taking for almost a whole semester at that point. It’s silly, they know, but they can’t shake that shame off.

They insist on your place, but you reject the idea, they say it’s either there or at their place, they point out that anywhere else and you both risk either staff or some of the student body seeing you both together and getting the wrong idea. The conversation goes on for hours until you’re too exhausted to continue arguing with them and give in. 

They are a good person, right? Even if the thought of a student knowing where you lived made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t like they’d do anything about it… right?

You try to limit the study space to your living room, the bathroom, and the kitchen every once in a while if you notice the snacks you had brought weren’t enough, but never further than that. Your bedroom and office were completely off limits, you’d made it explicitly clear that if you caught them wandering too far you’d have no choice but to kick them out and stop the tutoring, possibly even having to call the campus’ authorities if you felt they were getting too out of line – your reputation be damned. 

They also were only allowed to come over during the weekends and on specific weekdays where no one would be able to catch them entering your apartment. You didn’t even want your neighbors to see them, even if you looked close in age you didn’t want to hear anything about a potential secret lover sneaking into your house.

They agree and promise to follow every single rule you’d put in place, they swear.

But it doesn’t take long for them to start going back on their word and start “exploring” your living space, it started small – simply walking around your living room, examining framed pictures, looking over books, memorizing the placement of your trinkets and decor, making a mental note of the colors you used in the space, they make sure to remember to try and look up where you got your cushions and everything, they start looking into you fridge and pantry to make see what you eat, if there’s any indication of a possible food allergy; it’s all investigative work for your future together.

It’s not too long before they’ve memorized your living room and are drawn to the rest of your house. They've gone to your bedroom and studied the space, taking note of the way you made your bed and how many pillows you have, they also have made a list of products you use and like, such as scents and soaps, to make sure your transition to their place is as smooth as possible. Soon, they could very well draw a floor plan of your place and recreate your home in the most basic of softwares. 

The only reason you haven’t caught up to them is because they’ve taken to spiking your drinks with sleep medication, strong enough dosages that you’ll be knocked out for a while, but not enough that you’ll realize you were drugged.

It’s during your sleeping state that the next part of their plan starts to take action. They’ll purposefully plant evidence in your home of their presence and snap pictures, suddenly their underwear is in your laundry basket, and why are you wearing their hoodies to sleep, huh? They’re meticulously planned and staged pictures that make it look like you were engaging in a romantic relationship, but it’s not enough — they need more, something more extreme. More incriminating, something that would absolutely destroy your career and reputation if it came out.

What about a picture of them going down on you? Or one with their cum all over your face? Your naked figure cuddling up to their bare chest? Some makeup to look like hickies could look realistic in pictures too, you know. Maybe them on top of you… or you on top of them? Or one where your lips are sucking their fingers like a —! Ah, the thought has them blushing! All of these photos are like their dreams come true! You look like such a perfect spouse, taking their love~ They make sure to clean up the space, but they’re growing bolder and more confident in their work.

They even have videos of themselves jacking off on top of you, but they’re always so good at making it seem like you’re awake and participating in these activities! It really does look like you’re helping them get off with your own mouth.

You’re such a naughty professor seducing your innocent, sweet student like that!

It’s sick, they’re sick and they know it fully well but they don’t care, as long as they don’t get caught – there’s no way in hell they’ll stop.

Their grades begin improving and there’s no longer any fear of them failing your class, in fact you’d go as far to say they’ve easily become one of your best students in terms of grades. Things seem to be looking up and you’re pretty proud of yourself for having had a positive impact on them, which is why you come to the conclusion they won’t be needing your tutoring anymore. 

You call them over to your office after classes, making sure to be as nice as possible. At first you were annoyed and put off by them, their initial behavior was unsettling and persistent, but after a couple of months of getting to know them you’ve grown to care for them and genuinely wish them the best, you’d pointed out how teaching them had been a joy and you’d always end the sessions feeling better than before, which is why you’d chosen to end the tutoring. You lay out the facts as they are, their grades have improved and there’s no longer any threat of them failing your class, you’d also be risking people misunderstanding the situation if it went any longer, if word came out you’d been using a different rubric to grade them until recently and that they’d been going over to your place, it would simply look bad for both of you. You’d risk getting sanctioned, possibly even losing your job if things were taken in the wrong way, and they could repeat the semester or even have their work in your class be null and having to take a new course entirely, if not even being kicked out.

There’s a minute of silence between the two of you, the air is thick and you wonder if you should have been softer in your delivery as you watch them process your words.

It takes them a while, you decide to give them the time because you have indeed noticed how they’d seem to grow ever so attached to you and they might take this a bit too personally, but you’re soon starting to grow increasingly uncomfortable as the silence continues.

You’re about to say something again, try to soften the blow with some generic encouragement about how they’ll do well regardless of you being their tutor or not, when you hear them chuckle softly under their breath.

You’re taken aback, your eyes widen in surprise and you unconsciously lean back into your chair, but that seems to have further encouraged their laughter as soon they’re covering their face with the back of their hand as they double over in laughter.

It’s strange but you decide to give them a few seconds to regain their composure, maybe this was a nervous habit? You’d heard of people who’d laugh when anxious, but you’d never seen something so theatrical.

They slowly sit back up, wiping tears from their eyes as a few chuckles escape their smiling lips. They haven’t fully calmed down but seem to be making an effort to continue the conversation nonetheless.

“Ah, professor,” your last name tumbles from their lips in a joyous manner but their eyes look icy as they stare at you, their voice feels more aggressive even if the words came out from a smile, “don’t be so ridiculous, I think things are working pretty well as they are, I have no desire to change our… relationship.” 

You’re taken by surprise, their word choice feels odd and purposeful, but you insist regardless.

“There is no relationship between us,” you state, “I am your professor, do you understand? That means that if I say your tutoring is over, it’s over; I have been going easy on you and helping you out but do not misinterpret my intentions, you are my student and that’s where our acquaintanceship ends. If you think you’ll continue needing help, I’m certain our TA will be more than glad to step up and help you out.”  

They smile as they take their phone out of their pocket and your stomach drops for a second, wondering what on earth they could have there. They slide it towards you after unlocking it, they’re carefree in their handling of the device and your nerves start to rise, a gut wrenching feeling settles in your stomach, you don’t really understand what you’re seeing at first but once you do you feel your blood run cold.

You don’t even realize they’ve walked behind your chair, too focused on the picture of your naked body cuddling up to their equally nude form. They’re smiling, tenderly caressing your bare shoulders, embracing your body in such a loving manner it looked like you were lovers. When… When did they take this? 

Your voice is shaking but they don’t answer you, instead opting to crouch beside you and show you the hundreds of incriminating pictures themselves.

They start telling you a story based on the pictures, the one they seemed to be telling you even if you knew that everything they depicted was fake, about a promiscuous professor that seduced their student, coaxed them into a relationship and took advantage of their position to influence the student into falling in love with them.

You want to tell them it won’t work, threaten to call the dean or the campus police, but they quickly clear out any confusion; “Would anyone believe a student would seduce a teacher and that it’s not the other way around?”

You know exactly what they mean; you’re the professor, you hold the authority. You had never been able to put a stop to it because you had no idea what they were doing but that didn’t matter, it was your word against theirs and they had “evidence”.

They seem proud of themselves too, telling you about all the ways they set up the rooms and photos to make sure they looked as real as possible. They’d taken their clothes and belongings over to your place in secret, made sure to apply makeup in the right places with the correct lighting, it seriously felt like an art they’d perfected.

You ask them what they could possibly want, clearly it couldn’t be only your tutoring if they were going this far. They smile and tell you they simply want a relationship with you, one that goes beyond a professor and a student; from that day onwards they wanted to be your lover.

You want to say no, but they remind you of the position you’re in; “You know, I’ve got these backed up in a bunch of places, it’d be a shame if one leaked, right, professor?” 

You feel numb as they lock the door of your office and guide you on top of your desk, you barely even register them going down on you - stripping you naked and giving you oral. From that day onward, you were a prisoner to your own student.

Everyday, they’d act like any other person taking your classes, going to college, making friends, as if when your work day ended they didn’t torment you under the guise of love. Making themselves into your lover without your consent, as if you weren’t their professor, as if they weren’t your student. They celebrate your birthday and make you celebrate theirs, you go on dates outside of town so as to not be caught, there are times you almost forget the perverse nature of your relationship - but it always comes back to haunt you. They always come back to haunt you.

They make sure not to show any of the images to anyone for as long as they’re going to the college. They need to keep an eye on you, make sure your looks and personality don’t charm any other student - they’d hate to get rid of their classmates due to your unknowing seduction. They’re so good at acting like they weren’t bending you over your kitchen counter the minute they followed you home, you’d almost believe they were only your innocent, well meaning student if they didn’t send you videos of you two fucking as extra-curriculum activities.   

They also take your courses religiously to make sure to always be in contact with you; you could never escape them, they’ll follow you home and come inside even if you try to shut the door behind you. Whenever you tried changing the lock they'd find a way to break in anyway, on campus they’d sneakily follow you everywhere and harass you. Those who notice, the few that do, think of it as cute, an innocent puppy crush that would fade by next semester. 

It’s not until they gets their diploma three years later that they releases a drive full of the videos and pictures, making sure to add dates and location, everything to prove you were fucking a student. You were a whore of a professor seducing their students.

You’re fired immediately and it’s not long until your friends and family cut contact with you for seducing a poor college student and using your power over them as leverage. Nobody wants to hire you, they’d make sure to document every single dirty detail of your relationship so as to ruin your reputation until you’d be forced to turn to the only person who didn’t turn their back on you.

You can only walk into their open arms as they suggest finally moving in together, possibly getting married, and maybe even having a couple of children now that they have graduated and received their degree.

But even through it all, they still have the audacity to call you their beloved “professor”. 

Characters: Lisa (GI), Scaramouche (GI), Al-Haitham (GI), Kaeya (GI), Ayato (GI), Jing Yuan (HSR), Luocha (HSR), Aventurine (HSR), Vyn (TOT), Rafayel (L&DS), Ibara (ENSTARS), Eichi (ENSTARS), Yuzuru (ENSTARS), Cater (TWST), Rook (TWST), Kylar (DOL), Whitney (DOL), literally anyone you want really (TT)

[gotta-winwin]

wasteland, baby! | x.mh

⭐starring: xu minghao  💌 genre: angst | wc: 1.4k 💬preview: they say love can cure infection.

cw/tw: character death, heavy angst, true love and soulmate trope, descriptions of suffering and wounds, a countdown of time, apocalyptic world

🪽fic rating: pg 

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i only have one thing to say: @studioeisa (kae), this one’s for you. thank you so much to @lovetaroandtaemin (ally) and @chanranghaeys (haneul) for beta reading <3

now playing: wasteland, baby! by hozier

this is an addition to the angst olympics: click here to read the masterlist!

They say love can cure infection.

Scratch that—true love can cure infection. 

The silent countdown had started in Minghao’s head five minutes after the first bite. It burned and smelled of rotten flesh, as he peeled back his tattered shirt to reveal the charred teeth marks embedded in the side of his chest. 

Minghao keeled over and threw up at the sight. What was the longest survival rate for infection again? Minghao couldn’t think straight. 

Right. 10 measly days. 

As he stumbled out of the ruins and onto the grassy field surrounding him, Minghao tried to gather his bearings. Turning left, towards the oncoming horizon, would take him back to base—towards the medics and his best chance of survival. 

But Minghao was never an avid believer of science. He knew the millions of dollars the government had put into finding the cure was a hoax. 

10 days to live. The countdown in his mind ticked on. 

Minghao stubbornly turned right and began his trek to you. 

“You love me, right?” Minghao’s battered and bruised face enters your line of sight. His lips are cracked and tinted with blood, his left eye sporting colors of purple and blue—yet he had never looked more handsome. 

“I do.” It was a fact, as plain as could be. 

“Then we have nothing to worry about.” 

Minghao was resilient and strong-willed, all great characteristics for surviving the ongoing spread of disease, a strange infection that was eradicating humanity, nation by nation. He had ranked top of his class in the military, and his commanding officer had given him a 98% chance of survival. 

But Minghao was also filled with misguided hope and optimism. And that cut his chance of survival down to 0.03%. 

After all, the infection was brutal, cruel, and left no space for such futile things. 

“Of course.” You reply, threading your grimy fingers through his own blackened ones. “We’ve got true love on our side.” 

Your commanding officer had given you a 78% chance of survival. You were a realist, weak-willed but full of wit and life. Then he had given one glance at the way you looked at Minghao and changed your chance to 0.01%.

The infection might have no space for hope and optimism, but it actively choked out love. 

9 days. Minghao had always been a patient person, yet with his journey still leading nowhere close to you, he began to panic. 

He used to laugh at the prospect of dying, saying he’d welcome death with open arms and laugh in his face. But everyone says they’ve made peace with death until it’s actually time to go. Minghao stares at death’s face before falling asleep, and the laughter chokes down his throat. 

He passes fields of flowers and drying grass on his trek towards you, the sun beating down torturously on his back. He stops only to sleep. 

He sees your face in his dreams. 

8 days. Fighting past a pack of the undead barely drained his energy. He plows on, through the snaking river and across the rickety wooden bridge. 

He hallucinates your figure walking ahead of him and nearly falls in the water trying to reach you. 

“Y/N!” He calls, and the birds on the trees fly off from the sound. It echoes, and Minghao is suddenly too aware of how he is utterly alone for miles. 

He watches as you run towards the edge of the bridge, your summer dress flowing in the wind. You lean over, and his heart catches in his lungs. 

He’s about to warn you to be careful, but you turn and smile, and Minghao’s brain goes quiet. No loud thoughts. No annoying drone. No hum. 

“Come look.” You beckon to him with your hand. The ring on your finger catches the light and glitters. It becomes the only thing he can focus on. You bring him next to you, and he watches the ducks follow their mother home on the rippling water. 

He blinks and remembers the waters have long since been dry. 

7 days or so. Minghao can feel that he’s close to home, to you. He wonders for a moment if you’re missing him, and a weak laugh escapes from him. What a silly thought. Of course you miss him too. 

The landscape around him has transitioned from the drying fields to a cracked desert. He’s parched but hardly feels it. One foot in front of the other. Again, again. 

Minghao counts down the days left in his life and when he can see you. 

6 days, or is it 5? He can hardly remember anymore. He whispers your name in his sleep, his lips cracked and his throat as dry as the world around him. 

He counts the amount of breaths he takes and wishes he could store them in a bottle for later. He doesn’t know how much of those he has left. 

He feels your fingers run through his hair like phantom pains. 

“We’ll see each other again.” He had promised you before leaving. “I’ll return to you.”

You nodded, running your hands through his growing hair. “I’ll be waiting.” 

One of the undead growls from behind him and interrupts your parting. Minghao barely flinches when you aim your pistol over his shoulder, and a gunshot rings out. 

You frown up at him. “That could’ve killed you.” 

He smiles. “But you had my back. You always do.” 

“I won’t be with you out there.” You shake your head at his easy going nature.

He presses a firm kiss to each of your hands. “Don’t worry about me. I beat you in training, didn’t I?” 

You nod. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close. 

Neither one of you mentions how 97.8% of people who leave the encampment don’t ever return. 

Minghao hates statistics. They’re never in his fucking favour. 

4 days. Minghao continues to walk, ignoring the fact that he’s utterly lost. Somewhere along his journey he had lost nearly half of his vision, and he could no longer see more than a few steps ahead of him. 

He could feel it so very clearly that he was dying. 

“It’s just wasteland, baby.” Minghao murmured into your hair as the two of you laid down on your bunk. “Just wasteland.” 

“I miss all the pretty things we used to have.” 

He hums. “You’re the prettiest thing in this wasteland, baby.” 

You laugh, smacking his arm gently. “That’s cheesy.” 

He laughs too. “No, but I’m being serious. The world might be ending, but at least it’s ending with me next to you.” 

“Just wasteland.” You echo his words from before. His finger draws circles on your arm. “True love can cure infection, anyways.” 

That was his lifeline. He had to believe reaching you could save him. 

Minghao stopped to gather his bearings. He turned around. It was a wasteland all around. 

3 days. 

“Minghao!” He hears his name coming from you and spins around to greet you. He spins too fast and stumbles, falling to his knees. 

“Y/N?” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, barely uttered. “Y/N?” 

He wants to believe you’ve come out to find him– that you’ve met him halfway, because he knew he was nowhere near home. 

Minghao uses the last of his energy to raise his head up towards the sky. The clouds are dark and unmoving. He doesn’t see you.

He doesn’t move. 

2 days. 

You’re waiting by the castle tower. You haven’t moved from your spot on the lookout for the last 5 days, eagerly looking out towards the stretch of barren land for your lover. 

“He’s not coming back.” Someone gently places a hand on your shoulder. 

You raise your gun as a warning. “Shut up.” 

They leave. 

You keep waiting. 

1 day left. 

Minghao gets up from his spot on the desert floor. He keeps walking. He walks and walks until he sees the outline of a decrepit castle. 

You see him from afar before his face is even visible. It’s a speck of a person, stumbling towards the castle, their steps uncoordinated and slow. 

You squint, and you can’t tell if it’s really him.

You run out to meet him. Just in case. You know from the way he’s moving that something’s wrong. You know you’re the only one who can save him. If it really is him.

You skid to a stop a few meters away. 

An undead stares back at you and continues to walk closer. He has the growing locks of hair and eyes of your lover. 

And for the first time, you don’t raise your gun. 

[4norizz]

Were you Listening?

Summary— Toto notices his student starts slacking off and decides private tutoring is the best approach

Warnings— she sits on his lap ; mentions of reader being horny ; teasing ; no smut sadly :/ ; allusions to smut though

A/N— enjoy!

Masterlist

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— toto wolff is a professor at a university, he was teaching maths. he has this one student who kept on slacking off in his class. he doesn't know the reason why she was doing that. so he got sick of this disrespect and asked the student/reader to meet him in his office for a punishment. but toto doesn't know that she was only slacking off because she wanted to get his attention.

College was easy, well easy when your professor in his fifties is fucking hot. Toto Wolff was part of some racing team, but died down his presence to do what he really wanted: teaching maths. He still has some part in racing, but not too prominent.

The only reason she was able to pass his class was because of his looks. She was enthralled by what he was saying and it stuck, her brain remembering the way his lips moved and his hands gestured towards the board.

Recently her grades started going downhill in his class and she didn’t know that he would address that, not to mention the disrespect she had been giving or the dozing off she would do in his classes now.

He went on about his lesson and when the class filed out he pointed to her and made a come here motion with his hand. The other students left, just her and her professor alone. “What’s with your grades dropping darling?” He asked. She huffed out a breath and relaxed her shoulders.

She looked around to avoid eye contact and smirked at the response she thought of. “Well the lectures aren’t as good as they used to be and I just can’t concentrate.” She practically whined to him. “I do apologize for sleeping in your class sometimes, but you’re overworking me.”

Toto nodded at her excuses, because that’s all they were, excuses. “I can tutor you if you’d like, but you need to get your grades up and listen to my lectures.” He offered. Her face lit up at the idea and she agreed that tutoring would help her out.

The first few sessions were quite mediocre and standard teacher and student. When Toto started noticing she wasn’t paying attention or doodling on the notes, he slammed a book on her desk, making her jump and look at him through her eyelashes.

“Are you listening?” He questioned. She nodded and gulped. She couldn’t help being turned on by the older man. “If you aren’t listening I’ll have to find another way to teach you.” He tilted his head with the serious tone he had used on her.

“Yes, sir.” She squeaked. She put her hands in her lap and focused on the board he was so diligently writing notes on for some math lesson. She took in the information and passed the next exam with flying colors.

However, he could not get her to pay attention during this one lesson. He could slam a book as many times as he wanted, she wouldn’t listen nor keep focused on him. Finally he resorted to physical touch. He placed his hand on her chin and forced her to look at him. “Is this a problem subject darling?”

Her face went pink and she gulped. She weakly nodded at him and he let her chin go, turning her notes toward him. She rubbed her thighs together at the proximity. “I just don’t understand it.” She said quietly as he admired her doodles and mindless writing. She was enjoying the attention.

He sighed and pointed to the board. “New page, write that down.” He demanded. She nodded and listened. He watched as she did so, sharing a glance every now and then. “Now. I want you to read off your notes, and explain what I said about it.” He began erasing the chalk from the board and she started citing math rules.

She only read the notes and he stood with his arms crossed waiting on the elaboration he had provided outside of writing. She didn’t remember any of what he said so she stayed quiet. “I wasn’t listening..” She admitted, her face tinged pink still.

He chuckled and she crossed a leg over the other, starting to feel her arousal seep through her underwear as he chuckled. “That’s it for today then, tomorrow I’ll have a different way to get you to remember, okay darling?” He said. With that she left the classroom quickly.

The next tutoring session was nothing of the sort of the usual teacher-student interaction. She noticed how he locked the door. Her breath caught and she snapped her head between the lock and his face. “You never lock the door.” She mentioned.

“I told you I have other ways of motivation for today.” He reminded her. He sat in his chair and pat his lap. She hesitated but sat there anyway. He had notes written in beautiful script on his desk. “If you’re good maybe I’ll reward you.” He whispered.

She squeaked and he began the math lesson. She listened hard and carefully. Once he was done she was able to recite Every Single Word He said. “Did I miss anything?” She asked innocently. Her mind was racing after repeating the math notes.

She was sure that even though she recited it, she’s going to fail the exam remembering how she learned the information. His hands found their way to her thighs. He lightly caressed them and she tilted her head back with a sigh. “Now, pass the exam and I’ll give you a real reward hm?”

She nodded, all words dying on her tongue at the sensations she was feeling. His hands lightly scratching her soft, delicate skin. She shivered at the feeling and then he tapped her, as to say ‘lesson done’ and she stood up. She almost tripped on the way out the door and he smirked from his desk.

Sure enough, she passed the exam with 10 bonus points for a detailed study guide. She smiled big and made her way to Professor Wolff’s office. She knocked and he called out. She opened the door and he smiled up at her, placing his pen neatly in a cup. “You did a good job darling.” He praised.

Her grades began improving and as a reward he would provide her with time outside of the school, small ‘get togethers’ or ‘dates,’ but all they would do is flirt and talk. Toto Wolff was not going to be fired over a student-teacher relationship, but he sure as hell wants to be with her.

I nearly made this smut but I decided against it, I couldn’t think of anything good 😭

[yerimacoustic]

𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 ♡ 𝙨. 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

summary: you, the head girl of the ravenclaw house, realize you might have bitten off more than you can chew when you take part in a risky challenge with your arch nemesis, seungcheol. 📚🧺🥀

content warnings: academic rivals to implied lovers, hogwarts!au, gryffindor!s.coups and ravenclaw!reader, you’re both head boy and head girl of your houses, banter, banter and more banter (i did my best with it okay), light swearing, kissing, not proofread (sorry besties) 9.8k wc.

note: this took me wayyyy too long but i’m cooking another idea for a fic for a certain seventeen member, so i’m trying to get back into the swing of things <3

“doesn’t it look beautiful?” professor slughorn gazed at the tiny vial resting on his desk, just barely out of reach from the rest of the students. although you had an inkling of what the contents in the bottle really were, you felt just as confused as the rest of your peers.

your best friend, irene was the first to speak up, “professor, what exactly is it?” 

“thank you for asking. what you see before you is a curious little potion known as felix felicis. otherwise known as-“ 

“liquid luck,” you chimed in with a voice behind you just barely beating you to the punch. you knew who it was without turning your head back: choi seungcheol. typical. he was always trying to outshine you. 

ever since the two of you had been selected as prefects for your houses, gryffindor and ravenclaw, he seemed hellbent on making your life miserable. you two seemed to constantly be competing. whether it was for the house cup, who would be the top of the class, even who managed to get their students into bed with all the lights out first. it only got worse when the two of you were selected to be in the slug club, seeing a lot more of each other as a result. 

unfortunately, slughorn seemed to catch onto your rivalry rather quickly and while he never acknowledged it out loud, there were several instances where he seemed to be fanning the fire.

“yes, that is correct, y/n and seungcheol. liquid luck.” professor slughorn lifted the glass from desk, holding it on display for everyone to see more clearly. “desperately tricky to make, disastrous if you get it wrong. however.. one sip and you will find that all of your endeavors will succeed. well.. until the effects wear off.”

you tilted your chin up while trying to hide a mischievous grin from your classmates. you pondered everything you could achieve from one mere sip of the rare potion- you could pass all of your exams with flying colors, you could finish all of your projects in record time.. the possibilities were endless! 

unfortunately, you weren’t the only one chasing good fortunes. seungcheol knew if he led the gryffindor’s team to another consecutive victory, he would be a shoe-in for the holyhead harpies. after all, what was more impressive than leading your time to a winning season four years in a row? he could picture professor dumbledore handing him the house cup clear as day- surely his career in quidditch would only skyrocket from there. 

just as both of you pondered how you would be able to get your hands on such a remarkable potion, slughorn clapped his hands, “now, usually every student in my class gets the opportunity to compete for the potion. this year we are doing things a little differently: the two students with the highest grade point averages are competing against each other!”

oh no. 

you didn’t doubt for a second that you were one of the students in the running; a large folder dedicated to very successful report cards gave you more than enough confidence in your chances. but you didn’t like considering the odds of who your opponent could be: irene, your best friend. jihyo, another member of the quidditch team who had a secret affinity for brewing potions. or.. seungcheol. but what was there to be said about him that hadn’t been said already?

slughorn made a rather dramatic show of reaching into his drawer to grab the grade sheets. you held your breath as you watched the professor reposition his glasses and examine the parchment with furrowed eyebrows. he cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he gazed towards the class, “the two students with the highest scores are…”

now the entire class seemed to be holding their breath. comically, mina and sana leaned in close while waiting for slughorn’s revelation. your gaze shifted unwillingly towards seungcheol, who winked at you. you replied by scowling and looking away with a huff. if merlin was on your side at all, if he really did have a hand in all of your dealings with other witches and wizards, he would let anyone besides choi seungcheol be your contender. 

“seungcheol and y/n, respectively!” slughorn announced cheerfully, setting the parchment on his desk in favor of leading the rest of the class in applause. 

respectively? 

seungcheol scored higher than you? how was that even possible? 

“what?” you scoffed, furrowing your eyebrows. 

“don’t act so surprised, y/n.” seungcheol smirked in your direction, his chest puffing out as he threw his shoulders back. “you’re not the only one in this school working your ass off.”

“but i am the only one who’s finally going to knock you off your high horse,” you retorted.

“i feel the need to remind you both-” slughorn interjected, sending something between a glare and a look of concern in your direction. his tone wasn’t scolding, much to your own surprise. “to keep things civil. if you cannot abide by my classroom’s policies during this.. impromptu competition, then i will have no choice but to eliminate you both and revert back to my old customs.”

you parted your lips but seungcheol was quick to interject and smooth-talk the professor (as he always seemed to have a talent for doing), “you have nothing to worry about, professor. i don’t mind a little competition.” suddenly he looked towards you with a shit eating grin. “especially not when it's so damn cute.” 

and there it was- that furious, fiery sensation in your cheeks. you weren’t sure if it occurred out of genuine flattery, embarrassment or.. pure rage. you wouldn’t have been surprised if steam fell out of your ears in that moment- you were in pure shock and disbelief that he would say something like that in front of everyone. of course, you were also shaming yourself for being so surprised; it was seungcheol, after all. 

the professor ignored the catty whistles and cheers in the classroom with a wave of his hand, “very well. the two of you will brew a draught of the living dead. the first one to create the acceptable potion wins. and there will be no backseat brewing from the rest of the class; you are to take notes on both students’ techniques, is that understood?”

silence passed through the classroom, a few students nodding their heads in response before slowly making their way to the back of the class. “good. seungcheol, y/n, i will give you a few minutes to get your ingredients. good luck to the both of you.”

you, of course, were searching through your textbook for the recipe before slughorn had even extended his best wishes. irene, luckily, had stayed by your side to provide you some much needed moral support. of course, you barely noticed; your nose stuck so far in your textbook you couldn’t see past the faded words. this is what you get for buying it secondhand. 

“you’re gonna do great, y/n,” irene reassured you. “seungcheol doesn’t know the first thing about potions. you’ve got this.”

you chuckled bitterly. “obviously that’s not true. he’s top of the class.”

“she’s got a point there,” seungcheol chimed in, smirking. “don’t worry, y/n, i’m sure there’s plenty of positions in the ministry of magic for people who aren’t proficient in potion brewing. like.. secretaries or scribes; you know, record keepers.”

his words prompted you to slam your book shut, keeping your thumb between the pages so you wouldn’t lose your spot. you looked past your shoulder, keeping your tone hushed so slughorn couldn’t hear the two of you bickering. “need i remind you that i’m the second ranking student in this class for a reason. all it’s going to take for me to rise above the ranks is to beat you at this stupid little competition.

“and by the way, i’m more than proficient at potion brewing.”

“says the one who mixed up dittany and wolfsbane two weeks ago,” seungcheol retorted. 

“it was a simple mistake! anyone could have made it,” you argued.

much to your dismay, seungcheol’s best friend sangyeon felt the need to chime in with a smirk, “why don’t we raise the stakes a little bit?”

“what do you mean?” irene asked, cocking a brow.

“it’s felix felicis we’re competing for. the stakes have never been higher,” you deadpanned.

“i mean- you two obviously have some arguments and disputes you need to resolve. maybe this competition could be a good chance for the two of you to humble each other.”

you tilted your head, part of you in disbelief that you were actually entertaining his words and another part of you believing that he actually made a fair argument. suddenly, a smirk etched at your lips as you began to calculate.. “alright. if i win, which i will, you have to act as my personal assistant for a month.”

seungcheol barked out a laugh, his eyes going wide in amusement, “personal assistant? for a month? what are you getting at?”

“you heard me,” you retorted. “you have to walk me to my class, carry around my books for me, and help me with all of my homeworks, meetings, and schedules.”

“seems a bit outlandish, but alright,” seungcheol snickered. “alright. if i win, which i will…” he paused. “you have to go to the yule ball with me.”

“what?!”

“you heard me,” seungcheol repeated after you, even going so far as to mimic your smirk. “you have to go to the yule ball with me. we have to wear coordinating outfits, we have to dance together, and take plenty of pictures. and you cannot try to sabotage our last ball at hogwarts.”

you scoffed, “there is no way i’m agreeing to that. not even in your wildest dreams.”

“fine, then you can forget all about your precious personal assistant.” 

you huffed. you would love nothing more than the chance to publicly humiliate seungcheol, to get him back for all the times that he had embarrassed you. the devious bastard needed some humbling. but.. what if things took a turn for the worst and he won? he was top of the class for a reason, and the universe seemed to have the cards stacked against you. was it really worth it, adding a bet onto a competition that had high stakes to begin with?

irene sent a knowing smirk in your direction just as you got to your feet, “give me a second to think about it.”

you grabbed irene’s hand, rushing to the supply shelves where the ingredients you had been neglecting were waiting. asphodel, wormwood, valerian root.. as you began to gather everything you needed in one hand, you turned to your best friend with a groan of annoyance, “can you believe that man? he’s incorrigible! insufferable!”

“yes, but who knows? he might end up surprising you and you could have a great time at the dance together,” she peered through the recipe in her own textbook, helping you gather the rest of the roots and broths. 

you snickered, “seungcheol? surprise me? i highly doubt that.”

she shook her head and took a much calmer approach, looking through the shelves and graciously handing you a fair amount of the ingredients that you weren’t able to find. “you deserve a night off, y/n. you’ve been focusing too much on your studies your entire time at hogwarts. you’ve barely had any time for extracurricular activities besides the slug club. just do this one thing and if it goes horribly.. then.. we’ll grab some of those prank snacks from zonko’s and ruin his life until the school year ends.”

you tilted your head in contemplation, “i would like to see his face covered in boils.. fine. but all this bet does is give me more incentive to win this competition. i will not be caught dead dancing with seungcheol.” 

“we’ll see about that,” seungcheol called to you from across the room. 

god, you couldn’t wait to wipe that insufferable smirk off his face. 

once slughorn had reset his rather eccentric hourglass to time the two of you and the rest of the class scooted to the back of the room, everything else seemed to disappear around you. you focused only on the recipe, measuring the broth without letting so much as an extra drop fall into your cauldron. 

then it was time for the sopophorous bean. you tried to cut it in half, as per the instructions, but it actually bounced out of your reach. you tried it again, but it yielded the same results. and then the third time, seungcheol had to duck his head to dodge it once it was sent flying across the room. what in the world? 

you refused to ask for slughorn’s help. you were the second highest ranking student in the class for a reason, after all. you’d gotten this far without asking him or snape any stupid questions. after reading over the instructions again, a particular passage stood out to you: you only needed the juices from the bean. 

exercising great caution and timidity, you attempted to crush the bean with the blade of your knife instead. and much to your pleasant surprise, it worked. the bean didn’t budge. you looked over to seungcheol as you began to pour the juices into your cauldron, immediately furrowing your eyebrows, “how are you already two steps ahead of me??” 

the man looked up and continued to stir the broth clockwise, per the directions. it didn’t stop him from sending an arrogant smirk your way; you had to hand it to him, he was a great multitasker. “a magician never reveals his secrets. especially to the competition.”

you huffed; you didn’t need his help anyways. as you started to crush the thick root into a powder, you could have sworn you heard the clock from across the hallway ticking. uncomfortable silence rang through the air, save a few quiet mutters from fellow students and the boiling from the cauldrons. 

meanwhile, slughorn paced back and forth with his hands intertwined behind his back, studying the two of you carefully. there was a hopeful glint in his eyes, as if he wanted the both of you to succeed. between you and seungcheol, he couldn’t decide who his favorite student was. something told you that the results of this competition would finally give him his answer…

as you tossed the powder into the broth, a thick cloud of black smoke materialized in front of you, covering your face in the powder. the powder had shot straight out of the cauldron, as if rejected by the broth. your hand flew to your mouth as you fell into a fit of loud coughs, which unfortunately were not loud enough to muffle the sounds of your fellow students’ laughs.

just as you regained enough composure to wipe some of the soot out of your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of seungcheol trying to hide a snicker while stirring the broth in the other direction. shit. he was already on the last step. he chortled once he took notice of your scowl, shaking his head, “it’s honestly a shame. i thought you were better at following instructions.”

“i’m doing exactly what the book says! you obviously have some sort of cheat sheet.” 

seungcheol furrowed his eyebrows in mock offense, holding up his textbook with his free hand. “hmm.. that’s curious because it looks like we have the same one. maybe you’ve just lost your touch.” before you could offer a rebuttal, however, seungcheol set the ladle down and waved towards your professor. oh no, oh no.. 

“ah, seungcheol! finished already?” you watched in horror as slughorn strode towards your opponent’s cauldron, fishing a leaf out of his pocket. “well, uh, here we are. moment of truth,” he snickered, holding his breath as his hand hovered over the cauldron. you looked back towards irene, who was watching everything play out in front of her with the smallest frown. 

and just like that, the tightening sensation in your chest loomed, causing you to clutch at the collar of your shirt. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the scene playing out in front of you, and of course, the dreaded feeling that your life was over simply because the tiny leaf dissolved into the broth. his broth. you had lost to seungcheol, your rival, your mortal enemy, once again. 

“merlin’s beard! it’s perfect!” once again, slughorn slowly began to clap his hands and lead the rest of the classroom in a rather loud chorus of applause. the only reason you joined in was because you were in plain view of slughorn and you didn’t want to risk appearing petty in front of him; however, you made no attempts to rid the look of disappointment on your features. 

you were so wrapped up in your dark blanket of self pity that you barely even noticed the older man pick the vial up from his desk and hand it to seungcheol. the look of pride on your professor’s face was too much for you to handle, seeing as how you felt it was entirely misplaced. it should have been you who won. you knew that textbook backwards and forwards, you took extra notes in class every single day, studying was your favorite pastime.. how in the hell did he win? 

“now, as promised, one tiny vial of felix felicis. use it well.” as the classroom erupted into thunderous applause and cheers, you vowed to yourself that you would find out exactly how he cheated.

—-------------------------

you could barely speak to anyone after admitting defeat the day before, including irene, fearing that they would bring up your epic failure. endless hours in the library were not unfamiliar to you; in fact, you considered it like your home away from the ravenclaw dormitory. luckily, your extra time alone did not meddle with your duties as ravenclaw prefect. not that it mattered; when news of your failure traveled amongst the rest of the house, you could have sworn they stopped taking you seriously. 

granted, it had barely been twenty four hours, but still. 

you were brushing up on some light reading, lost in theories of dragon and centaur evolutions when you heard a pile of books slam next to yours on the table. it echoed through the library, causing several nearby bystanders to lift their heads up with matching scowls. when you snapped your head to the left in order to get a better look at the culprit, you instinctively rolled your eyes.

“what? i thought you would be a little happier to see a champion,” seungcheol chuckled in a hushed tone, taking the seat next to you. “oh, and your date to the yule ball.”

“can you keep your voice down? i don’t want anyone to hear i’m going with you of all people.”

seungcheol dramatically pressed a hand to his chest, “oh. that cuts deep, y/n. but i’m afraid people are going to find out eventually. you know, during the prefects’ dance, for example.”

“what?!” you exclaimed, only to be rudely shushed by several of the library attendees. taking a few precautionary looks over your shoulder, you whispered, “you never said anything about a prefects’ dance.”

“that was because i thought you already knew,” seuncheol replied conceitedly. “unless.. oh.. you weren’t planning on going to the yule ball at all, were you?”   

you tilted your head, “i know exactly what you’re implying..”

“implying? i’m not implying any-”

“and i could easily have gotten another date to the ball if it weren’t for you,” you lied. unless you had some sort of secret admirer, you knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would have been asked to the ball. you were planning on using the extra alone time in the ravenclaw common room to your advantage anyways; there was much more space in there for studying. “i just don’t have any time for such trivial pursuits.”

“i wouldn’t call social interaction or international magical cooperation trivial pursuits,” seungcheol retorted.  

you slammed your book shut and tossed it into your book bag. “was there a reason you decided to come in here and bother me? besides attempting to get me kicked out of the library?”

“ohh, right,” seungcheol whispered with a mischievous grin. “i forgot to mention one other thing. as prefects, we’re supposed to help plan the event. decorate the great hall, hire the musicians, the works.”

if you didn’t respect the sacred space of the library, you would have screamed your protests at him. of course he planned this out to the number. he didn’t have a partner to assist him in his party planning tasks and he needed another chance to publicly humiliate you. so in order to kill two birds with one stone, he asked you to be his date. since you were a prefect, now that your attendance was confirmed, you had no other choice but to participate in the planning. 

“you slippery snake,” you hissed.

“oh? look what we have here, the high and mighty y/n l/n, picking and choosing which responsibilities she gets to take seriously.” 

“this is a new low, even for you. i can’t believe you would trick me into doing your stupid party planning for you.”

he chuckled, “oh no, no, no. i’m not making you do all of it for me, you have my word. i’ll be with you every step of the way.” you cringed; for some reason, that sounded worse than leaving you to do his chores for him. “now we better get a move on, darling, or we’ll be late.”

seungcheol led you eagerly to the great hall where yeji and seungkwan were waiting. the two of them were head girl and boy of the slytherin and hufflepuff houses, respectively, and had already begun preparations for the ball. when you took note of how eager seungkwan was to take leadership and oversee all of the preparations, you began to wonder why he wasn’t sorted into the gryffindor house. 

of course, yeji knew that he was simply a placeholder until the real self proclaimed leader would show his face. you witnessed a complete shift in her demeanor in real time, an annoyed frown shifting into an inviting smirk the moment she saw the two of you walk to the hufflepuff table. “ah, there you are, cheol. i was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.”

“i don’t take my position as head boy lightly, unlike some people,” he tilted his head towards you, earning a dirty look. yeji simply held an amused smirk as her gaze shifted from seungcheol to you, a knowing look in her eyes.

seungkwan, however, looked like he had seen a ghost. or a hologram. to be honest, anything else was more believable than you being willing to have anything to do with the yule ball. “y/n! i thought you weren’t coming.”

“i thought so too,” you sighed. “but-”

“she changed her mind,” seungcheol cut in with the shameless lie, much to your surprise. “we both thought it would be a good idea if a head boy and a head girl went to the ball together. especially since its our last year at hogwarts and we didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity.”

yeji made no attempt to disguise her confusion- seungcheol could easily get any other girl to go to the ball with him. so why would he ask you? and why would you say yes? the two of you had a very public and long lasting rivalry; it seemed odd that the two of you were able to make amends so quickly. “seems like the two of you finally made up,” she cooed, folding her arms across her chest.   

“yeah, for the most part,” seungkwan laughed, pointing out the look of annoyance etched across your features. 

seungcheol barked out a laugh, “we’re both more than capable of keeping things civil. we figured that out for ourselves just the other day, didn’t we, darling?”

it took a great deal of willpower for you to hold back a groan of annoyance. “we’re wasting time. we should probably get started on the decorating now.”

“right,” seungkwan snickered, gesturing to several large boxes cluttering and even surrounding the table. “filch brought everything from the dungeon up here. personally, i think that we should go for a winter wonderland theme. white, grays, light blues..”

“sounds good.” yeji was quick to agree. you would have been surprised, but something told you that she was only agreeing with him so this meeting would go by much quicker. not that you blamed her..

“i agree,” seungcheol chimed in. “yeji and seungkwan, why don’t you work on fixing up the right side of the hall. we’ll focus on the left.”

as the two of them nodded and followed seungcheol’s direction, you could hear seungkwan immediately lecturing yeji on how to carry out his vision with precision and intent. meanwhile, the young man at your side smirked with infuriating amusement as he studied you carefully. as a response you turned towards him with a huff, “let’s just get this over with.”

he chuckled, “i admire your enthusiasm. we’ll need it, considering the ball’s less than a week away.”

great. more good news. 

—--------------------

as preparations for the yule ball were under wing, you actually found yourself horrifically overwhelmed for the first time during your attendance at hogwarts. if you weren’t studying, you were figuring out with the others which bands would play at the ball. if you weren’t monitoring the common room with the other prefects, you were organizing the tables, chairs, and centerpieces. and if you weren’t with irene, the only other person who seemed to bring you a sense of comfort during a time when your anxiety was at its peak, you were with seungcheol, who seemed to gift your anxiety to you.

this stupid ball was taking over your entire life. even with a total of twenty four students carefully planning the evening, it seemed to take an eternity for all of you to come to any semblance of an agreement. day by day you were filled with endless disappointment and dread. worst of all, you couldn’t figure out how you ended up in this situation; there seemed to be no explanation as to how seungcheol went about cheating in your little showdown. you learned that slughorn cast a protection spell against cheating in his classroom, so he couldn’t have muttered anything under his breath. he couldn’t have tampered with your spellbook; the recipe in yours was the same as irene’s. 

through all of the formulas, the lectures on runes and the arguments with seungkwan and yeji about tacky balloons and garlands, the one question that bothered you the most was how in the hell gryffindor’s beloved, corrupt champion managed to cheat. it plagued your mind even as you and seungcheol began to set up one of the three giant, towering christmas trees in the great hall. 

“don’t you love this time of year?” he asked, startling you out of your daze.

you furrowed your eyebrows, finding his attempts at making friendly conversation rather pathetic. you shrugged. “i guess.”

“it’s usually not my favorite, since it can be a pain in the ass to fly a broom around in this type of weather,” he chuckled, gently waving his wand to direct silver ornaments onto the tree. “but i don’t know. something about this year feels special.”

you paused your own enchantments in contemplation, letting a tiny string of garland settle comfortably against the pine tree’s branches. you were using the same spell as seungcheol, hoping to finish the decorations as quickly as possible to put this long day to an end. “maybe this being our last year in the castle has something to do with it?” 

although your statement came out sounding much more sarcastic than you intended, your words came from a place of genuine belief. until that moment, it felt like you had been in denial that you were about to leave the castle forever. go into the real world. 

seungcheol seemed pleasantly surprised that you were making conversation with him, even if your response was somewhat harsh. he chuckled, “i guess so. but.. i don’t know. something’s different. in a good way.” 

“hopefully you figure out what it is before the school year ends,” you chuckled. 

seungcheol only nodded before lifting the last few ornaments onto his side of the tree with a mere wave of his wand and then the two of you stepped back to admire your work. it looked beautiful, the silver and dark blue ornaments glowing in the candlelight. but you knew it would look even better on the night of the ball; seungkwan would be casting an enchantment to make the entire hall look like a real winter wonderland. “i think we’re at a good enough place to call it a day, don’t you?”

you sighed in relief and threw your book bag over your shoulder. “thank god.”

he called to you before you could turn your back on him, “hey, wait a minute-”

you sighed and reluctantly turned around to face him, tilting your head to the side. “what?”

something strange happened to seungcheol. for the tiniest moment, a mere millisecond, if anything, he appeared flustered. at a loss for words, as if he was surprised that you were giving him the time of day. “shouldn’t we go shopping for some dress robes together?”

you made no attempt to disguise your annoyance, clenching your jaw. “what, so you can pick out one of those horrendous, poofy dresses that makes me look like a pastry? i think i’ll go by myself, thanks.”

he laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “no, trust me. i wouldn’t do that to anyone, not even you.”

“even so, i don’t feel like going dress shopping with you.”

“and why’s that?” he raised an eyebrow inquisitively. something about that.. punchable look on his face served as a reminder that you really had no reason to decline his invitation. by some miracle, the two of you had been able to keep it civil for this long. plus, if the two of you had to coordinate outfits (as per seungcheol’s terms and conditions), it would be much easier to do that in person. 

with all of those sentiments in mind, you sighed in defeat. “fine. let me grab my robes.”

the two of you threw your large, black cloaks over your figures before stepping outside in the real winter wonderland. they did nothing to keep the chilling winds from nipping at your noses and causing the tips of your fingers to freeze. pushing past the flurries of snow and following the magically shoveled pathway, the two of you made your way to the nearest costume parlor. 

the moment you stepped inside with your sworn enemy, the reality of the situation hit you. any other girl who was ‘lucky’ enough to be invited to the ball by him would have loved the experience of shopping for coordinating outfits with him. more notably, if you were invited by someone, anyone else, you most likely would have been trying to tone down your excitement. 

and yet here you were, staring at the rows and piles of dresses, tunics, and cloaks in dread. of course, he seemed to notice it, moving a hand to pat your back with a stupid grin. “so.. what’s your favorite color?”

you held yourself back from letting out a huff of annoyance, “green.”

“green..” he cupped his chin with his thumb and index finger, acting as if he was in an state of contemplation. “well, i suppose it's not really in season, but we can make it work. follow me.”

your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as he grabbed onto your hand, dragging you to a row of dresses. it was oddly satisfying, the way the dresses were arranged in a pattern that made the fabrics seemed to fade from key lime to emerald. and they had a lot of options, the rack suffering from the impact of the hangers. 

you would have expected nothing less from seungcheol if not to display the first dress with the ugliest shade of asparagus green splashed upon the fabrics. “i think this would look gorgeous on you,” he whispered to you in a sentimental tone, his shit eating smirk giving his true intentions away.

“i’m not wearing that, its ghastly.” you snatched the dress from him, putting it back in its assigned place on the rack. “shouldn’t we focus on darker colors, anyways? since those are what’s ‘in season?’” you made sure to add air quotes when using his words, a smug smirk of your own tugging at your lips.

seungcheol’s smile seemed to be one laced with pride, as if he was pleased to see you catching onto his behaviors and mirroring them. “i like where your head’s at. come along...” 

you let him grab your hand again before leading you to a nearby aisle, where dresses with much darker shades of blue and green were stuffed haphazardly onto the racks and shelves surrounding you. “see, this is what i meant when i said i liked green,” you told him as-a-matter-of-factly as you held up a long, modest emerald green dress with gauntlet sleeves that would hook over your middle fingers. 

he stretched out his hand to brush along the skirts of your personal favorite selection, tilting his head as if he was carefully studying the fabric. his gaze shifted from the elegant dress to you, as if he was imagining you in it. “i think i should let you pick the outfits from here on out. you’ve got an eye for color theory.”

you folded the dress over your arm with a dry chuckle, “you should have learned that during our committee meetings together. who was it who organized all of the centerpieces?”

“right. i never got to tell you about how well they match the tablecloths.”

“because someone wishes they had half the natural talent for interior design that i possess.” you imitated his trademarked smirk to the best of your ability, tilting your head to the side once it appeared as if the man in front of you was at a loss for words. “we’re going with this one.”

“don’t let it go to your head just yet. we’ve still got to find something for me to wear.”

“and i have just the thing.” this time it was your turn to grab onto his hand, pulling him towards the men’s section. your eyes scanned through the shelves in front of you until they landed on the ugliest thing you could find in that shop: a large, fluffy collar that was adorned by feathers and a large broach in the middle. “i think it matches your eyes perfectly.”

“you cannot be serious,” he deadpanned.

“hey, you were the one that said i’m picking the outfits from here on out. i think wearing it is the very least you could do, all things considered.” you couldn’t disguise the broadening smirk making its way upon your lips even if you wanted to. the look of disgust upon his features was just too good not to revel in. “what’s the matter, you don’t like it?”

he tilted his head up, pressing his lips to a thin line in a vain attempt to smile, “yeah. sure. it looks very eccentric. i think i’ve got just the cloak to match it.”

your eyes widened in a rather successful attempt to patronize the man in front of you. “do you really? i guess fate really does exist.” you stepped closer to fold the collar around his neck, admiring the look of disdain on his face as he made no effort to pull the hideous thing off of him. “see? i think it suits you so well. you could comb your hair back a little bit..” 

as if you completely forgot who you were talking to, you lifted your hand up to tuck a few strands of his hair behind his ear. seungcheol’s expression of disdain faded at the contact, a puzzled look quickly taking its place instead. your newfound proximity seemed to almost startle him, prompting you to take a step away from him and clear your throat. “let’s get out of here.”

“huh?” 

you shook your head, “we’ve got studying to do. i’m running behind thanks to this stupid ball.”

“you’ll get back on your feet, love,” he countered in a reassuring tone. “you always were an overachiever.” 

his words seemed to echo through your mind even as he walked with you up to the register and graciously paid for your dress without a second thought. you could barely even protest, still feeling rather puzzled. even if it wasn’t customary for a man to pay for his date’s dress, you could let it slide just this once. heaven knew he had the money for it. 

besides, it was the very least he could do, all things considered.     

—---------------

the night of the ball finally arrived. irene graciously allowed you to borrow some extra hairpins she had, tiny snowflakes encrusted with shining diamonds. they shone like tiny stars in the candlelight, only accentuating the emerald fabrics pooled around your figure. 

even so, you felt like a fish out of water among your peers who were dressed to the nines in silvers and deep blues.. you alway thought that beauty seemed to come so naturally to all of them. but not to you. never to you. even now, standing in front of the mirror, caked in makeup, hairspray and a dress you wouldn’t have been caught dead in any other day.. you didn’t feel special. 

irene seemed to sense your distress, just as she always did. it prompted you to wonder if your best friend had some sort of intuition, or if you were just terrible at hiding your emotions. as she stepped by your side and gazed at your reflection in the mirror, draping her arm around your waist, your frown only grew more prominent. she was by far the most beautiful girl in the common room. while you tried not to envy your best friend or place any blame on her, it was difficult putting those sentiments into practice when you got a full look of her light blue dress and gorgeous icy features.

you bowed your head with a sigh. as her eyes followed your gaze in the mirror, she lifted a hand to cup your chin so you would look in the reflective glass again. “chin up. you look beautiful.”

“i don’t feel beautiful.” you sighed, gazing at your reflections with a forlorn sigh. you wondered how she couldn’t see the stark difference between the two of you. 

she moved a hand to brush some hair out of your eyes, offering you a gentle smile. “i promise you- you look absolutely gorgeous. you’ll be the belle of the ball, i’m sure.”

the two of you chuckled as she linked her arms around your waist, smiling at the sight of your reflection. at the sight of a tiny, somewhat reluctant smile slowly starting to surface. “let’s just hope midnight approaches quickly.”

she only chuckled and held on tightly to your hand as she slowly led you out of the dressing room and down the stairs. you could hear the gentle, slow jazz band that yeji and seungkwan had argued about for days beginning to play. their music grew louder and louder with every step down the stairs you took, but the wild heartbeat in your chest seemed to clash terribly with the rhythm of the instruments. it all felt so.. unconventional. and yet, you couldn’t pinpoint an exact reason as to why you were so nervous. 

irene’s date, kai was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. you noticed the change in his demeanor in real time, noting how his previously dull eyes widened the moment he saw her making her way towards him. strangely enough, a pang of jealousy surfaced in your chest once she left your side and you immediately missed her warmth. your hand felt empty and cold as she waved goodbye and mouthed a ‘good luck’ to you before joining kai in the great hall.

seungcheol was nowhere to be found near the base of the staircase. before you could assume the worst about him (and mentally kick yourself for ever giving your sworn enemy the benefit of the doubt), you tried to remain neutral as you walked in the great hall alone. 

your eyes widened as you took note of your surroundings- it went without saying that seungkwan had mastered the winter wonderland enchantment. fake snow fell from the star studded ceiling, disappearing before it could fall on any of the students. it fell upon the branches of the large christmas trees and stuck to the walls, icicles hung from the pillars, snowflakes shone in the candlelight and yet there wasn’t even the slightest chill in the air.

there was a large circle around an empty space in the hallway, which you assumed was the dance floor. there was no doubt in your mind that the prefects’ dance would be starting soon, which was why panic began to set in once your eyes scanned through the crowds of students surrounding you. your date was nowhere to be found. of course he had stood you up. you wouldn’t have put it past him to leave you stranded near the dance floor, looking like an idiot. 

just as you turned on your heel, planning to make a quick getaway before anyone could notice you standing there awkwardly, your body went stiff as you bumped into a man standing directly behind you. the first thing you noticed was the familiar broach surrounded by small, white feathers.. “wow, you actually came,” you muttered.

“i could say the same about you.” tonight, there was something almost..endearing about his smirk. maybe it was because he had taken your advice and combed some of his hair back. maybe because his tone lacked that familiar condescending air. or maybe because.. the twinkling lights suspended in the air made his dark eyes shine brighter than usual. “we better get a move on, darling, the others don’t like to be kept waiting.”

just as you nodded, you felt him rest a hand over your arm in favor of leading you through the crowd of students and onto the empty part of the floor. yeji and seungkwan were the first of the twenty two other prefects that you noticed, paired with taeyong and nayeon, respectively. it felt like the rest of them were just waiting for the two of you, watching you and seungcheol walk towards the center of the hall like merlin and guendoloena themselves had graced the student body with their presence. It was horrifying. 

obviously, you’d forgotten to make an efforts to disguise your embarrassment because when seungcheol faced you, he frowned. surprise washed over your features; you thought he would make fun of you or gloat but there seemed to be the smallest hint of sympathy in his eyes. it was almost.. off putting. like he was hiding something. “what’s the matter?” he finally asked.

“nothing.” you were quick to whisper to him. 

“hey-” just as seungcheol curled an arm around your waist to reel you in closer to him, his tone grew hushed. “you don’t have to be nervous. just follow my lead.”

“i’m not-” once you quickly came to the realization that this was neither the time nor the place to argue, you swallowed your pride and timidly draped your arm around his broad shoulders. once his hand was laced with yours, you realized this was the closest you’ve ever been to him, your chests nearly touching, and you weren’t even repulsed by him. in fact, you made eye contact with him for much longer than you ever thought you were capable. “thanks.”

seungcheol nodded in acknowledgement as the band in the corner of the room began to play a beautiful, soothing waltz. he took the lead, starting out with a basic box step waltz and waiting until you got a hang of the pattern before starting to turn counter clockwise like the rest of the couples. he kept a firm but gentle hold on your waist, his hand squeezing yours in reassurance as you found yourself scooting closer to him. “see? as always, you’re learning quickly.”

you hated to admit it, but such an unexpected compliment from seungcheol, of all people, prompted your heart to skip a beat. you pushed the unfamiliar sensation away to the best of your ability. “and you’re a pretty decent teacher. who would’ve thought?” you chuckled.

“well.. maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.” he chuckled, affection laced within the quiet laugh. “i will say, though, i expected you to step on my toes at least once or twice.”

“there’s still plenty of time for that,” you mused, a smirk tugging at your lips as your gaze flicked down to your feet. he must have purchased brand new dress shoes for the occasion; the patent leather shone almost like a diamond in the limelight. for some reason, you didn’t want to risk scuffing them.

“i suppose,” he shrugged before looking just past your shoulder in quiet contemplation. he wasn’t fixed on any certain point behind you, but his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was studying the fabric of your sleeves carefully before meeting your eyes again. “but would it be so terrible if we got along? just this once?” 

the shift in his demeanor brought a small sense of uneasiness to your chest until he spoke again. hoping to ease the tension growing in your heart, you snickered, “why? you don’t want me to ruin your brand new shoes?”

he hated how your words brought a tenacious grin to his lips, one that he couldn’t get rid of even if he wanted to. and you hated how you found it so endearing, especially when your eyes fixed on the dimples in his cheeks that you never seemed to notice until now. “something like that.” he muttered.

as if he couldn’t get through the dance without embarrassing you just one time, he pulled back from your embrace to spin you under his arm. after you completed the circle he kept both hands on your back, leading you into a less than graceful dip. you stumbled a tiny bit in his tight and affirming grip and held onto his upper arm for that much needed security. before you could bring yourself to curse him out, you let your eyes find his. instead of that infuriating look he had when he knew he’d successfully gotten under your skin, there was a certain warmth hidden in his irises. 

it was confusing.. almost more infuriating. especially considering the heat that rose upon your cheeks when you’d gazed upon his features long enough. 

and then he carefully pulled you back into a standing position and the fuzzy feeling in your head was gone. for the time being, at least. you had kept your arm draped around his broad shoulders, expecting the music to continue. but the students in the crowd began to clap as the rest of the prefects broke away from their partners and you suddenly felt like you’d been in the embrace for much too long. maybe you were overthinking it, maybe you weren’t. 

you let both arms fall by your sides as you took a single step backwards. your date could only chuckle in amusement, “glad that we finally got that over with?” he waved a hand dismissively just as you parted your lips to defend yourself. “come on. i think we could both use a drink.”

much to your own surprise, you let him take your hand in his and lead you to the refreshment table. seungkwan and nayeon beat you to the punch (both literally and figuratively, as seungkwan was already pouring a glass for the two of them), the lovely couple beaming the moment they saw you from across the table. 

“oh, hey guys!” seungkwan was the first to greet the two of you with a large smile. “you guys looked really good out on the dance floor. for a second, i was worried you were gonna steal all the attention away from me and nayeon.”

nayeon laughed before you could even conjure a witty response, “oh seungkwan. it's their last year here, i think they should enjoy their time in the spotlight while they still can.”

thankfully, seungcheol intervened before you could. “please. there’s plenty of time for us to enjoy our respective places in the spotlight when i’m a world renowned quidditch player and y/n’s the most successful auror in the ministry.” 

seungkwan’s eyes went wide. “wait- you mean the holyhead harpies..accepted you?”

just like magic, that all too familiar smirk materialized upon seungcheol’s lips just before he took a sip from his glass of punch rather than providing the three of you with a direct answer. however, it proved to be more than a satisfactory response. the couple in front of you broke out into applause with wide beams and quiet giggles. you, however, stood speechlessly in place.

for until that moment, you’d forgotten all about the potion.. 

“that’s amazing news!” nayeon almost shrieked. “we should celebrate.”

“maybe some other time. we better let him celebrate with his date first,” seungkwan reasoned while sending a knowing smirk in your direction. before too long, the four of you were exchanging goodbyes and more congratulations until only you and seungcheol stood near the table. of course, you weren’t sure how to approach the subject of felix felicis, so the two of you were forced to revel in the awkward silence for a good minute or two. 

that was, until seungcheol decided he had had enough. he brought a hand to your lower back, tilting his head towards the nearest exit. “come on. let’s go get some fresh air.”

once greeted by the chilly december air, you found yourself tugging your wrap closer to your chest. judging by the fresh layer of snow upon the balcony, it had just barely finished snowing for the time being. although he’d removed his hand from your waist, he stayed in close proximity to you, your shoulders barely brushing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. the two of you took a deep breath in alarming synchronization, releasing a visible sigh afterwards. 

you watched carefully as the small cloud disappeared in front of you before turning to him. “so.. you made the team.”

seungcheol nodded with confidence, but something told you that he had no intention of rubbing his victories in your face. “that’s right,” he replied quietly.

once again, you weren’t sure how to approach the nagging question in your mind- you had no intention of asking if he used the felix felicis to cheat at tryouts, guaranteeing him a spot on the team. you pondered on the correct delivery for just a moment too long, your eyebrows slowly knitting together as your lips parted. “how..”

seungcheol mocked an expression of offense before quietly replying, “pure talent. nothing else.”

“you mean..”

the man in front of you pressed his pouty lips to a thin line before reaching in his inner pocket. your eyes widened as the small vial he pulled out shone in the moonlight. clearly, seungcheol hadn’t used a single drop of the potion yet. you looked in his eyes, only to see the smallest glint of hurt. “do you really think so little of me?” he asked you timidly.

it would have been a knee jerk reaction to tell him yes, to tell him that he got on your nerves and seemed to be hellbent on embarrassing you at every chance he could get. that you thought he was a pompous asshole and thought too highly of himself. but when you reflected on the time you spent together, you realized.. seungcheol was just like any other student that went to this school. 

he had ambitions. he had goals. he had drive. not only that, but he had interests outside the academic field. for example, he loved christmas. winter was his favorite season. he loved strawberry punch. he had a handful of likes and dislikes. in that sense, he was just like any other student that roamed through the halls of hogwarts, trying to make a name for themselves. in that sense, he was just like you. 

and you felt horrible for ever accusing him of cheating.

with those sentiments in mind, you shook your head slowly. “no. no i guess i don’t.”

before he turned towards the balcony again, you were able to catch the smallest glance at of his smile, faint as it was. it seemed as if he saw no need for keeping up appearances, considering the two of you were finally alone. he brushed the thin layer of snow off the railing before crossing his arms over the concrete. “i can’t believe in just a few more months.. all of this will be over.”

you mirrored his actions, keeping close to him as you peered down the balcony. carriages pulled by invisible steeds were parked near the entrance of the palace, covered in thick sheets of snow. “i know. can’t believe you’ll have to find someone on the harpies to torment everyday.”

he snickered loudly, “but what about you? hopefully you’ll meet another auror who’ll keep that fire in you burning on.”

“i don’t think anyone will keep that fire in me like you do, seungcheol,” you confessed, looking over to him with a smirk of your own. it was all you could do to downplay the severity of the confession. “i’ve never met someone so infuriating yet so.. captivating as you. and i don’t think i will for a long time.”

you could have sworn you noticed seungcheol’s ears turn red once the bold confession hung in the air between the two of you. had you brought it up, however, he would have quickly excused the display of bashfulness by blaming it on the cold weather. “in that case.. i’m glad that we were able to do all of this.. the planning, the dancing.. even if it meant you had to lose to me one last time.”

you laughed and shook your head fondly, “you just had to ruin a decent moment between us, didn’t you?”

although a deep chuckle from the man in front of you soon followed your display of annoyance, nothing could have prepared you for seungcheol’s quiet response: “well, let me make it up to you.”

even if you could find the right words to ask him exactly what that would entail, you couldn’t seem to make a sound. your lips were parted as he turned to face you fully, moving a cold hand to cup your cheek. his touch was much more delicate than you could have ever expected from him, a sense of timidity within his demeanor. as if he was waiting for you to push him away.. but you didn’t. even if you wanted to, your gaze on his pursed lips kept you from paying any mind to your surroundings, the snowflakes beginning to materialize, the muffled music, the flickering of the enchanted lanterns…

the next few seconds that followed were a blur. you leaned in to meet him halfway, your lips finally meeting. the kiss was deep, slow, as if the two of you were savoring a moment you’ve waited for far too long to come. he kissed your lips with such gentle deliberation that you wondered how long he really had been wanting this. of course, you could do nothing but return the kiss with equal eagerness as you moved your hand to his other cheek. there was a soft exhale through his nose, which fanned lightly over your skin before he pulled away.

the two of you stayed silent for a moment, relishing the beautiful moment in all of its remaining glory. never in a million years did either of you expect something like a bet would result in such a wonderful night. a wonderful night filled with contemplations and observations you previously would never have entertained. 

and yet, even after such a truly mind numbing moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking him, “seungcheol.. what are you going to do with felix..?”

this time, it was his turn to shake his head fondly. “you just had to ruin a decent moment between us, didn’t you?” the chuckle that followed his repetition of your own words was much too endearing, causing that heated sensation in your cheeks to materialize yet again. “but to answer your question, i’m.. not sure. i guess i’ll cross that bridge when i get to it.

“or.. i could always give it to you.”

“no,” you immediately refused with a shake of your head. ”as much as it.. pains me to say it: you earned it, fair and square. besides… i learned from someone tonight that real achievements aren’t made with lucky charms. and even if i don’t become an auror.. i’m more than capable of doing something else with my time.” 

seungcheol bowed his head with a grin. “whoever he is.. sounds really wise.”

“he is,” you chuckled, moving your hand to lace your fingers with his once again. there was a warmth in his palm, one that you sought for as you squeezed his hand. “he’s.. insufferable and pompous the majority of the time. but incredibly smart and driven the rest of the time.”

his gaze remained fixed on your intertwined hands for a moment before his eyes met yours again. “you finally see your worth,” he whispered to you, almost incredulously. “believe me, y/n, i’ve known you to be more than capable of accomplishing anything you set your mind to since the day we met.”

feeling unsure of how else to express your gratitude, you placed another gentle kiss upon his lips. savoring the feeling, the taste.. since you knew it was only a matter of time until the two of you would part ways as nothing more than pupils. still, as the two of you spent the rest of the enchanted night dancing, laughing, and talking each others’ ears off, you and seungcheol hoped that this night wouldn’t be the end of your precious time together.

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Study Break

Choso x GN! Reader

Summary: Choso let's slip he's not tried something and you are more than willing to change that. Modern AU

Words: 1369

Warnings: NSFW, Oral

A/N: I've realized I write alot of oral lmao I'm afraid to read the previous ones in case they're all similar 😅

~MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wait, you've never been given a blow job?!" You almost yelled, voice risen in surprise as you looked over at Choso, who was now the color of a ripe red tomato. He'd been watching you suck on a lollipop with a bit more enthusiasm than what would be considered decent, and it had his mind wandering. Enough so that he'd murmured how he wondered what that'd feel like and well, the conversation spiraled from there. "Well, n-no but, um.." his voice trailed off, unsure of what else to say, dark eyes flicking around your room as your amused ones trained solely on him. He's never felt so hot, skin prickling as sweat started to form at the nape of his neck. His eyes darted back to the study notes laid out on the desk, stuttering something about how you'd better get back to it, but it was fat too late now.

You'd always been curious about Choso, the quiet alt guy that seemed to ace his classes with ease. Most people referred to him as the emo boy or emo nerd and you couldn't deny they were pretty on point. He was just so cute, though. The couple times you'd spoken to him had him turning pink, and that was about when you'd really become interested. Thanks to your barely passing grade in English Literature, the professor had assigned the student with the highest grade to be your tutor. That's how you ended up on what was your 5th study session with Choso.

The smirk that pulled at your glossy lips had Choso's heart stuttering, swallowing the knot in his throat as he watched you. Leaning forward, one of your hands stretched forward to press pretty manicured nails against his chest where, as you flattened out your hand, you could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. "You nervous Cho?" And he shook his head, a stuttered 'no' being his reply. Now you moved closer, lollipop back in your mouth as your free hand pressed into the carpet between his thighs and you maneuvered to be on your knees.

Leaning in even further, the hand on his chest reached for the lollipop so you could offer it to him, rest the candy against his lower lip. He didn't even think before his lips parted, eyes so focused on your own as took the sweet into his mouth. With a saccharine smile you spoke in an almost whisper, "good boy." And gods Choso was sure he was about to pass out, or perhaps throw up, he really wasn't sure, but hearing you call him that certainly worsened the problem growing in his pants, a problem you were now looking at with, excitement?

Resting your weight on your heels you traced your hands up his inner thighs, pressing them down as they reach his groin making his black jeans even tighter. Choso couldn't help the shaky groan he let out, eyes wide as he watches you. "You want know what it feels like? I mean, I kinda owe you for all the help you've given me after all." He wasn't sure what to say, he didn't want you to do it as some sort of payment, it felt wrong but at the same time his head was fuzzy with arousal and quickly greying his morals. "Y-you don't, owe me. Don't have to-" "I know. I want to." You mused, smiling up at him, waiting for an answer. "Oh" it came out as a surprised whisper as he continued, "yeah... yeah I want to know how it feels."

Once again that look of excitement returned to your features and you made quick work of his belt, fingers working deftly as you popped the button open and dragged down his fly. You pressed a kiss to his jaw then neck as you press your hand against clothed cock, gently squeezing as you begin to stroke him. He groaned, low and raspy, head tilting back. It didn't take much for his cock to be painfully hard already, and as it throbbed under your palm you decided to be kind and moved to tug down his briefs, watching as it slapped against his lower stomach. Pearly precum sticking to his skin and creating a little bead at his tip.

Leaving one last kiss at his throat you move down, tucking your hair behind your ear before running your tongue over his tip. Collecting that bead on your tongue, a soft hum of approval at his salty taste. You run your tongue over your lips before wrapping them around his tip, sucking gently as you flicked your tongue over the head. Already Choso was a mess, chest rising and falling quickly as he tensed his thighs, eyes squeezed shut, afraid he'd cum too soon. "Fffuck that feels, feels good."

Pulling, you stretched yourself out so you were on your stomach before returning your attention to him. Thanks to the lollipop your mouth was dripping with saliva which you happily spread via hot, open mouthed kisses down the underside of his length. By the time you come back to his tip is practically dripping precum which you happily lick up before taking him into your mouth again. With one hand gripping his thigh to steady yourself, you wrap the other around his base before swallowing him down. He was big enough that as your lips reached your fist, his tip was hitting the back of your throat bringing tear to your eyes.

Choso whimpered at the way your throat constricted and your tongue laved at the underside of him. His own, much larger hands desperately searching for purchase, fingers digging into his thighs and the carpet. He moaned unabashedly as you began to bob your head, hand pumping him in sync. A mixture of saliva and precum dripped down over your hand as you continued making the glide of your hand even better. You moved your hand to cup at his balls, massaging them as your forced yourself as far as you could go, tears slipping down your cheeks as your throat spasms around him. Choso curses, hips jerking as he stutters something incoherent above you. One of his hands finds it's way to your hair, fingers curling amongst the strands.

Your movements slow, opting to focus on taking as much of him as possible down your throat, a feat it considering the thickness of his cock. As you press yourself down you whimper as you finally feel your nose flatten against his happy trail, swallowing around him as your tongue pushes back against the weight on it. Your hum of pride though seems to be final the thing that pushes him over the edge and he's throwing his head back, teeth clenched as he groans. The orgasm tears through him, his whole body seems to feel it as his mind goes blank, grip tightening in your hair as his muscles clench, serving to press you harshly against his pelvis as his hips subconsciously rut up. Your fingers dig into his thigh, you try to focus on breathing through your nose and relaxing, jaw starting to ache now as you do your best to swallow every single drop of cum he shoots down your throat.

Suddenly, Choso seems to come back to his senses and he lets go, cursing as he watches you with terrified eyes, "S-sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry!" He huffed out, chest rising and falling rapidly again, this time in panic as you sit and cough. Shaking your head, you try to offer a smile, clearing your likely now bruised throat before trying to ease his worry. "It's okay! Can't always control your reactions Cho, don't stress" You giggle, that familiar cheeky smile on your swollen, wet lips. You reach over, tugging the lollipop from his mouth, pursing your lips when you notice a small chunk had been bitten out of it before popping it back in your mouth and grinning, "well, now you know what it's like." Choso was still trying to catch his breath, face red as he looks away, hand coming up to cover his face in embarrassment as he murmurs, "feels good, really, really good."

[ambitiouspotions]

Could you write a oneshot about a very first kiss between y/n and george weasley, please?💌

LONG AWAITED | GEORGE WEASLEY | ONESHOT REQUEST

summary — in which george f. weasley and y/n’s first kiss finally takes place

word count — 1.1k

warnings — none, fluff!

author’s note — seventh-year students, no house mentioned for reader! thank you for your request! i hope you enjoy!

the start of seventh year, after a long, excruciating, and painfully hot and boring summer, you were waiting to board the train. your mother was snapping away at pictures as you tried to rush her, wanting to meet your group of friends you already saw go past. though the next thing to catch your attention through the spotty speckles the camera flash caused was george weasley looking at you longingly as your mother took the photos. his gaze was so taken by you that the first letter he opened during breakfast the next day was from his mother urging him to tell her who you were, though that was complicated. how does one explain to their mother that the girl they were staring at was merely a friend, no, a schoolmate at most?

you only spent time with him in previous years was when walking to hogsmeade, sitting in the courtyard, passing each other on the way to class, watching him during quidditch matches, stealing glances, and none of that was even spending time with him if his twin brother was right next to him as well. and that time he grabbed your hand when asking if you were alright after fred accidentally sent a textbook flying into your face in the library; that was merely just his more sensitive side showing, not because he liked you. well, maybe, he did like you.

you constantly caught him staring, but if you caught him staring, wouldn’t that mean you wanted to look at him, too? no, he must have been looking elsewhere; there was only one logical explanation: you were overthinking the situation like always. if george liked you he would’ve said something because the twins always tended to never shut their mouths.

and you thought george was cute, but who didn’t? that ginger hair was clipped now, after being a shaggy mop the year before, and had definitely somehow gotten just a little bit taller. your mind paused for a moment.

no, the even the shaggy hair was cute.

stop, stop, bring it in.

wait, how had you noticed he had even gotten taller? you didn’t pay that much attention to him.

yes, you did stop denying it.

you noticed that the hem of his school jumpers had been pulling up more than they normally had, revealing a bit of his stomach each time he raised his arms because he never tucked in his white school shirt like he was supposed to.

the staring at the train station wasn’t the only occurrence this year that made you question your sanity. it was the way you felt when your thigh was pressed up against his while at the three broomsticks in the cramped booth with friends. forced proximity or whatever the romance writers called it in their cheesy stories. then, the instance when fred had forgotten his coat on a windy december day when you all planned to eat lunch outdoors rather than in the great hall. you and george walked in silence, but it seemed like you didn’t need words when working out a comfortable area to sit. it seemed like george was going to say something when he finally relaxed, but that was when fred returned. finally, at the end of january, fred struck up a conversation with you as you were waiting outside of defense against the dark arts class. he had mentioned that the loosened tie around your neck was going to make george swoon if he saw you. you could’ve sworn the moment george sauntered up he had a bit of blush on his cheeks when he saw you.

now, in the present moment, mid-march to be more exact, you were staring into his brown eyes, like it was a color you had never laid your eyes on before. he was holding you close under an awning; the rain was pelting, the wind occasionally bringing the droplets onto you until he noticed and turned your bodies in the opposite direction. his quidditch uniform could take the beating from the rain rather than your soaked wool sweater and pleated skirt. the gryffindor quidditch team had taken another successful win in a rainstorm. your hair was a stringy mess, and the tips of your fingers stung the slightest bit when you tried to curl them from the cold flurries of wind. the only reason you stayed behind in the awful weather was because you saw him alone, waiting outside of the pitch waiting for the rain to die down for only a moment. all the other students were running from the pitch to find shelter at the castle. then there was a moment of peace, no one was here to ruin this one moment that assured you that you were not going mad or overthinking or even overreacting to the scenarios you had been involved in with him before. this was a satisfying ending to an insecure mind.

george had an initial hesitation, resting his forehead on yours before initiating the kiss. worried that you might not have wanted the same thing. you could see his inner conflict, it was one you knew all too well. the same conflict you struggled with from your sixth year until now. it was the confusion and second-guessing ruling your life that made the kiss so much sweeter. your eyes instinctively closed as he leaned in closer.

your hands were grasping the wet fabric of his maroon robe and one of his hands rested on your hip while the other was holding your lower back to keep you close to him. your lips moved in unison and with his. you savored every second of the thoughtful and intimate gesture. the soothing splatter of the rain creating an unknowingly beautiful atmosphere for the two to share a kiss.

you pulled back breathless, your eyes still closed. your breath just lingering over his lips as he exhaled. within a second you were meeting his lips again and standing a little straighter, having a bit more courage than the time before and taking in the surrounding factors this time. the first kiss was otherworldly, but being able to remember every detail of the second was somehow even more satisfying. george smelled of the earthy rain, the scent of sweat from his match was long washed away. you could feel where his fingerless gloves ended and his fingers began on your hip.

“dear merlin,” george mumbled, pulling away this time. his eyes were wide with delight. your grip loosened on his clothed chest. your face was flushed and he looked to the rain fading to a soft drizzle. with his arm around you, you made your way back to the castle.