#i was trying to talk to my professor but my voice sounded so off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ningvory · 1 month

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troublemaker — huh yunjin

cw: teacher x student, brat reader, mean yunjin, public sex, fingering, facesitting (y. receiving), pussy eating (both receiving), degration, overstimulation, cum eating, dacryphilia, humiliation kink, mentions of gp chaewon, she takes 1 picture of you and sends it to chae, not rlly proofread..

word count: 1.1k

anon ask? yes!

“so..where’s my homework, y/n?” your professor, yunjin questioned you. her eyes were looking you up and down through her glasses with a small smirk on her face.

it was about 5 minutes after class ended, her last class of the day which happens to be your last class. she always tells you to come see her after class, in which you always do but you never know her reasons to why. you clearly show that you honestly don’t care for what she has to say and her stupid homework assignment.

which is what you’re doing now, standing infront of her desk with your body resting on your right hip, lollipop in your mouth full on knowing that no candy is allowed in her classroom, and your hand is tapping away at your phone and it’s audible that you’re texting someone due to your phone ringer being on. your just ignoring her question and her lingering stare on your body.

“i’m talking to you, y/n.” her voice is more stern, causing you to roll your eyes and turn your phone off. your eyes finally meeting hers for the first time today.

“look, i don’t have your stupid assignment, kay?” you say, tone harsh and sarcastically smiling at her.

“watch your tone with me.” yunjin states, eyes darkening and walking towards you.

“hah. make me.” you say, looking up at her eyes. doubting that she would actually do anything. it’s not like she ever did do something whenever you broke her rules or gave her attitude.

but suddenly your body was pushed down to her desk, before taking your skirt and panties off.

“wh-what are you doing?” you question her trying to raise your body up but to no avail.

“teaching you a lesson. now be a good slut and take it.” she says before kneeling down and immediately sucking on your clit making you let out a surprised moan.

you were trying to find anything to grip onto, any coherent thought completely vanished from your mind and only incoherent words that were cut off by your moans and whines spilled out of your mouth. you hands were tangled in her hair, trying to pull her head impossibly closer to you cunt, not caring if she was suffocating but you doubt she cared from the way she was moaning into your cunt.

“not stopping until your fucked completely dumb and overstimulated, pretty.” yunjin mutters before diving right back into your cunt, nothing but her slurps and your whines filled her classroom.

she hums against your dripping cunt, tongue deep in your hole and her nose nuzzled right against your clit. your moans and whines were like music to her ears, it excites her that she’s got you this submissive for her. she knows that you’ll sound even prettier when she splits your tight cunny with her strap-on.

“you like this you whore don’t you?” she pulls away before she plunges two of her fingers deep into your cunt making you squeal.

it’s not like you can answer her with a complete coherent sentence. but yunjin’s too impatient to wait for you to form a sentence. “got you too dumb to speak already, dummy?” she taunts, landing a harsh smack to you clit, making you jolt and moan.

yunjin leans back into your drooling cunny, placing sloppy kisses onto your clit before she sucks on your puffy clit once more.

you start to grind your hips onto her face until she pins your hips down.

“ah! yunjin—g’na cum!” you moan before cumming all over her face.

she didnt seem to care that your cum was dipping from her chin and on her table because once your vision turned backed to nomal, she’s latching her mouth onto your juicy cunny once more.

“no! n-no more please, i-i’m sorry!!” you cry, tears falling down your face and desperately pushing her head away from your overstimulated cunt.

she moans into your cunt from the way you tug at her hair but ignored your pleads, forcing your legs that were closing in on her head open. continuing to swirl and suck on your bundle of nerves.

you can’t do anything but to sit there and take all that she’s giving you, body too weak and nothing but moans were coming out of your mouth.

she sucks all on your cunt, drinking up all the cum before pulling away with a loud pop!

she finally stands up from her kneeling position. pulling her pencil skirt down and her soaked panties off.

“your so cute when your an obedient slut that’s not being a lil troublemaker.” she mocks before climbing up your body.

“i fucked you so good it’s only right to return the favor, right?” yunjin asks, letting you nod your head, looking up at her with nothing but lust.

she giggles before sitting completely down on your face, all of her weight landing on you. and you to work immediately, arms wrapping about her legs and letting her roll her hips onto you face.

“you’re such a good slut when someone fucks it into you.” yunjin moans, rocking her hips slowly into your mouth.

she began to squeeze your head in between her plush thighs when your nose hits her clit everytime she rolls her hips into you. she begins to grip on your hair, hips rolling quicker from the pleasure, “fuck! just like that, s-so—fuck! so good for me,” she moans.

“what would y-your friend, chaewon think about—ngh!— think about you getting bitched by your professor?” she questions you, making you moan into her dripping cunt, hips jolting up into the air. “fuck, she’d probably cum in her pants just from watching me use your pretty lil’ face. i see the way she looks at you, hiding her boner,” she continued through staggered breath.

“oh fuck!” she moans loudly, her back is arched, squeezing her legs around your head, “r-right there! holy shi—”

she cums all over your face, slowly grinding her dripping cunt down onto your face until she finally gets up and lets you breathe.

yunjin sits down on your tummy, grabbing your phone before forcing you to unlock it. she does a few tapping before she smiles at you, “smile for the picture,” she says as the camera flashes. creating a photo of your face covered in globs of her cum and tear stains.

“let’s see what your pervy little friend chaewon thinks of this.” she says as she types something up on your phone before you hear the sending message.

“we should do this more often, only next time. bring chaewon over so i can fuck the both of you dumb.”

#♡.yunjin #♡.lesserafim #♡.nabi’s asks #wlw smut #le sserafim yunjin #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim smut #yunjin smut #huh yunjin smut #kpop smut

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cherryheartssblog · 1 month

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CAMGIRL PRINCESS

Summary: Y/N has been friends with best friend for years now. Trying to have extra money aside while being away from college she finds a camgirl job. She'd never guess her best friends dad would be her number one fan.

Pairing: camgirl!reader x bestfriendsdad! negan smith (3rd POV)

Warnings: 18+!, smut!, recording sexual activity!, mentions of posting sexual activities!, posting nudity!, oral sex (f rec), rough sex!, male masturbation!, daddy issues!, slight family issues mentioned!, daddy kink!, reader has a tattoo!, OnlyFans! account!, porn mentioned!, fingering!, mentions of different kinks!, mentions of partying!, Negan is a professor!, talks of other people having sex!, drinking!- reader my be tipsy during sex it is really not mentioned!, mentions of drinking!, choking!, cursing!, age gap! (reader age is not mentioned!, Negan is in his late 40s)!, mentions of spanking!, mentions of bruising! , Negan calls reader pet names but also slut- a few times!, and not fully edited.

A/N: boarders is by @saradika-graphics. I been using a lot of them lately, all of them are super cute! I been creating a few of my own practicing myself with my stories I usually try to tag the page if I use them! I hope you love this little one shot I threw together, I love you all!✨❤️

angelprincess6924🥰🥵🍑🪽 posted recently! Check out the feed!👀👀

Negan groaned to himself, having the phone underneath his desk at work; his shift was five minutes past over. He couldn’t bring himself to get up yet. This feed, this damn OnlyFans, he shouldn’t listen to his best friend Simon to get. Recently going through a dry phase, he had been trying to find ways to get off.

Negan had not had sex in a year, perhaps a little bit longer. He did not know why; he was not interested in anyone. He tried the dating thing, even the fling thing, but nothing worked out for the older bachelor. A few months ago, while bar hopping with Simon after teaching a class at the local college, his friend showed him the OnlyFans app.

Through the few months, Negan found a few pages he liked, but this one page, this angel princess, whoever the fuck she was, had him wrapped around her finger. Her face was always hidden in the pictures, maybe some of her plump lips and her hair, but not once had he got to see this woman’s face. He felt stupid being this attracted to a woman over an app, even without seeing her face. Her body was just perfect; each part of her he saw knew could not get more perfect. What he noticed is the tattoo high up on her thigh, that fuckin flower on her curvy thighs.

He wanted to squeeze, leave bruises on, and mark her. God, this was fucked up; she could be a fake person for all he knew. But when the videos hit his pag of her, he knew she had to be real somewhere out there.

Negan’s finger was hesitant, clicking over the link, opening his private web, and taking him to the app. It only took a moment to load before a video of this woman’s covered breast was on the camera. Her hair is right above her perky tits so perfectly. The black laced bra had them pushed together; Negan palmed the front of his jeans, feeling uncomfortable each moment. Her voice was low; she was talking had not done much talking before.

She seemed to be shy, Negan loved that.

Negan raised his volume, listening to the woman's voice. Her body was in full view, and her plump lips were seen before the rest of her face was cut off. The older man's ear perked up; that voice was sounding more familiar. His face furrowed, fubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and bringing the phone closer to him.

“A lot of you been wondering what I look like,” Her voice sounded so sweet; Negan watched her smile as her fingers ran through her hair, “I thought I could give my special fans what they wanted.” Negan knew this video was for the premium users; his stomach twisted, and he was excited. He actually should hate himself right now.

The woman's fingers traced down to her bra straps, stretching them out down her body. Her head was thrown back a little, revealing some of her necks, throwing her head back for her face to be seen.

Negans face dropped along with his stomach, but eyes widened eyes never left the screen. His daughters best friend of all people was on that screen, almost having her bra off and a clear view of her beautiful face.

Negan cursed at himself under his breath, wanting to close out of the app, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted more. Her voice was as clear as now, too; how had he not recognized it before?

His jeans were tightened, and his member was still rock hard. Negan should not feel this way, especially knowing who this woman was. This was his daughter's best friend; she would spend nights with them. He knew he had always found Y/N attractive, but now he did not know how he would resist her, especially when around her.

Negan sat in his office, staring at the empty classroom through the open door. The silence was only broken by the clock ticking on the wall. He had just finished teaching his final class of the day. He could go home, but his eyes were still fixated on the screen. The temptation kept growing; her bra slowly slid her perky tits out for the camera. Y/N gently squeezed them, pushing them up more, continuing to trace her hands along down.

Within a few seconds, Negan had his hardened cock picked through his underwear and jeans. With a few strokes, he gave his cock already had pre cum dripping from the top of his dick that was red. His dick was pulsating with each stroke he gave. His eyes would shift to close sometimes, imaging Y/N; he knew it was wrong. This whole situation is fucked up.

He was digging himself deeper by the minute.

Negan was giving himself a handjob in his office chair, watching Y/N slowly undress herself. The underwear she had on slowly slid down her legs, revealing her plump ass, which Negan wanted to slap. Have her bent over his knee; she would deserve it, too. Negans pace was going faster, and feeling himself spew out as he came, he hoped he did not stain his jeans, feeling himself be released for just a moment.

His hands could only do so much.

Negan felt like a helpless horny teenager, he should just say fuck it and fuck her, but he knew he could not just do that. Negan groaned to himself, looking down at his sticky-covered cum self.

Negan soon felt an itch crawl back, and his eyes moved to the screen, Y/N’s body in full view. This woman was a gem; each part of her was perfect.

And just like that, Negan was hard again.

“Dad! You're home!” Emma exclaimed, giving her dad a quick hug. “Yeah, sweetheart, sorry I'm running late.” Negan played it off with a warm smile, heading to his kitchen, “Had a few late tests to grade.” His daughter was home for the summer from college; such a bright daughter he had.

“S’kay, dad.” Emma smiled warmly at her dad, “Look, Y/N is coming over soon. Is that okay?” Emma asked; she knew her dad loved all her friends, especially Y/N. Emma knew he should not say no, especially the smile she gave him. Negan almost choked up hearing her name, clearing his throat with one of his famous smirks.

“Sure, that's okay, sweetheart.” Negan lied straight through that smile, chuckled nervously, trying to hide it all with his smile, “Just order us a pizza tonight for dinner, yeah?” His daughter quickly agreed, heading back upstairs to call the local pizza place for delivery. Negan groaned out once his daughter went upstairs, heading over to the fridge for a beer, quickly popping the top open. He got a few gulps in before heading to the doorbell.

Negan knew exactly who it was and had no idea how to keep his composure. Keeping the beer bottle attached to his lips, he prayed his daughter would answer the door. When that thought crossed his mind, “Dad, get the door!” His daughter's words were like knives in the ears.

His grip could have broken the beer bottle off tighter once heading to the front door to answer like the gentleman he was. Negan cleared his throat, breathing in, gathering his smile together. “Hi’ ya sweetheart, you doing okay?” Negan answered the door to reveal Y/N; once he saw her, a lump formed in his throat. Her top had her chest in full view; Negan could not stop imagining that black lace bra with her perky tits.

A skirt complimented the shirt that rested on her upper thigh, which gave him access to her legs to gaze upon. Negans eyes wandered over her for a moment, giving her a smirk. “I'm okay, Mr. Smith.” Y/N seemed so innocent when saying those words; Negan could have come from those words, however. Negan rolled his eyes playfully at the woman, inviting her inside. “Y’know to call me Negan now, doll.” Negan assured her, closing the door and welcoming her into his home, “Emma is upstairs; by the way, we should have pizza on the way.”

Y/N had an overnight bag, it seemed, with her, holding tight against her. She'd been friends with Emma for a few years, meeting her in college. Y/N got into an OnlyFans account just for a few bucks on the side while she was in college. She did not realize how much money it could bring her. It ended up getting her a lot of money to quit her job at the coffee shop to do things online.

Sure, she wasn't ashamed of it. She did not care one bit. It gave Y/N a certain confidence.

Y/N was never really close with her parents, especially her father. Once she had a chance to run from home, she took it, especially with a whole ride to college, which meant that when holidays came up, she went home with Emma sometimes.

That's how she met Emma’s bachelor of a dad, Negan Smith. Every woman wanted him, but he seemed uninterested. Y/N always found him attractive. She shouldn't; she may even feel guilty at times. However, how could no one find this man attractive?

“Well, Negan..” Y/N tried to fight back a flirtatious smile, already feeling shivers down her spine from his stare, “Thank you. I'll just-uh- head upstairs.” She knew she stuttered; she hoped Negan would not notice. Y/N trailed upstairs to Emma's room, who was already gossiping about the boys in class.

“Thank Gosh, you’re here; I have so much to tell you!!” Emma trailed off about Josh and Garrett she hooked up with last week, how one dick was more significant than the other. Emma also compared each orgasm she got from them to how many Josh gave her. She almost had a heart attack at the number four times in a row. Y/N choked on the wine drink she had once, Emma told her, sitting on her bed watching Sex and the City together. Y/N knew a guy never gave her that number; barely any man gave her any orgasm at all.

Y/N finished her wine glass and let out a laugh, sitting back with her friend. “I swear Josh, can fuck so much better.” Emma breathed out, the women already on their fourth wine glass.

They talked for a few hours, watching their show and eating pizza. It had been a quiet evening; Y/N knew she was feeling the wine already. Emma soon was dead asleep beside her in the bed, with a wine glass still full on the table beside them. Y/N noticed her empty glass, taking her sleeping friend's drink, making it her own, and heading to the bathroom to change into her PJs. She scrolled through her phone, through her OnlyFans messages and gifts.

Putting on a slick pair of boxer shorts and an 80s rock band t-shirt to match the shorts, Y/N still had her wine glass in her hand, heading downstairs to clean up their dishes. Emma was usually always the first to sleep; wine was like cough syrup to her and made her sleep like a baby. Y/N knew wine may been a wrong choice, but maybe she could have some alone time with Negan.

She knew she shouldn’t want that. Y/N knew she secretly wanted him to find her profile, but why would Negan have an OnlyFans anyway?

Y/N trailed down the stairs, seeing Negan still awake, watching TV in the living room. His legs spread open, and a beer rested on his thigh. God, she knew she could hop on his lap right now and ride him like there’s no tomorrow. She was a horrible person thinking this way, especially about her best friend's dad. She tried not to stare long at Negan heading to the kitchen, putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

“Sweetheart, let me help you.” Y/N jumped at the sound of Negan’s voice. She gasped, standing up from bending down. She tried to stand straight with a warm smile. The older male was quick by her side, inches from her, where his skin could brush against hers—taking the dishes from her, helping her load them up. Negan glanced over her half-full glass of wine; she still seemed to be drinking.

“Emma’s already out, huh?” Negan snickered, shaking his head, “She always gets put to sleep drinking; guess got lucky with that.” Y/N laughed with Negan, sipping her glass and handing him the last dish to put into the washer. “Yeah, she’s been out for a bit,” Y/N answered. She felt like the room was spinning, not from the wine but from Negan. He was making her weak to her knees, just standing in front of her.

It should be a crime to look so good as he did, though. Negan had his comfy clothes ready for bed, plaid pj pants with his tee shirt, and toned arms up for plain view. Y/N was in love with his tattoos, too, how she wanted to run her hands up all over them. She knew she’d been eyeing him for a bit. She probably looked like she was eating him alive.

Y/N cleared her throat, shifting her eyes quickly away from gazing over him. Negan's lips pierced, and trying to hide his smirk, he noticed her wandering eyes. Y/N wine glass was quick in her hand, moving away from Negan’s presence. “I-Thank you, Negan,” Y/N stuttered. She knew she was flushed. She would blame it on the wine, though, “I’ll head back upstairs .” It felt so awkward; the tension felt so high.

Y/N tried to get herself to move upstairs, but she was glued to the floor. Her eyes did not move from Negan’s, whose lips curled up into a smirk. He leaned against the kitchen counter behind him, crossing his arms; Y/N felt like she was starting to sweat. Once she finally got her feet to move, Negan’s words again stopped her.

“So, uh, have you found anything else since the coffee shop?” Negan questioned, trying to see what she would say or even come up with. Y/N’s face widened at his question. She knew she had to come up with a lie. How the hell would she tell this man she had an OnlyFans account? “Uh yeah, I have been doing little things here and there, online stuff, nothing too big.” Y/N laughed nervously, giving him a quick smile, shifting in place. Her stomach was twisted with nerves; the urge to jump on Negan right now was getting more complicated.

Especially the way he was looking at her, the way his tongue went over his lips slowly. God, his mouth looked terrific. God, Y/N knew she was down for it. And the wine was certainly not helping the situation either. “Online stuff, huh?” Negan didn’t seem like he was asking or even talking directly to her. He seemed to be saying it to himself, laughing out loud momentarily. Y/N was confused for a moment; her eyes soon widened.

Negan knew… he must have knew.

Y/N's breathing increased, watching Negan walk over to her. Y/N tried not to show any emotions, but she knew her face was widened. She knew her hands had to be shaking. Her body was shifting back and forth. Her nerves were making her even feel nauseous, with the butterflies growing in her stomach.

“I know you have an OnlyFans, Y/N.” His words could have made her faint; she knew her face was white as a ghost. She couldn’t form words; her throat tightened. “I know I’m a huge dick, too, for still wanting to look once I figured out it was you.” Y/N cleared her throat. Her eyes scanned his eyes for a moment. “You paid for the membership to see?” Y/N quietly wondered, her nails digging into her skin.

“Had to see that one where you show your pretty face for the first time today.” Negan watched her blush quickly for the compliment, her eyes shifting down. He was now inches from her, standing in the kitchen entrance. His fingers wrapped around her chin, having her look up at him. “You? Negan Smith? You should post, too.” Y/N told him, which made him laugh, still having her chin in his grip.

Negan’s lips grew closer to hers; her breath slowly rose, her eyes falling to his lips, falling into his touch once his lips met hers for only a moment. Their lips moved in sync before he gently pulled away, taking in the moment.

“Follow me if ya’ want to, sweetheart.” Negan purred, patting her cheek gently and giving a smug smile, walking past her upstairs. Y/N was like a lost puppy following behind him, trailing up the stairs. Emma’s door was closed; she knew wine would knock her out all night.

Nothing would wake her up.

Nerves still kicked in, though, and butterflies formed in her stomach. Was she about to enter Negan’s bedroom with Emma across the hall?

Hell yeah she was.

Y/N watched Negan hold open his door for her, letting her walk in first, quietly shutting the door behind them. “Let me show you something, doll.” Negan went to his closet, digging into a box on the shelves.

His room was very plain but relatively clean. His bed was made with just blue sheets and two pillows. There was hardly any decor out, just a few family pictures. Negan turned around and pulled out an old camcorder, handing it to her to examine. “What’s this for?” Y/N asked, her lips curled up into a smirk, getting the camera to turn on. “You like to record yourself, correct sweetheart?” Negan raised a question, taking back the camera from her and making sure a new tape was in. The younger woman’s face furrowed with confusion, but nodding to answer his question.

Negan's request took Y/N off guard. She felt her face flush with heat, and her mind went blank. She wanted to say something, anything to break the tension in the air, but Negan's piercing gaze held her still. "Would you let me record you, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and serious. Y/N knew she trusted Negan. He had always been fair and respectful towards her. She looked up at him, and his eyes held a hint of darkness she hadn't seen before. Despite that, she still felt safe with him.

“Do you trust me, doll?”

“Yes, I do.” Y/N did not hesitate with her answer. She saw the light on the recorder blink red. She knew she was being recorded now; Y/N always felt confident through the camera now that Negan was watching her.

As she stayed in her place, she noticed his gaze fixed on her. It was unlike any other time, for he seemed to observe her features. She scanned down her body to her bare legs, keeping the camera on her. “Don't go camera shy on me now, sweetheart.” Negan teased, his eyes eating her up, “Strip for me.” She gulped; she felt so nervous. Negan noticed her actions. He wanted her to be confident. She deserved to be; there was nothing wrong with this woman before him.

Her curves was perfect.

Her tits was perfect.

Her ass was perfect.

Everything about her was perfect.

“Let me tell you something, sweetheart,” Negan turned the camera off, his face softened, “How confident you are in those videos you make is how you needs to be now. There's nothing wrong with you, Y/N.” Her face reddened with a playful eyeroll. Negan started to record again, drawing out a long breath. “You're just making me nervous; I've never done anything like this before.” Y/N’s voice seemed shaky, letting out a laugh, keeping a smile on her face. Her hands rested on the top of her tee, her eyes meeting Negan.

"Let me see those perfect perky tits, baby." Negan's words sent chills down her spine. Y/N bit her lip, slowly pulling the top over her head. She let the shirt hit the floor beside her; Negan loved the sight before him. He was finally getting to see her body in a natural person. Negan knew they had to be quiet; the guilt he once had was slowly turning more into lust. "You want the shorts gone too?" Y/N asked, her head tilted in curiosity. She was sure she knew the answer to what Negan wanted; all he did was nod and gesture for her to remove them.

Y/N stepped slowly out of her boxer shorts, revealing no underwear underneath them. Negan groaned, and the grip he had around the camera tightened. He used his free hand to rub the scruff growing on his face; she looked amazing. Y/N still felt a little uncomfortable now being full-ass naked in front of Negan, who was recording her, and he was fully clothed, though. Negan laid the camera on the dresser, still facing them, his feet dragging the ground, growing closer to her. Negan was now in the camera view, cupping her cheeks and bringing her into a deepened kiss.

"Can I record us, doll? Are you still comfortable?" Negan wanted to be reassured. She knew she had a few drinks tonight as well. He always found Y/N attractive, wanted her, and craved her. From the tension building up over the couple of years of knowing each other, it seemed she wanted him. "I do, Negan-just-." She stuttered for a moment; her cheeks were stained red. His forehead rested against hers, his eyes closed soon, waiting for her to answer. "Tell me, baby, what do you want?" He asked, groaning and pushing up against her. Y/N had him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss, and both stumbling over to the bed behind them. His hands were all over her.

"A dirty lil' slut ain't ya, doll." Negan chuckled; it was deep and dark, maybe almost sinister. Y/N smirked into his kiss, pulling his tee off. Her hands started down his pants and up his chest, not missing any part of him. She wanted to feel everything, run her hands all over him and through his curls. She whimpered, feeling his hands trail up her bare thigh, her legs staying wide open, wanting to feel his touch. "I'll be anything you want me to be, Negan." Y/N entirely gave in to him; Negan loved her submissiveness.

"Really?" Negan drawled out, his hands cupping her throat. His free hand cupped her pussy, that almost made her choke up. "You'll be daddy's little slut?" Y/N cried out; Negan calling himself made her even wetter than she was. She barely could talk; she felt so helpless, but she always stayed confident in her videos. This man was making her a hot puddle of a mess.

"Yes, Daddy, please just touch me." She begged; Negan shushed her, his fingers resting on her lip that was just cupping her pussy. "Be quiet, doll." Negan commanded gently, his finger drug down her lips, "Do you feel how wet you are on your lips?" Y/N scoffed slightly; he was not wrong, however, feeling his wet fingers cup her face again to bring her into a rough kiss.

Negan's fingers teased her bare clit; she had her hands going down to his pants to pull them down along with his underwear. His cock was hard; Y/N looked down, even seeing the tip slightly red, already leaking pre-cum. His lips kept attached to her soft lips; he could taste her wine mixed with her lip gloss. “I want to taste you," He moaned softly against her lips, "I'm craving the taste of you so much right now, baby." His thumb rubbed against her lip softly, pulling it down, keeping his eyes deep into her eyes. Y/N couldn't help but moan out just at the words of what he wanted to do with her.

"Please..." She started to beg the man, "Please, Daddy, I want you too." Negan loved when she would beg even more when she called him daddy. His touch from his hands made her squirm. Negan kneeled in front of her, her legs wrapped around his neck. She wanted to push him closer to her with her legs, but his hands around her thighs kept her from moving. He slowly placed light kisses from her left knee up to her clit.

Her head rested on the pillow behind her; her eyes moved to the camera still blocking red across the room. Her eyes rolled back into her head, almost seeing stars. Y/N's hands ran through his hair as his tongue slightly licked her folds. Her moans were choking out, covering her mouth. “We don't wanna get caught, doll.” Negan chuckled, licking straight up, making her gasp, “Be quiet, or I'll stop,”

She felt his nails digging into her thighs, but she did not care. Y/N knew he was trying to keep her still, but she could not help but squirm underneath his tongue.

“Please, don't.”

"You taste so good, Y/N." He complimented her, feasting on her more. He was more aggressive this time, keeping the tip of his tongue flicking on her clit. She dug at his hair, "Please don't stop." Y/N moaned quietly in pleasure. Y/N covered her mouth, moaning against her hand. She knew she was already close to Negan's tongue.

“Oh, sweetheart, you're a mess.” He shook his head, playing with her clit, placing more kisses on her thighs, “I’m enjoying this just as much as you.” Y/N groaned out, feeling his lips suck on her clit, his tongue still against her clit. She could feel that pit in her stomach grows; every time he made her cum, it just got better and better.

“I’m so close, Daddy, please- Daddy.” She could barely get words out, and her fingers loosened in his hairlocks. That pit in her stomach burst. Y/N shook beneath Negan’s mouth, feeling herself cum. He licked her all up, making sure he tasted every bit of her; Negan knew he could do this all night to her. He rose to place his lips on hers; she could taste herself against him.

“Why did you wanna record, huh?” Y/N giggled, her arms around his neck. Negan chuckled, running his hands through his hair, sweat forming on his head. “You gonna post this on some porn site?” Negan almost could have cried in laughter, shaking his head at her comment and giving her neck small kisses.

“This is for me, doll. And only me.” Negan seemed firm, maybe even a little tent of jealousy in his voice. “You're mine.” Y/N's lips pierced; she tried to fight back a smile. She loved hearing. His sweet lips moved against hers. “Let me help you out,” She cupped his hardened member, and Negan groaned when she slightly squeezed it. “Next time, sweetheart, I want you now.” He growled as she pulled his boxers down. Negan placed kisses on her breasts.

His uncovered member teased the tip of her clit right above where she wanted him most, his hand wrapped around he’d throat, going into her.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

She moaned, feeling her walls stretch, her nails digging into his back. Negan thrust into her, keeping his pace slower; she kept her moans soft in his ear. She could hear by his breathing he was enjoying her, enjoying this. He lifted her legs more as his dick reached more inside of her, both moaning out.

“I wanna be able to record your loud moans, doll,” Negan admitted, her nails dug deep into his back, his free hand covering her mouth from the moans. “I know some of your little cute whimpers have been picked up, though you can't keep quiet.” Y/N shook her head; his thrust picked up. She knew her nails would leave marks.

“Are you gonna come around, daddy cock?” Negan asked her, his hand slowly moving from her mouth. She bit her lip, keeping her whimpers soft. “Yes, Daddy,” Y/N muttered; her eyes rolled closed, and her forehead laid against his.

“Aw, is it too much for you to handle baby girl? Can’t take daddy’s dick?” He teased Y/N as he thrust deeper into her. “You goin’ cock dumb on me?”

Y/N shallowly moaned and whimpered out.“Fuck-No, I can handle it, daddy. Fuck- you-uh-make me feel so fucking good!” Y/N knew she was getting close. No one had ever made her feel this way. She barely could speak; she bet she did sound dumb. Negan could feel her clenching around his cock, knowing she was close.

“Go on, baby, cum all over daddy’s dick,” Negan commanded, feeling her let her body go; Y/N had her second orgasm washing over her body, seeing more stars behind her eyes. She felt her body go limp, shaking as she rode out her high.

Negan groaned as he came to a climax as well; she felt the hot cum coating her walls. Both were out of breath, their sweaty bodies stuck together shortly. “You okay, doll?” Negan fingers ran through her hair, slowly pulling out of her. He fell to the empty spot beside her, and Y/N breathed out a laugh.

“Im ‘kay, I just uh- probably need to return to Emma's room.” Y/N hoped they were not too loud, too into the moment. Negan had himself covered up with the bed sheets, still naked underneath. He laid back, his hands resting on his head, giving her a lazy smirk.

“Wish you could stay here, doll, but I know you're right.”

Y/N only stayed for more minutes in Negan's room to clean herself up; she knew she could blame her flushed face on the wine if Emma were somehow awake. They had not heard anything, but that could be good or bad. Negan and her agreed to keep this all a secret; even Negan wanted to do it repeatedly.

Y/N's hands were shaky opening Emma's door back up, seeing her still asleep in bed. Her mouth was slightly open as the TV was still quiet playing in the room. She breathed out a little sigh of relief, taking her steps quietly to lay back down her friend like she just did not fuck her dad in the room over.

With a camcorder on... fuck was she was a bad friend?

Y/N had a guilty conscience, but the fact she was she liked Negan.

Man, she was fucked.

The following day, Y/N's head was quite heavy. Her eyes adjusted to the lit room, and she groaned out, rising out of the bed and looking beside her, seeing Emma was not there anymore. She reached for her phone, going through several social media apps to wake her up. She heard noises from Emma's bathroom, and soon the shower turned on, clearing the mystery of where her friend was.

Y/N's mind, though, trailed off back to last night's events with Negan; she still felt like she could feel cum dripping out into her boxer shorts. She groaned out softly, hating how the craving came back for him checking her emails.

An OnlyFans notification popped up on her phone that caught her attention. The name almost made her heart stop.

daddysmith44😘😉🍆 has sent you a private message.👀👀

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kamiversee · 2 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 11 || The Thorn and The Petal

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst, & fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——"WELL, CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT he's my professor, I thought it'd be pretty obvious that he's one of the hardest on the list." Gojo's voice flew through your ear.

You had him on the phone as you lay on your stomach across your bed. Talking to him is something you want to limit as much as possible but you can't try anyone on the list completely blindsided so, sadly, you still need him.

"Then there's Nanami. As far as I know, he's not interested in sleeping with just anyone-- you'll most likely have to get to know him a bit." Gojo explains. You're taking little notes of this in a journal of yours since it's a lot of information to keep up with. "And uh, you said you met Choso already...?" The man over the phone asks.

"Mhm, ran into him in the hallway. He doesn't seem like he'll be hard to win over." You say casually.

Gojo pauses for a second. Then he sighs, "Yeah, the worst-case scenario with him is that he'll catch feelings for you."

A brow rose in suspicion, "What makes you think he'll catch feelings for me?"

"He's not like the other guys on the list. Aside from..." Gojo takes a second to think, "I guess, Nanami, I'm not sure Choso is used to or even understands the concept of a hookup."

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning, he'll grow attached."

"Okay well," You hesitate. "Let's just hope he doesn't."

"Right." Gojo chuckles a little, nearly sounding relieved.

You write some more stuff into the journal, trying to devise a plan for each man. "Okay and, can you just tell me the last two people on the list?"

"Oh. Well, there's Sukuna, who happens to be Choso's older... half-brother? I really don't know how their family works but, yeah." He answers, sounding a little confused on the matter himself.

You're quiet for a long moment, white noise heard through the phone. It takes you a few minutes to really process what that idiot just told you. First a professor and now you're learning that you have to fuck two people who are related...

"Gojo..." You let out a stressed sigh. "Y'know what, never mind."

"Nono, what is it?" He urges, interested in hearing how you feel about it.

He knows it's probably not the most easy thing to accept but, that doesn't make him care any less about how you feel.

Your eyebrows are tensed, "Half-brother?"

"Okay I know how it sounds but, I'm pretty sure they hate each other," Gojo tells you as if it's supposed to make things sound good.

"Oh my god," You reply, voice sarcastic, "That makes it so much better."

"Listen-"

"No Gojo, I really think I'm done listening. Who's the last person?" You divert.

The sound of him taking a deep breath can be heard, "Fuck, you're not gonna like this one either..."

"What is it?"

"It's Naoya... Who happens to be..." Gojo swallows hard, "Well, he's..."

"He's what?!" You huff, "Spit it the fuck out Gojo."

"I'm like fifty percent sure he's Mr. Fushiguro's cousin or something."

You scoff in pure disbelief. "Why am I not fucking surprised?"

"I'm sor-"

"Apologize to me one more time and I promise you, this will be our last conversation ever." You cut off.

You then drop the phone in your hand onto the bed, putting the man on speakerphone and moving your fingertips to massage your temples. A migraine is on the rise within your head and you don't know how much longer you can put up with this shit.

You swear the only good thing about this is the fact that you're getting paid.

Suddenly, as you think harder about the situation you're in, tears well up in your eyes. This shit sucks. It fucking sucks. You don't wanna do this. What if you get caught doing something with Toji? Or, what if one guy finds out about the other and then you experience a spiderweb effect of everyone figuring your little scheme out?

How can you get out of this situation? Why did it have to be you of all people? Why won't Gojo just find someone, anyone else to do this bullshit for you? Yeah, you need the money-- which is another thing for you to cry about because you can't get a proper job to save your life, but you still hate everything about this.

Before you even realize it, you're sniffling and wet spots are forming against the bed below you.

Gojo's still on the line, wondering if he's hearing things correctly. You hear him call out your name softly, almost as if he genuinely cares about you. The sound of his gentle tone alone makes your crying get a little worse.

"F-Fuck off," You choke out.

You then move a hand to hang up on him because you don't want him to hear you crying like this but he starts talking and you start listening before you press that bright red button.

"Wait, shit, listen. I know I'm an asshole, I know this whole thing is fucked up, I know I'm treating you terribly right now but..." Gojo trails off and you think you hear a thud on the other side of the phone. Did he just hit something? "Fuck, I know you don't want to hear this but I am sorry, honestly."

Your voice is a small whisper as you wipe your face off, "Screw you and your sorry."

"I... I-I'll triple it." Gojo suddenly offers.

You swallow and sniffle a bit, "Triple what?"

"The original price. I'm changing it to six thousand." He says.

You can tell he's serious about it too because as you stare at your phone in shock, you see another deposit made to your account to make up for the interactions you had with him and Geto.

"P-Per person??" You ask to clarify.

"Yes, it's... it's the least I can do, right?" Gojo sighs. Even though you want to ignore it, you can hear how disappointed in himself he sounds.

For another long moment, you're quiet. The least he can do? Bullshit. He's the one who put you in this damn situation in the first place.

"...No..." You end up mumbling out.

He scoffs lightly, "No?"

"The least you could do is delete the video and let me go." Your voice is as delicate as ever, gently hitting the man's ears in a way that makes his heart throb.

Gojo grits his teeth and although you can't see it, his head tips back against his bedframe as he stares up at his ceiling. His hands raise to his face and his words are a little muffled, filled with distraught, "...I can't do that, sweetheart. I can't." He breathes.

The man sounds almost pained at the thought of letting you go.

You scowl at the phone, eyes watering all over again, "S-Stop it with the damn nickname, I hate it-, I hate you."

Gojo has a broken little smile on his face and the voice you hear over the phone is full of hurt, "I know but-," He clears his throat a little and you hear him inhale deeply, "Fuck... you don't really mean that do you?" He whispers.

You don't know why you don't respond instantly like you were before. It's like the sound of his voice was getting to you. Why does he sound hurt too? This isn't affecting him the way it is you so, what the hell is his problem?

"...I don't know," You mumble, "I don't even fucking know anymore."

It goes quiet after that.

You couldn't hear much from your phone but the softest sounds of him moving. It was gentle movements though, not like he was doing anything inappropriate but almost like...

You don't want to think about it or even take a guess but it genuinely sounded like the man could've been crying over the phone.

As soon as you think about it, you scoff at yourself and shake your head. Gojo Satoru, crying because you said you hate him? Yeah right.

"I should uh," You sniffle a bit, "I should go-"

"I'll make it up to you." He suddenly sighs. "All of it. I swear, I'll make it all up to you, okay?"

Again, his words and the tone of his voice are yanking at your overworked heartstrings. "...Promise?" You whisper, having no idea why you're giving him this chance in the first place.

Gojo's smiling at his phone, hearing the change in your voice and feeling relieved that you're actually listening to him, "I promise."

With one last quiet okay slipping from your lips, the phone call ends there.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Within minutes after that ridiculously angsty phone call, you receive a text from someone that instantly has you blinking away your tears.

It's Choso.

It had been maybe a little over an hour and a half since you ran into him in the hallway but, here he was texting you already. It was a simple text that read; 'hey ik we just met and all but, can I call you?'. You had to blink a few times to register what you were reading.

After you mentally prepare for it, you go ahead and respond with a simple yeah in response. Seconds later, the male is calling-, no, FaceTiming you.

You think your heart sinks into your fucking toes. Your eyes are slightly reddened and puffy from the crying you just did and you do not want him to see you right now.

Regardless, you answered the call and have the camera directed toward the ceiling. Choso's stupidly handsome face pops up on your screen and you're smiling already.

"Hey uh, ok I know this is kinda awkward but my brother wouldn't answer and I wanted to show this to someone," He tells you, his voice like a calming balm to your ears.

"You could've just sent me a picture y'know..." You say, your tone noticeably light due to the tears you just shed.

Choso pauses for a second, staring at his phone. "Okay, scratch that for a second, are you okay?"

"Uhm, yeah? Why?"

"You sound like you were crying." He points out.

How the actual fuck can he tell?

You chuckle at him, "I wasn't."

"Then you sound upset. Did something happen?"

"Nothing I feel like talking about right now but, thanks for asking. What did you wanna show me?"

"I won't show you unless you tell me something." Choso says in full seriousness, "And plus, you're not even showing your face which further believes me to think you were crying."

Again, you laugh, "I uh, I just look a mess right now. And the only thing I'll tell you is... I dunno, I had an argument with my..." What the hell do you even refer to Gojo as at this point?

"Your boyfriend?" He suddenly fills in for you.

"No!" You huff, giggling at his assumption, "I don't even have a boyfriend."

You see him smiling a little, "Girlfriend, then?"

"No, Choso. I'm single."

"Ohhh." He hums, sounding genuinely surprised. "My bad, did you fight with a friend?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess you could call him that." You say, shrugging a little.

"Damn. It must've been a big argument."

"What makes you say that?"

His shoulders raised, "You don't even wanna call him your friend."

You scoff a little, "He's just... an asshole."

"One that made you cry?" Choso asks, arching a brow in suspicion.

"No," You roll your eyes, "I didn't cry, Choso."

"Show me your face then."

"I don't want to."

He scoffs, "That's how I know you were crying."

You hate the way the man is reading right through you. "I wasn't." You argue.

"Lying to me when the truth is obvious is crazy," Choso says dramatically.

"I'm not lying."

You see him shake his head in disappointment, "Damn, I might need to remember this as a red flag of yours; pathological liar." He tells you with his voice both serious and playful at the same time.

"You really don't believe me, huh?"

"Not until I see your face, no."

"Fine," You lift your phone slightly, only showing your face from the nose up.

Choso stares for a minute before suddenly smiling fully and holy shit is the sight sexy. The phone is quiet as he stares at you, almost dazed like how he was earlier. You feel a little awkward and have the urge to put the phone down but when he blurts something out, you end up freezing.

Choso tilts his head and his gaze is scrutinizing, "Your eyes are so fuckin' pretty, I'm gonna lose my mind." He compliments abruptly.

Your heart definitely stopped for a minute, maybe three. The way you drop your phone and sink your head into your blanket like a blushing and giggling teenager is comical at this point. The man's words made you smile so hard that your cheeks were starting to hurt.

"Don't... Don't say shit like that so suddenly," You say, chuckling through your words.

He shrugs and sits back into whatever chair he's in, "But it's true. Fuck, show me your full face this time."

"G-Gimme a second," You sigh.

"Why?"

Does he not realize how attractive he is right now? You can't even conversate normally.

"Cause' I... I need a minute." You mumble to him.

The corner of his lips is up in a smirk and damn the way he looks at the phone. "Did I just make you nervous?" He asks, his voice suddenly a little lower.

You scoff, "No."

"Liarrr," He taunts.

"I'm not lying."

He clicks his tongue, his eyes low on the phone. "Then show me your face, princess."

Jesus, the nickname caught you off-guard. You can't do this. Why is Choso so... so... hot? Sexy? Attractive? You don't even know what word to use for the man at this point.

"Fuck. Fine." You end up sighing.

Then, you slowly move to lift your phone and prop it up with a nearby pillow. Since you're laying on your stomach and you're wearing a loose tank top, your chest is pressed against the bed below and Choso has a full view of that and everything else from your neck up.

He blinks a few times and you pray that he doesn't say anything that'll fluster you again.

To your surprise, it seems as though you'd flustered the man without saying anything. Choso's head turns to the side as he looks away from his phone and you get a lovely view of his jawline. Damn, he's got quite the side profile.

You watch him inhale deeply and then peek over to his phone from the corner of his eye as if that'll change the sight on his device. You simply blink innocently at him as if you're unaware of the way you look right now.

"You alright over there?" You ask in an almost sultry tone.

Choso clears his throat and nods, turning to face his camera again, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He stares intently before saying, "You're somethin' else, y'know that?"

A chuckle leaves you as you tilt your head, "Am I?"

"Yeah. But uh, now that I can see you..." His eyes dart past his phone and you watch as he looks back and forth between the device and whatever is in front of him.

Your eyebrow raises in curiosity as you watch him, "What is it?" You ask.

"Oh, it's what I wanted to show you." He says and you watch him stand up and look down at his phone one last time. "Okay, it's not perfect but I hope you like it."

For a second you're still confused but when Choso flips the camera around, sheer surprise takes over your expression and your jaw literally drops. It was by far one of the most beautiful things you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"Don't freak out, I hope this isn't weird," Choso says quickly as he backs up a little and gives you a full view.

The man had painted you.

It was unique too. Not just like a normal portrait but like how you appeared in his eyes which just so happened to be so very beautiful. His art in general includes darker colors and you can see other paintings behind his newest one, all fitting in with his theme.

"Y-You painted me?" You say dumbfoundedly, "I thought you majored in graphic design."

He laughs, "I do but that's just for school. I paint in my free time."

"Choso you just saw my face for the first time a few hours ago, how the hell did you..."

"I honestly can't explain that," He says with a shrug, "When I got home I uh, couldn't get your face out of my head, and well, if I didn't draw or paint you I think I was gonna go crazy."

You study the art a little more. It's you but at a side profile, your gaze is downwards and you think for a second before you realize it's a painting of you as you were looking at his other art on his phone earlier. Choso painted an image of you from his perspective and boy was it beautiful.

There was predominantly black paint and he has this smudgy yet clean art style you don't think you've ever seen before.

"Choso that's beautiful, oh my god," You gasp, eyes wide and a smile prominent on your face.

You're so distracted by the canvas you're being shown that you miss as the man screenshots the reaction you have.

"You want it?" He offers simply.

You don't even know what to say, "Uhm, I dunno, i-it's your art."

"Yeah, but it's you."

"Kinda narcissistic for me to have a portrait of myself, don't you think?"

"Kinda stalkerish for me to have a portrait of a girl I just met, don't you think?" He asks in return, mocking you.

You giggle, "You're the one who decided to paint me."

"True. Alright then lemme ask this," He turns the phone back around to himself and you watch him sit back down, "Can I keep it?"

You blink. "It's your art."

"It's your face." The man fires back.

"I-," You sigh, "Yeah Choso, you can keep it."

He smiles, "Thanks."

"No, thank you. I didn't think I could look that good." You sigh, feeling all bubbly and light inside.

Choso tilts his head as he looks at his phone, "Have you seen yourself?"

"Don't give me that." You roll your eyes playfully, "Have you seen your art? You could make a pile of shit look good."

"I can't make anything look good, I can only work with the beauty that's already there."

Your voice gets caught in your throat for a second. When you swallow down the compliment he's given you, you can't stop yourself from smiling. "Y'know they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder right?"

"I'm aware. And in this case, I'm the beholder and you're someone I find beautiful." He responds.

Damn the way he's quick with all these comebacks. "I think your gaze is filtered." You say with a shrug.

You see him raise a brow, "By what?"

"I dunno, delusion."

Choso laughs wholeheartedly at you. "My gaze is delusional because I think you're beautiful? Wow."

For a long moment, you'd forgotten about everything again. You forgot about your rules, the list, the situation you're in-- all of it. For once, it felt peaceful, blissful even.

"I'm joking," You tell him, watching as he sighs in relief. "But on a serious note, thank you for this."

"For what? The painting?" Choso asks.

"Yeah, that and uh, calling me. You have some interesting timing."

"Oh yeah, no problem. I'm glad I made you feel better."

The way you and him have these little conversations so seamlessly is something you never want to end. He's so sweet and refreshing to talk to that you wish you could forget about the list and just run away with the man.

"Who says I was feeling bad...?" You reply to him.

Choso rolls his eyes, clearly seeing through you, "I don't like liars y'know..."

You pout, "Whatever."

"And I'm being for real, I'm glad I made you feel better. I uh, hope you and your friend fix things."

You scoff, "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what he did."

"No, I would." Choso protests. He doesn't know the details but he's being genuine, "If whatever you guys were arguing about was enough to make you cry then, clearly you care about him."

Your head shakes slowly, "You don't have enough context on the situation to come to that conclusion."

"You didn't deny it-"

"I don't care about him." You cut off. "Trust me when I say, I hate him."

Choso chuckles at you. He didn't take your words seriously one bit. "Ehh, sounds like an enemies-to-lovers situation..." He comments with an innocent little shrug.

"Oh hell no, this isn't that." You assure the man.

He gives you a skeptical look, "You sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Damn." Choso blinks, "He really fucked up didn't he?"

"You have no idea."

"I wanna ask more buuut I don't wanna be nosy soo, m'kay." Choso results in saying. "Even so, I still hope you and him get through whatever it is you're going through."

You sigh, "I don't but, thanks Choso."

"No problem, princess." He says sweetly.

Fuck, he keeps catching you off-guard with that. It makes your brain get to stuttering and your face gets hot, "Don't call me that..."

"Why? It's fitting."

"No, it's not." You argue.

"Alright," He glances away to think before saying, "How about angel?"

You sigh, "Stop."

"Pretty girl?" He continues.

"Choso." You call.

He doesn't listen, "Doll? Baby?"

"You're still going..."

He pauses for a minute to think before uttering, "Sweetheart?"

Fuck that made you think of Gojo. You think your body freezes for a second at the thought of the man alone.

"Love?" Choso adds on, having no idea of your little history with these damn pet names.

"You can stop now," You say sternly. "Seriously."

"Alright, alright, my bad. I'll stick to the first one." He hums, "Unless you seriously don't like it...?"

The way he holds nothing but consistent care for your feelings toward things is truly endearing, "Nah, the first one's fine."

Choso nods, "Alright then princess, I'll talk to you later."

You're smiling all over again, "Bye Choso."

The two of you give a little wave to each other before the phone call comes to an end.

Oh, you definitely feel like a teenager all over again. The way he painted you the same day he met you, the way he speaks so charmingly to you, the way he... fuck it's everything about him

Scew Gojo and his shitty little promise of making things up to you, based on the one phone call you had with Choso-- there's nothing that white-haired bastard can do to fix the paining fact that your real chances with Choso are slim to none because you'd never be able to tell him about the list.

And god forbid the man finds out about it.

Butterflies are still stirring in your stomach, the feeling being the after-effect of talking to Choso. You don't want to like him but it's already difficult. You actually shouldn't and really can't like him.

You've gotta distance yourself going forward. You have to.

The question now is, will you be able to?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 9 months

Text

FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.

pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader

summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…

warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.

“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.

You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.”

Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.

Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up.

“You asked me to stay behind, sir?”

“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.”

Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.

“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”

“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months.

“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor.

That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself.

Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending.

In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning.

Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—

Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times.

“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”

Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages.

Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame.

“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice.

“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“

“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.”

His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -

“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk.

Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor.

You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it.

This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first.

“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.

“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”

“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything.

Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week.

“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat.

You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew.

Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?”

“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”

“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”

This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear.

With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely.

You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”

Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?

“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.”

The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—

Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch.

“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed.

His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder.

Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further.

Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone.

Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat.

His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”

You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.

“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close.

“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now.

You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.”

“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”

“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision.

A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back.

“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat.

You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you.

He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest.

His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”

“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp.

“You’ll be a good girl for me?”

“The best.”

A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure.

Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body.

His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”

Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”

You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you.

“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”

You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further.

“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.

“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees.

“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”

Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching.

You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle.

“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.

“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats.

“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt.

“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”

Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”

Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold.

“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly.

“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.”

You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face.

“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing.

“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“

Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex.

He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt.

You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”

He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt.

You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before.

Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.

Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”

You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.

“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!” then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.

“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you.

“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”

“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter.

“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack.

“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”

The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride.

“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”

Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.

His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in.

Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further.

“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure.

“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close.

The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch.

“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.

You merely mewled back at him in response.

“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity.

Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.

For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors.

He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.

Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.”

You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.

Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.”

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #batman begins #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut

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xqueen-of-disasterx · 2 months

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Hey there could I request G!P professor!nat x shy!quiet!reader where reader goes to the school dance alone and feels like a loser for not having the balls to talk or join in with other people but then nat decides to keep her company because she can’t stand seeing her favorite student all pathetic just standing there like a lost puppy and then they sneak off to do “other” stuff

Favourite

Paring: fem!reader x prof!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, amab!Nat, top!Nat, bottom!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, soft sex, p in v, brief oral, soft!Nat, virgin!reader, gentlewoman!Nat

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

A/N: I’m not dead yet and more active noe

I had always thought in college things would change for girls like me, the quiet ones, with a few friends, who you would only talk to to copy their homework. However it stayed that way or at least for me. I had found my small group of friends but I was far from well socialised in my college. But I wasn’t complaining about it either after all it left more time to study.

Most of the lessons I attended were boring except for one: Russians literature with Professors Romanoff, a tall, athletic woman, with red hair and the greenest eyes you had ever seen. You didn’t mind her talking for hours about poems and novels and what we were supposed to think of them. However you couldn’t care less about the words leaving her mouth when you’re eyes were only fixated on her lips.

Eventually more of the semester passed and soon it was time for the annual ball. Because of your low social status you didn’t even try to find a date opting on going alone instead, it wouldn’t be that bad right?

Once there you where alone, the few friends which you had didn’t bother to attend so you stood alone at the side of the large room your eyes fixated on the ground. You should just go, you thought to yourself. “Good evening, Y/N” you heard the familiar husky voice next to you. You looked up only to be greeted by your smirking professor. She looked gorgeous having picked out a matching suit to her eyes.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff” she leaned against the wall next to me her eyes darting over my smaller body. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have one” I answered truthfully, her expression stayed the same it was hard to read her. “And you’re friends?” I sighed she knew the answer to that already. “They didn’t attend.” She chuckled licking her lips like a predator who just found it’s helpless prey. “Poor girl, all alone and needs her professor to keep her company”

I let out a small laugh which sounded incredibly fake. Her words made my cheeks heat and I didn’t even know why. “Could be worse” I looked up in her eyes again “You’re a very pleasant conversation partner” “Am I?” She chuckled “That means a lot to me, hearing my favorite student say something like that” “I’m your favorite?” you stammered out “Trust me bunny a girl like you” Her hand trailed to my hip “You hardly get something like that every ten years. I’m very happy to have you”

Her words made my heart flutter and my head turn. I was special, Romanoff’s girl. “Do you mean that?” My voice was still a bit shaky. “Of course I do. We should go somewhere more private” I nodded her hand intertwined with mine she pulled me with her through the masses into the parking lot. Once seated in her expensive looking her hand never left my thigh before she started the car she leaned over to me our lips inches apart I tried to lean forward but her hands pushed my shoulder back against the car seat.

“Don’t do this to make me happy” She paused her eyes looking sensire “It won’t affect your grade no matter how you decide.” “I want this”

I breathed out our lips immediately finding each other. The kiss was passionate and heated until Nat pulled away to fasten my seat belt.

“I’ll drive to my apartment” She put her own seatbelt on “Is that okay with you or do you want to go to your dorm” “I’d like to join your tonight” Natasha gave you a cheeky grin at the response her plan had worked out perfectly.

Arriving at her apartment she seated you on her leather couch. She paced around her living room having two wine glasses in hand. “Do you want a glass?” I laughed I was extremely nervous but in a good way “Oh, I don’t drink but I’ll have a water instead” She just nodded accepting my preferences.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met” She laughed slipping away from her wine glass. “And I’m not just saying that because of the wine.” She added she was sat next to her hand on your thigh. She had long forgotten about her crumpled up suit jacket on the ground though she normally was so precise about keeping everything organized.

“You don’t look bad either” You laughed she pulled you on her lap forcing you to but your legs on either side her crotch on yours. “Let me kiss you” she mumbled against you wet lips. You lips were pressed together so where your bodies and you could feel a bulge poking you. “Fuck you make me so hard” she breathed out on your lips making you moan out in response.

We were caught in the dance of our tongues when I felt her standing up her arms under my ass supporting my weight. I giggle and tighten my grip around her. “Let me take you to the bedroom”

She laid me out on the bed being careful with every item removed and making sure I was comfortable. She kissed everything inch of my skin paying extra attention to my sweet spots and I never felt so loved before. “Have you done that before” She breathed put against my skin.

“Never” I answer truthfully and suddenly I felt a dang of jealousy in my chest. “Is that- a problem?” My professor moved up again before kissing me “Of course not” She looked me in the eyes with her green eyes. “Will you let me be your first” She was being incredibly cheesy but Iiked that. It made me feel safe. “Yes”

She took one of my nipples in her mouth twisting and turning the other with her trained fingertips. She made me putty in her hands with each lick or flick she brought a new sound from my tongue.

My back arched which only made her increase the speed of her movements. After she seemed it to be enough foreplay she kissed her way down to my pubic bone, pressing her nose against my skin to take in the smell of my sweet arrausel. “Can I bunny?” She smirked and kissed your clit I was already wet but Nat was dying for a taste. She flicked her tongue over my now exposed bud. The pleasure was incredible better than any other toy I ever had and you tried to not lose my mind as she teased you bundle of nerves.

She pulled away shortly after ripping away my release in front of my eyes. I looked at her confused as she was already freeing herself from her boxer. She didn’t have a size to be ashamed of and her bush was well groomed too, like you would’ve suspected. She pumped herself a few times groaning until she was fully hard a little droplet of cum on the redden tip.

“Wait I’ll put a condom on” She reached for the drawer but you stopped her “I’m on the pill” Her lips formed a smirk as she positioned herself between my legs. “It’s not gonna hurt sweetheart” She reassured you kissing my neck.

She pushed inside and I making me scratch down her toned back making her whimper. Fuck her whimpers where hot. She bottomed me out looking down at where our bodies were connected she smiled up at you and you smiled back and after I nodded to her she picked up pace.

She was slow at first making me want more you could tell she being careful with you. “Faster” I moaned out making you hips buckle into her trusts. She moaned like a pornstar panting above me as she increased her speed the bed creaking. She made my back arch and my eyes squeezed shut as I released my quiet prayers for her.

“You close?” She panted and I nod “Fuck, your so tight” I grabbed on her shoulders scratching down as I came all over her shortly after she filled me up too. She pulled out the cum leaking down my legs. She climbed up my body flipping us over so I lay on her chest.

“You’re my favourite” She whispered and kissed my sweaty forehead

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff

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feyhunter78 · 4 months

Text

Lab Partners

(Image taken from Pinterest, I believe the artist is teletwobees) More Nerd!Miguel here

Also, plz feel free to ask me about college/nerd!miguel bc he is in my thoughts now

Regret, that’s what you’re feeling as you bury your face in your arms, the lab table cool against your skin. You should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t have time, just raced out of your apartment to your car in leggings and a t-shirt with your letters printed across the back in purple and white bubble letters.

“Y/N are—are you okay?” Miguel’s voice is soft, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor not as soft, your head aching, pain piercing through your brain at the noise.

Your stomach rumbles and a wave of fatigue washes over you as you lift your head to look at him. “Got dragged to the bar last night.”

He’s wearing a soft looking, long sleeve dark blue shirt, the sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, his glasses flecked with raindrops, his hair is tousled and slightly damp curling slightly at the ends.

“On a Thursday night?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he unpacks the lab equipment.

“It’s the night everyone goes out, I don’t know why, and I hate it.” You whine, massaging your temples.

Miguel’s large warm hand presses against your forehead, and you startle for a moment, causing him to jolt back, stuttering apologies.

“I—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” He says, a light dusting of pink across his tanned cheekbones.

He’s got great cheekbones, really, he’s got great everything. Maybe it’s just the hangover talking, but you really want to kiss him. Well, you’ve wanted to kiss him since he sat next to you on the first day of class. And when he slid his notes over to you the month after when he saw you struggling to keep up with the professor’s supersonic lecturing speed.

“I mean, a hangover is a kind of sickness, I’m pretty sure.” You say, your own face burning, but you can’t tell if it from his touch or the hangover.

“Don’t they say to drink something for a hangover? A Bloody Mary or a mimosa? I heard the café off campus sells them until noon.” He suggests, nerves coloring his tone.

Is he trying to ask you out? No, he can’t be. He’s Miguel, the genius, shy and sweet, and definitely not interested in you, and your hectic, dramatic life with sisters you both love and hate depending on what week it is.

“Can’t drink in letters.” You tell him, fumbling for your water bottle and taking a long drink, your eyes fluttering closed as the cool water soothes your sore throat.

“Really?” He asks, and his eyes are on you when you open yours, lingering on your lips, then darting away.

“Yep, it’s like the number one rule for all sororities all across the U.S. movies always get it wrong, really pisses me off.” You grumble, putting your water bottle back in your bag and trying to muster the energy to focus on the assignment in front of you.

“Interesting.” Miguel says, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

Like an absolute pervert, your eyes shoot down to the exposed sliver of skin. Tanned and toned, you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away.

“Yep, Hollywood, they always try to make us look like drunk sluts. And look, I may be drunk occasionally, but I’m not a slut.”

Miguel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I would never call you that—never think you were one, ever.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know, Miguel, you’re too sweet for that.” You can’t help but let your hand drag down to his bicep, his stupidly firm bicep. “My sweet boy.”

His glasses clatter onto the lab table and Miguel scrambles to pick them up, slipping them back on. “Did you get to finish your assignment yet?”

You screw your eyes closed, swearing under your breath. “That’s what I forgot.”

“It’s due tomorrow.” He reminds you.

You nod and press the back of your hand to your forehead, willing your headache to recede. “Yes, yes, I know, I just shit, I totally forgot, and I’ve been so busy, we have this major philanthropy event coming up, and I’ve been up till two am all week helping paint the banner and I really don’t get anything we’re doing in here.”

You pause, sniffling, your eyes welling with tears, as you bite the inside of your cheek trying to keep from crying in the back of the lab.

“I could help you?” Miguel offers tentatively, fidgeting with his pen, his eyes darting between you and the table.

“Really? Miguel, that would be amazing.” You say, unable to resist the urge to lean over and wrap your arms around him.

He smells good, like expensive cologne, and old books.

You take a moment longer than necessary to pull back, basking in his warmth, in the way his strong arms wrap loosely around you before he gains the courage and crushes you to his chest.

“It’s no problem, why don’t we meet in the library around four? It looks like you’re almost done with it, so we shouldn’t be there for too long.” His voice low, calm, and warm vibrates in his chest, and you relax into his hold before pulling back and nodding.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” You beam at him, headache receding, the knot in your stomach unraveling, there’s something about him that’s so comforting, makes you feel safe.

He nods and focuses in on the PowerPoint the professor is going over. He looks so handsome, warm brown eyes flickering over the typed words, his broad shoulders still half turned towards you, his full lips parted ever so slightly as he mumbles to himself.

You rest your chin in your hand and watch him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep from daydreaming about what it might be like to be his.

Miguel is going places, you know it. And you? You’ve always thought it might be fun to be a trophy wife, maybe Miguel needed a trophy wife?

You can see it now, standing next to him in a gorgeous red dress, your hand around his bicep as he accepts some award for genetics. You can almost feel his lips against yours as he thanks you for your support and dips you old movie style.

“Y/N I’ll see you at four, yeah?” Miguel’s voice pulls you from your daydreams. Class is over, you’ve taken zero notes, and he definitely caught you zoning out.

You nod, and quickly gather your things. “Yeah, yeah four, I’ll meet you there!”

(Also ummm I was in a sorority my entire time at college, so I am actually the expert and Hollywood gets everything soooo wrong it makes me legit angry😭)

Miguel TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd!miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #college!miguel #college!reader #college!au #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel O’Hara #nerd miguel

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chosok-amo · 4 months

Note

Enemies to lovers toji x fem reader!!!!! Theyre both in college and reader is usually really smart and focused n stuff but toji likes to tease her and yeah!!!!

THUNDERSTORM : TOJI FUSHIGURO

oh just how much you hate toji fushiguro, and the feelings are mutual. you are a calm, intelligent and focused person, while he's in the other hands annoying, stupid, arrogant and many other things you hate— you hate how he always makes your heart beat like a thunderstorm.

content warning: college! toji, non-sorcerer jjk, fluff! toji

i wasn't doing my best with this one but i hope you like it

“stop that.”

“stop what?” your eyes narrowed.

“doing that thing with your face when you're happy, it's making me nauseous.” he's looking at you as he's making a disgusted face. his index finger makes a circle while pointing at your face. your smile dropped and an annoyance sounds left your lips. you slam the tray and sit yourself beside the white-haired boy, gojo satoru. and there's that boy, in front of you eating his lunch with a disgusted face as he eyed you, toji fushiguro.

“get your nasty finger off my face before I break it,” your hands move faster trying to catch his finger only for him to pull away faster. “always so slow,” he mocked you. “oh fuck you, toji,” you spit to him, getting more annoyed each second you look at him. while the other boy just laughed. seeing how your face turned red from anger amused him. toji fushiguro always showed a liking every time spat at him, getting nastier and sassier each second. hands gripping on something tightly or just clenched your fist he's afraid you're gonna make your nail bleeding from your nail.

he loves how your eyes always look at him like you're on fire, how your pretty mouth insults him in the most hilarious way he could ever imagine. he loves to have the power of having a calm, pretty, intelligent person like you going crazy because of a person like him. a girl with patience like a saint always growling in anger every time he open his mouth. it's like watching a soap opera, for free. you, on the other hand, despise him with all of your heart. you hate the way his green eyes glisten when the sun hits, you hate the way his personality is embedded in each word when you read a poem about love, you hate the way his voice shapes into a melody and echoes his entire being, scaring you.

“what are you doing here, anyway?” satoru asked as he shoved a macaron into his mouth. you look at the man in front of you, feeling confused also. toji never sits with you and your friends, always with his suicide squad— sukuna and weird ass choso, you swear that guy always looks like his soul just gets sucked out of his body. “yeah, toji? what the fuck are you doing here?” you parrot, this time sassier and you glare at him.

“what? I can't have lunch with friends now?”

you and satoru look at each other before you roll your eyes, “can you please go be annoying somewhere that's away from me?” you asked, nearly begging. you're too hungry to deal with toji's nonsense and he's too insufferable to be around. “but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun,” he pouts, pretending to be sulking as he put his palm under his cheeks and battling his eyelashes. but you don't budge, just keep glaring your eyes to him hoping suddenly your eyes let out a laser that could kill him on the place.

toji sighs in defeat before he gets up throwing you a glance of judgement, “boo, you whore.” and with that he swings his ass as he walks away with a tray in one hand and the other on his jeans pocket— leaving you with mouth hanging open.

“fucking asshole.”

you feel something was throwing at you— hitting your back of the head. you're in class right now, trying to focus on whatever your professor was talking about. you try to ignore whatever that was throwing at you but each time it's getting bigger and you become more annoyed. so with the last patience you had left, you snap your neck to look at whoever it is— of course it's other than toji fushiguro. “what?” you yelled whispered. “let me borrow your pen,” he said, looking like an idiot with his slay grin, makes you more annoyed.

“no, shut up!”

you back to your position again and this time you're insisting on not gonna pay toji any attention. for a moment things got quiet and you don't hear anything from toji. but of course, that man wasn't letting you sit there in class and try to study quietly. you hear something from your behind that makes you turn around only to find already sitting there, smiling at you. “what the fuck are you doing?” your voice rough while you shoot a glance at your professor.

“i miss you,” he pout.

you look at him in disgust, “shut the fuck up toji, i'm trying to learn something here,” you grumble. that's only amused him more as he put both hands under his chin and battling his eyelashes to you. “make me, y/n,” he whispered, trying to be seductive as he snout his lips to you and making a kiss noise. you winces in disgust before shoving his face away with your hand.

“what the fuck is wrong with you..”

he just laughed.

you were walking on the hallway of your campus alone. book on your left hands and the other holding a cup of your coffee. you spend a night working on your project until morning and you haven't got a single sleep, so you really need caffeine to keep you awake. when you turn around the corner something big suddenly come out of nowhere, startled you by surprise.

“AH!”

you were so shocked that you fell on the floor along with your books and coffee getting you wet in the process. you look up only to find toji fushiguro hovering you. hands in pocket as he looks down at you. “you scared me,” you shriek. his shoulder move up and down as he shrugged, looking unbothered. “well, i'm naturally terrifying,” he said obvious, like it's was something natural and common. you scoff while rolling your eyes.

“nobody finds you terrifying, fushiguro.”

he frowned after hearing what you were saying, “that's not true, everybody finds me terrifying,” he said in defense. you snicker and cover your mouth, “you're delusional because I'm not finding you terrifying,” you mocked him. and toji doesn't seem like he's agree with whatever you just yapping about. his green eyes bore at you and he was silent for a moment like there's a war inside his head.

“what?” you feel annoyed as he keeps on looking at you with an expression you can't figure out. something you never seen on his face before, something unfamiliar. but he keeps his mouth shut, refuses to speak and entertained you with his lame answer but no, he just stood there looking like he just found something he's longing for who knows how long. his eyes, you can't stand it— worse, you were afraid of it. it feels like his eyes can touch you more than his hands ever could, that's the only thing about him that terrifying to you.

a hard covered book kisses his face harshly to snap him out of whatever he was in. he grimaces in pain and rubs the red on his forehead— where the book landed. “the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells in pain. “stop being a baby,” you dryly said to him. before he gets to let out a bunch of insults, your high pitched scream stops him. your white shirt covered with coffee making your boobs and bra look visible.

“oops,” toji laugh.

you who's still on the floor sending a tall man in front of you a glare. toji swear he can see the steam coming out of your ears. “look at what you've done!” you growl in anger. toji rolled his eyes bored before scoffing, “stop being a baby,” he mocked you— purposely throwing you the same sentence you just said to him. you clicked your tongue as you tried your best to clean yourself with hope in your heart that it doesn't leave a stain. toji just standing there watching you.

he let out a sigh before throwing you his leather jacket making you stare at him in confusion. “cover yourself, idiot.” and just like that he walks away, leaving you all confused and dumbfounded.

your day is always filled with toji fushiguro. every corner you go, fate seems to find it amusing when he's making your blood boil and your face turns red like fresh tomatoes, that's why it always sends him around, find you every time. you started to get used to his presence. you started to find the scar on lips look more stunning than it used to— especially when he's smile. you no longer feel scared when his green eyes flashed to you. his smile become sweet, different from the rest, from everyone else. you started to notice everytime he touches you it suddenly felt as if the stars dancing across your skins.

“your hands,” he said, softly this time.

you don't say anything, too amused with how beautiful he becomes after all this time, after you start to notice. like it has its own thoughts, your hands just move to the man in front of you, letting him hold it like it's always belonged to him, and it fits perfectly also. and then there's it, the stars thing again. something you're unfamiliar with but knowing you're gonna become an addiction of it, of his touch.

he slipped something on your ring finger. you look down to your hand, hand that he was holding. a ring with white bunny, matching with him as he shows you his hand. your heart smiles, followed by your lips but then it's beating faster, knocking your chest as if it's begging the man to hear. you scared so you look at him and your heart beating faster than before when you realize he's already looking, like a thunderstorm. “it's promise ring,” his voice gentle.

toji fushiguro, a man who couldn't go on with his day without hearing your voice, he couldn't go on with his day without feeling your eyes on him, without your presence around him— it feels like an addiction he doesn't realize, getting too attached to each second. when you're not around he's always looking for you, purposely making you mad just because he knows you're the most expressive when you with him, knowing only him that can makes you feel something you try to denied. he too, try to denied.

the feeling he has for you wasn't something he is familiar with and he's unhappy with that. he wants to quit because every time you walk into that hallway beautifully his head feels fuzzy and the world faded into the background like on the movies show, it's lonely and cold. and standing there with you, in the middle of your campus festival, where people and times move faster— but not faster as his beating heart.

“i'll pick your thunder,” he said, nearly whispering.

you didn't like this boy, you didn't find him attractive in a romantic way, his face wasn't something you'd be thinking about next week. he spoke and he sounded just like the others, a voice you wouldn't recognize again, but now he seemed gentle, so do for toji, he didn't like you last year, but now he started to notice the way you filling the room, expanding like a butterfly breaking free from the cocoon, it was hard not to notice you glisten when all eyes darted like spotlights on you.

when you speak everyone has no choice but to listen and indulge in your smile. or when the room is empty and moonlights spills in through a creak in the door. he starts to love the way your eyes gleam. you changes, you're no longer just a gentle looking girl. he didn't care for the soft waves in your hair but now he started to notice each wave, and the clothes that you wears, and the way that you stands, and smiles, and walks.

you find yourself not just listening but losing touch of things when he talks. he was just another head in the crowd, he was just annoying classmates that always fuming you, you wouldn't recognize his voice when he speaks, but now it is echoing in your mind out loud. he hasn't changed a bit but how something both of you overlooked become something both of you desire?

he didn't like this girl

and you don't like this boy

but you and him now sure do

how'd you do it?' you thought.

how'd you do it?' he thought.

how'd you make me fall in love with you?

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withleeknow · 4 months

Text

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › series masterpost › taglist

Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied.

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes.

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately.

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods.

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly.

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield.

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 5 months

Text

Possession

Pairing: Yandere Tom Riddle x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You try to expose Tom’s dark side to Dumbledore but it doesn’t go well.

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship; Slapping; Threats.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

“Professor, wait!” you breathlessly yell, running through the hallway as you try to catch Dumbledore before he enters his private chambers.

He turns around, his surprised expression quickly being replaced by an understanding one as he notices it’s you. Dumbledore has always kept a close eye on Tom, even more so after finding out that he’s in a relationship with you.

Someone that shares little common interests with him as you’ve always stayed away from all the problems that seem to involve Tom’s close circle of “friends”.

“How can I help you, Miss L/N?” he asks once you’ve reached him.

“Professor, I have something I wish to say. It’s about…” you suddenly trail off, feeling a pair of deadly eyes burning holes in your back.

The whole aura in the long corridor has changed and you can feel it, a darker presence lurking around.

You’ve unwillingly developed this skill as a coping mechanism. Being around him has made you more alert towards everything, especially knowing when he’s arrived.

And he has, you can feel it.

The thought of him catching you talking to Dumbledore, whom he absolutely detests, makes your arms weak and the heavy books that rest on your forearm almost fall, but you grip them harder.

“Miss L/N, you can speak freely. Do not fear anyone, if that’s your concern.” Dumbledore gently speaks as he lowers his voice, his eyes catching Tom at the opposite side of the long corridor as the young boy quickly charges forwards towards the both of you.

You hesitate for a moment, Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes freeze your mind and the incessant sound of the footsteps getting closer doesn’t help.

Conflicted is a weak word to represent how you’re feeling, but time is running out and you have to decide now.

“I-”

“Y/N!” Tom shouts, the booming voice makes you panic, resulting in the heavy books you’re carrying falling to the ground. You panicky kneal, trying to grab the books back and you feel Tom standing behind you, not bothering to help you.

You hurriedly get the books back and stand back as Tom takes a step forward, partially hiding your frame away from Dumbledore with his body but not before he sends a chilling look your way.

“It’s only a small doubt she had regarding our latest Transfiguration’s class, Professor, but I can assure I’ll clear all her doubts.” Tom starts, quickly regaining his calm appearance as he maintains eye contact with Dumbledore. His voice sounds soothing, like he’s telling the truth.

“I apologize for disturbing you for such an insignificant matter, Professor. We’ll be leaving now, have a good evening, sir.” he continues, slightly bowing his head to Dumbledore, who doesn’t look entirely convinced by Tom’s explanation but he relents.

“Good night, Tom. And Miss L/N? Do not hesitate to reach out if further clarifications are needed.” Dumbledore leans to his right, trying to catch a glimpse of your face and you weakly nod, mumbling a small greeting as Tom grabs your hand and pulls you away, leaving Dumbledore there.

His pace is fast, it’s clear that he wants distance between him and Dumbledore and you have to rush to keep up with him. He doesn’t say a word but the way his jaw is clenched, you understand that you’ll pay the price for doing such a risky act.

Tom pulls you into an empty classroom and before you can say a word, he roughly pushes you against a wall.

You gulp in fear, tightening the books against your chest as you gulp in fear. Tom’s eyes pierce through you, his hands on each side of your head.

“You think you can beat me down by going to Dumbledore behind my back? Is that so?” he questions you. Fear boils inside you and you frantically shake your head.

“N-No, Tom. I wasn't-"

“Enough!” he silences you, the back of his hand meeting your cheek. The impact sound resonates throughout the entire room and you press your lips together, trying to keep a pitiful sob in. Tom hates it when you cry.

His hand sneaks towards your throat, pressing it only enough so it doesn’t leave any marks. He inspires a deep breath, cracking his head to the sides before looking back at you.

“There will be consequences to your actions, love. You’re mine. You should know better, that I don’t let anyone take away my possessions, not even Dumbledore."

"Not one will ever save you from me.”

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere tom riddle #dark tom riddle #yandere tom riddle x reader #dark tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #imagine tom riddle #tom riddle x female reader #yandere x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle #yandere harry potter x reader #yandere scenarios #tw: yandere #tw.dark content

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sassypossumm · 10 days

Text

Finally

Art cred: mao0047 on X (they're really so good...)

FINALLY getting around to cleaning out my inbox, to the lovie that requested Professor!Miguel x Student this one's for you (made reader a TA grad student) MDNI TW: smut,brief mention of child's death, infidelity, P in V,degredation

"Professor? You in here?" Knocking on the heavy door, you frowned when you got no response.

He always did this.

Miguel O'Hara, stodgy genetics prof that he was, had a bad habit of falling down research rabbit holes. And when he did, you might as well have been dealing with the absent minded professor.

Sighing, you shoved open the door and stepped inside, immediately taken aback by the musty smell and horribly dim light. As your eyes adjusted to the light, your heart squeezed at the sight.

When you'd first started this TA program, you'd dreaded your assignment. Genetics?! You'd balked. What on earth did you know about genetics?!

Then you'd met your assigned professor.

Miguel O'Hara, genetics 101 prof. The man was a giant, disheveled, socially awkward, cerebral...teddy bear.

There was no other way to put it. One look at those wide, tired, gorgeous brown eyes and you knew you were sunk. Now, leaning against thr door frame, watching his hulking frame dwarf the dingy hole of an office, you couldn't stop the thundering of your heart.

You cleared your throat, and Miguel's head shot up. You stifled a smile at the way his glasses slid down his nose, and made note of the sheer exhaustion etched into his features. He looked far beyond his 38 years, in fact, he looked ready to be carved into the side of Mount Rushmore alongside the stony faced founding fathers.

"How long you been in here, Professor?" At your concerned tone, Miguel leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. Stepping into the space, you struggled to not let your eyes wander to the way his frame practically swallowed his chair as he man spread.

Sitting across from him, you busied yourself with papers as he ran a hand through his hair and groaned. You rubbed your thighs together, trying not to imagine what those gorgeous thighs of his might feel like braced on either side of you as you-

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" The sound of his voice shot through you, bringing you back to the present. Looking up, you met his eyes, and took in his expectant stare. Clearly he'd been trying to get your attention. Your cheeks heated at your foolish thoughts. Blinking hard, you pushed down the unrealistic notions.

There was no way a man like Miguel O'Hara would ever be interested in you. After all, hadn't you been throwing out hints half the semester.... and after that last poetry session you'd both attended...maybe Hobie was right...you were reading more into the lingering stares than was actually there.

"Yes, professor," You cleared your throat. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening." Miguel gave you a tired smile and pulled off his bifocals.

"It's okay, Y/N. I remember my last week of finals before I received my PHD."

"Did you get your PHD before or after Fred Flinstone received his?" His eyes creased at the corners at your light banter.

"Before, you smart ass, who do you think tutored him?" He said with a conspiratorial grin. Of all the things you'd done and accomplished in thr past year, this was what you'd miss thr most.

The easy familiarity you and Miguel had slipped into. After papers were graded, and everything was organized, you'd occasionally relax and just... talk. Over a cup of coffee, and even at his house once or twice, you'd just talk.

It was crazy to think just how familiar you'd become with his life. Over the past several months, he'd begun opening up more and more. About his first girlfriend, how he'd left her for his brother's girlfriend. You'd been struck at the thought of the Miguel you knew cheating on anybody...it seemed such an alien idea.

Then he'd shown you the pictures of his daughter, Gabi. The daughter who'd been cruelly taken from him in a car accident. Your heart had broke. To have something so tragic happen, and then to top it off, his wife blamed him for the whole thing.

Youd tried to assure him that it clearly hadn't been his fault, but he'd stiffened and shook off your attempts. On thst one, you'd backed down. He'd put up a clear boundary, and you hadn't wanted to push him away.

Miguel, however, had no qualms about dragging his ex wife through the verbal mud, and venomously at that. From the way he spoke, it was obvious he had no remaining good will for the woman who'd blamed him for his daughters death, and insulted him at every turn for his supposed 'giving up' when he'd begun gaining weight.

Your blood still boiled when you thought about it. The woman was hurting, but that hadn't given her thr right to hurt Miguel. Righteous indignation burned in your belly as you looked at the tured, beautiful man across from you.

He deserved the world.

"Professor,"

"Please, Miguel, we're practically colleagues." He said, stretching his arms above his head.

Now that was odd...

Miguel had always been very strict about remaining professional. Come to think of it, he'd been calling you by your first name since you'd entered... maybe...

"Professor, I don't think that's very," he cut you off with a pointed look.

"Next fall you'll be just as much a professor as I am."

"Shakespearean Poetry and the Romantics can hardly be considered of equal value to genetics." You balk, but not for long. Miguel leaned forward and looked at you intently.

"Poetry is just as valuable as genetics, if not more so." You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes quieted you. The eyes were thr same, that visible exhaustion seemed a permanent addition to his features, but there was something...something different.

There was an unfamiliar intensity dancing in those deep pools of brown you'd fallen for. Before, you'd adoring thought of his eyes like those of a big puppy, but now...now the only phrase that came to mind was 'bedroom eyes'. You shivered at both the thought, and the electricity you felt growing between you.

On your end, you'd always known that draw existed,but youd never dreamt this giant teddy bear felt the same.

"Professor," Your tone was breathy. His brow raised slightly.

"Miguel." He instructed simply. Your tongue stuck to the rood of your mouth, and your skin grew warmer.

"Miguel." You murmured. He hummed, and you felt a thrill of pride run of your spine at the idea that you'd pleased him. "What, um, what is, what are we," He silenced you with another seerimg look.

"I'm socially awkward, Y/N," he gave you a warm smile. "But not entirely oblivious." Sliding his hand across the table, he grazed your fingers with his thumb. "I'd have to be entirely ignorant to ignore this...spark, if you will, that exists between us."

You shuddered at the contact, your eyes fluttering shut at his husky tone. A deep rumble went through his chest and he raised your fingers to his lips.

"Why wait so long?" You chanced a look at him, and felt your breathing shallow. He smiled against your fingers, and drew your thumb into his mouth, sucking softly, before withdrawing it, nipping the tip teasingly.

Where on earth did this man come from, and what had he done with your Miguel?

"For one thing, it hardly seemed prudent to risk either of our positions for something that was so clearly more than a one time fuck." He said calmly, turning over your hand to kiss thr inside of your wrist. You shuddered at his calculated tone and bit back a sound.

"You don't want to fuck me?" Your voice wavered, the words no more than a breath. Miguel's eyes darkened, and a predatory grin slowly morphed his features from placid genetics teacher to something...lewder.

"Oh, I want to fuck you, hermosa." He purred, sucking at your fluttering pulse point. "But I also want to make love to you, decadently." His lips dance up your arm. "Voraciously."

He stands, leaning over the table to dwarf you completely, pressing delicate kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. "Over. And over. And over again." His voice rumbles low in your ear, sending tendrils of arousal straight to your core.

Your head falls to the side, invitingly. You're not entirely certain what's come over him, but you're not about to question it. A whimper escapes your mouth as he finally turns your face up towards his with a firm hand on your jaw.

"For another thing," he breathed against your lips. "I wanted to see who'd break first."

"You." His lips quirk momentarily at your quip.

"Si, nena. You prove to be quite stubborn." He growls the final word before capturing your lips with his. You moan softly, and when his tongue brushes against yours, you surrender completely.

Whining desperately, you rake your fingers through his hair and tug wantonly at his shirt as his tongue expertly coaxed a litenty of primal praises from your throat. His hand slid down your jaw to enclose gently around your throat, and he groaned as your moans and whimpers sent vibrations through his fingers.

You trid tugging him across the desk, but Miguel simply grunted, tearing his mouth away from yours to press bruising sucks and kisses down the column of your throat. You whined at began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Ah-ah" Miguel growled, catching your hand in his. Biting down on your collar bone, he pulled back and looked at you. "Greedy little thing... we do this my way."

His way meant bending you over the desk, wrists held behind your back in one of his large hands as he took you mercilessly from behind.

"Th-this the fucking you mentioned?" You panted between thrusts, groaning when the base of his cock grazed your clit. Miguel hissed at the way your walls fluttered in response to the stimulation and slowed his pace, wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck, pushing your further into the desks surface.

"Callarse la boca." He grunted, picking up his speed. Miguel's hips slapped against your ass, accompanied by his occasional moan and your profuse broken sounds of pleasure. The erotic sounds seemed to spur him on, and his grip on your neck tightened as he released your wrists to slap your ass soundly. You cried out, clenching around his deliciously hard cock.

"You like that?" He growled, slapping your ass again. "You like being fucked like a slut?" Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned. He reased your neck and gripped your hair, turning your face roughly as he continued steadily pounding into you.

"Answer me." He hissed, slapping your ass again. You like being fucked like this? Like my own personal cock sleeve?" Your breathing was labored and you moaned weakly. You could feel the veins of his cock as he brushed passed your g-spot with ever thrust.

"I, Uh-huh, so good, Miggy...." He groaned at your needy tone. "Please, need, need it, so bad..." You whimpered, thrumming and flushed, teetering on the edge of climax.

"Shhh. I got you, bebita. I'll give you what you need." He shushed you, pressing a tender kiss to your temple before grabbing your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts. You cried out as his cock bullied your clit and pussy with quick rhythmic thrusts.

"I'm gonna, Migs," You babbled, scrambling for purchase on anything to cling to. Folding himself over you, Miguel laced his hands over yours and murmured nonsensical praises in your ear, not letting up on his punishing pace.

"Let go, I got you."

With those words, you toppled over the edge, twitching and shuddering as you came all over his cock, and went boneless against the desks surface, lost in a haze of white hot pleasure as your walls clamped around his cock like a vice. Miguel groaned and his hips stuttered before his cock twitched, and he came soon after you, filling the condom with his cum.

Sighing heavily, Miguel scooped you into his arms before flopping back in his chair. Cleanup and damage control would be a job for later. Right now, you were sat, warm and sated in his arms.

And that was enough for him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #Professor Miguel #Sassy requests

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starrystormwritings · 9 months

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Approval

Master List <3 Request list <3 Marauders Master List

Regulus Black x Slytherin! Potter! Reader

A/n: This had no plot as I began writing it I had no idea what I was doing and just winged it. I'm desperately looking for requests because I have no ideas at the moment lol. Anyway this is my first time writing anything Harry Potter/ Marauders so if anything is ooc let me know and bare with me <3

Summery: You and Regulus have been keeping your relationship secret from fear of your brother and his friends approval.

Warnings: Swearing, judgment, a little ooc (James and Sirius come across kind of mean I cant lie), reader is James's sister but no mention of their parents or appearance so you can imagine being adopted.

Word Count: 2367

(NOT MY GIF)

"Hey guys!" I said with a smile, taking a seat next to my brother and his friends at the Gryffindor table for breakfast.

"Why were you talking to him?" James asked me with a frown, my brother has forever hated the Slytherin house and as much as I can't blame him when I see the way that some of them act I also feel as if I need to defend them, seeming as it is my house.

James was devastated when the sorting hat placed me in Slytherin.

He spent weeks arguing with Professor Mcgonigal about how it was wrong and how I needed a do over because there is no way his 'good hearted and kind little sister could be one of those snakes'

I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting a little, I fit in with the other Slytherins in my year and made friends easily. I stayed away from the ones who shared the likes and opinions of people like Snape because I couldn't bring myself to be friends with people with such hurtful and outdated views.

But a lot of the people I met were nice and friendly.

But James would refuse to ever see that.

"I was taking to him because he's my friend, and we were walking to breakfast together." I said with a roll of my eyes, leaning over to grab myself some food.

"You are not friends with that snake." James said with a look of disgust.

He went to continue his complaints but Sirius cut him off.

"Evan Rosier is one of my brothers friends. Stay away from him." He said with a frown glaring over at the Slytherin table over my shoulder.

"Well even though he is your brothers friend he's also mine. I know shocking crossover for you. He's a nice guy, we do potions study sessions together and he's helped me with charms. He's a nice enough guy." I shook my head at Sirius with a frown, fed up of having the same conversation again and again.

"He's a pure blood Y/n." James said with a frown.

"And so are we, and Sirius." I said with a chuckle, looking to Remus for help but he just looked straight back down at his book.

"Yeah but we're not like them. They're mean and well snakes." James said, trying to keep his voice down despite his growing annoyance.

"They're family's made them like that. Not everyone could get away like Sirius luckily did. Evans a nice enough guy, and if he wasn't you know I'd stop talking to him."

"Yeah but-" James started before I cut him off.

"Remus help me here please." I sighed looking over at Remus pleadingly as he gave me a 'keep me out of this' look.

"Guys leave her alone, she can be friends with who she wants to be." He offered me a small smile before looking back down at his book "Now leave me out of this I'm trying to study."

"Fine fine. Anyway do you guys want to head to the library to pull a prank, I was thinking we could hex the books to make them scream if you fold the paper. Will probably make some people jump out of their skin." James said with a laugh, elbowing Sirius to hype him up about this stupid idea.

"As stupid as that sounds I need to study and since all the books in the library will be screaming I think I'll go to my dorm, I'll see you guys later." I smiled at my friends, waving at them as I stood up.

They all said they're goodbyes in return as I walked out of the hall.

I could feel a familiar Slytherins eyes on me as I left, slowing my pace down in the corridor as I heard the same familiar footsteps approaching me.

"Guess who?" He said from behind me with a chuckle, covering my eyes with his hands.

"Judging from this very shaky blindfold I'm gonna guess Regulus." I said with a laugh, turning around to face the smiling boy.

His hair was still messy despite his obvious efforts to style it, he grinned at me with that stupid lopsided smile you wouldn't expect from him if you were anyone else passing him in the corridor. A stern unemotional expression usually painting his face if he was around anyone else.

My relationship with Regulus started a few months ago when he caught me on the verge of throwing a book at some seventh years who were laughing at me over something so stupid I can't even remember what it was anymore.

He'd told them to piss off and then sat next to me, we spoke for a bit and despite my efforts to brush him off due to Sirius's warnings I couldn't help but be encapsulated by him.

Next thing I knew we were having secret meetings in empty dorms and broom closets.

"How's my favourite girl?" He asked, planting a small kiss on my forehead.

I swatted him away, taking a step to the side. I began walking again, him following close behind.

"What're you doing, someone could've saw." I said with a roll of my eyes, looking for a quite corner or broom cupboard we could duck into to talk.

"Why do you care, we have every right to speak to each other." He said with a groan, he'd been fed up of the secrecy for a while.

He was a private person, and it wasn't like he was looking for a relationship with heavy PDA but the secrecy was beginning to bother Regulus. Just the other day the head of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team asked me on a date to Hogsmead and Regulus just stood there biting his tongue as this guy just continued to flirt out of the excuses I was giving him.

He just wants people to know we are in a relationship, or at least see us together so often they don't bother asking.

But I wouldn't even let him speak to me in public.

"No we don't. I just think spent breakfast getting lectured about walking with Evan. I still haven't lived down when James saw me laugh at a joke Barty made the other week, and that's because they're friends with you. It would cause a war if James and Sirius found out we were together." I frowned at him as we slipped into a quiet corner of the castle.

He stood as close to me as he could and I found myself looking around to check no one was looking.

He put his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him, taking all my attention away from worrying and onto him.

"I know your worried but I couldn't care less. What're you so scared of? James is your brother he's not going to hate you." He brushed a piece of hair out of my face and behind my ear as he spoke, leaving his hand to linger on the side of my face.

"Sirius is your brother and he seems to hate you." He frowned at that, taking his hand away and stepping back.

I quickly realised what I said, reaching out for his hand and pulling him close to me again.

"I'm sorry, that was mean. I didn't mean that. I just mean me and James have always been so close and I don't want that to change. I love him so much and I love Sirius and Remus and Peter so much as well. I can't loose them over something like this. But I can't loose you either, so if keeping this a secret is the only way I can keep all of you that's what I want to do." I gave him a small smile, holding my breath as I waited for him to respond, hoping he'd just drop the whole conversation.

"Okay I understand. More dates in broom cupboards it is." His hand returned to my face and I giggled lightly.

I looked up at his face with a smile taking in everything about him as I did so.

He was just so perfect I couldn't understand how anybody could hate him.

He leant down to plant a soft kiss on my lips, leaving me breathless despite the chasteness of it.

I smiled at him completely entranced by how amazing he was.

"What the fuck."

Sirius voice made me jump, pulling me out of the daydream I was in as I moved away from Regulus, trying to come up with some sort of explanation.

"Sirius I can explain."

"Explain what? Explain how your kissing my brother? Explain how your betraying me, one of your closest friends? Sure Y/n I'd love a fucking explanation." He glared at me with a look I'd never really seen from him before.

Betrayal.

"I just,,, Sirius." I couldn't think of an excuse, I looked between the two brothers as I weighed my options. I didn't have many "Sirius I love him. Please just let me love him. Don't be angry or turn it into something, please don't bring James into this. Please." I looked at him with pleading eyes as I felt Regulus's hand touch my shoulder comfortingly.

"Take your fucking hand off her." Sirius said with a glare, causing Regulus to back away from me. "How could you do this to me, to James. He cares about you so much he's trying to protect you from people like him. But I guess we were wrong you really are just a snake."

His words stung as I just looked at him speechless.

"Don't speak to her like that, none of this is her fault. What happens between me and you is between me and you, not her." Regulus said, stepping up to his brother.

"You don't get to talk to me like that, your the one in the wrong here not me. That's the way it always is." Sirius said, glaring daggers at him before giving me another hurt look and turning to walk away.

"Your the one who left me! Not the other way around." Regulus said, voice cracking at the end of his sentence.

Sirius stopped for a second before continuing to storm off without turning back around.

~~~

The next morning I walked to breakfast with Barty and Evan on my one side and Regulus on my other, holding my hand with a small smile.

Despite the drama of yesterday and the sinking feeling I had all night the weight of the secret had been lifted off both of our chests and it was nice to be able to be together in public without worrying.

I glanced over at the Gryffindor table, hoping to take my usual seat.

I saw the eyes of mine and Regulus's brother staring at me with daggers. I went to take a step towards them, dropping Regulus's hand but Sirius took the book that Remus was reading and slammed it into the empty seat next to him. Earning an annoyed and disapproving look from Remus who then looked up at me with a supportive smile.

I offered him a small smile back before sighing at the other boy's behaviour.

Regulus noticed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, leading me over to the Slytherin table.

I focused my attention back on my friends as Barty continued telling some crude joke, trying to cheer me up a little.

~~~

"I'm sure they'll come around. He's your brother, he loves you." Regulus said whilst running a hand through my hair.

We were cuddling on the floor of a study room in the library, surrounded by books as we chatted and helped each other with potions homework.

"It's been three weeks and the only one of them that's spoken to me is Remus and that's only when we bump into each other. James is avoiding me like the plague, Sirius looks like he's about to kill me and Peters afraid to talk to me as if he'll get excommunicated as well if he does." I sighed, scribbling the notes I was writing out since I'd gotten distracted and lost what I was trying to write.

"They're just adjusting, this is new information they just need time." He kissed my forehead before leaning down to kiss my lips properly, causing me to smile again.

A cough from the door broke us apart.

"Am I intruding?" He asked, leaning against the door frame with a frown.

"James! Hi, your speaking to me?" I said with a small smile, getting out of Regulus's hug and onto my feet, walking over to him.

Regulus looked back down at his book, pretending to study and not listen to the conversation.

"I figured we should talk, I think this is the longest we've ever been apart. I just wanted to clear the air I guess." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

"I'm still beyond angry at you though, how could you date someone like him and not tell me." He said with a sigh, pinching his nose.

"Someone like him? I'm so fed up of you speaking about my friends and boyfriend like they're these evil people before you've even met them! He's a loving, caring, sweet boy who I love and who loves me. He just happens to come from a shitty family with shitty ideals. The exact same one your best friend comes from may I add. I'm sorry I kept this a secret from you, I was scared of what your reaction would be and obviously I had a right to be. But I will not apologise for being with him and loving him because I have every right to. I want nothing more than for us to be close again and to hang out like we were but if you can't deal with this then I'm sorry but I'm not going to break up with him over it, so it's you that's going to loose me." I watched his face, searching for some reaction but there wasn't one.

The room went silent for a second as James just stood there staring at me.

"Alright." He said, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

"Alright?"

"Alright. Your important to me, I can learn to get over it. No matter how gross it makes me feel."

I chuckled lightly and hugged him, feeling like a weight had been taken off my shoulders knowing we weren't fighting anymore.

"Are you going to introduce me to lover boy then?" He asked with a strained laugh.

He was trying his best.

#marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter #regulus black #regulus black x reader #x reader #fanfiction #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders era

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little-diable · 3 months

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The Test of Time - Tommy Shelby (smut)

This is an idea I have been playing with for a while. It is very dear to me, so I hope it'll also be to you! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: When Professor Shelby meets his new student, he's instantly fascinated by her, not understanding why he feels this connected to her. But the second their hands touch, both feel themselves thrown back in time, meeting centuries ago. It seems like love will always stand the test of time.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, lots of fluff, mentions some war time stuff and blood, small breeding kink, professor x reader relationship, age gap

Pairing: Soldier!Tommy x nurse!fem!reader / Professor!Tommy x student!fem!reader (3.7k words)

4th of August 1916, Northern France

The air was sticky, his hands were muddy, dry, and heavy. He had to blink more often than his eyes liked, worsening the headache he had been plagued by for months. A shaky exhale left him, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut to try and keep calm. There was no way out, he was stuck, below the ground, and if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was panicking – at least not if he wanted to stay alive. He couldn’t risk being shot for going against a command, for being frightened like a boy.

Voices echoed through the tunnel, ringing in his ears like another bomb going off in the distance. They had to work fast. They had to work precisely, otherwise they’d eventually be buried by the dark soil, swallowing them whole as the enemy won the battle.

“Shelby!” A raspy voice ripped him out of his panicked state, he was shoved, forced to move faster, to keep on digging even though his hands were bleeding and the blisters kept growing. He had to keep digging, had to keep digging, had to keep digging. Before the darkness would swallow him whole.

February 2024, Birmingham

The sound of his shoes meeting the ground echoed through the empty hallway, eyes set on his black iPhone. It was too fucking early for his liking, silently cursing his faculty for forcing him to hold these early morning classes. Not once had he met a motivated student who wanted to talk about the First World War with him at 8 am, and as much as Tommy disliked the students he found himself surrounded by, he couldn’t blame them for being tired.

If he could, he’d occupy all afternoon classes, wanting to discuss his research topics with those who were actually interested in modern warfare, strategies, politics, and so on. And yet he knew the chance was slim, forced to back down and make room for those who taught the mandatory classes.

With a sigh leaving him, Tommy stepped into the room he taught in every Tuesday morning, putting down his bag and shrugging out of his coat before he lifted his gaze. He was still on his own, wondering when the handful of students would pour into the room, probably seconds before class started.

Tommy plopped down on the uncomfortable chair, he placed his laptop down – hoping that he could at least catch up with the morning news while still being engulfed in silence. He tried to focus on the words, tried to cling to the information he was fed, though without any luck, interrupted by the sickly sweet “Morning!” echoing through the room.

His eyes found an unfamiliar pair, not used to being greeted this enthusiastically in the morning. It took him a second to reply, eyebrows furrowed as he studied the woman. She must have been young, and yet he instantly found himself drawn to her gorgeous features, the soft hair he wanted to feel beneath his fingertips.

“(Y/n), right?” She had emailed him about a month ago, warning the professor that she’d have to miss the first two weeks of his course due to some family trouble. Back then he hadn’t cared about her missing out on it, it was on her to catch up with his teaching anyways, but now he couldn’t help but wonder how he had managed to miss out on having her around for even just a second.

“That’s me! Sorry again for my absence, Professor Shelby.” He shot her a small smile, not daring to speak up as his throat grew tighter. What the fuck was going on with him? Tommy felt as if he was drowning, as if the cold ocean was soaking through his black clothes, sticking to him to add more weight to his frame. He didn’t know her, knew only her name, and yet he felt strangely connected to her.

He needed to get a grip, needed to redirect his focus before he’d forget his surroundings and the information he was supposed to pass on to his students.

……

“Professor Shelby?” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through his office, making a small smile tug on his lips as his eyes found hers. She stepped into the room, carefully closing the door behind herself before she walked up to him. Wordlessly he pointed towards the chair placed close to his table, piercing blue eyes watching her sit down.

“I have to say, I’m impressed, (y/n). You’re the first to ever score 100 on this essay.” The smile that grew on her lips left Tommy choking on his air, forcing his eyes away from her face. It had been a selfish move to invite all students to his office hour, telling them that he’d like to give them each some verbal feedback. But deep down Tommy didn’t give a single fuck about his students, at least not about the others, having eyes only for her.

“I wanted to leave a good impression, especially after missing out on so much.” He was forced to look at her again, shooting her another smile as he reached the essay out for her to take. His heart started racing the second her fingers touched his, vision growing blurry, unable to notice that she was going through the same confusing sensations.

“Help! We need help!” The screams echoed through the tent, ringing in her ears as she watched the soldiers move closer. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the soldier whose face was covered in blood and mud, forcing her to run towards them.

“Place him down over there, quick!” Panic was flushing through her. No matter how many soldiers she had helped before, no matter how many lives she had saved, (y/n) couldn’t help but fear these moments when she held their lives in her hands. She needed to work quickly, and couldn’t wait for the other nurses to return from their visitations, there was no time to lose. “I need you to hold him down.”

Her eyes met a pair of piercing blue ones, momentarily robbing her of any air left in her lungs. She had to redirect her focus, bloody fingers trying to clean the soldier’s cheeks as the handsome man held him down. No words were spoken between them, she needed to concentrate, needed to stop the soldier’s bleeding. Feeling the other man near did something to her, something unfamiliar she hadn’t ever felt before.

“Here, I need you to bite down on this.” She pushed a wooden piece between the guy’s teeth as she reached for her tweezers. A deep inhale of air was sucked into her lungs. Even though it wasn’t the first time she was about to pull a bullet from somebody’s skin, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel nervous. Before she could even try to move, she felt the handsome man’s hand on her knee, softly squeezing the flesh to try and wordlessly support her. She could do it, and could help the hurt soldier, especially with the support of the man who was sitting close to her.

“Alright, this will hurt.”

“Uhm,” Tommy had to clear his throat, blinking a few times before his vision began to clear up. (Y/n) was still sitting close to him, wearing the same confused expression as Tommy. Both stared at one another for a few moments, wordlessly, before she grasped the essay. Her eyes flickered down to the paper, trying to recollect her thoughts.

“Thank you again for this, I think it’s best if I leave now.” He didn’t get a chance to reply, could only watch her disappear before he could even try to speak up. Tommy’s heart was still racing, mind not understanding what had just happened.

Had this been some trick of his brain, something he had read about in a book or seen in a movie? And yet it didn’t explain to him why the woman had looked just like (y/n), and why (y/n) had been just as dazed as he had been.

It took Tommy a while to move, shaking his head as he drowned the last sips of his now cold coffee. He needed to get out of his office, needed to grab a few pints with some friends, anything to distract himself from what had just happened, and from (y/n).

……

“Here, let me.” She watched him light his match, stepping closer to help her light her cigarette. Both blew out the blue smoke, watching it dance in the warm August breeze. Tommy was covered in soil, hands and face dirty, just like his hair, and yet neither of them seemed to care, wanting to feel one another close.

It had been days since she had helped his fellow soldier, making it through the night and all the following ones, left to survive with a big scar gracing his cheek. Ever since that day, Tommy and (y/n) had searched for one another, needing to learn more about the one they couldn’t stop thinking of.

“Do you miss home, Tommy?” (Y/n)’s whispers rang in his ears, loud enough to distract him from his surroundings, the shots going off in the distance, the calls, and cries. He was sure that no matter where he’d be, no matter who he’d be surrounded by, if (y/n) was close, he’d always find himself focused on her.

“Always do.” A hum left her at his reply, unconsciously moving closer to him, breath getting stuck in her lungs as his arm found its way around her waist. Their eyes met, his piercingly blue and full of pain and sorrow, hers filled with questions, longings, and confusion. She watched his gaze flicker down to her lips, taking another drag of his cigarette before he dipped his head down.

(Y/n) didn’t dare move, silently praying that he’d kiss her, that he wouldn’t pull away, wrapped in darkness’s comforting veil. But before he could move, they heard the calls growing louder, forcing all soldiers to return to their positions. Their eyes met once again as he stubbed his cigarette out, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and disappeared.

(Y/n) woke with a gasp, hands pressed to the warm mattress she had been sleeping on for the past hours. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing, still focused on the dream she had just been forced through. Ever since she had experienced that strange moment in Professor Shelby’s office, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him, of what her mind had pushed her through – what had felt like a memory but couldn’t be one. And now she was dreaming of him, her professor, and yet he wasn’t a professor, at least not in her dream.

She needed to talk to him, or at least touch him again to figure out of it had been a trick of her brain or something that would happen again. He had looked just as confused, dazed even, unsure what had happened the second their hands had touched. Perhaps she could speak to him after class, or show up at his office, whatever it took to be close to him again.

……

“Professor? Do you have a moment for me?” He had disappeared too quickly after class for (y/n) to even try to catch up with him, forcing her to wait a few hours before she could turn up at his office. She watched him take off his round glasses, leaning back in his chair as a soft “Of Course” left him.

For a few moments, they were engulfed in silence, eyes wandering over one another’s features, wondering how to express what they were plagued by. But even though (y/n) tried her hardest to speak up, she couldn’t, throat too tight, mouth too dry. Professor Shelby broke their silence as he cleared his throat, rising to his feet to slowly move towards (y/n).

He kept his distance and leaned back against his desk, and yet she felt him close. Though not close enough, feeling herself pulled towards him like a puzzle searching for its last missing piece. With a sigh breaking through him, he reached his hand out for (y/n) to take, watching the hesitation tugging on her features.

“It’s alright, I don’t understand it myself, but I guess it’s on us to figure this out. Whatever it is.” Her teeth ran along her lower lip as (y/n) stepped towards him, letting go of one last exhale before she carefully grasped his hand.

“Look at me, (y/n). I’ve got you, I’m alive.” His voice rang in her ears, watching the tears drip down her cheeks as she stared up at him. She clung to his hand, cursing this very war for pushing these unfamiliar emotions through her. God, she had counted the hours, had lost hope, sure that Tommy was no longer alive. And yet here he was, alive, breathing, not even bleeding.

She hastily took a step away, eyes wide, lips parted. He had his eyes focused on his hand, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Neither of them dared to speak up, not understanding what was happening, why these things that felt like memories were pushed through their brains. Only slowly did the professor dare to lift his gaze, studying her panicked features.

“What is happening? What is that?” (Y/n) choked on her words, torn between confusion and the pain she felt deep inside of her. It felt as if she was grieving something or rather someone. A pain she was so unfamiliar with, she couldn’t even understand what it was trying to tell her, what she was plagued by.

“I don’t know, (y/n).” He spoke her name all too softly, sounding just like it had in her head moments ago. With wide eyes she kept studying him, needing to feel what had happened again, still not believing that this was something but a trick of her brain. All he did was watch her, eyes following her every move, even as she came to a halt in front of him, standing far closer than moments ago, he didn’t dare move. If there was one thing Tommy wanted to avoid, it was scaring her.

“Can I try something?” Their eyes held contact as (y/n) murmured the words, waiting for his spoken consent before she moved. A quiet “Yes” left the professor, wondering what she was about to do, not expecting to feel her soft lips meeting his.

“You have to be quiet, love.” His raspy voice left her buzzing with excitement. Tommy had her pressed against a car, swallowed by darkness. Their lips met carefully at first, with her arms slung around his neck, and his hands placed on her waist. Neither of them could hold back, deepening the kiss within seconds as they hoped that no other soldiers, nurses, or commanders would find them.

“Don’t stop, please.” He had taken over the kiss, forcing her down on his desk to stand between her thighs. Both were torn between the pictures their minds were painting and the feeling of one another’s hands exploring their bodies. Whatever it was that had pushed them together, they didn’t want to break the spell, needed to keep close.

“Will you let me have a taste? Ever since I saw you for the first time I wanted to get my mouth between those pretty thighs of yours.” Her eyes were wide, lips parted to try and suck some air into her aching lungs. (Y/n) could only nod her head, forgetting how to speak, how to express the emotions she so desperately wanted to explain to him.

With their eyes holding contact, Tommy undid her trousers, pulling them down her legs before he pushed her damp panties to the side. The groan that clawed through him at the sight of her bare cunt left her walls clenching around nothing, needing to feel his fingers, his mouth on her. But the second he brushed two fingers through her slit, collecting drops of arousal, she found herself stuck in another memory.

“Oh god, oh god. Right there.” Her eyes rolled back into her head, pressed against the mattress of the bed she hadn’t been lying on for years. It had been hours since they had returned from France, not daring to leave one another’s side once, hours they had spent hiding away from those who had waited on them for years, only focused on exploring their bodies without needing to worry about curious bystanders. His tongue brushed along her folds, moaning at her taste as his arms tightened their grip on her thighs.

“I guess you’ve always tasted this sweet.” His words drew tears to her eyes, overcome by a wave of unfamiliar emotions, set on drowning her. Tommy kept moving his fingers as his tongue explored the spots she needed him to touch, choking on his name. She needed to hold onto him, needed to bury her fingers in his skin, but her fingers couldn’t move, could only cling to the edge of his table. “My pretty girl, fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“What a sight for sore eyes, I’m a fucking lucky bastard.” Tommy’s raspy voice filled their shared bedroom. He leaned back in his chair, chest bare, legs stretched out. Smoke left his nostrils, eyes set on her naked frame. She walked closer with a smirk on her lips, enjoying the way he marvelled at her, how he watched her every move. “I don’t deserve you, my pretty wife.”

His wife? Them, Married? Fuck, if these flashes were truly memories of their past life, she couldn’t help but thank whoever had pushed them together once again. Another shot at this life with Tommy by her side, another shot at this life with a man she had loved in other centuries. Love that would always stand the test of time.

“I need to be inside of you, will you let me fuck you?” (Y/n) pulled Tommy in for a kiss, groaning into his mouth as she felt his covered bulge rubbing against her sensitive cunt. Their kiss was all tongue and teeth, growing more heated by the second, while Tommy’s impatient fingers freed his cock. He parted from her to roll a condom down his cock, and yet their eyes never broke eye contact. “Last chance to stop this, I need you to tell me you want this too.”

“Oh fuck, of course I want this, Tommy. Fuck me, fuck me like you’ve always fucked me.” Her glassy eyes met his, both were clearly overcome by the emotions they still needed to adjust to. He pushed into her slowly, fingers interlaced with hers to hold her close. There was no need to adjust, it seemed like their bodies remembered one another the same way their minds did.

“Forever mine, I will never let you go.” Tommy rasped his words into the darkness as he fucked her into their mattress. He couldn’t help but admire her, needing to take in every inch of (y/n), silently hoping that tonight he’d get to fuck another baby into her. Her moans left him smirking, fingers rubbing her pulsing bundle in sync with his thrusts, needing to push her over the edge any moment now.

She didn’t allow herself to wonder what their life together had been like, and how many children they have had together – at least not at that very moment. All (y/n) could concentrate on was the feeling of Tommy fucking her ruthlessly, cock forcing her walls apart with every thrust.

With her forehead pushed against his shoulder, (y/n) moaned his name, already close to letting go. Both were shaken up by what kept on happening to them whenever they touched one another in another place, bringing up memories that felt like they were straight out of a movie. It was unfamiliar and confusing, and yet it was anything but scary, no, it left them filled with excitement, needing to learn more about one another and the life they had once shared.

“It’s alright, love, cum for me, cum on my cock.” Tommy’s gritty voice left her choking on her gasps, letting go with a moan. He kept on snapping his hips, enjoying the way she clenched around him, how she trembled from her intense orgasm. All because of him. With his thoughts set on (y/n), he came, letting go with a groan.

For a few moments, neither of them parted from one another, holding on before he slowly pulled away. Neither of them spoke as they redressed, caught in their thoughts. Only as Tommy pulled her in for another kiss did (y/n) allow another smile to tug on her lips.

“If you’ll allow it, I want to love you in this lifetime too, hold you close like we were destined to be.” With tears once again welling up in her eyes, (y/n) pulled him in for a breathless kiss.

Tommy had his eyes set on her sleeping figure, hand stroking her hair. His thoughts were torn between the memories of the tunnel, of the darkness he hadn’t been able to escape from for long. But it had all been worth it, because of her, because of the woman he had married, the woman who was the mother of his children. And if there was one thing Tommy was wishing for, it was getting the chance to love her in all upcoming lifetimes too.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders imagine

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theorphicangel · 3 months

Text

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

ao3

series | next chapter

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝…𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞?

You’re running late.

But then again…is there ever a day when you’re not running late?

It’s hard to differentiate whether it’s due to the fact that you left all your pre-reading till the last minute or if your alarm forgot to go off or if it was due to you oversleeping for an additional thirty minutes because your roommate had dragged you out last night for the fourth freshers party of the week.

Either way, you’re running late. Your bag is frantically packed with notebooks and random essentials, your laptop is less than half-charged and your socks are mismatched. It’s not the best start that you had imagined for your first week of lectures but as you glance at digits in the corner of your phone, you figure that you don’t even have the time to complain.

The campus is still relatively new to you, and also fucking huge. Groups of people swarm around like insects, trying to find their way around to their own lecture. Glancing down at the map app currently open on your phone, a frown reaches your brows.

It seems like you’re still so far away from the humanities block which is on the other side of campus.

You scroll down, pausing your steps to look for another route. If only there was….

‘Want a shortcut? Press here.’

“Yes fucking please.” you mutter to yourself, clicking the bold button absentmindedly.

—

The muffled sound of a robotic voice announcing your destination perks up your mood entirely as you reach the lecture doors of 202. You made it with just about five minutes to spare and you’ve never felt prouder, not even during all those times when you’ve forgotten to study for exams but had luckily gotten away with pretty decent grades.

Entering the hall, you find most seats are taken, nearly all the rows are unavailable. Scanning around desperately, you find a seat near the back next to a guy mindlessly scrolling on his phone. Hastily, you walk to your desired seat before the rest of the row fills up, and you find that as soon as you have taken your seat, there’s no spare seats left at all.

Taking a deep breath, your anxiety now sits comfortably in the pit of your stomach.

This is how college was supposed to go.

Prepared, calm and on time. You’re so relaxed right now that you’re not even slightly bothered about the percentage of your laptop when you slide it open in front of you, knowing that you have your notebooks in your bag if needed. You take a quick sip of water before the lecture begins and soon all conversations in the room seem to die away slowly.

Those unlucky enough to have found a seat, have to settle with sitting on the steps of the lecture hall. A silent sigh of relief that you are not a part of that majority runs through your body. God, you forget that literature was so oversubscribed.

A hushed silence takes over the room and a steady grin creeps at the corner of your lips as you wait for the professor to start.

“Good morning all, it is nice to see you all bright and early for the first genetics lecture of the year. I know some of you had to clear up clashes with microbiology this morning which may be the reason why we are so oversubscribed today, but we’ll make do, there’s plenty of room for everyone.”

Remember that eager, excited smile that you just had a few moments ago? Yeah, well it just died and here was the funeral. You blink in confusion as the words of the lecture settles into your brain.

Genetics? Microbiology? What the fuck was this professor talking about?

The lecturer drones on at the front of the hall, her voice echoing. “For those of you who don't know already, I'm professor Dr. Michaleson and I’ll be your genetics lecturer for the remainder of the year.”

Oh no. Oh fuck no. Oh hell no.

You look around, scanning the wide room to already see people begin to type away at their laptops. No one else in the room seems to be as confused as you are right now and it’s concerning. Reaching into your coat pocket, you open up your maps app checking your location.

Shit.

You’ve found yourself in the general medical sciences block, not arts and humanities. Zooming in further you find that the humanities block is direct from the building that you’re in right now.

If there was a moment for you to have a breakdown, it would be right now. All of your panicking and frantic packing that you had gone through this morning has now gone completely to waste because you’re not even in the right fucking lecture hall.

You turn towards the person on your left but notice that they’re rapidly typing away as the lecturer proceeds to run over the future modules for the course. Not wanting to bother her, you decide to glance towards your right, to the guy who was once mindlessly scrolling on his phone who has now replaced it with his very own laptop but…he’s not typing away yet.

So you take your chances.

“Hey.” you whisper, trying to keep your panic out of your voice. You lean over a little so that he can hear you.

The man frowns a little, looking towards you.

“What?” His tone is soft like yours, quiet so as not to disrupt other people but you can’t help but notice the annoyed intonation in his voice.

“What lecture are we in right now?” you subtly prompt, quickly noticing the crease between the eyebrows of the stranger sitting next to you. His nose curves up in distaste as if you’ve just asked him whether he thinks the earth is round or flat.

“Please, just answer my question.” you plead gently, reading his expression.

You know he probably takes you for an idiot right now but you just need confirmation so that,

One: You hadn’t just misheard and this was definitely a genetics lecture

And two: If it was a genetic lecture this officially gives your body the right to go into full panic mode right now.

The guy lets out a light sigh before answering, “We’re in genetics right now.”

“Fuck!”

A few heads in the row in front of your glance back at the sound and automatically your cheeks burn up out of embarrassment.

“Why are you asking?” the man sitting beside you questions.

You hesitate in giving your answer, embarrassed that you had messed up one of the most basic rules of things not to do at university. Now it’s your turn to let out a beaten down sigh.

“I–”

“You’re in the wrong lecture, aren’t you?” the stranger estimates. Clearly based on your mixed expression of disappointment and panic.

You nod silently, rubbing your hands across your face. Internally, you wished that you could go back in time. Back to before you had entered this stupid lecture room, double checking the location or at least had the chance run out before the lecture had started.

“What are you supposed to be in?”

“English Literature.”

The man sitting beside you stifles a laugh and again, a number of heads back to look at the two of you in frustration. He attempts to cover it up with a cough and you notice the way that his cheeks slowly turn to a dusty shade of pink.

“Por dios, what are you doing here?” he whispers. And again you don’t miss the tone of irritation in his voice.

“I–I think I got lost.” you stammer quietly, looking down at your phone. “I’m supposed to be here.” you point at a spot on your phone as you show him. “But I got it messed up.”

“It’s across from this building?”

You nod begrudgingly, before shutting off your phone and laying your head down on the table in surrender.

You stay down for a minute before perking back up. The lecturer is still droning on about god knows what and the man beside you begins to take notes.

Leaning over, you whisper another question.

“How long is this lecture?”

“Two hours.”

Yep, you were screwed.

And it wasn’t like you could get up and leave. Well, you could, but that would mean drawing all the attention from half of the people in the room, disrupting them and causing your entire row to stand up so that you could leave. You think that you’d rather die than be that person.

The man beside you says nothing more, choosing to ignore you and your situation as he types away along with the rest of the people in the hall.

Looks like you have no choice but to buckle yourself in for this ride.

—

Two hours later, you find yourself on level 12 of the world’s hardest game, still without any new literature knowledge but now have a deep insight into what the genetics modules will look like for the next three years as well as having a deep insightful knowledge about prokaryotic and eukaryotic organisms.

That’ll be some useful trivia some day at least.

You sit back watching everyone else pack away. The man beside you glances towards you briefly, he’s packed away too, now waiting for the people in your row to start filing out.

“Thinking about drastically changing your degree to biological sciences?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

You snort as you pack away your laptop, which surprisingly managed to survive the whole lecture.

“I fucking wish.”

“How about next time you check that you’re actually in the right block before stepping into a lecture hall?”

You barely know this man and yet you can feel his judgment, not just now but throughout the whole lecture you’ve felt his continuous side-eye as you died for the 400th time in your game.

“Will do.” you note, hoping to cut this conversation short. “Looks like I’ve got a literature lecture to catch up on.” you mumble to yourself as you begin to walk away, filing out of your row and heading to the doors.

“You what? Ended up at the wrong lecture hall?!”

Burying your head onto your arms, you groan aloud as a non-committal response. Your college roommate and new friend, Lyla, laughs out loud which unfortunately attracts eyes from around the cafe.

You groan, this being the second time that your face has burnt up this morning. “Please don’t make my misery any louder ly’ ”

She wipes at the corner of her eyes, adjusting her glasses. “I'm sorry, m’sorry.” She chokes, spluttering her hot chocolate. “But could you go through exactly what it was that you did again?”

You perk up your head on the table, keeping your eyelids shut. A mumble escapes from your lips.

Lyla cups her ears, teasing you unabashedly. “What was that?”

“Iendedupinageneticslecture.”

“What?”

“I ended up in a genetics lecture!”

And if you thought that her first laugh had been loud enough for the tables near you to hear, her second laugh practically caused the entire cafe to turn their eyes on you.

“This is all your fault by the way.” You pick up your cup of hot coffee and as if your day couldn’t get any worse, you’ve managed to burn your tongue and now you wonder whether there’s any point whatsoever in living on this sadistic earth.

Lyla points at herself, “Me? What did I do?!”

If you–” you lower your voice, cautious of multiple eyes staring at your table. “If you didn’t drag me out last night then maybe I wouldn’t have been so sleep deprived that I could have actually gotten to my proper lecture.”

Lyla snorts, waving her hands around. “Oh, please! Didn’t I get you that number off that guy you liked? Matt, was it?”

“Tom.”

“Right, whatever.” she says, picking up her cup and dipping her tongue into the generous amount of whipped cream and marshmallows that cover her hot chocolate. You stare at your own order in distaste, deeply wishing that you had gotten one too.

The next two weeks following your god awful mishap, you were fine.

From now on you and Lyla had a pact.

No more nights out.

Only up until the halloween season.

With your reading classes and her technology lectures, the two of you found each other up to your necks in assignments and essays along with being forced to help out with Lyla’s little coding club maintenance.

Thankfully you’ve managed to maintain some sort of routine, attending most – if not all – of your lectures both on time and double checking that you were in the right ones. You’ve made a few friends here or there at social events and finally found a job as a barista at the same cafe where Lyla gets her favorite hot chocolate from – and you must admit that they are pretty great.

All in all, college is going pretty great.

You think.

It’s going well in terms that you’ve managed to dodge every single phone call from your mom ever since you got here. Weekly, you’ve been coming up with good excuses and you don’t think that she’s caught on. Yet.

It was something that you had expected to happen once you made the decision to move away, I mean it was only fair, her only child leaving the bird’s nest, what else is she supposed to do?

You did feel guilty, of course you did. You hate lying to your mom but having her call every five minutes is not the reputation that you want to set up for yourself.

You’ll call her at the end of the week.

You swear on it.

- ‘Sorry, I’m in the library right now mom, I’ll call you back later okay? Love you <3’

Sent: 5:34pm

Setting your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’, you place it next to your laptop, your playlist resuming through your headphones.

Another thing that you were also proud of yourself, was getting in regular study periods in preparation for midterms. Your old self would have been procrastinating right up until the night before the exam but now? You’ve matured. You’ve changed your ways for the better and by getting in some pre-reading of essays and books, you know that you’ll be thanking your future self in the long run if you keep up this mindset.

And this mindset is a great mindset…as long as you don’t get distracted.

You lasted ten minutes.

You had barely gotten through the second page before your attention was taken somewhere else and by somewhere else you mean somebody else. And this particular somebody reminds you of a moment that you are trying so hard to forget. Which is impossible to do when he had just so coincidentally pulled up a chair next to you.

It was him. The guy who you sat next to in the one lecture that we don’t talk about for certain implicit reasons.

On recognising his face, you hope that he doesn’t recognise you. He pulls up a chair beside you, not truly noticing you are until he glances up. You can already sense what he’s about to say. Taking off your headphones you go to speak but he suddenly cuts you off.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t mistake the janitor’s closet for the library then.”

“Oh, you’re funny.” you deadpan.

“I try to be.” he quips, the corners of his lips tilting upright.

Now that your body is not in fight or flight mode, you get a chance to take in this stranger. He’s…attractive. Conventionally. Tall. Awkwardly tall. Looks like one of those gym junkies or you guess that he actually is one based on those muscles on him. And those model cheekbones and naturally tanned skin and bushy eyebrows and soft lips–

“Do I have something on my face or are you just eyeballing me?”

“Neither.” you say, a little too quick for your judgment.

“There’s no shame in admitting the latter.” He prompts, a playful tone in his voice.

“You’re a little bit cocky don’t you think?”

This stranger leans back into his chair a little, raising a brow before dismissing your statement.

“I would disagree.”

“Of course you would, you’re a STEM student.”

The stranger huffs, glancing at you up and down. “At least I’m guaranteed a job as soon as I’m out of here.” He remarks, rummaging through his bag. “Good luck in getting out of your student debt with–” he squints over to one of the closed novels by your side. “Whatever book that you have over there.”

“You mean pride and prejudice?”

He simply shrugs, choosing to ignore you as he pulls out a huge textbook and his laptop.

Your eyes glimpse the front cover, reading ‘Biological Sciences.’ Your face turns to distaste at the thought of having to read that through your own free will.

“Have you read Pride and Prejudice?” you ask, trying to maintain a friendly unbiased tone.

“Never have and never will.”

“You’re missing out.”

“On what?” he scoffs, flicking a page of his massive textbook. It hurts your brain to even think about how much that would even cost. “A bunch of rich upper class Englishmen complain about their problems for a whole 300 pages?”

“Firstly,” you note, slightly offended. “That’s not what happens. Secondly, it’s 400 pages but it’s debatable depending on what version you buy. But when you suddenly get a gun cocked to your head with someone asking you to quote the first line from Pride and Prejudice one day, you’ll be regretting this conversation.”

“I highly doubt that’s even a probable situation.”

“There’s always a few anomalies lying around.” You shrug absentmindedly, flicking through your own novel which you had to complete reading for this week.

“Rarely.”

“But often enough to catch you off-guard.”

This…stranger lets out a sigh heavily through his nose, a sign of which you know means ‘please shut the fuck up.’ He ignores you for the nth time, eyes slightly squinting as he scrolls down, closely reading an article.

That’s it. You’ve lost your concentration. He’s ruined your mood and your mindset.

You begin to pack away, huffing as you place your novel in your bag. You’ll have to get started when you get home it seems.

“Don’t let me spoil your 19th century fun.” he murmurs, scrolling further down on the article.

“I’m going somewhere else, so that I won’t be bothered with your stupid microbiology shit.”

The man huffs, barely acknowledging you as you stand. “Good luck finding another free spot because this place is packed.”

“I’m heading home actually.” you quip, zipping up your bag after placing all your materials.

“Make sure that you don’t accidentally end up in someone else’s dorm–”

“Hilarious.”

You walk away before he can poke another joke at you. Once again, mocking you and you barely know his first name.

You kinda hope you never see him again. Partly because he’s an annoying STEM student but mostly because he reminds you of the excruciating pain that you went through by sitting in a genetics lecture for two hours without a single break.

Key word: kinda.

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