#professor!John

[bloodybarbrawl]

Happy birthday John.

[evansrogerskitten]

Omg can you please do another check in on your yes sir series ? I love it so much!

Thank you so much! I've always had a tropical vacation idea for the two of them, so I'll certainly think about a new timestamp this summer. If anything it would be worth it to find out how many babies Jess talked Sam into having. 😆 Glad you love the series and that it still has followers years later. Means the world!

Yes Sir Masterlist

[miss-holloday]

the Hatchetfield plotline has me in a CHOKEHOLD

The new starkid actor who plays the character with a direct link to the musicals title (Jon [Paul], Angela [Lex], Will [Max])

The two characters that fall for each other over the course of the musical (Paulkins, Barneston, Lautski)

That interlude song about a musical that is a part of the Hatchetverse but has nothing to do with what's happening at that point in the show. (Workin' Boys, Santa Clause is Goin' to Highschool, The Barbeque Monologues)

The single dad who thinks he knows what’s best for his kid but is pretty misguided (Bill + Alice Woodward, Tom + Tim Houston, Solomon + Steph Lauter)

The song where everyone in town goes insane (La Dee Dah Dah Day, Feast or Famine, Hatchet Town)

Jeff Blim's commentary on something probably (America's Great Again, Made in America, Just For Once)

And now to interrupt our segment - DAN AND DONNA WITH THE HATCHETFIELD ACTION NEWS

That one CREEPY AF song that comes out of nowhere (Join Us (And Die), Do You Want to Play, The Summoning)

The “smoke club” gesture

That part of the musical where a main character almost dies but then is saved by someone appearing on stage. (Paul + McNamara, Lex + McNamara, Pete + Max)

Then there's that one character who's morality was already questionable but then they give into the eldritch gods without any supernatural coercion (Prof. Hidgens, Linda Monroe, Grace Chastity)

Those precious few seconds where you think everything is going to be alright but the apocalypse lives on

Oh, and Paul Matthews and Emma Perkins finding each other… as they always do

[mehh141]

Professor Price | 1/10

Just my vision on how prof!Price from @guyfieriii’s series would have looked like

[vanderilnde]

professor price/reader… but not in the conventional way. you aren’t his student and he isn’t your professor. you’re another teacher at the university he works at, probably researching something that tempers his linguistics class. there’s a large overlap with your students, so oftentimes, when you encroach on price’s lectures to ask for a last-minute reference (the same way he does for you), your students watch with keen-eyed glances as price leans into you, sweeping his nose across your neck as if he’s sniffing you. always with his hand split across the small of your back as he walks you through his criticisms. price’s beard slipping against the husk of your ear and he speaks lowly to you, his chest puffed out behind his button-up and pressed against your arm. it’s an awkward stint of time—like they’re the ones interrupting a deep-seated moment. but at warp speed, you softly chuckle and slide out from under price’s shoulder, flushed, and apologise to his students. you leave his lecture hall and price just stands there, staring at where you stood before you left, outwardly having forgotten about his class. he stands with his hands on his hips, his pants distending over his upper-thighs, seeming to fit him just a little tighter.

[its-short-for-jackalope]

no thoughts today, only ✨️memes✨️ (1/3)

Bailey's stripper jacket my beloved

[vilnmelling]

See, the thing about Jeff's characters is that all of them look exactly like Jeff, but none of them look anything like each other.

MacNamara? Yeah, he looks like Jeff.

Man in a hurry? Clearly Jeff.

Professor Hidgens? Yup, that's Jeff.

BUT THESE THREE DON'T LOOK ANYTHING ALIKE

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat. 

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other. 

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you. 

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story. 

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

[nerdpoe]

fucking shit here's another one

danny is heir apparent to the realms, and while he cannot be summoned as he has not been crowned yet, he can still receive gifts.

bear with me

as he is heir apparent, his will is mirrored by the infinite realms. so in the middle of English class, as he's staring at Mr. Lancer, his deep, resonating thought is

"Fuck man I don't get any of this, I need like, a really good English tutor."

meanwhile, in the batcave, constantine goes fucking rigid and stares at Red Hood, who he just knows that the High King wants for some reason or the other.

"Hood, were you aware that the High King of the Infinite Realms wants you handed to him on a silver platter?"

"What."

meanwhile all over the world English professors and teachers and straight A students are going missing and turning up in Amity of all places.

cultists are confused because like, normally the King of Death wants cheeseburgers and frenchfries, but now it wants people? weird but alright, they'll send over people they guess.

[waackery]

I’ve been watching Sherlock Hound!

[karlrincon]

Raising our wands for Michael Gambon. 🪄

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light” - Albus Dumbledore

[loljustignoreth4t]

when you get a new character fixation but find out that there's a lot less fics of them then you were hoping for

[theprofpenguin]

Woah you like homestuck? That’s so cringe <3

Full illustrations below :D

This started out as just an illustration of John for 413, but then it turned to me drawing all four and they’re just neat :3

[mehh141]

Im going to hell for this one

Professor Price 2/10

credit to @guyfieriii as usual

[werewolfwhispersandwizardsshouts]

Professor Mcgonagall was the biggest wolfstar shipper you'd ever seen. She'd give them detention, but she wouldn't turn up. So it's just the two of them.

[priceyprice]

Prof!Price

"Do you think the professor's hot?"

She stopped writing in her notebook, trying to process the question her friend asked. It was late at night, and everything was quiet around her. She was on a call with one of her friends from class, trying to do an assignment together since it was difficult doing it alone. They found out it was more efficient calling each other because they could share their notes and answers.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Who else? The professor from literature." She tensed, chest tightening with that familiar but obnoxious feeling at the seductive tone she used to say professor from literature.

She dropped her pen in the middle of her notebook to pay full attention to her friend's words. "The professor from literature?"

"Yes! Have you seen him?"

She cleared her throat. Of course she's seen him. In fact, she has seen every part of him.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh my gosh!" Her friend said in an annoyance tone, feeling frustrated she wasn't getting the point. But, she was obviously getting the fucking point. She just can't admit it out of the blue. "He's so hot. I know he's a serious man inside and outside the classroom, but hey, his face and his body... oh my, my... I would totally fuck a man like that."

Her face frowned upon the last words, looking at her friend's name from her phone —since the call was on speaker— as if she's in front of her. That uncomfortable feeling rose throughout all her body like a fountain.

Her friend was looking at the professor with other eyes than the academic figure.

She's pretty sure her friend is not the only girl with her panties wet for the professor from literature. Professor Price is a man who has charisma. His big bulk of a body and his electrifying blue eyes possess an aura that can either intimidate you or make you flustered. The way he talks with people with his low and calm voice, as if he's going to sing the most romantic tune, ever existed. Also, the way he walks, the way he dresses, the way he styles his beard... Everything from Professor Price screams perfection.

It's not difficult for someone to get attracted to the professor.

But stil.

She didn't like how other girls looked at him like he was the most expensive dish served on a silver plate, ready to be devoured. Even though his eyes only stayed on her, she was the only one who could look at him like that.

She was the only one who could actually devour that expensive dish.

She was jealous.

The phantom touch of rough hands around her ankles made her throw a little gasp while pushing the rolling chair backward. "Shh..." Her heart skipped a beat when she hears that low and rough voice beneath her. She looked down at her desk, just to find the protagonist of her conversation with her friend kneeling in front of her;

Professor Price.

He was wearing his usual attire for work. The only difference was his white long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned by the first few buttons, leaving a glimpse of his hairy chest and making him look like some sexy star magazine. His hair was slightly disheveled, probably by all the times he passed his fingers through it. His icy blue eyes were accompanied by some eyebags under it, revealing the tiredness he was accumulating within these days that had passed thanks to the amount of work and reunions he was receiving.

"What are you doing?!" She whispered-yelled taking a rebel strand of hair that went in front of her face when she moved her chair. His thumb caressed softly the skin of her ankles before pulling her to him again, earning a soft gasp from her parted lips. His face ended up resting on her right thigh, eyes closing to the warm feeling her skin radiates.

"'Missed you." He said, placing a soft kiss to her thigh, making her wriggle a bit at the sensation his lips left. "'Missed you so much." He started to leave a trail of soft kisses on her thigh as his hands worked its way to the back of her knees, opening her legs so he could have more room between them. His hands traveled to either side of her hips, taking the waistband of her shorts trying to pull them down.

Her eyebrows raised all the way up, almost comically, ignoring the burning feeling he was making inside of her and focusing on the panic when she realized what he was doing, quickly stopping him. "Wait, Price, we can't do that here." She said, placing her hands on either side of his head trying to separate his lips from her skin, but it was in vain. He was much stronger than her.

Price's hands grasped hers in a soft motion. His thumb caressed her delicate fingers. "Why not? We are in my home. Nobody's watching."

"I'm talking with someone, Price."

"Then be quiet, love." He said before continuing where he left, placing his hands on the waistband of her shorts, his fingers curling the fabric before tugging it down her legs.

Truth be told, Price doesn't give a fuck who is she talking to. He's too tired and consumed by all the work he had these past days, that he's left with nothing but the thought of her beautiful face bringing him the peace he needs.

They couldn't almost see each other within the university halls besides his classroom. His home too, where he'd often find her asleep on his couch or his bed because he was leaving late from the university's office. In the early mornings, he just kissed her a soft goodbye waking her up just for her to see his silhouette leaving the room to go and finish more paperwork he had left the day before.

A sigh could be heard from the other line of the call. "Too bad he isn't open enough to know his relationship status."

A little gasp escaped from her lips when she felt his hot lips put pressure on the wet patch that was starting to form in her soft underwear. A jolt of electricity passed through all her body when he placed another kiss in the same spot, making her jump slightly.

His lips turned into a smile. His hands started caressing the soft flesh of her thighs. "Answer her, love." he said before placing an open-mouthed kiss on the wet spot, passing his tongue through the fabric, feeling the rapid pulses of her pearl. She opened her mouth with a low moan as her hands found a way into his hair.

"Y-Yes... he doesn't... he doesn't let... anyone know."

She tried to calm her frenetic breathing from giving away what was happening on her side of the phone, but it was too difficult. Her back arched when his warm tongue put pressure on her sensitive bud, feeling the wet fabric caress it.

"P-Price, p-please." Her words were shaking in her throat along with a few moans. "What?" He asked, looking up at her beautiful face contorted in nothing but pleasure. Her hand puts a little bit more pressure on the crown of his head, as if inviting him to keep going. "T-Take it off."

"Your underwear?"

She nodded.

"No. I'll take it off when I want to."

He grasped her legs with both hands and threw them over his shoulder, now completely open to him. He rested his hands on her hips, looking at the —big—wet patch, now transparent where he could slightly see through her white underwear the outlines and the color of her folds and her pearl, pulsating against the fabric with desire. Price started at it as if he were a starved man with his last meal in front of him, waiting, inviting him to taste it.

That sent him goosebumps all over his body. His mind glowing with sinful thoughts made him almost blind from the desire.

"Keep talking with her, love. You don't want to let her know that the professor you guys are talking about is the same one between your legs." He said before diving his head again between her thighs.

His tongue made its way with her, taking big laps from her folds to her clothed bud, making her gasps now with full force on his short hair. "F-Fuck..."

"You know, sometimes I think he's married."

She opened her mouth to only let out a soft whimper. His tongue now moving easily with saliva and arousal pooled between her underwear.

"Y-You think so?" She threw her head back into the chair in a blinding pleasure. He was literally making out with her intimate area as if it was her mouth. Opened kisses and pressed his tongue all over her, caging her between his large hands like a lion with a bone between his paws.

He wanted to take her underwear off. Oh, he's been craving to see her bare since the second he stepped into his home. But he knows how loud they can be. He knows how loud the obscene sounds her sweet area makes. He knows the high-pitched moans she does when she's close. He knows everything from head to toe. And he can't risk the other person hearing those sweet sounds coming from her mouth and body.

Of course, he knows her very well.

She's his lover.

"Yeah! I mean, he doesn't look at the other female professors with other eyes than work." His tongue started to draw circles around her bud, sending shock waves through her stomach. Even with the underwear in the middle, she could feel his soft tongue in contrast with the hairs of his beard and mustache tickling her sensitive zone, along with the hairs of his cheeks grazing her inner thighs up and down everytime he licks her.

It was driving her crazy.

"But, there was a rumor."

She bit her lip, trying to stop a whimper rolling from her tongue before speaking; "R-Really? W-what rumor?"

"That he and the professor from marketing were dating." Before she even had the time to think those words and let that jealousy feeling rise up her chest, a chocked moan escaped her lips when she felt his tongue and underwear entering her entrance. Her hips buckled so fast to his face that the chair made a loud squealing sound.

"Is everything okay?"

"Y-Yes!" She said, sounding a little bit more high-pitched than normal. "I almost... fell from my ch-chair. D-Don't worry..."

"Oh, be careful... So, someone who's studying marketing told me that their professor was looking at him like..." Her friend really wanted to spill some kind of false tea, but unfortunately she lost the topic of the conversation the second his tongue was in her entrance, not even caring what was happening around her, only the man and the skillful tongue between her legs.

"Price..." She said when he returned to her now puffy bud giving circles around it. She opened her eyes to stare down just to find his blue ones already looking at her.

Beautiful, he thought. Her hair was in a few directions, while her forehead was glistening with a few droplets of sweat and a few strands plastered on her skin. Her cheeks were red, and her mouth was opened, letting out soft and low noises.

"J-Just fuck me."

"No. After you finish your call, I promise to fuck you like the goddess you are." He continued to circling her bud now putting a little bit more pressure.

She was starting to feel that familiar knot in her stomach. Unconsciously, her hips started to buckle from the chair and getting closer to his face continuously to make that release faster.

"I know you're close, love. Come on, give yourself to me."

He started going faster with his tongue as she started to go faster with her hips, almost making a rhythm to match each other. Her fingers were so secured in his hair, giving painful stings to his scalp, but he didn't mind.

Not when his lover is a mess and he's the cause of it.

She felt all her muscles tense at the same time her legs started to tremble. Her hips worked faster and faster each second, trying desperately to get that release.

Only one last suck to her sensitive bud was all it took to unleash what she was searching for.

Every fiber exploded at the same time her orgasm clashed down in powerful waves. Her mouth hanged open, chocking back a scream that was forming on the depths of her throat. "John...!" She looked at the ceiling, her vision getting blurry for a second.

All the strength was leaving her body and soul as she collapsed back on the chair. Her legs dropped from his shoulders, and her hand left his now totally disheveled hair. Her chest was rapid with her unsteady breathing, her blood pleading for some oxygen. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to make a loud noise and raise suspicion on her friend. Although that wasn't necessary since her friend was rambling about the rumor without taking a break to breathe.

He separate a little from between her thighs, noticing how her arousal made all her underwear drenched and a few droplets falling in the leather cushion of the chair. His muscles tensed at the very erotic sight in front of him.

His hands made way to the waistband of her panties, slowly taking it off her legs and securing them in his pockets. He could see her glistening folds and puffy pearl now bare and open to him, inviting him for another round. And as almost tantalizing that view was for him, he kept his composure and was going to wait until she finished her call as he promised.

He gave a chaste kiss to her bud, her hips bucking as she hissed at the hypersensitivity she was feeling. He trailed kisses down her thighs to her legs, and then he ended with a final kiss on her ankles before caressing them one last time and muttering an 'I love you' without her hearing it.

A few minutes passed, and she opened her eyes only to find herself alone again, as if he didn't take a step into his home office where she was.

"So, what do you think?"

She tried to compose herself, wincing when she felt parts of her arousal that was left in the chair in contact with her sensitive area. She looked down, seeing all the mess she had made.

I'm blaming this on him.

She's pretty sure if he was still there, he would've said, "You were not complaining when you made that mess."

She could hear the faint noise of the shower running from his room that was two doors down the hall , maybe preparing himself before actually having his way with her.

She straightened herself, passing her hands through her hair, taking a few wet strands plasted on her forehead behind her ears. She accommodated her shirt, not bothering to look for her underwear since it was all ruined now. She was going to take a shower after this or join him.

She cleared her throat. "About the rumor...?"

She already heard that rumor. That took surface, and after a few days, everyone was talking about it. That caused a few problems between her and her lover, but he cleared everything and told her it was just her having a crush on him since he can remember, but she has been with other men to take money from them. Of course, since she knows Price is a man with a few dollars on his account, she wanted to have her way with him. But that didn't happen.

While a few professors and students find her like someone sexy and secure, Professor Price finds her disgusting.

Nothing like my little love, he thinks.

"No, silly! About the professor."

Her lips curled into a small smile, feeling tired about the way her soul almost leaves her body in that orgasm caused by the very one Professor Price.

"Yeah... He's not that bad."

part 2 here

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I apologize for the shitty writing. I'm not good at writing these types of scenes + my first language it's not english.

Comments and suggestions are appreciated 🫶🏻.