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cinnamorollcrybaby · 8 months ago

Note

Miss ma’am, hi hello how are you?

I am presenting myself here, very very humbly to ask if we could please get another part of your Nerd Nanami fic?🥹🥹 please please puhleaseeeeeeeee

That was an actual masterpiece, I had to read it very slowly and savour it, making sure to process every single sentence of that fic. You’re so talented it makes me cry

Please offer us more Nanami, pleaseeeeeee

Giving the nerd a chance… part two

Tags: nerd!Nanami x fem!Reader, college au, smut with plot, nsfw, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink, dom!nanami, sub!reader, marathon sex, exhibitionism if you squint real hard, mdni

Synopsis: Your nerdy boyfriend is so prim and proper in real life, but he has big dick energy over text.

An: 4K Follower Special! I got over 20 requests for a part two of this fic. At this time, it is my best performing fic on tumblr, and I fear… I may have peaked with it. I never EVER intended on writing a second part because I was sure that I couldn’t ever follow that fic up with something as good, but this sweet anon request warmed my heart so much that I decided to give the people what they’re asking for. This one’s going to be a long one… pace yourself because there will NOT be a third part… right?

Nanami’s a stoic lover. He doesn’t keep you hidden, but he doesn’t outwardly drag attention towards your relationship. Too much attention meant drama, and Nanami hates drama.

Nanami asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks after the first time you two slept together. Of course, everyone in his friend group saw it coming long before you two had even hooked up.

They saw the longing gazes between you two when you pined for each other. They saw the cheeky glances once you two finally started texting. They noticed how their dear friend smiled more — was more laid back and relaxed.

Everyone welcomed you into their small found family with open arms. They simply couldn’t have picked anyone better to balance out Nanami’s far too strict nature.

Things with Nanami were absolutely a dream. You two had great chemistry emotionally and physically. Of course, he just made things so easy for you.

While he is a stoic lover, you never ever feel unloved by him. He’s always there to reassure you with words of affirmation or small touches that just remind you that he’s there.

Like when you two are at one of Satoru’s “exclusive” gatherings, if you’re not in Nanami’s lap, then he’s got his hand on you somewhere. Sometimes he gets so bored during those little get togethers that he spends his time leisurely pressing kisses into your cheek and neck. He never quite understood Satoru’s and Suguru’s affinity with public displays of affection until he met you.

Or there's those times when you need a little extra help with your studies. Kento is right behind you, with you on his lap, his cock is snuggly being squeezed by your warm leaking cunt. He presses small chaste kisses against your temple and ear while you try your hardest to focus on the homework.

"Do you remember this one, sweetheart? We went over it in class yesterday... Aw, don't go all stupid on me now."

When you get an answer right, he'll reward you with small, shallow thrusts, but you have to finish the whole assignment to get him to really fuck you.

Or if you two are walking together in the halls, Nanami holds his arm out for you, letting you latch onto him so he can guide you two through the crowd of people. He knows how you are in crowded areas, so he's keen on not letting anyone get too close to you.

Nanami’s a true gentleman too. His parents made sure they raised nothing less than a perfect man. You’ve never had to touch a door handle, any of your own money, or bags when you two go shopping. Nanami handles all of that for you. He doesn’t let you walk on the outside when you two are on the sidewalk. He’s respectful of you and your time, and he always listens to everything you have to say with his full attention because you deserve nothing less.

Nanami’s parents truly did their best work with him, and speaking of his parents, Nanami’s the type that wants to take you back home to meet them.

It was nearly fall break as you were sitting in your experimental research class — your final class before you’re free from the hell hole of academics for a full week.

You glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your lap. You and Nanami had been planning a trip out to his family’s home in Hakone for a little bit now, and the closer that time gets to you two leaving, the more stressed out Nanami feels.

Nanami: We’ll probably leave out early tomorrow morning and catch the first train. Will you be okay with that?

Yn: Mhm. That sounds fine, Ken.

Nanami: After class, I need to inform you a little bit more about my parents… I just don’t want you to feel shocked or surprised when you meet them.

Yn: I’m not sure why I’d be shocked or surprised, but I’m excited to hear more.

Nanami: Don’t get too excited.

You stare at his message for a bit, pondering what he could’ve meant by that. He hadn’t ever spoke poorly of his parents, but he didn’t necessarily praise them either. Actually… he never spoke of them.

*** *** ***

For the rest of the class, you wondered just what you were getting yourself into by going and meeting them. Maybe you two were moving too fast or..

“Sweetheart.” His steady voice broke your trance. He’s crouched down next to your desk to be eye-level with you, and the palms of his hand is gently caressing your cheek. “There you are. Spaced out on me.”

The entire classroom is empty. Class must’ve ended a minute ago because not even the professor is in the room now. You must’ve been deep in your own head.

You let force out an awkward laugh before nuzzling your cheek further into his palm, seeking out his affections as comfort from the insecure thoughts that somehow always manage to find a way in.

“I was just.. thinkin’ about your parents is all..” You finally give him some sort of explanation, and Nanami softens a bit.

“It’s just a weekend, my love. Then, I’ll make it up to you.” His words are a promise. You know for a fact Nanami doesn’t say things that he doesn’t mean.

“I think that was the part where you were supposed to reassure me that they’ll like me-“

Nanami pulls you forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you regardless.”

Gods, his words are so sweet, but they cut deep like daggers.

“They’re… not going to like me..?” You mumble in a tone that makes Nanami’s heart sink. He takes your hands into his as he gets on his knee to better talk to you while you’re seated.

“My parents are… very traditional.” He carefully explains, and his hazel eyes search yours for a reaction before he reluctantly continues. “They want me to marry a girl from a specific family-“

“An arranged marriage!?” You blurt out — unable to control your emotions as it feels like your heart is trying to force its way up your throat.

“Something like that - but not exactly. It’s not arranged, but it’s definitely heavily pushed.” He tries to keep his tone steady, but seeing you so upset like this has him feeling raw with emotion as well.

“So, no, they will not be happy to know that I’m going against their wishes, but they’ll come around eventually.” His eyes focus on yours, and he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“… and if they don’t?” A small sniffle escapes you before you can stop it. The thought of Nanami being with anyone else has your head spinning. There’s another girl out there who might be expecting for him to take her hand in marriage.

“Hey... look at me.” He coaxes softly as his hand guides your face to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I’m doing this as a courtesy for them — not because I need their approval.”

Chills shoot up your spine from his words. Nanami rarely cusses, but when he does, it’s enough to even make Satoru blush when he hears it.

Your worry instantly flees your body when Nanami’s lips press against yours to seal the deal. This was just a visit to his parents. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“I’m still gonna love you…” He mumbles his words against your lips before seeking out more of your honeyed kisses. “…still gonna marry you one day…” His deep voice groans a little as he gently suckles on your bottom lip. “…still gonna fuck you senseless every night.”

“Ken..” A breathy whine; a whimper; a plea.

“Because you need it every night, don’t you?” His lips are still chasing yours with an insatiable hunger. It just wasn’t enough. If the next class wasn’t coming in the next 10 minutes, he’d take you right here on your desk, but he doesn’t fancy the idea of anyone else’s eyes accidentally falling upon your ethereal body.

“Mhm… need it.” You murmur against his lips quietly in agreement.

Nanami suddenly pulls away, and he reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Come on before I fuck you right here.” He threatens and picks your bag up off the floor for you.

*** *** ***

A gasp flees you as Nanami pushes your back against his bed. His lips are immediately assaulting your neck: suckling soft red marks into your skin and nipping at you gently.

He loves to see the aftermath of his love on you, but he has to be careful this time. Can’t have you going to meet his parents with hickeys all over your neck, can you?

“Mmm~ What about Haibara?” You ask now before you find yourself too hypnotized by his affections.

“He has a class right now.” Nanami answers before his hand trails up your thighs towards your already damp panties. He has had this on his mind all day since he saw you in that cute little skirt you’re wearing.

“Already so wet.” He groans into your neck before biting at your shoulder. The pads of his fingers tease your sensitive clit through the cloth of your cotton panties. “Fuck. You’re so good to me.”

Nanami drops to his knees on the edge of the bed, and his strong arms pull you by your legs to where you’re situated at the edge for him to eat you out to his heart’s desire.

He doesn’t even remove your panties before he leans in and presses a sloppy kiss to your cunt. He can already taste you through the fabric, and he needs more.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, carefully placing them on his bedside table. If he can swing it, he’ll definitely hide them from you and claim that you lose them — just so he can keep them for when you’re not around.

He’s not a pervert!! Well… he loves jerking off into his girlfriend’s panties when he’s too needy at night… Feeling the wet fabric that was pressed so unceremoniously against your heavenly cunt is more than enough to get him off quickly. It would be ungentlemanly to wake you up at your dorm for such a scandalous adventure. At least he washes and returns them to you promptly after using them a couple of times.

As soon as your panties are safely discarded, Nanami has his face right back between your legs. He uses his hands to prop your legs up on his shoulder, and he just.. absolutely begins to devour you.

“Ngh.. oh fuck— wait Ken.. I wan..” You can barely get your words out right while his tongue is lapping at your slippery folds.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to interrupt someone during a meal?” His hazel eyes look up at you with such a serious look — you feel like you’re being scolded.

Your face flushes a bright red before you relax back into his bed — accepting your fate. Kento smiles to himself, knowing that it doesn’t take much to pacify you. You’re too much of a good girl for him.

“Mmm~ that’s right. Just lay back and take what I give you, pretty girl.” He hums in satisfaction as his tongue connects with your cunt once more.

He licks up all the sticky wetness that you so graciously leak for him. He’s so messy with it, practically french kissing with your cunt. Your juices are smeared across his chin from him hopelessly lapping at you. His tongue writes love letters to you against your clit, making your body shiver with pleasure and excitement.

One of your hands is clasping at the sheets, and the other hand is entangled in Kento’s blonde hair, giving him small tugs as he gives you the best head of your life.

Your thighs unconsciously press together, trying to run from the weird sensations that his mouth gives to you. Your boyfriend grunts in dissatisfaction — not enjoying the sudden disobedience from you.

His hand press against each of your knees, and he forces your legs back open — spreading you wiiiide open for him.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He asks while looking up at you through his lashes.

“Please — please~” You whine. Your hips involuntarily buck up, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Then be good, and sit still.” Nanami orders, and his hand ever so carefully swats at your sensitive cunt — sending shockwaves of electrifying pleasure through your nerve endings.

“‘m sorry.. ‘m sorry.. please.” You’re so whiny and desperate to be stretching by him. It’s honestly so pathetic that he pities you.

“My poor sweet girl.” He chuckles lowly before pressing a more gentle kiss against your clit. His tongue carefully dips into your wet heat. “Tastes too sweet for your own good. How am I supposed to stop enjoying you, huh?”

A glob of spit rolls down your cunt from Nanami’s mouth, and he uses his own two fingers to spread it around, softly toying with your glistening pussy. A smirk curls on his lips as he watches the way your entrance flutters — so enticed by the potential of being filled by him.

You quietly stifle a squeal as he stuffs you with two of his thick fingers. “So reactive, baby.” He murmurs as his tongue darts back out to gently lap and flick at your clit.

“Ken.. fuck, fuck-! Mmmph..” Your hips start to roll against his fingers, trying to force them inside you. Your boyfriend obliges your silent request, and he pushes his fingers in deeper, curling upwards to that spot he knows will make you cry out his name…

“Nanami-!” There it is. His fingers begin to roughly pump in and out, abusing your sensitive g-spot over and over again.

“Better be a good girl and tell me you love me.” He mutters lowly into your cunt. He knows he doesn’t have to tell you anymore — you’re already conditioned to tell him you love him when you cum. Even if he’s not the one making you finish, you’ll text him a quick “I love you” as you clench around your own fingers to the thought of him.

Your hips roll harder, and your moans are way more throaty — interrupted by small gasps for air. He can tell that you’re getting close. His mouth gently begins to suckle on the small bundle of nerves, and he focuses his tongue on swirling circles around your clit.

It’s all so much. It feels like Nanami is literally playing you like an instrument. He knows exactly what to do to make you a whiny trembling mess.

His fat fingers are pummeling into you, slamming into your sweet spot — making overstimulated tears well up in your eyes. “Sh-shit.. gonna cum.. Nanami… ah~ more..” You’re babbling utter nonsense while trying to find your orgasm.

Your stomach starts to clench, and it almost feels uncomfortable. Your breath stutters as Nanami murmurs into your pussy. “Let go for me, darling. Let it alllll out.” He encourages you as if his fingers and tongue aren’t absolutely tag teaming you.

“Ah~ Mmph… I.. fuck- I love you-!” You moan as you finally feel your orgasm suddenly break. Your tight walls clench around Nanami’s fingers, and fluids from your arousal gush out, making a big mess on his face and clothes.

Nanami quietly chuckles as he comes to realization that you just squirted on him. “Oh? That’s how you feel, huh?” He mocks playfully before pressing one last french kiss against your cunt. “I love you more darling.”

For a moment, you don’t know if it’s more directed towards you or your pussy.

*** *** ***

The early morning train ride was spent with your head cozied into Nanami’s shoulder as he had a protective arm around you. The scenery outside was beautiful. Hakone is known for their breathtaking sights of Mount Fiji. Too bad your eyelids were so heavy from getting up so early.

Nanami takes the silence as a time to reflect. He truly can’t remember a time when he was nervous like this. It was as if that emotion left him when he was a teenage boy. His family’s harsh regime for raising him left no room for shy or nervous behavior. Men were strong, confident, sophisticated. They exuded chivalry in everything they do.

Honestly, he’s glad that he was raised the way he was. Every time he bears witness to Gojo’s crude behavior, he can only think of how happy he is to have had a strict childhood.

But right now, he wishes he wasn’t so nervous. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s silently praying that you can’t hear it. Even though he didn’t care what his parents thought of you, he didn’t fancy the idea of seeing you torn down by his parents. Hopefully, they’ll have enough class to take up the issues with him — not you.

*** *** ***

Nanami’s parent’s house had a very traditional vibe to it, and it was easily twice as big as the house you grew up in. It was beautifully decorated, and the lawn was obviously meticulously cared for. It makes sense that Nanami grew up here.

“Just one weekend. Then, we’ll be back to normal.” Nanami murmurs softly into your ear. Though, he doesn’t know if he’s reassuring you or himself at this point. He takes a deep breath before knocking on the door with a heavy fist.

“Oh, Kennn.” His mother immediately ran up to Nanami and gave him a big hug after answering the door, which he returned back to her.

“It’s good to see you, mom.” He responds heartily before he holds out his hand to his dad.

“Look at you. Our son has grown up on us.” His dad gives a sweet smile while gently nudging his mom with his elbow.

“Don’t remind me!” His mom practically wails with her arms still wrapped around Nanami, and you’re awkwardly on standby.

Nanami finally puts his hands on his mom’s shoulders, and he forces her to take a step back. “It hasn’t even been that long since you two saw me, and besides, I brought someone for you two to meet.”

His arm carefully wraps back around your waist, and he looks at his parents before collecting himself briefly. “This is my girlfriend, Yn. Yn, these are my parents.”

His mom’s smile falters almost unnoticeably, but you immediately pick up on her dissatisfaction. His dad seems to just he surprised.

“Ah, yes, welcome to our home, yn.” His dad finally says with an earnest smile, and he subtly nudges his wife. It’s definitely a silent reminder for her to stop looking at you like you’re an intruder.

“Your home is lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami. It’s nice to meet you two.” You try your best to not sound nervous at all, but his mom’s face just makes your stomach turn.

His parents guide you through their home, but they mostly focus their attention on Nanami: asking him about his studies, asking how Gojo’s doing, and asking if he’s contacted some girl named… Allegra. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was the girl who they wanted him to marry instead.

They didn’t ask you very many questions. His dad was friendly, but it seemed like he was tip toeing around all the awkward tension. His mom was just flat out ignoring your presence — clearly in denial about her son having a girlfriend who wasn’t this mysterious Allegra girl.

When it came time for dinner, his dad finally broke the awkward tension and asked about you.

“So yn, you go to the same college as Kento?” His dad seems to be genuinely sweet — just more on the passive shy side.

“Yeah, Ken and I actually share quite a few classes together.” You smile as your utensil grazes along the food they prepared. It smells delicious, but your nerves will barely allow you to nibble on it.

“What are you studying?”

“Oh, I’m in general studies for now. I’m still deciding on what to major in.” You reply as you finally feel yourself beginning to relax in your chair.

“Did you tell your friend that Allegra is studying to become a doctor? Wouldn’t that be nice to have in the family?” His mom finally speaks up, only addressing Nanami and not you.

Your stomach sinks as you realize why Nanami was so apologetic and reassuring this entire time. He knew his mom was just going to take subtle digs at you the entire time.

“One, she’s my girlfriend — not friend. Two, no, I have no reason to speak about Allegra with my girlfriend.” Nanami responds, and he gives his mom a subtle look. It appears they have a brief challenging moment before his mom looks away and relents.

Nanami’s foot gently nudges yours underneath the table, and you try to give him a small smile in response. It’s just hard when clearly you’re not wanted in this household.

The dinner goes silent for a moment, and the dining area fills with the sounds of chopsticks gently touching against plates. You subtly check your phone for an escape.

Nanami: Don’t pay her any mind, okay?

Nanami: I promise I’ll make up for this tonight. I’ll kiss you for every rude thing she says.

Yn: and for every time she says Allegra?

Nanami: I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember her name… make you so dumb until you can only remember my name. That’s all you need to know anyways.

Yeah, that’ll do it. The negative emotions are gone — replaced by a feral need for his cock. You take a subtle breath before putting your phone away, not wanting anyone to accidentally see him dirty talking you right in front of his parents.

“Ah, do you think you can help me out with the car tomorrow, Kento? Your old man is getting too old and worn out to crawl underneath there.” His dad finally breaks the silence once more.

“Of course, dad. What are you needing done on it? I’ll probably wake up early and get it done before day breaks.” Your boyfriend is such a good son. It’s no wonder that his mom is stupid protective over him.

“I just need to breaks changed on it. It’s probably due for an oil change too.” His dad explains, and Nanami assures him that he’ll get it done.

“I didn’t know you knew much about cars.” You take the chance of speaking up, and Nanami’s hazel eyes meet yours. His face instantly softens, and his mouth opens to speak. Too bad his mom beats him too it.

“Of course, he does. He needs to know all sorts of things like that in case his future wife needs her car repaired.” His mom says with a hint of hostility in her tone. “Speaking of which, Allegra just bought a new car a few months ago.”

You sit in silence for a moment, and you feel your stomach twisting in discomfort. You don’t know why you care so much for this woman’s opinion of you. Nanami already warned you that they likely wouldn’t approve of you, but you didn’t know you signed up to practically be bullied all weekend.

“I know a few basic things about cars. Nothing major.” Nanami responds to you — ignoring his mother’s comments. “I can show you too if you’re interested.”

A small smile curls on your lips, and you swallow back your emotions— trying to stay strong for him. “That’d be nice.”

“You definitely have a….”

“Mom.” Nanami immediately warns, staring down his mother before she can even finish her sentence.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything mean.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casually laughing as if she’s been nothing but friendly this entire time. “I was just going to say that your friend certainly has a bold personality… wearing red to meet someone’s parents is definitely… a choice.”

Your eyes look down at the nice blouse you’re wearing, and you swallow harshly. Nanami was actually the one to pick it out for you. He reassured you this morning that you looked gorgeous — unknowingly signing you up to be bullied.

Your face is burning hot with embarrassment, and you wish you could just fold in on yourself and die right on the spot.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” Nanami frowns, and he puts his chopsticks down on his plate. “I’m serious. Being a bully at your age is unbecoming to you as a mother.”

“Kento.” His dad warns, but Nanami doesn’t relent for a second.

“No. I’m not going to sit here and allow her to continue disrespecting my girlfriend like that.” Your boyfriend retorts, and he switches back to glaring at his mother. “I’m not dating Allegra — nor do I want to. I’m doing you a favor by introducing you to yn. I figured you’d like to know your future daughter in law.” He gestures to you,

The color leaves his mom’s face as she stares back at her son — as if him implying that he is going to marry you is the worst news she’s ever heard. Her eyes cut over towards you in a vicious glare. “How long have you even known my son?”

Your heart is beating straight through your chest. Confrontation isn’t your strong suit, and to be honest, his mother was terrifying even though she’s literally shorter than you are.

“W-well, we met in college so…” You inwardly curse for stumbling over your words, and Nanami frowns as he looks at you. He hates that his parents are making you so unsure of yourself and your role in his life. He wants to take all your insecurities away and make you forget this ever even happened.

“It’s not even been that long! You don’t even have history with this girl. Allegra was your first kiss.. your first everything!” His mother raises her voice at Nanami, making exasperating hand motions.

His first everything? He told you that you were his first.

Tears prick into your eyes before you can even think to stop him. Overwhelmed by shame and just utter defeat, you don’t even know what to do other than to hide and cry.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he sees you clearly trying to cover up the tears streaming down your cheeks. His jaw tightens as he returns his gaze to his mother.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall you ever being present for any of those things.” His mom starts to speak up, but he is quick to shut her back down. “I kissed Allegra because you were breathing down my neck to. I was barely 15 at that time, and it happened once. That was the first and only time I ever even touched her.”

His mom starts to try to speak up again to probably bring up some other point about why he should be with Allegra. Nanami interrupts her again.

“Allegra and I do not like each other. We hardly tolerated each other for yours and her parents’ sake. You have to get over it. I’m with yn, and I’m happy — happier than I’ve ever been. She was my first everything. My first real kiss, my first girlfriend, and since you seem to want to stick your nose so far in my business, she was my first in bed too.”

“Kento, you’re being incredibly disrespectful.” Her voice is much more strict now as she scolds her grown son.

“I wonder where I get it from. It seems as though we both have a propensity for being rude.” He retorts, and while he’s arguing, his hand slides over to your inner thigh under the table, and he gropes it harshly.

He’s so pissed. He doesn’t even know how to get rid of this anger. His hand squeezes your thigh tightly, making your face go bright red as you look away from everyone.

“I’m not accepting her into this family. You can forget that. She’s changed you.” His mother’s words are growing harsher, and his dad is trying to quietly calm her. She doesn’t pay him any mind though.

“Fine. We’ll just go make our own family.” Nanami scoots his chair back, and he stands up. His hand roughly pulls you up as well — not giving you a chance to even think about what he just said. He bends down and effortlessly throw you over his shoulder, making you gape in surprise. His arm securing you by wrapping around the back of your thighs. “And by the way, I chose the red blouse. It matches the cute bra she’s wearing that I also chose for her.”

His parents stare at him — both completely dumbfounded by what just happened. They didn’t raise him to be like that, but what were they going to do?? Stop him? That’s a laughable thought. You’re not even sure God himself could pull Ken off of you when he’s feral like this.

His footsteps are heavy as he stomps up the stairs towards his teenage bedroom. Nothing has changed since he was last in here. It’s still completely sterile from how he was made to clean it each day. The walls are littered with posters of various science related things, and he has some posters of older video games he use to enjoy.

Your body is practically flung onto the bed, and Nanami doesn’t waste a single second. His heart is pounding in his chest. His mind is fogged with pure anger. He hasn’t felt like this in so long. It reminds him of why he took up going to the gym.

With no punching bag in sight, you’re his only outlet.

His body is unwavering on top of yours — a force to be reckoned with, and his mouth immediately connects with yours in a suffocating kiss. Quiet hums and moans fill the air between you two, and he quite literally steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers wrap around your wrists easily, pinning them above your head on the bed.

No longer satiated from robbing you of your breath, Nanami trails his kisses down to your neck. To hell with not marking you — he needs to see his brand on your neck. You’re his, aren’t you? Who cares if his parents see?

“Ah~” You let out a breathy whimper as he angrily sucks and bites on your neck. Your skin is sensitive - already turning bright shades of blue and purple from his mouth. His dental imprint litters your neck and shoulders.

“K-Ken.. what about..?” You start to ask about his parents. They’re going to hear you two. Wouldn’t that just make things worse?

“Don’t care.” He responds so brashly. If he thinks about his parent’s behavior any longer, he’s going to need to fuck you into next week to get all his anger out.

Riiiip!

Your eyes widen as you look up at your boyfriend’s hulking figure. The blouse that you were just criticized for was now more like a coat, split down the middle, revealing your perfect breasts, so prettily on display in your red lacy bra.

His mouth waters as he looks you up and down. You have almost this panicked look in your eye, provoked by his unpredictability, and for whatever reason, it’s driving him insane.

His mouth is back on you like it never left: kissing and biting on your mounds, painting them so beautifully with his mark. “You’re mine.” He grunts lowly. His jealousy almost makes it sound like his parents were insinuating that you should marry someone else.

“Say it.” He demands before his teeth graze over your collarbone. His warm breath fans over your skin, making you shiver.

“Yours.” You comply with such a small whimper, and your body jolts when you feel his raging bulge rub against you.

“See what you do to me?” He rumbles lowly as he looks down to where he’s now shamelessly dry humping you through clothes like he’s a horny teenager.

“Fuck… Ken..” You whisper as you’re also mesmerized by the sight. His slacks are completely taught, outlining the shape of his cock so well. You can almost see the veins that protrude on him.

His hips rolls slowly against yours, savoring the way the fabric rubs against him and you. His dick is painfully throbbing — begging for the reprieve of being squeezed by your gummy walls.

“Are you as much of a mess as I am, baby?” He asks as his hand dips into your pants. His eyebrows furrow, and he lets out a low groan as his fingers are instantly coated in your slick. He slips his hand back out of your pants just to slide his fingers into his mouth. He holds eye contact with you as he hums in satisfaction. He'll never get enough of your taste.

“You want this, don’t you? Want me to fuck you where my parents can hear you?” He slides his hand back down into your pants, and his fingers rub tight, firm circles against your clit, making your body squirm from pleasure.

“Nngh~ ah!” You’re already so noisy, and he hasn’t even began fucking you yet.

“Give ‘em a show, baby. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

“Mmm~ Ken…” You moan as your back arches up off the bed. His fingers press down harder on your swollen clit.

“You can do better than that, darling.” He can be so condescending in bed, using that insatiable need for praise against you.

“Ken!” You shout, all logical thought has abandoned you. He tells you to do better? You do better.

“Good girl.” He purrs before sliding his hand out of your pants. He can’t get your clothes off of you quick enough. His cock is beckoning for attention, still neglected from yesterday of just eating you out.

Your hands shakily try to unbutton his shirt, and he chuckles lowly at your pitiful efforts. “Aw, my poor girl. Already so shaken up. Go on. You can do it.”

You huff at his taunting. Usually, he’d just see you struggling and take off his clothes for you, but today he was thriving off watching you so desperately trying to get his clothes off him.

It takes you a minute to get his clothes off him, and you don’t even properly take off his pants. You merely shoved them down along with his boxers just low enough for his monstrous cock to spring out. Nanami merely watches you with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted?” He purrs lowly, and he carefully drags his tip up and down your core, smearing his precum along your lips as if his tip was giving you a sloppy kiss.

“Gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” His other hand releases your wrists, and he lovingly cups your cheek. His hand is so big compared to your face. He loves watching you nuzzle up into his palm.

You nod your head quickly in response, lifting your hips up to meet his with each slow movement. Wet slippery noises from your cunt weeping for him fill the room.

“Use your words.” He demands before he speaks up louder — just to spite his parents who are right below you two. “I said. You’re going to take this dick like a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You whine before your body is completely shell shocked from a quick slap to your cunt. His cock is so heavy — you can feel the weight of it as his rudely smacks it against you again.

“Louder.”

“Yes sir-!” You immediately oblige, following his commands without a second thought in your brain.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, and he carefully guides his sweltering tip towards your entrance, plugging your hole with just his head.

“Keep being a good girl like that, and I might have to give you baby. Do you want that?” He asks while carefully stretching you by fucking his tip in and out of your tight hole. “You wanna have my baby, don’t you?”

“Ffffuck- Ken! T-too much..” You squirm your body against his bedsheets, and he chuckles at your poor attempt at getting away.

“You clearly want this, so why are you running?” He hands latch onto your thighs, and he pulls you back down towards him, inadvertently impaling you even further on his cock.

A smug chuckles bubbles up in his throat as he sees how much of a mindless mess you are. He loves how he can make you all dumb so quickly with his dick. It brings him great joy to know that you trust him and can just let go, letting the more primal urges take over.

“Mmm~ so tight and wet for me, aren’t you darling? Need to just let Ken take care of you, yeah?” His voice is like velvet as he slowly thrusts himself in and out, sinking deeper into you with each movement, splitting you wide open.

“Ah~! nnnnn… so good.” You manage to whine out.

“What a crybaby. I know you can take me better than that, darling.” Nanami gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his large hand wraps around your neck, applying pressure in just the right spots to make you all lightheaded.

"Come on. Show me how good you can take it~" His hips snap forward suddenly, sinking his full length deep inside you. Your eyes roll back into your head as he takes full control over you.

His hips are pounding forward, bumping his tip right against your cervix with every mean thrust. His balls are heavy and slapping against the flesh of your ass — a reminder for how pent up he's been recently.

Maybe it's the lack of an orgasm for the last couple of days or maybe it's his parents being utter assholes to you, but Kento finds himself feeling frustrated all over again. Low grunts and growls escape him, and he uses his grip on your neck to push himself in even further -- harder.

The sound of skin clapping against skin fills the room, and his childhood beds starts to squeak out with each forceful blow. He knows for a fact that his parents can hear every single noise. The thin walls of this house absolutely hide nothing. He may as well have fucked you right there against the kitchen table to really prove a point.

"Fuck-! Kenkenkenken! Ah~" You can't even form sentences much less words other than his name. Before you can even warn him, your walls begin to pulse around him - practically milking him while your orgasm takes you over. "Nnngh~ I-I love you.."

"Mmnn~ I didn't tell you that you could do that, sweetheart." He hazel eyes bore into your very soul as his grin shifts to a more wild one. His hips move with even more vigor as if he's trying to push himself straight into your womb,

His hand lets go of your throat, finally allowing you to get a deep breath of air while trying to cope with his massive size pumping in and out of you as if you're nothing but a senseless fuck toy, but you clearly fucking love it. You're practically dripping all over him, soaking his bedsheets in your arousal.

At this point, his parents aren't sure if he's killing you or fucking you. Either way, they're too afraid to intervene. They didn't raise a gentleman at all. They raised a monster.

"Mmph... Need to give you a baby. Can I? You'd make such a pretty mama. School be damned. I need you." Normally, Nanami is pretty controlled over his pillow talk. He's really good at it, but right now, he's completely lost in you -- just babbling promises of giving you a baby and marrying you.

"Y-yes, Ken! Fuck... give me a baby, please." Your legs are trembling around his waist, and your fingernails are giving him such pretty decorations along his back. Small trophies for fucking you just right.

"Fuuuck- Take it. T... take it all..." His voice is a gravely groan as his cock twitches inside you, spilling all of his seed directly into your tummy. It's so fucking much from holding back for a couple of days - completely filling you up. "I love you so much. Gonna marry you one day."

The house is eerily silent for a moment as both you and Nanami catch your breaths. He stays planted on top of you, keeping your legs hooked around his waist. Small creaks of footsteps against a floorboard fill the air, and you tense up, thinking his parents were going to come in there and raise all sorts of problems.

Nanami gently strokes your face with the back of his hand. "Shhh, they're not coming in here. Promise." He whispers lowly, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. You slowly relax in his arms, trusting his words that his parents weren't going to come in there.

You can hear a door open and shut, and it sounds like bickering back and forth between his parents.

"See? They're just going to bed." He presses another reassuring kiss to your cheek.

His hips continue to lazily pump in and out of you, basically fucking his cum back into you as it seeps out. His cock is hyper sensitive, but he can't get enough. You're completely drenched for him. You deserve more of his loving.

"Keennn~" You whine quietly, shifting in the bed slightly as your legs are all achy and sore from him taking out all of his anger on you.

"What is it, baby?" He asks in a hushed whisper against your ear. His breath tickles your skin, making you slightly squirm in response. "I'm just making sure it takes, yeah?" His cock sinks further into you, already growing hard all over again even though he just finished.

"Mmmph~" You hum as your eyes slipped closed. Nanami smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, knowing that you're already needy all over again for him.

"Answer me, darling. Want me to stop?" He asks while peppering kisses all over your face. If the last round was about degradation and taking his anger out, then this one was about how much he loves you and can't get enough of you.

"Nonono... don't stop, please." You murmur out quickly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"That's my good girl... Always needin' more, aren't you?" He hums lowly, and his cock pumps in and out so slowly, delicately smushing against your cervix with each loving thrust.

"Mmn.. I love you." You slur out, completely cock drunk at this point. Kento just smiles and continues to dote on your with messy kisses against your cheeks and neck. His hand is gently massaging your breast, just barely teasing your nipple while he makes love to you.

"And I love you, darling." He responds before he feels you squeezing around him already. "Oh pretty, again?" He asks as his eyes look down to your fluids gushing around his length. "Such a mess. How are we meant to sleep on these sheets now?"

"'m sorry... I c-couldn't help it. 'm so sorry." You whimper as your face dips into his shoulder, hiding you obvious embarrassment.

Kento's arms wrap around your waist, and he uses his hold on you to drag you up and down along his length — still moving at such a torturously slow pace, making you feel every inch as it enters you.

"Aw, that's alright, darling. I'll clean us up. Just take a little bit more for me, yeah?" He whispers into your ear while your pelvis is slotting against his. He's damn near holding you up into his arms. Lucky you for having such a strong boyfriend.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, claiming your mouth as his completely. A few seconds later, his cock is pumping you full again with his cum — still so much on the second round.

Without even missing a beat, Nanami's mumbling breathily in your ear. "Mmm, I know I said I'd clean us up, but you wouldn't hate a third round, would you?"

*** *** ***

Nanami didn't wake you up the next morning to watch him work on the car. He knew your poor little body was put through the ringer yesterday, so he gave you a tender kiss on the temple before making his way into the garage in just his sleeping pants and socks.

His father's car was already propped up on the jack, and his father groaned as he leaned up off the ground. "Well good morning." He says in a knowing tone.

"Good morning. Why are you down there? I told you I'd fix it today." Nanami asks as he shoos his dad out of his way, and he slides himself underneath the car.

"Well, I didn't know if you'd be up for it after your fun ventures last night." His dad hands Nanami a tool to help get the brake pads off the car.

Nanami stays silent. In his new found clarity, he does know that fucking you so loudly to where his parents can hear was a weird retaliation method, but he doesn't regret doing it.

"Your mother cried all night last night."

"Maybe she needs a reality check if she's that damn upset about who I choose to romantically involve myself with." Nanami rolls his eyes, and he grunts as he forces the brake pad away from the car.

"I don't think she was crying because of that. I think she realizes just how far she drove you away from her with her constant pressure over your love life." His dad explains, and he hands Nanami the new brake pad to replace on the car. "I'm not saying you or yn have to forgive her for how she acted today, but I am asking that you try to give her another chance today. I think she understands now."

Nanami takes a deep breath, but he nods quietly. "She's got one more time to say anything rude to my girlfriend, and we're taking the first train back to the university."

*** *** ***

Your eyes darted over to Nanami's nervously when his mother asked you to have a girl's day with her, but your boyfriend gently rubbed your back, silently assuring you that it'd be okay. At least, he hoped it'd be okay.

Nanami: Text me if she says anything rude. I'll pack our stuff up and we'll leave, okay?

Luckily, you didn't have to text him at all that day. His mom took you sight seeing around the town, out to eat at one of Hakone's favorite restaurants, and you two got your nails done.

"You know, I was being a bad person yesterday." She starts off as you two are sat next to each other. Her feet are being massaged by one of the workers, and you're getting your toes painted. "I guess I just had this idea of how I wanted Kento's life to go, and when things started not going to plan, I started trying to grasp onto anything that'd give me control."

You glance over at his mother, and she has a small nostalgic smile upon her face. "I can't believe I allowed myself to act that way towards you... especially after my parents did the same thing to Kento's dad."

"Your parents didn't accept Kento either?" You curiously ask, wondering how similar your stories were.

"No, but they didn't try to arrange me into a marriage either. They just didn't think Kento's dad was manly enough for me. They didn't like seeing me wear the pants in the relationship, but that's just what works for us... I use to beg for them to just let us be happy, but they never stopped criticizing him. I finally just.. stopping talking to them when I fell pregnant with Kento." She explains in a voice raw with emotion. You can clearly see how this still impacts her to this day.

"I don't want Ken to do the same to me... I want to be in his and your life and my future grandchild's life if that's what you two choose to do. I raised him well, and I know he has a good judgement of character. So, I know you must be a good person. If he's happy, then that's all that matters to me." She goes on, giving you a small apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry for how I acted towards you last night. It will never happen again."

*** *** ***

Nanami had spent the whole day checking his phone religiously while his dad kept him employed with random home renovation tasks. He was waiting for the moment to start packing up your stuff and telling his mom that he wasn't going to speak to them again.

When he heard sounds of wailing coming from the front door, he immediately hopped off the ladder that his dad was holding for him.

"Kento-!" His dad shouts as he wobbles around, but Nanami was already speed walking towards the front door to see what was happening.

To his surprise, there was no wailing. It was only hysterical laughter coming from you and his mom. He stood in the door way with a confused look on his face as he observed you two.

"Yes, he was such a cutie pie.." His mom laughs as she shows you another picture of Kento in high school.

"Aww, Ken... you didn't tell me you were emo." You greeted your boyfriend with a fit of giggles from seeing his high school photos. His fringe proudly in view.

Nanami rakes his hands through his shorter hair now, and he lets out a relieved laugh. Seeing you interact so happily with his mom was enough to make him feel full with love. His heart feels at ease now... until he remembers that he has to meet your parents at some point.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

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carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 2 years ago

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in-school-suspension was honestly so extremely funny because i had undiagnosed Problems Disorder and unironically i LOVED being sent to ISS.

average day of ISS (sent there for 3 days because i was late to a class three times within a 9-week period):

arrive at school and say a silly dramatic farewell to my besties

stop at each of my classrooms to receive makeup work from my teachers which always ends up being some bullshit worksheet or textbook busywork

arrive at ISS portable and go through the daily rigamarole intro of "you are Bad and you should Feel Bad. welcome to Bad Class, a confirmation that you will never make anything of your life, you horrid creature. you are not allowed to speak, eat, or feel joy. no doodling or reading, if you don't have makeup work or homework i will assign busywork to you. fuck you. *spits*"

spend the next 4 hours doing my busywork. it is QUIET. i can CONCENTRATE. the work gets DONE EARLY.

the work only took 2 hours maximum, i spend the other 2 hours writing fanfiction manually in a composition book pretending that I'm doing textbook work. i am having the time of my life.

our lunch time is the 10 minutes between the two lunch periods. there is no line, because there's only ever 5-15 ISS students. i get to EAT instead of STANDING IN A LINE for half an hour and only having 4 minutes to scarf down my garbage.

at the end of lunch, we are led in a big duck line through the school and we each get to stop off at our usual classes and pick up work to do. i already did this in the morning, so i use my time to say hi to my friends and figure out what the homework will be tonight.

for the last 2 hours of the day i do my homework. IT GETS DONE. this is the ONLY time during high school where homework gets done. zero exaggeration. i never did homework unless i was actively in a classroom with no choice but to do homework.

we get the usual outro of "this has been your day in Bad Class, because you're a Bad Child. some of you will be here tomorrow, some of you will not, but i'll see you again in a couple of weeks, because you are Bad and will always be Bad."

the school day is over, i did not encounter any of my bullies, i did not have to 'participate in class'. i got all of my work done and then some. i got to work on my fanfics. i hang out with my friends after school and talk to others on myspace/facebook.

it is the best three days i have in recent memory.

i will be there again, probably on purpose.

#op #high school was a miserable experience but also SO funny

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months ago

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itoshi sae has no idea how you do it.

classwork, homework, midterms, exams, two jobs, and a lively group of friends? it all sounds so unnecessary to him, these things that would be distractions from his dream. but for you, it sustains you and encourages you to keep going. how differently our minds work, he thinks to himself when he has a rare day to spend on your couch and you're typing away at some assignment on your laptop.

"why do you do that?" you don't respond the first time he asks and he gently calls your name, even though you're barely three feet away. you turn to him with a tired look and something pangs inside his chest. "why bother doing that?"

"bother doing what?"

"whatever it is you're doing right now." he nods at your glaring laptop screen filled with words he can't even begin to understand, some final before your university goes on winter break.

"because it's part of my degree?" there's no malice in your words, just genuine confusion, just like there's no accusations in his words, just concern. "if i fail this class, i don't graduate."

"why do you need to graduate, or have a degree in the first place?"

"because i need a job, my love," you explain patiently. "we've had this conversation before. going to school means i can get a well-paying job to sustain myself."

"why do you need to sustain yourself when you have me?" you blink at him and his blank face. the only sign of emotion is the slight pinch between his eyebrows; he was truly puzzled why he couldn't just set you up for life. dating itoshi sae is like being an unwilling sugar baby.

"i'm not going to leech off your earnings," you chuckle in disbelief. "i'm not going to use you to make sure i have a comfortable life. i love you, and my kind of love stays whether we have money or not." he shifts awkwardly in his seat and his mouth pouts the tiniest amount. he obviously didn't like your reply.

"whatever i'm doing, it isn't enough for you," he states quietly.

without another word, you exhale through your nose and shut your laptop. you place it on the coffee table before crawling over and maneuvering your way into his arms. he gladly accepts you, sliding down the couch's armrest so that you're nearly lying on top of him. it's quiet for a few moments, not in an uncertain way but in a way that said both of you were figuring out how to articulate your thoughts.

"i just think that--"

"you don't need to--" you both begin your explanations at the same time and the huff of his laugh vibrates against your cheek. "you go first," you tell him.

"i was saying that, if you wanted me to," he inhales and tries to tiptoe around what he wants to say before deciding to just crush it with his foot, "i can take care of you without you needing a degree." a certain selfish part of him wanted you there for every single victory and ladder rung he ascended, not because he thought you owed him, but because he owed you. you, who weathered his darkest of moods and harshest of snaps. he owed you for dealing with his bullshit, so he figured, why should you need to lift a finger when you've already done so much for him? "i owe you that much for everything that you've seen me through."

"you don't owe me anything, itoshi sae. loving you is not transactional, nor have i ever wanted it to be."

"everything is transactional, mi amor," he argues and the pet name makes your heartrate increase. "give and take, it's how the world flows. shouldn't your university classes be teaching you that?" your eyes have fluttered shut on his chest, but you still hear the smirk in his joke.

"believe it or not, mister 'fame is the only thing that matters to me,' there are transactions beyond material goods."

"i know that," he says indignantly. "i also know that you're wrong."

"am i?"

"yes," he affirms. "i don't only care about fame. i care about you too, obviously."

"see, sae? give and take. i give you all i am--"

"and you take all i am."

"body and soul?"

"and everything in between," he finishes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before settling into the pillows. "rest, mi amor. you've paid more attention to school than to me lately, and that's an unequal transaction."

#sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk fluff #bllk imagine

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bowtiepasta · 4 months ago

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HEAVEN IS A BEDROOM “sleeping naked tonight, open door at your own risk!” are the sort of notes you find taped to your door when gojo satoru is your roommate. of course, there are many pros and cons. but either way — ‘roommates’ doesn’t really cut it for what you two are. ❤︎

WORD COUNT: 1,245

INDULGING: sfw and suggestive at worst, modern/college au, petnames ‘princess’ + ‘sweetheart’, touchy, banter, domesticity over plot, he’s got a fat crush on you, f!reader, some language

ROMY’S NOTE: art in header is by mongsanghwa on twitter, divider by strangergraphics. this one’s been marinating in the drafts for way too long omfg. written for marley hehe ! love you

the only reason you live with gojo satoru is a clerical error. some system glitch paired you two as roommates even though mixed gender dorms weren’t an option (in 2009 japan? absolutely not).

you argued, demanded a reassignment, but the university was already overbooked. all remaining single dorms were full and, no, there were no other available options unless you wanted to couch surf for the rest of the semester. the housing office’s compensation? a rent discount. a big one.

a financial miracle, honestly. living near campus for dirt cheap was a deal you couldn’t refuse, even if it meant putting up with him: a loud, arrogant, 6’3 headache.

which is how you ended up here — standing between the beds in your mismatched socks, coffee mug in hand, digging in his ‘pile’ to see if you can find this week’s language arts assignment.

he leaves his cups in the sink unwashed, clothes strewn over every empty surface, cologne bottles all over the (shared) bathroom counter, and sunglasses in every drawer despite owning only one pair of eyes.

sure, there are benefits. he pays for takeout more often than not, usually without asking for reimbursement. he’s weirdly quiet when he knows you’re studying. he’s clearly very popular, yet weirdly never brings anyone home. and even though he’s a shameless flirt, never crosses any real boundaries with you.

still. he’s annoying. which is why you don’t feel particularly bad when you steal his clothes.

“princess, do you know where my hoodie is? I- oh.”

you look up mid-yawn to find gojo standing in your doorway, hair damp from the shower, towel hanging loosely around his neck. shirt on, thankfully.

he’s blinking at you, lips quirking into a grin that you don’t trust in the slightest.

“well, well, well..” he drawls, crossing his arms. “we’ve got a thief in the house. should I call housing?”

“it was on the couch,” you defend, mirroring him. his hoodies are big, practically swallowing you whole, sleeves covering your hands completely.

“huh. that’s funny,” he says, tapping at his chin theatrically. “because last tuesday, when I simply touched your blanket, you threatened to kill me.”

“that’s different.”

“sure.”

a beat, then a knowing hum from him.

“looks better on you anyway,” he says, not without a certain smugness. “you smell like me.”

you toss a pillow in his direction, rolling your eyes. he dodges it with ease, laughing.

eventually, he stops leaning against the doorframe and stretches, shirt riding up just slightly as he yawns too — a not so subtle trail of white hair peeking out.

“..wait,” he tilts his head, “is that my stuff?”

your mouth opens, then closes. you’re caught.

“I-” you clear your throat, trying to recover. “I was looking for the homework.”

“in my laundry?” he walks over.

“yes,” you say, scoffing as you back away. “because someone likes to throw things around.”

gojo hums, stepping into your space like he’s seriously considering the accusation. then he grins at eye level with you. “could’ve just asked, y’know.”

“yeah, because that always goes well. ‘hey gojo, have you seen my-’”

“nope!” he interrupts, mimicking you. “I am but a humble, devastatingly handsome man. how could I-”

“oh my god, do you ever shut up?”

he laughs, grabbing your wrists when you swat at him. before you can retaliate, he plucks the very notebook you were searching for out of the pile, casually flipping through the pages like it was never lost to begin with.

“wow,” he muses, dragging out each syllable. “can’t believe you doubted me.”

you deadpan. “you’re the one who put it in there.”

“ah-ah,” he wags a finger, stepping backward towards the door. “don’t forget I have what you want.”

“gojo,” you warn.

he hums innocently.

“..give it back.”

“admit I’m handsome.”

you groan, throwing your head back as you plop onto your bed. “I would literally rather die.”

“okay, princess,” he says, clicking his tongue as he tucks your notebook into his elbow, lays down next to you. “guess you don’t need it that bad, then.”

you lunge for him, but he’s faster. not by much, yet enough to be annoying. he holds it over his head.

“gojo,” you warn again, narrowing your eyes.

“hmm? what, sweetheart?”

“give it.”

he pretends to think. “I don’t know, this new arrangement is growing on me. maybe I should hold onto it. for.. safekeeping.”

you glare. “safekeeping? oh, you mean like how you ‘safekept’ my charger for a week? or my textb-”

“that’s unfair.” he pouts, “those were borrowed with a hundred percent full intent to return.”

you huff. “they were in your bag. at school. for a week.”

gojo waves a hand dismissively. “semantics.”

you take advantage of his distraction and jump. it’s a desperate move — probably one you should’ve thought through, but you can’t turn back now.

what you don’t anticipate is how instead of letting you take the notebook like a normal person would, gojo decides to catch you. one arm easily wraps around your waist, and suddenly, you’re way too aware of how close his face is to yours.

“oh?” he says, smug as ever. “if you wanted to be in my arms that bad, you really could’ve asked. I think we need to work on our communication methods.”

there are no words in the japanese, english, nor any language in the world to be exact, to describe how pissed you are at him right now. “let go.”

“but we’re having a moment,” he says, hand to his chest. “the tension is unreal.”

“g-”

“what do they call this in books?” he pulls you closer. “an almost kiss?”

you scowl. “it’s called me pistol-whipping your ass with this straightener if you don’t let go now.”

gojo laughs, but he does let you go — gently, even. but then, the notebook gets tucked back under his arm. “what was that about my ass?”

you glare, holding out a hand., growing impatient. “satoru.”

he whistles, considering. “I think I’d be more inclined to give it back if you ditched class with me.”

you reach for your phone to check the time, but it slides right off the nightstand, sending a small pile of papers tumbling. he picks it up for you, fingers brushing yours when he does.

you take a deep breath, trying to remain composed, but you know you’re about to cave. “..to where?”

his eyes light up like a kid at christmas. who, to be fair, would probably have a higher mental age than he currently does. he slides the notebook out from behind his back, still not handing it over. “just here.”

you sigh, unimpressed. “just here?”

gojo smirks, arms casually folded over his chest. “yep. just here. way better than whatever you're about to do.”

you raise an eyebrow, “you mean go to class.”

he shrugs like it's no big deal. “potato potato.”

you make a face as you look over at him. before you can answer, he careens over, a quick, soft kiss landing on your cheek. you freeze, brain taking a second to catch up.

“stay here with handsome, yeah?” he says, his voice dipping as he waits for a green light.

you blink, staring at him, face heating up. “god, you’re ridiculous — you know that?” you mutter, heart racing in spite of your efforts.

he nuzzles into your shoulder, not giving you a chance to protest, “come on, princess. don’t make me beg.”

romy 🐰 is typing… college aus are probably among my favorite settings? scenarios? tropes? of all time. they always hit. and I eat them up every. single. time. lmk if you want to see it with anyone else (obv not dorms again. probably sports?). rugby boyfriend kuna is calling to me. brb making a draft

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pomefioredove · 11 months ago

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a private meeting

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"

The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.

Leona yawns.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"

Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"

"Look who's talking,"

Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.

"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"

"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."

Malleus shakes his head.

"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"

A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.

"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.

"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.

"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"

The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"

"...Alright,"

"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."

Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.

"How rude,"

"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."

"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."

"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.

"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"

Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.

He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"

Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.

"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."

Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"

Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.

"Open it!"

"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.

"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."

"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.

"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.

"Can I just leave?"

"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."

"Rook, don't,"

"Rook!"

The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.

"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"

"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."

Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"

"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"

Everyone in the room nods.

"Alright. Rook, read it,"

Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.

The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.

Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.

Vil gasps.

"Grim! Put that down!"

The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.

And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.

Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"

"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.

A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.

"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"

"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."

"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.

"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"

The prince rolls his eyes.

Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"

Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.

Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.

"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"

Malleus beams.

"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."

He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.

Slowly, everyone turns to each other.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #cater diamond x reader #trey clover x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #queued

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littlelamy · 4 months ago

Note

hi baby!!! can i request a blurb? i was thinking rafe is needy (cause i love him so much) and he wants to try sexting with the reader but she doesn't get it until he points it out and he like drives over to her house? you can end it however you want but needy/frat rafe does something to me!! i love your work so much and everything you write. i am just...amazed by your talent!!🤍

lamy: hi my love!!! oh my godddd needy frat rafe??? PLEASE 🙏🏾 LOVE YOUU

you get the first text at 10:42 p.m.

rafe <3: whatcha doin?

not unusual, not out of the ordinary. just your boyfriend, checking in. you send back a picture of your laptop screen, an open tab with some barely-started assignment glowing in the dim light of your bedroom.

you: pretending to do homework. why?

he doesn’t respond for a full two minutes. you assume he got distracted, maybe by some beer pong rematch at the house.

rafe <3: mmm. bet you look good like that.

you squint at your screen, confused.

you: like what??

another pause.

rafe <3: in bed. all prettty.

you scoff, rolling onto your stomach. okay, weird. not weird weird, just…off. rafe wasn’t usually this cryptic.

you: u good?

it takes him almost no time to reply this time.

rafe <3: not really. need u.

your brow furrows. you sit up a little, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

you: rafe. what are you talking about

a read notification pops up instantly.

so you do. and then it hits you.

oh. your lips part a little as you stare at the words on your screen, at how blatantly obvious it is now that you’re actually paying attention. he’s not just checking in. he’s needy, probably hard, right now. right this second. and instead of saying anything normal, anything that would actually help the situation, you—like an idiot—send back:

you: wait. are you trying to sext me?

you watch the typing bubbles appear, disappear, then reappear again.

rafe <3: took u long enough, you idiot.

rafe <3: sexy idiot^

your face heats. you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly very aware of how easily he was getting worked up, how restless he probably was right now, how his free hand was probably gripping his thigh, or his phone, or—

jesus.

you: sorry baby 💗 i wasn’t getting it

he sends a voice memo. you press play, and his voice comes through low, thick with frustration.

"s’not funny. been thinking about you and that pretty pussy all night."

your stomach flips.

you: yeah? tell me more.

you don’t get a text back. instead, your phone buzzes in your hand with an incoming call.

“rafe—”

“get up,” his voice is so deep, so strained and maybe desperate.

“what?”

“get up. unlock your door.”

your pulse flutters. “are you—”

“already on my way.”

your breath catches. “you’re insane.”

he just lets out this low, rough laugh. “and you’re so lucky i love you.”

the line goes dead while you scramble out of bed.

your front door swings open like rafe had been gripping the handle before you even turned the lock. he steps inside fast, chest rising and falling like he ran the whole way here instead of driving. his hat is on backwards, his frat sweatshirt slightly wrinkled, his jaw set like he’s trying really hard not to just grab you.

“hi,” you breathe, barely getting the word out before he’s kissing you.

it’s not slow. it’s not sweet. it’s needy, just like his texts, just like the way he grips your waist and backs you into the nearest wall, like he’s been starved for this. his hands drag up your sides, warm and impatient, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt, pushing—pulling.

"take this off," he mutters, already helping you out of it before you can say anything. the fabric barely hits the floor before he’s got his hands on you again, palms skimming up your bare skin, fingers spreading over your ribs like he needs to feel all of you at once.

you reach for his hoodie, tugging. “you too.”

he groans, stepping back just enough to yank it over his head. it messes up his hair, makes him look even more wrecked than before, his jaw clenched tight as he tosses it aside. then his hands are back on you, slipping down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his thumbs there.

he glances up, eyes dark. “these too?”

you nod, breath hitching as he tugs, sliding them down your hips, his fingers brushing hot over your thighs. they drop to the floor, leaving you bare and standing in front of him under the weight of his gaze.

his chest rises with a deep inhale. "shit, baby." his voice is hoarse, almost shaky.

you barely get the chance to tease him before he’s undoing his belt—before his jeans are hitting the floor—before he’s right there again, pressed against you; mouth on yours like he doesn’t even care about anything else.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry @lil-sparklqueen

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covenofagatha · 8 months ago

Text

A Helping Hand

You're helping your Professor gather ingredients for a potion she's brewing when you accidentally knock over a jar of sex pollen and need help.

Word count: ~3100

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, fingering, Top Agatha, magic cock, blowjob, magic cum, pure filth, teacher x student, age gap (everyone's legal)

Your brow furrows as you stare at the open spell book in front of you. You have a Potions test tomorrow for Professor Harkness, and evident by your lack of understanding of any of the words on the page, you are not going to do well.

“What’s wrong?” your roommate, Wanda, asks you. The two of you are the top witches at the Academy of Dark Arts, and yet, neither of you has a strong suit in potions.

And of course, the Potions teacher, Agatha Harkness, is the hardest teacher you have.

“This is impossible. How am I supposed to remember that, for the Wolfsbane Potion, you have to stir three times counterclockwise, say this incantation, and then stir four times clockwise, all while making sure I’m continuously pouring in Dragon’s Blood?” Your head hurts just from reading it from the book.

Wanda snorts. “Agatha doesn’t expect it to be perfect.”

You give her a look. You both know that’s a lie. Agatha is the teacher that makes you redo written homework assignments if you leave too much space between the words.

The Academy of Dark Arts was a home for witches like you and Wanda: witches that did not have a coven, or even a family. The Academy was supposed to teach girls to harness and understand their powers.

You have been here the longest, ever since you were twelve. You are almost twenty now. You had always put off taking Potions until you could no longer avoid it, mainly just because of how hard everyone else said it was. You had briefly interacted with Professor Harkness before the class, passing her in the corridors or making eye contact at meals.

And maybe, just maybe, you had developed a bit of a crush on her once you were in her class.

Who could blame you, though? She was the definition of perfection, with the way power just exuded from her, and the way her long, dark hair tumbled down to her lower back, and her piercing blue eyes that you suspected could see right into your soul.

But your little infatuation was not what you needed right now – no, right now, you need to study.

“I just don’t know anything,” you groan, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t even read my notes.” Agatha often went so fast in class that you had no other option than to just scribble down everything you thought she said as quickly as you could.

And now you just had pages of illegible chicken scratch.

“She’s probably still in the green house, why not just go ask her for help,” Wanda says noncommittally, too engrossed in sketching a picture. How she is so calm with this test hanging over the both of you, you have no idea.

But you nod. That’s a good idea. You can go see Agatha, ask her to clarify a few things, and then stay up all night cramming ingredients and directions into your brain.

“I’ll be right back,” you promise, and then scoop up your book and your notes.

You pass by some younger witches in the hallway and you give them a tight-lipped smile. Wanda was really your only friend at the Academy, the other girls too boy-crazy or too self-absorbed for you to really connect with them.

Other than those girls, though, the Academy is quiet. No sign of any of your other teachers, and you’re sure they’re either in their private quarters or still grading papers in their classrooms.

You have to leave the main house of the Academy to get to the greenhouse, where Potions takes place. The cold November air stings your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but luckily, it’s a short walk.

“Hello, Professor Harkness?” you say timidly, knocking on the door as you push it open. She’s sitting at a stool, cutting plants with a sharp knife. Her hair flowing down her back and she's wearing a tight white button-down shirt on that’s tucked into high-waisted purple pants, and a long, navy coat.

She glances up and smiles when she sees it’s you. “Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, I just wanted to come see if you could help me clear some things up for the test tomorrow,” you say, a little flustered by how good she looks.

“Sure thing, hon. First, I need your help. Hand me those powders from over there?” She points the knife over to the counter by the sink and you oblige, grabbing the four vials and putting them down next to her. She picks each one up and examines the label closely. “Ah, shoot. Sorry, dear, could you find the jar with the powdered root of asphodel? It should be in the pantry somewhere. I thought I took it out, but I guess I forgot.”

“Yeah, of course.” You repeat the powder name in your head a few times so you don’t forget it and then go search for it.

You finally spot it on the fourth shelf, sitting in the middle of some other jars, and you reach up on your tip-toes to grab it. As you’re pulling down the correct jar, you accidentally knock it into another and it falls to the floor next to you.

“Shit!” you mutter, immediately crouching down to assess the damage. The jar of some unknown powder has broken and its contents are spilled everywhere. Without even thinking, you start to sweep the powder into your hands so you can try to put it back in the bottom half of the jar that’s still intact.

You didn’t even notice Agatha coming over after she heard the noise. “Everything okay – don’t touch any of that!” she exclaims, seeing the bottle that broke on the floor.

You drop the mound of powder in your hands and whirl around, eyes wide open.

“What is it?” you ask, afraid of the answer, but she doesn’t give you one, instead opting to pull you by the sleeve over to the sink.

“Wash your hands now,” she demands and stands there watching you scrub your skin until it’s red. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine,” you say, but as you say that, you notice something. There’s an unmistakable heat growing in your stomach. And it only gets worse when Agatha places a hand against your forehead. You lean into the touch and have to forcibly bite your tongue so you don’t moan.

She looks you up and down and you can feel yourself getting hotter. You’re sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’ve never felt this way before.

“Um, just out of curiosity, what was that powder?” you ask, wetness pooling between your thighs. The ache between your legs is becoming hard to ignore.

Agatha meets your eyes. “It’s called sex pollen.” Your heart skips a beat. “I honestly forgot it was back there. I came across some a few decades ago and wanted to study it.”

You swallow hard. “So if someone gets some of it in their system, do they just need to touch…” You feel yourself blushing, not quite believing you’re asking Agatha Harkness if masturbation is the key to get this heat inside you to die down.

She smirks. “You can’t get it out of your system by yourself.”

Well, fuck. “There’s no other way?”

“Where would the fun in that be?” She winks playfully, and you wonder if she’s ever used it, or used it on someone else. “But you said you feel fine so you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Right,” you reply shakily. Her fingers brush a strand of hair out of her face and you literally clench at the sight of them. You feel so empty, so needy, so desperate for her.

“You said you had some questions for the test tomorrow?” She takes the root of asphodel that you had forgotten you were holding and beckons you back over to where she’s working. She pats the stool next to you and you sit, the pressure on your clit making you jump.

You just have to make it through this, go back to your room, and then drag Wanda out with you to a club or something so you can get fucked.

The only problem is, you’re not sure you can wait that long. Your hips have started squirming on the stool beneath you and you can’t control it.

“Um, so,” you start, opening up the textbook to the Wolfsbane Potion you were studying earlier. “The directions for this potion are–”

You’re cut off by her putting her hand on top of yours and you literally whimper at the contact. You stiffen and see her turn her full body towards you, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead, your darkened eyes, the way your hips are moving on the seat.

“Oh, you poor baby,” she taunts.

You give up the pretense of being unaffected by the pollen. “Professor, I’m so…I need…please…I think the pollen...”

She laughs. “Yes, dear, I think the pollen got into your system. Do you have anyone who can take care of you?”

You blush at the implication of Agatha asking if you have a fuck buddy and then shake your head pathetically. “I was gonna go out with Wanda and try to find someone,” you mumble. “I’ve never…” You trail off, not wanting your incredibly hot professor to hear you say out loud that you’re a virgin.

“Honey, you can’t have your first time with a random person from a bar,” she tuts. “Plus, sex pollen amplifies feelings you already have. Getting fucked by a random person won’t help as much as by a person you already want.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” you whine. “Can you…will you…please?” You can tell the pollen is affecting your ability to think straight because there is no way you just asked your centuries-old professor to fuck you. You’re about ready to run out of the room and die of embarrassment when she grins.

“You want me to help you?”

Your breath catches. “Professor, please, please, I need it. I need you. I just feel so…hot.”

“I’ll say,” she says appreciatively, this time letting her eyes wander over you slowly. “Are you sure? I don’t want you regretting this when the pollen wears off.”

You shake your head. “I won’t. I’m sure. I want you so bad. I have for a while. And you said it has to be someone you already want.”

Her eyes darken. “Get on the table.”

You’ve never moved so fast in your life. She takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere else in the room, and then her hands are cupping your breasts and her mouth is on yours.

You moan hungrily into her hot mouth, feeling her tongue against yours. Your hands tangle in her hair, pulling it gently, and she groans into your mouth. Agatha quickly undoes the clasp of your bra and finds your nipples, tugging at them. She kisses down your neck and your fingers leave her hair to hike up your skirt.

“So eager for me,” she whispers against your clavicle. You gasp when she bites down.

“Please, professor, touch me.”

“I am touching you,” she teases, fingertips lightly skimming down your stomach. You tense at the touch as she gets lower.

Your moan is downright pornographic when she first slides her hand into your underwear, sliding through your folds. She makes a sound as well.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” she says.

“All for you,” you say weakly, hips grinding up and down against her fingers. She’s yet to touch your clit, but you fear the second she does, you’ll cum.

“My dirty girl.” Agatha finally pushes her middle finger into you and you clench down immediately, needing more. She easily finds the spot that makes you squeal, and her thumb brushes against your clit. “Do you think you can take another finger?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you enthusiastically agree and she slides in her ring finger as well. It’s a bit of a stretch but you’ve never felt better.

“Your cunt feels so good around me,” Agatha says, grabbing your chin with her other hand so you meet her eyes. “So wet, so warm. I want to stay here forever. You can’t get enough of my fingers, can you?”

“No, Professor, I love your fingers,” you babble, right on the edge. She knows it too.

“Be a good girl and come for mommy,” she whispers right into your ear, her hot breath warm, and the name, coupled with the way she twists her fingers and roughly strokes your clit, sends you climaxing.

“Fuckkkk,” you moan, your nails digging into her shoulders. She fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and then slowly pulls her fingers, which are drenched, out of you. You can’t help but feel empty and the heat inside you isn’t completely gone.

Before you can say anything, she slides her wet fingers into your mouth and you lazily lap at your juices. She bites her lip at the feeling.

“How are you feeling now, baby girl?”

Her fingers leave your mouth with a pop. “Better but I still think I need more.”

Her eyebrow raises playfully. “My fingers weren’t enough to quell your thirst?”

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed.

“I think I know something that might help.” She waves her hand and a poof of purple smoke appears. You’re not quite sure what she did, but she gives you a wicked grin and unzips her pants, pulling out a purple strap-on.

Your mouth falls open.

She grabs a hold of the base and starts to stroke herself, groaning.

“Wait, can you-”

She looks up at you. “Feel it?” She nods. “I wanna feel you clench around my cock. Wanna fill you up.”

You let out a small gasp. “Mommy, please, I need your cock.”

She steps back over to you and runs a hand up your slit, collecting your wetness, which she then rubs on her cock. “You’re plenty wet already, but why don’t you get on your knees and show me how much of a good girl you can be.”

She doesn’t have to tell you twice. You practically fall to the ground in front of her, ignoring the sharp pain in your knees. You look up at her, awaiting instruction, and she bites her lip softly at the sight of you.

She puts a hand on your head and pushes you closer. “Put a hand around the base and then run your tongue up and down the length.”

You do as you’re told and you delight in the loud moan that tears from her mouth. Her hand just rests on your head as you then experimentally suck the tip of her cock between your lips.

“Good girl,” she says gruffly, and her praise drives you to test the waters and go down further. You bob your head on her dick, never breaking eye contact. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so hot.”

Meanwhile, the need inside you is growing so much you can barely fight the urge to slip a hand up your skirt. But you don’t. You figure Agatha won’t like that, and also, you want to focus all your attention on making her feel good.

“Such a dirty slut on her knees for mommy. So desperate for this cock,” she says and you groan around the strap-on, making her hands tighten in your hair. She pulls you back and a string of saliva connects your lips to her. “Get up.”

Once you’re standing in front of her, she flips you around and bends your front over the table so she’s standing behind you. She pushes your skirt up and traces your pussy with her cock, sliding it up your slit to your clit and then back. You’re grinding against her, trying to get some stimulation.

“Are you ready?” Agatha asks.

“Yes,” you answer, voice hoarse with anticipation. You feel her line the tip up with your hole and then slowly start to push in.

Both of you moan. She is so big but the stretch is exactly what you need. Once she bottoms out, she holds still for a second, letting you adjust to her size.

“You take my cock so well.” And then she’s pulling out and thrusting back in, picking up speed and intensity. You lift a leg up so she’s able to get deeper and you can feel her hips stutter. “You pretend to be so innocent but look at how desperate you are for me. Just a little slut, needing me to fill her up.”

“Yes, just a slut for you, mommy.”

Her nails dig into your hip and her other hand comes down to rub your clit. You clench around her.

“You’re so tight, so hot, you feel so good squeezing my dick,” Agatha murmurs, saying the filthiest things right into your ear. You’re so close and it’s only been a few minutes of her pounding into you.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Her hand leaves your clit and you gasp.

“Not yet, baby, wait for mommy. Do you want me to fill you up?”

“Want you to fill me up, mommy, wanna feel you dripping out of me,” you babble.

“Oh shit, baby, gonna cum in you. Cum for me,” she says, and you do. This orgasm is even more intense than the one before and you feel her give you one last hard thrust before warmth spreads through your cunt. She stills for just a second and then gingerly pulls out. You can feel her cum dripping out of your hole and down your leg and it almost makes you cum again.

Agatha turns you around and spreads your legs so she can watch it better. She takes two fingers and lazily smears her cum mixed with yours all over your pussy lips. She raises her fingers to your lips and you eagerly taste both of your juices, moaning around them.

“Do you feel better now?” she asks, a playful glint in her eyes.

You sigh dramatically. “For now. But who’s to say I won’t get into more sex pollen some other time?”

She chuckles and matches your smirk with one of her own. “Well, I guess I better keep a careful eye on you then.”

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x reader #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha x you #covsfics

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chewnotchoke · 8 months ago

Text

like no one else can

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as your situationship

this was fun to write,,i was wondering if i should make individual fics abt this...what do yall think? ^__^ feedbacks and comments are appreciated ! and also my ask is always open if u wnna chitty chat <3

warnings: fluff, intense pining, light angst, signs of red flags

wc per member: ~250-400

sungho

“i’m trying to understand what am i to you?”

𓍯 situationship with sungho would be filled with a lot of "almosts" that keep you guessing, excitement, and unexpected outcomes. he would have this easygoing, carefree attitude as if he truly enjoyed your time together, but he’s also hard to pin down. he would bring you as his ‘plus one’ to parties or events and he has once invited you to a family outing “as a friend”

𓍯 sungho likes to do actions that you couldn’t help but assign meanings to these little things. he would give you a bite of his food in between laughter and throw tiny comments such as “i thought about you the other day.” the way he laughs at your jokes, recalls small details you mention, and checks up on you in between classes makes you question if he does the same with other people. if you didn't witness him opening doors for people, helping classmates with their homework, and giving the same endearing smile to anyone in need, it would be quite easy to convince yourself that the things he did to you meant something.

𓍯 when you mention being cold, he casually throws his hoodie over your shoulders and says, "just give it back whenever." yet it stays with you for days and he doesn't bring it up either, as if sharing his hoodie has become a relationship between you two. but when you decide to give it back, your heart aches to see another girl wearing his hoodie.

𓍯 the combination of highs and unanswered questions would be thrilling, and his charm would entice you to return for more. but the question “what am i to you” hangs in the open air because then, if you really meant something to him, he wouldn’t have treated others the same way he did to you.

𓍯 was it mutual at some point? maybe, or maybe not.

riwoo

“i know it’s casual but i look for you in a room full of people”

𓍯 likes having alone time with you. plans a hang out with your friends to watch a movie but the truth is he didn't invite anyone else just so he could watch the movie and spend time alone together. at the end of the movie, you'd just be wiping off your lips because you spent the whole time making out.

𓍯 situationship with riwoo is almost like a secret. he knows how to pull you towards him, and the relationship has you on chokehold. most of the time, he makes moves that make you question the very foundation of your relationship. he acts like he likes you. but does he actually do?

𓍯 during a chill drinking celebration at your friends' house, both of you always find a reason to text each other even if you're literally in the same room. that one time when you were seated a little too far from him, he pulls out his phone, typing under the table making sure no one gets a peak of his message, he would send you, "you're too far from me :(" it seems as though the thread that binds you is stronger than everything else, and every communication feels like a secret that only the two of you know. you'd look up from your phone to give him a glance and he gives you a subtle look—the look that even when you try to look away, you could feel his eyes settled on you.

𓍯 his red flag would probably be saying things like, "would you be jealous if i went out with someone else?" or talking about his ex. but right when he gives you enough reasons that he's not good for you, he pulls the "what would it take for us to stop pretending this isn’t more than casual?" card.

jaehyun

“you say we’re just friends but why do you look at me like that when no one’s around?”

𓍯 when you clearly don’t look like you’re just friends but it’s becoming a running joke now–jaehyun responds without skipping a beat whenever someone arches an eyebrow and asks if there is more going on between you and him. he casually replies, “we’re just friends.” and each time you force a smile that falls short of your eyes, you nod along.

𓍯 jaehyun has this habit of leaning towards you whenever he laughs, sometimes his head falls on your shoulder for a moment which kinda makes you flinch during the first few times but now that you’re used to it, you let your heads touch each other when you laugh together.

𓍯 when he spots you alone leaning outside the glass door at a party, you feel his presence slowly approaching you and then he simply stands there in comforting silence, staring at you in that familiar way, without saying anything at first. when you told him that you get more comfortable attending parties because he’s around, he’d flash a smirk, and his eyes return to the expression he always gives you when no one else is there. jaehyun looks intensely at your face as if he’s searching for something–searching for a sign.

𓍯 you can’t resist yourself to ask him a question if he’s sure about it. “sure about what?” his tone is gentle, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he clearly understands what you are saying. “sure that we’re just friends…” you replied. jaehyun pauses before responding. he just looks at you, his eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes, a spark there that he tries to conceal but can't quite get rid of. he lets out a tense and nervous laugh. “yeah, we’re just friends.” but his words were laced with hesitation and uncertainty. and there you thought, maybe the look he gives you is enough, for now.

taesan

“you treat me like this because you know you're my weakness.”

𓍯 taesan knows how flustered you get when he touches you. during lunchtime with your other friends, you tried to ignore how he sat closer to you than usual. when your friends make a joke and others laugh along, you try so hard to focus but you just can’t seem to grasp the fact that his knees and yours were touching. then, his fingertips lightly touched your leg, so gentle at first that you nearly questioned whether it was an accident. however, taesan’s hand becomes steady and warm, and you can only sense his calm presence. you attempt to maintain a neutral appearance on the outside as your heart twitches and your mind attempts to process the unexpected sensation. his smile is as laid-back as ever, and he continues to laugh with the group as if this is nothing unusual.

𓍯 situationship with taesan can be a little frustrating. he likes to give you mixed signals. he’s mostly all about you most of the time and he holds eye contact like you’re the only person he could see. but then the next day, he barely acknowledges your presence. he’s quiet and doesn’t speak to you. but you know what’s bad for you? the fact that you'd fold immediately bcs he really just knows how to give you butterflies right when you think he’s not interested. taesan would come up behind you, whispering to your ear saying, “i missed you today.” and you would quickly fold like you didn't just question everything about him.

𓍯 at some point, the feelings were mutual. but you got tired of going around in circles waiting for nothing to happen, so you just decided to move on and bury your feelings just to keep the friendship.

leehan

“teach me how to not care about these feelings that keep me up at night for nothing.”

𓍯 you don’t talk everyday but that’s what makes everything thrilling. and when you do talk, texting usually lasts until 3am. although you can feel the weight of your eyelids by this time, you try to stay awake just to converse with him. conversations with leehan are almost raw, something about each message is intimate—one you probably wouldn’t hear in the daylight. the thought that he actually also stays up with you makes you wonder how much he’s also feeling.

𓍯 leehan has the subtlest way of making you laugh. he’s nonchalant but he’s the type to make you intrigued without fully committing. with that being said, he knows when to pull back when he thinks you’re getting a little too attached over a situationship even if he's the one responsible for making you feel that way

𓍯 after dates, goodbyes often linger in the air. both of you enjoyed too much to actually walk away and go back home. when he stands close enough to hug you, you could feel his hand linger on your back like he’s in no rush to go back home. both of you stood there quiet, glancing at each other, enough to decipher by the look of your eyes that there are still unsaid words. “i’ll text you when i get back home.” he holds both of your hands as they slightly brush away from yours whenever he takes a step back. you know yourself you want something more from this situationship which causes your heart to ache.

𓍯 leehan is still not letting go of your hand even at the point where your fingertips are only touching each other. “let’s do that next time.” he says and adds, “sleep over.”

𓍯 and when he actually gets back home, you don't receive a text from him at all, and talked again the following days like nothing happened.

woonhak

"why does it feel like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move?"

𓍯 it’s painfully obvious that both of you like each other. neither of you just couldn’t bring yourself up to confess. there’s always this tension that hangs heavy in the air when you’re with him. you're lounging on his couch while watching a film. with his shoulder almost touching yours, he is closer than friends should be. the couch's modest size is a flimsy excuse, but you both know there's more to it. woonhak’s arm occasionally moves, grazing yours and giving you a shiver, but he doesn't pull away. both of you are dancing around that invisible line, on the brink. his hand is getting closer and closer till your fingers would touch if you both moved even a little.

𓍯 every time you're together, you experience this torturous pulling, waiting for the other to finally release the tension that has been building for weeks. his hand moves next to yours, his fingers flexing as though he wants to grab you but isn't quite brave enough. and you can't help but wonder whether you're both simply waiting for a sign, anything that would eventually allow one of you to cross that line.

𓍯 woonhak constantly teases you, looking for excuses to rub your hair or bump into your shoulder, and he enjoys seeing how you respond to his pranks. he says something, though, that takes you entirely by surprise just when you think it's all a friendly act.

𓍯 “i feel like we’re both good at being complicated.” he chuckles. you can sense that you're both still holding back and skirting the truth because you're afraid of altering something that feels so near-perfect. but when you meet his eyes, you can see that this isn't the end of it because of the little warmth that remains in his smile.

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evilmenenjoyer · 4 months ago

Text

Punishment

Pairing: professor Hwang In-ho x student fem!Reader

Summary: You find a creative, albeit unconventional way to get out of the trouble you're in at university.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sexual content (minors dni), age gap (legal, reader is implied to be in her early to mid 20s), spanking, corporal punishment, masochism, power dynamics, crying, unresolved sexual tension.

–––

You can tell something’s off the second you walk through the door, when your cheerful “Hello, Mr. Hwang!” is met with a short, courteous “good evening” from the professor.

It’s not rude. It’s not even particularly harsh. It just lacks the usual warmth you’ve come to expect from him, the tiny smile on his lips that always greets you.

Being called to see the strict Mr. Hwang In-ho after class usually meant bad news, leaving most students nervous about what they could’ve done wrong. But not you. You’ve lost count of how many times you stayed in this classroom for hours after class was over, discussing a book he had assigned for class or literature in general. Some days you’d help him grade tests and homework, when you noticed he had too much work on his back. And some days, the ones you cherished the most, you’d talk about things unrelated to class or literature – politics, your interests, your personal life. His personal life.

Saying you were smitten with him was the understatement of the century. You tried not to pay much attention to the crush you developed on him, hoping it would go away if you just ignored it for long enough, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, closing the door. It’s generally frowned upon for a student to be alone with a professor with the door closed, but Mr. Hwang never objects. The fact that he’s willing to bend the rules for you pleases you a little too much.

“Yes.” His tone is the same as before, not softening now that it’s just the two of you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you wonder what is it that’s got him in such a bad mood, if something happened in his life. “I have something to show you.”

He pulls out a piece of paper, setting it on his desk facing you. You approach, your footsteps slightly more hesitant than usual around him.

“Do you recognize this passage?” he asks, pointing to the highlighted paragraph.

You lean in to read it, an analysis of the similarities between classic English and South Korean literature. You recognize it immediately.

“I wrote it. That’s from my latest assignment.”

“Yes.” He’s still not looking at you, rummaging through a pile of papers. Did he not like the assignment? The thought alone upsets you. You worked so hard on it; not only for the sake of keeping your straight-As, but also to impress him. Maybe even more so to impress him. “How about this one?”

He sets another sheet of paper in front of you, one of the paragraphs highlighted in his same blue marker.

As you read it, your stomach immediately drops. It’s your paragraph, almost word-by-word, with a few differences that are too minor to even count.

“This is from Emily Jones’s paper. I believe the two of you are friends.”

You want to find Emily and strangle her. You told her to change stuff and not just copy from you. Did she really think someone like Mr. Hwang wouldn’t notice? That he’d just let it slide?

“I was the one who wrote the original,” you say. “I didn’t–”

“Oh, I know that. I’m very familiar with your writing style, and Ms. Jones isn’t nearly as gifted as you. I knew something was wrong the second I read it.”

You could play the victim, say Emily copied from you without your knowledge, but you know instantly it wouldn’t work, not with Mr. Hwang’s dark eyes right on you. Even when you’re not in emotional distress, the man can read you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You lower your gaze in shame. “Emily needed help, and I– she’s in the same exchange student program as I am, I know how much she needed the grade.”

“You could’ve helped her study, not let her copy off you.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. She came to me last-minute.”

He sighs. “Well, I will have to fail both of you.”

“What?” It should be expected, but the words still sting. He knows how hard you work for your good grades. “But my essay was good.”

“It was great. Worthy of an A, if only you hadn’t helped another student with plagiarism. In fact, both of you should be reported for it.”

“Mr. Hwang, please.” Your eyes are practically begging him for mercy, the pitch of your voice getting ever so slightly higher as your desperation grows. “I can lose my scholarship and my spot at the exchange student program. Do you want me gone?”

You can see something flash across his eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps that warmth you’ve been missing since you walked in here –, just for a split second before they’re back to normal, even more hardened than before.

“Cheating was your choice, not mine. You should’ve thought of the consequences.”

“What if– what if I wrote a new paper?” you bargain. “For half the grade. I can get it done in just a couple of days!”

“The paper is not the point. The point is how my most promising student would waste her talent to help a classmate cheat, and betray the trust I put in her.”

The praise doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it fades away so quickly, like trying to hold on to smoke.

“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. ____.”

You watch helplessly as he gathers the papers and organizes them back into a folder, the muscles of his arms tensed. He looks angry, but also upset. Disappointed. That sends you into an even bigger panic than a bad grade, or the potential of losing your spot at this university. It grows inside your chest, overwhelming, prompting you to say possibly the worst thing you could’ve come up with in this situation.

“What if I just take a whooping?”

He pauses. For a moment you’re both silent, still as statues as you process your own words, what you just asked for. Heat rises to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“What?”

You want to run away from this classroom. You want to go to the airport and take the next plane back to your country, classes and scholarship be damned.

However, now the words are already out, hanging heavy between the two of you. You can’t just back down, show him you spoke without thinking. You force yourself to nod, praying to the gods of every religion you know that your cheeks aren’t red enough that he can notice it.

“Yeah. It’s a good punishment,” you say. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because we are not in the 1930s.”

“You know in a lot of places corporal punishment in schools is still legal.”

“And Seoul isn’t one of them.”

“Please, Mr. Hwang.” You lower your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to rush to the surface. “I know what I did was wrong. But I’d never– willingly betray your trust. I just want to get my punishment, and for things to be back to normal.”

Above all, you want him to stop looking at you like he is right now. Like you’re just any other student, like he doesn’t admire you for your passion and intelligence. Like you haven’t been spending almost every evening after class with him instead of hanging out with your classmates, trying to make friends your own age. Like you don’t mean anything to him.

Mr. Hwang regards you for several long moments. You try to hold his intense gaze, to figure out what he’s thinking, but both tasks are impossible.

“Would you really put yourself through that for a grade?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, but that stubborn determination doesn’t leave your eyes. “It’s not just a grade.”

His respect for you. The friendship you two have tentatively built over the past few months. That’s what you truly fear losing.

The seconds tick, stretching for so long it feels like torture. It’s so silent in the room you wonder if Mr. Hwang can hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Okay,” he says finally, sharply. “Fine.”

“Really?” You’re unable to keep the surprise from your voice, from your face, even though you try.

“If you think you can take it.” Something about his voice as he says it, the low baritone of it, sends a new rush of warmth to your body; this time descending directly between your legs.

“Of course I can.”

No, you probably can’t, and you’re well aware of that. But his words sound like a challenge, and a feeling claws at your chest – perhaps your pride and stubbornness, or simply embarrassment, or something else entirely that you’re not sure how to name – stops you from taking the words back.

“Alright then.” He gives a short nod, and you’re unsure if it was meant for you or for himself. “Bend over the desk.”

Why is it that a simple order for him makes your insides twitch like you’re about to pass out? Your legs shake as you take a step closer to his desk, looking down at the papers and folders neatly on top of it. Drawing in a breath, you bend your upper body down until your elbows touch the dark wood.

It’s only then that you notice your compromising position. Emily had joked with you about how the length of your skirts had gotten shorter with every visit to Mr. Hwang, and today’s pick was a plaid skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination as it was. With you bending down like this, you can feel the fabric follow the movement, exposing even more of you to the professor.

The noise of his belt being removed only makes it worse. You shut your eyes, trying not to picture him letting his pants drop to the floor, trying not to think about how much you wish this is what was happening.

“Are you ready?” he asks, giving you one last chance to back down. You should take it.

You shut your eyes and nod your head. "Yes."

There’s a whistle in the air, and you let out a gasp as the first blow lands across your ass. Fuck. You’d seen it coming, and the fabric of the skirt absorbed much of the impact, but it still spreads the first hints of pain over your skin. Another blow directly under the first one, exactly where it should be. You clench your jaw, your mind flying back to childhood memories, to the last spanking you received at eleven years old – well over a decade ago, and yet you feel much more helpless now, a third blow of the belt making you jump in your spot.

The next one breaks the pattern, hitting on a diagonal angle right on top of the other three. It’s harder than the others too, sharper, slicing even deeper into your already stinging skin. You cry out, unable to hold it back, unable to catch your breath in time not to cry out again when the belt comes down on your ass one more time.

He sets a rhythm of harsh, punishing blows. They’re precise and calculated, deliberate, like he really means each and every one of them. Of course he does – when Professor Hwang sets his mind to something, he doesn’t quit until the job is done, down to the littlest details. And right now, he seems intent on making sure no spot of your ass is left untouched by the belt. He gradually picks up speed, until you’re unsure when one strike ends and the next begins.

It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad you don’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the fabric of your skirt slides up and out of the way, leaving your bottom and your underwear exposed to him.

The pain is even worse when the leather belt makes contact with your bare skin; sharp and blazing hot, like he’s setting fire to you. You’ve bitten the inside of your lip hard enough to draw blood, but that doesn’t stop the sounds being ripped out of you, whimpers and cries and something that sounds way too close to Mr. Hwang’s name.

He pauses, his breaths heavy behind you. You collapse against the desk, elbows no longer strong enough to keep you propped upwards. With your ear pressed against the surface, you can hear your own heard that thumps wildly inside your chest, all your senses concentrated into a single point in your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

His tone isn’t judgmental, but your mind still echoes his words from just a few minutes ago: if you think you can take it. You’re not giving up now.

“I’m fine,” you snap, way too breathless for the statement to have any real impact, although your stubborn defiance is certainly there. “Just fucking finish it.”

His hand, warm and broad, finds its way in between your shoulder blades. He leans in, puts his weight into it, keeping you firmly pressed down over the desk. For some reason, your instinct isn’t to squirm away but to push into the heat, but you can’t move much one way or another under his grip.

“Then stay still.” His voice is so much closer to you, making you wish you had the strength to lift your head up and chase for his eyes.

Half a breath after the words are out, he strikes you again; this time with his other hand.

You sob and buck against the desk, the legs of it scraping against the floor. You can’t tell if his palm is better or worse than the belt. The pain isn’t as biting, but it’s broader and warmer, sending more fire into your already burning flesh. And it’s then that you realize you’re pushing into it, arching your back as best as you can, tilting your ass up to meet the assault. Basically offering it on a silver platter, presenting it to him and his ferocious, punishing hand.

And you’re wet.

You can feel it soak your panties, so much that you’re sure Mr. Hwang will be able to see a wet spot on them if he looks for it. Humiliated tears rise to your eyes, leaving you in a tumbling sob, desperately seeking relief but not wanting this to ever stop.

“M-Mr. Hwang.” The next strike hits you way too close to your core, the tiniest bit of friction that feels like heaven. You hiccup another cry, tears falling down and pooling over the smooth surface of the desk. “Please, I–”

You don’t even know what you’re pleading for anymore, but the word continues to leave your lips, over and over. His fingers come down hard over the sensitive spot where your ass meets your thighs, and you wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you – if he knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm just from this, that if he touches over you even for one second it might be enough to push you over the edge. He keeps going, alternates between one cheek and the other, his open palm covering as much skin as it can.

His hand travels down lower once again, warming your thighs to the same blistering heat as your ass. “God,” you breathe. You hadn’t noticed how hard your fingers are gripping the edges of the desk, your knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow save you.

He pauses again, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed. You feel yourself throb inside your panties, wet and hot and neglected.

“Count them,” he orders.

You wince as his hand hits a sore spot, on top of skin that had already been hit too many times. “O-one.”

He lashes again and again.

“Two, three– fuck! F-four– fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t count anymore.” You’re unable to think straight at this point, unable to do anything other than cry and feel and want.

“God,” he sounds wrecked as well and you can’t understand why; you’re the one who feels as if you’re fighting for your life. He watches you, and you can’t decide if you’re embarrassed at your own state, the tears on your face and your ass that’s probably bright red by now, exposed to the professor, or if you’re too desperate for a release to think about that.

“It’s okay.” His hand lands on your hip, but doesn’t strike you again. It only caresses, his touch feather-light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh blows. “You did good.”

The light touch is enough to make you moan, breathing a deep sigh of relief. His touch feels unintentional, like he’s mesmerized, not fully aware of what he’s doing as he simply as he tries to ease the sting from the spanking. But when he drops down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his body heat enveloping you – that can’t be accidental.

You lean into his touch as best as you can, and that’s when you feel it; something hard press against your core through layers of clothing, his cock a perfect, undeniable point of heat against you.

Both of you let our a simultaneous moan when you rub yourself back against his length. You want nothing more than for him to split you open, to push into you without a warning, without giving you time to adjust. Not that you’d last a long time, but you’d let him keep thrusting into you, having his way with your body until he was satisfied.

His hand slides under your bodies, inside your underwear.

“In-ho,” you sigh, a weak sound.

The sound of his name seems to pull you from whatever trance he’s stuck in. He stops, fingers just inches from your clit, like he’s only just realizing he’s on top of a student in his classroom. You try to lift yourself up, to rub against him again, but he doesn’t move.

He pulls away from you, and you feel like you could cry again in sheer desperation. Instead, you just stay there against the desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.

After a few moments, he lifts you up gently by the arms, turning you around to face him. He smooths out your sweater, but he doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

“You can go now, Ms. ____.”

You look at him in disbelief – first at his face, then at the tent that’s still very much apparent at the front of his pants.

“But–” you stammer. “Don’t… don’t you want me to–?”

He’s back in professor mode, organizing his papers that had turned into a mess. Still not fucking looking at you. His hair, usually neatly combed back, is now all over the place, and he looks like he’s about to break down himself.

“I’ll take care of the… assignment issue,” he says. “Go back to your dorm. It’s getting late.”

You don’t dare to disobey, even when tears rush to your eyes once again. Maybe it was all just about the assignment to him, and you got it all wrong. Or maybe – the thought hurts before it’s even fully formed in your mind – he regrets everything you’ve done.

It’s a short walk to your dorm, and you’ve never been more grateful that your roommate is not around. You throw yourself into your bed, hissing as your ass lights up in pain. It brings up all the memories back at once; the crack of the belt in the air, his warm hand stinging on your skin, the outline of his cock pressed against you.

You’re still soaked when you bring your own hand past your skirt and into your panties, not bothering to actually take them off. Two fingers slide inside, instantly finding a spot that melts your insides and makes you clench around yourself. Your other hand grips your own hip, intensifying the pain there.

“Mr. Hwang,” you moan, just to say it out loud. Your thumb brushes over your clit, just a hint of a touch and you’re gone, coming so fucking hard around fingers you do your best to pretend are his instead of yours, just at the thought of him doing this to you.

You come down slowly, so dazed you can barely open your eyes, but it doesn't bother you. Your ass has gone from searing hot to a dull, lingering ache, sure to keep you hurting for days to come. Good. You fall asleep thinking about it, thinking of his voice and his hands on you, trying to live in those moments for as long as you can.

#hwang inho x reader #young il x reader #the frontman x reader #hwang inho x you #the frontman x you #squid game x reader #lee byung hun x reader #my fics

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moonselune · 1 month ago

Note

omg i need to see the eye color changing prompt with the boys!!!

awh helllllllls yeah

Gale:

Gale’s voice carried the rhythmic cadence of a practiced scholar — smooth, articulate, and rich with detail. He paced before the hearth of your shared study space in camp, gesturing animatedly with one hand while the other cradled a thick tome, opened to a page saturated with arcane runes and marginalia. He was speaking passionately — something about the unstable ley lines just outside Baldur’s Gate and how they might affect elemental casting in prolonged combat.

You sat across from him on a low bench, chin propped lazily in one hand, eyes locked on him with the veneer of attention.

“—so if the ambient weave reacts to a surge in primal energy, the spell will require more control, not less,” he was saying, glancing up from the book. “Which is why discipline is paramount. Concentration is—are you even listening, my dear?”

Your eyes — the telltale, ever-changing windows into your moods — had shifted from a neutral silver to a dull, uninspired grey. It was subtle at first, but Gale caught it immediately, narrowing his eyes in a mock-stern frown. The boredom radiating from your expression was almost theatrical.

“You’re bored,” he accused, exasperated but amused. “Honestly, I thought this was one of my more engaging lectures.”

“I am listening,” you defended, voice tinged with a smile. “I just happen to think your pacing is more hypnotic than the weave right now.”

Gale gave you a look. The kind that professors likely reserved for unruly apprentices. “Then concentrate. This is fundamental magical theory.”

The moment he said it — that particular tone of strictness in his voice — you felt the flutter. A warmth in your chest, a faint quiver in your throat. And Gale saw it too: the faint flicker of pink flaring behind your irises, brief but unmistakable against the grey.

He paused.

“Oh,” he said slowly, one brow lifting as the corner of his mouth curved into the beginnings of a knowing smirk. “Oh, I see what’s happening.”

Your posture straightened instinctively, a touch of defensiveness already creeping into your voice. “What?”

“That look in your eye,” he murmured, setting the book down on the table with exaggerated care. “It wasn't boredom at all. Well, perhaps partially. But that pink… was that infatuation?” He leaned closer, peering at your eyes like a jeweler inspecting a particularly revealing gemstone. “No—lust. You like it when I lecture you.”

You rolled your eyes — they flashed briefly to yellow (alerted), then right back to that traitorous pink.

“I like your voice,” you said.

“Mmhmm. And you like when I use it to tell you what to do.”

He was insufferably smug now, folding his arms as he loomed closer, absolutely relishing the turn in the conversation. “You’re blushing,” he added with glee, even though your eyes were doing far more talking than your face. “Tell me — when I told you to concentrate just now, what exactly did you picture?”

You made a vague attempt at playing it cool. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

Gale crouched beside your seat, fingers brushing lightly against your knee.

“Should I start assigning homework?” he purred. “Mark up your spellwork with red ink? Give you grades?”

You snorted, but the laughter caught in your throat as your eyes brightened — pure, unashamed pink now.

“I knew it,” he said triumphantly, grinning like a cat with cream. “Well. I suppose next time you feign boredom during a lesson, I’ll know exactly what’s going on in that mischievous mind of yours.”

You leaned in, your smile sharp. “Just be careful, Gale. If you're going to play the teacher, don’t be surprised when the student misbehaves.”

His breath hitched slightly, the air between you thick with suggestion. Then Gale exhaled, shaking his head in fond disbelief. “Gods, I adore you.”

And for a heartbeat, your eyes went a soft, glowing pink — no flicker, no confusion. Just love.

Astarion:

The Absolute camp was a mess of crude barricades, filth, and torch-lit patrols. You, Astarion, and the others had been sneaking around for what felt like hours—avoiding goblin guards and looking for a way through without drawing attention.

Everything had been going smoothly. Until it wasn’t.

There was a wet squelch. A startled yelp. Then a crash followed by the unmistakable, gut-turning slop of something unpleasant.

You froze behind a half-rotted cart, peeking over to see Astarion flailing in a pit—no, a worg pen, by the smell of it—and coated in brownish muck that left very little to the imagination.

He scrambled to his feet, hands held out stiffly, his usual elegance obliterated by whatever vile substance now clung to him.

"Oh gods—what is this?! What is this?!" he wailed, slipping again and catching himself on the side of the pen. His fingers came away coated. He gagged.

Lae'zel grimaced. Shadowheart muttered something about karma. You stifled a laugh behind your hand.

Once the coast was clear, the group regrouped outside the pen. Astarion stumbled toward you, arms out as if begging for a hug—or maybe a cleansing ritual.

"This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me," he said, his voice rising to a near-hysterical pitch. "Do you know what I’ve just wallowed in?! And of course it would be me who falls into the pit of literal shit—worg shit, no less!"

You coughed, covering your mouth. Not because of the smell—though that certainly didn’t help—but because you were biting back laughter so hard your ribs hurt.

But your eyes betrayed you.

Bright yellow.

Alert. Amused.

Astarion stopped mid-rant.

He narrowed his eyes, peering at you with dramatic offense. "Are your eyes—are you—laughing?"

"What? No!" you said quickly. "No, of course not!"

He pointed, scandalized. "They’re yellow."

"They always go yellow when I’m… thinking fast!" you lied, though your smile was now twitching at the corners of your mouth. "Just processing."

"Processing?! Processing what—the depth of my suffering?!"

You opened your mouth to try again, but just then, a breeze blew through the camp. Astarion turned slightly, and the full scent hit you. Acrid, musky, overwhelmingly earthy.

Your stomach turned.

Your eyes flashed green.

His jaw dropped. He took a slow step back, as if you'd slapped him.

"Green?! Green?!" he screeched, hands flailing. "You’re disgusted by me now?!"

"No! I mean, not you—just… the, uh, situation!"

"You can’t lie to me! You’re literally incapable of hiding it! I fall into one revolting cesspit and suddenly I’m some sort of tragic, stinking creature of the night?"

"Astarion, come on—"

"I had style. I had dignity!"

"You still do!" you insisted, chuckling now. You couldn’t stop yourself.

"Then why are your eyes screaming ‘get away from me, foul beast’?!"

You stepped forward, trying to soothe him, still biting back laughter. "Because my eyes are dramatic. Just like you."

He blinked. Then, slowly—reluctantly—a smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Well. I suppose we do have that in common."

"You want a hug or a bath first?"

Astarion sniffed himself, face crumpling in horror. "Absolutely the bath. And you are helping. And scrubbing. All of it."

"Not until you stop smelling like a goblin’s outhouse."

He narrowed his eyes. "Now they’re green and yellow."

"Welcome to the complex range of human emotion."

He huffed, turned dramatically on his heel—and immediately slipped a little in something squelchy. He caught himself with a hiss. You burst into open laughter.

"How dare you," he called over his shoulder, voice full of mock betrayal. "You’ll pay for this. With buckets of rosewater and scented oils."

"Anything to make this memory bearable?"

"Anything to make me forget the texture," he said, shuddering.

You just laughed harder. And your eyes kept glowing yellow. And just a bit green. And maybe—just maybe—a flicker of pink when he scowled and muttered something about how he "used to be beautiful."

Wyll:

"You always try to fix things on your own. Like you don’t need anyone."

Wyll’s voice wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t raised. But it landed—gentle, yes, but direct in a way that cut past armor. You blinked, caught off guard by how much it stung. There was no malice in him. Just observation. Frustration, maybe. Concern. But it still lodged itself deep in your chest like a splinter of something too true, too raw.

You looked away, pretending to adjust your sleeve, buying yourself a moment. A prickle worked its way up your throat, the kind that wasn’t quite tears but lived in the same neighborhood. You didn't say anything, but your eyes betrayed you—as they always did.

The pale silver shimmer that had been there moments ago dulled and darkened into a quiet, deep blue.

Wyll saw it instantly. Of course he did. His expression fell in slow motion, like watching a man drop a sword he never meant to draw.

"No," he said softly, stepping closer. "No, gods, I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to upset you."

You shook your head quickly, smiling with a practiced ease that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Wyll, it’s okay. Honestly. I know you didn’t."

"But I did." He looked down at his hands, as if surprised they hadn’t somehow physically harmed you. “I see it. You’re hurting.

"It’s not a big deal," you insisted, trying to wave it away with a light laugh. "You’re not wrong anyway. I do tend to take everything on myself. It’s a fair observation."

"You’re doing it again," Wyll said, his voice quieter now, like he was afraid any louder and the moment would shatter. "Playing it down. Like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he kept going, voice colored with that particular strain of guilt only someone with a good heart could wear.

"I hate that I put that look in your eyes. I hate that I spoke without thinking how it might feel to you."

Your smile tugged at the corners again, shaky but real this time. He was being ridiculous. Kind. So Wyll. And somehow that made it worse—not in a painful way, but in the way where kindness becomes a mirror, and you can’t avoid your own hurt even when you want to.

You crossed your arms loosely, trying to make yourself look smaller without seeming like you were withdrawing. "It just caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s not about you. I’m fine."

"But you’re not. You’re blue." He pointed toward your eyes, voice a blend of exasperation and heartbreak. “That shade of blue—I've only seen it a handful of times. It’s the one where I know I’ve truly put my foot in it."

You tried not to laugh, pressing your lips together. He leaned in closer, eyes narrowing with melodramatic gravity. “It’s the ‘Wyll Ravengard is a damned fool and now must suffer the weight of his own words for eternity’ shade.”

You lost it. A laugh cracked through your chest—soft at first, then full-bodied, shoulders shaking slightly. You damned him for knowing just how to undo you.

"Wyll," you gasped through the grin, "you’re making this so much worse."

"Good!" he cried, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead. “I deserve it! Let the punishment commence! Let me wallow in shame and regret.”

"You’re turning my minor emotional blip into a Volo tragedy," you said, still laughing.

Wyll clutched his heart with both hands, eyes wide. "Minor? My love, your eyes were a thunderstorm of sorrow. A tempest in cerulean!"

"Okay, that’s a stretch—"

"A tempest, I say!"

He leaned forward again, trying to peek into your eyes for any lingering traces of blue. They had lightened already, more silver now, with a faint blush of pink rising along the edges.

He noticed. Of course he did. His voice softened immediately. “There it is,” he said, his smile warm and sincere. “A little pink. Thank the gods.”

"Great. Now you’re tracking my feelings like they’re weather patterns."

"They are,” he said with a small smile. “And I never want to be caught without shelter again."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile stayed. He reached out and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing just beneath your eye as if he could soothe the color away with a touch.

“I’ll be more careful,” he murmured. “With how I speak to you. What I assume. I never want to see that shade again. Not because of me.”

Your heart twisted with warmth—and guilt—and affection all tangled together.

"I am fine," you whispered. "Truly. I just felt something for a second, and then it passed. You didn’t do anything wrong."

Wyll smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple, lingering there.

"Still," he murmured, lips against your skin, "I’ll write a sonnet about it. Title it An Apology in Blue. It’ll be very dramatic. Everyone will weep."

You snorted, grabbing the front of his shirt and tugging him close.

"If you rhyme 'sorry' with 'morning glory' again, I swear—"

"Perish the thought, my beloved!" he grinned, eyes sparkling. "I’ve grown as a poet."

"And a partner."

He leaned his forehead to yours. "Because of you."

Your eyes were pink now. Bright. Full. And finally, finally, he let himself smile like he’d been forgiven. Because he had.

Halsin:

It had been a long day winding through the lower quarters of Baldur’s Gate — the kind of day that hung heavy with the scent of soot, warm bread, and the salt tang drifting in from the harbor. You had wandered down narrow alleys and under creaking balconies, brushing past silk-draped merchants and fishmongers with salt on their fingers. The city buzzed, sprawling and alive, a contrast to the stillness of the woods you’d grown used to. You were used to movement, noise — but not this. Not her.

You turned the corner, trailing just slightly behind Halsin, when a voice rang out with too much familiarity and far too much warmth.

“Well,” she drawled, arms crossed as she leaned against the archway of a tavern, "if it isn’t the bear himself."

Halsin froze. You could see the recognition bloom in him before he even turned to face her, his spine straightening like a struck chord. A slow smile crept over his face — not the kind he gave to just anyone, but one softened with nostalgia, with old laughter and shared memories.

“Neryssa,” he said, and your stomach sank.

She was tall, dressed in leathers that had clearly seen battle, her hair woven into a braid that gleamed in the sunlight. She looked like the kind of woman who had once kissed Halsin in the rain, or fought beside him bare-shouldered and bloodstained. She looked like someone who still thought she had a piece of him — and worse, maybe she did.

They stepped into each other’s space like it was the most natural thing in the world. She clapped a hand to his shoulder, and he chuckled — low and fond, like a memory made flesh.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she said, her voice teasing.

“You have,” Halsin replied, his tone rich and warm, eyes roving her figure with a familiarity that tightened your jaw.

You were still. Perfectly still. Like a statue carved into the shadow of a stall. Your arms hung loosely at your sides, your mouth curled into an expression of mild amusement. You watched with cool detachment — or so you hoped.

But your eyes betrayed you.

The dull silver of your usual neutrality bled away almost instantly, overtaken by a red so deep it bordered on violent. It shimmered like heat across metal, too bright, too stark — the color of betrayal and fury barely kept in check. And beneath it, a bitter, nauseated green twisted at the edges of your irises — not at Neryssa, no, but at Halsin. At his oblivious smile. At the way his voice dipped when he said her name. At how he still looked at her like she was a poem he’d once written.

And worst of all — he didn’t even notice.

Halsin kept talking — about old campaigns, the time they’d held the line at Deepmere, how she’d once saved his life with a spear through the ribs. His voice was animated, golden with nostalgia. And you — you stood just a few paces away, nodding, smiling, burning from the inside out.

It wasn’t until Astarion wandered up beside you, eyes glinting with mischief and absolutely no mercy, that anything shifted.

“Well,” he said, too casually, “you are quite the stormcloud today.”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?” you said, your voice level, measured.

He tilted his head, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his lip. “I’m just saying… if looks could kill, poor Halsin would be mulch by now.”

Halsin finally turned to look at you. And for the first time, really looked.

His words caught in his throat as his eyes met yours. Not the calm silver he was used to. Not the flicker of pink he adored seeing when he kissed you. But a violent, molten red threaded through with something darker, something ancient. A kind of wrath he’d never seen before — not from you.

He opened his mouth.

You raised a hand, a placating smile still glued to your lips. “Don’t,” you said gently. “I’m fine.”

He stared at you a moment longer.

Then slowly, he turned back to Neryssa and bid her farewell — a few kind words, a lingering smile, and then you were walking, his long strides silent beside you, and the air between you crackled with what had gone unspoken.

Later, much later, when the fire at camp had burned low and the others had turned in, Halsin found you standing beneath a tree, alone. You didn’t look at him. Not at first.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, voice rough with something almost ashamed. “I didn’t even realize I had.”

You let the silence stretch. The wind whispered through the leaves above, and an owl hooted in the far distance — the world so perfectly serene, it made your seething contrast even more unbearable.

“I know,” you said at last. “That’s the problem.”

He stepped forward cautiously, as if unsure if he was still welcome in your space. “She was part of my past. But she’s not my present. That’s you.”

“She didn’t make me angry,” you said, finally looking at him. “You did.”

Your voice didn’t tremble. It was too steady. Too cold. It was the kind of voice that came after the storm, when the damage had already been done and the water was still rising.

“I stood there listening to you speak to her like she still had a claim to you,” you continued, eyes flashing red again — not quite as violently, but still enough to make him flinch. “You made me feel… like I was watching someone I love forget me in real time.”

Halsin groaned softly and dragged both hands over his face. “Gods, I am so sorry,” he whispered, anguish in every syllable. “I was thoughtless. I didn’t mean it that way, but of course that doesn’t matter. I never wanted to make you feel small. Or less than. And the fact that I did—” His voice cracked slightly. “I don’t know how to make it right. But tell me. Please tell me what to do, and I will do it.”

He looked utterly devastated.

You let your arms fall slowly, tension easing in minute degrees. Your eyes, still simmering with anger, began to dull into something softer — steel grey, maybe. Not forgiveness, but the absence of pure fury. A temporary truce.

“You could start,” you said quietly, “by never speaking to an ex like that again in front of me. Or at all, if you can help it.”

“Done,” he said instantly.

“And maybe,” you added, after a pause, “remember that I am not so invulnerable as I look.”

He took another step closer, carefully, until your hands were nearly brushing.

“You are the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said softly, reverently. “But I will never mistake your strength for invulnerability again.”

Finally, you sighed — long, quiet, bone-deep — and let yourself lean forward, pressing your brow gently against his chest. He let out a breath of his own, one that sounded like pure relief, and wrapped his arms around you with careful reverence.

“I’m still mad at you,” you murmured.

“I know,” he said.

“We're sleeping with clothes on tonight.”

“I deserve that.”

You let him hold you anyway. Not because everything was fine — but because he was trying. Because he had looked you in the eyes and seen you. And for now, that was enough.

I originally wrote 'you are sleeping outside the tent tonight' for halsin but realised he would like that lmao. Hope you guys enjoyed this! -Seluney xox

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ltgubler · 3 months ago

Text

Don't let them find out. [lew einstein]

pairing: lew einstein x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: +18, professor x college student.

warnings: public display of affection, fingering in public, oral sex.

Thursday night at the library, again. Nose buried in your books, no date, no friends, just homework to do and straight A’s to get, same as always since you got into college. Everyone says that you’re just… smart, a nerd probably, but you’re not very social for your own reasons, and between studying and working to pay your tuition, you had no time to go out and experience the college life of a regular girl.

It was a slow night, not many people at the building, but that was better for you, you needed the silence. As you left your things at the table, you went to find a book you needed for an assignment, you searched everywhere, getting to the secluded section known as the “make out section”. And of course, you were the one to catch Professor Einstein humping his latest hook-up on the hallways of the library.

When you saw the girl walking away with teary eyes, blushed cheeks and messy hair, you noticed he saw you there, standing awkwardly, and honestly, a bit disgusted.

“Very classy, don’t you think?” The sarcasm in your voice made him stop on his tracks as he tried to walk away.

“Excuse me?” he looked at you for maybe the first time ever. He noticed your big brown eyes, too judgemental considering how angelic your face looked. “You’re one of my students, aren’t you?” There was a sudden glimpse of amusement creeping in his eyes. “You know… It’s very rude to get your nose in other people’s business.” His comment made you scoff, rolling your eyes, your annoyance awakening something in him.

“Me? Rude?” Your sarcastic tone amused him. “Rude is sticking your tongue in your students’ mouths, especially on campus, but who am I to judge, right?” He laughed at how mean you sounded.

“Oh I'm sticking more than just my tongue.” The repulsion on your face made him laugh. “I’m messing with you. But hey, maybe you can be next, if you're interested.”

A blush creeped on your cheeks, you were too stunned to even say something, and with a pat on your shoulder he walked away, leaving you standing there astonished and… intrigued. His words stayed on your mind for longer than you'd care to admit, not being able to focus as you went back to work on your assignment, laying in front of you as you sat there on that empty table in the silent library.

————

Days passed by and his words were still stuck in your head. *Did he mean that? Was he seriously implying that I could be that easy to get? I’m not an easy girl, right? Well, I don’t really know if I am, no one ever wanted me in that… way.* You shake your head to forget the thought, your own mind getting way ahead of itself.

Around noon you had your second class of the day, his class, and the idea of seeing him after the other night, looking at him in the eyes without making a fool of yourself, felt absurd. A simple sentence had you on edge for days, and being flirty was his normal self, maybe he even forgot about your minor encounter.

“Good morning class, how are we today?” His voice interrupted the murmur of your classmates, getting everyone's attention. His eyes roamed over the room, something he never did before. When he saw your face in the back of the classroom, his gaze lingered over you for a second too long, and pretending he wasn't looking for you, he cleared his throat and continued speaking. “Today is chapter… 6, open your books, your notes, your computers, whatever you have.”

His way of teaching –of interacting with the student body– was fun but effective, something that you picked up since his first class, but now you started to really pay attention to his mannerisms. The way he moved around the classroom, smoothly checking up on everyone, cracking a few jokes here and there, attentive to what was going on around him at all times. From afar he felt your eyes on him, and every few minutes, like clockwork, his own gaze met yours for a second or two. Each time his eyes met yours you weren't able to hold his gaze, looking away every single time. He held back from smiling each time he saw the nervous way you looked away.

The class came to an end and everyone started to leave, you gathered your things and as you started to walk towards the door, he said your name, making every set of eyes in that half full classroom set on you.

“_____, don’t go just yet.” He said without even raising his gaze, leaning over his desk as he read some paperwork. “The rest of you can leave, keep walking people, see you next week if you don’t drop out. I’m joking, don’t drop out.”

Everyone walked away with a smile on their faces, that was the effect he had on his students, a sense of camaraderie no other professor had.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Einstein?” your voice made him look up again, you could feel your own breath getting caught in your throat. When finally the last student left the classroom, he took a breath before speaking, with a smile that could melt anyone, and it surely melted you. “If this is about the other day…” He interrupted before you could finish your sentence.

“Yeah, it is. I’m not gonna apologize or anything. Well, I am gonna apologize for lustful behavior on campus premises, but not about what I was doing exactly.” You rolled your eyes without even realizing. “Ah, that roll of eyes… You shouldn’t do it that much, don't get me wrong, you have beautiful eyes, you could use them to your advantage” Your cheeks were turning red as he kept talking “I know they would work on me.” He confessed in whispers, wanting for you to hear it, but he wouldn’t dare to say it out loud.

You swallowed hard before being able to speak again, he noticed the blush in your cheeks, and the nervous way you were standing in front of him. “Okay, is… Is that it?” he was taken aback by your question, figuring that maybe you weren’t interested in him the way he was about you. “I have other classes today, so…” your words hung in the air for a little longer than expected, while he searched in your eyes for even a glimpse of wanting, of yearning.

“Sure, you’re a very dedicated student.” He straightened up, his tall figure taking your breath away. He noticed the way your gaze dropped to his body, instantly going back to his face, almost if you were afraid to look, to check him up. “See you next week, ____.”

—————

The promise of seeing him next week was broken when you, like never before, went out to a bar with the only two friends you had in college. The place was packed, with barely any room to walk in. Squeezing into the crowd the three of you spotted a table that was just getting available, your friend ran at an amazing speed to get it, pushing away a drunk guy that had the same mission as her. Once settled you took the first trip to the bar, picking mojitos as the first drink of the night.

The music, the alcohol, the lights, the gossip and laughter with your friends, everything felt intoxicating, all your senses were wrecked already, and when some guy took your hand to dance with you, you went with it without hesitation. As he held you by the hips, moving in sync with you and the music, you let yourself get loose for the first time in ages. This guy tried to get further, his lips grazing over your neck, and that repulsed you. Before he could even protest you were back with your friends, and he walked away with a pout on his face.

“Can you believe that guy?” you scoffed as you sipped your drink.

“Men are pigs.” your friend said and the three laughed. “But talking about men… There's a very popular professor over there that couldn't look away from you and that guy…” she said as she pointed surreptitiously to a booth behind her.

“What? Who?” you followed the direction of her finger, and sitting at the booth, there was him, drinking with two friends. “Oh, hell no, I just made a fool of myself in front of him?”

The deep shade of red that covered your face was even more embarrassing than the show you put on in front of your professor. He raised his beer with a cheeky smile, letting you know that he was, in fact, absolutely entertained by you. You couldn't take your eyes away from him, the way his glasses sat flawlessly on the bridge of his perfect nose, the way his curls fell messy and wild on the top of his head, his rosy lips that grinned at you, and God, that smile…

“Girl, focus, get back to us” Your friend snapped her finger in your face, awakening you from your trance. “You should go talk to him, bag him, for shit and giggles you know?” your eyes widened at your friend's words, but you were seriously considering it.

“Should I, shouldn't I?” you mumbled, your eyes every few seconds going back to him, magnetic.

“Go!” they both said in unison and laughed, almost pushing you in his direction. As you walked to his booth, his friends magically went away to get more drinks, mysteriously leaving him alone.

“What a nice surprise.” he smiled and invited you to sit next to him. He watched you intently as you nervously sat there, your eyes going back between him and your friends that giggled from afar. “I thought of you more like a bookworm, this is different coming from you.” His words hung in the air for a second.

“Well, you don't know me that well, professor.” He smiled, looking down when you called him that outside the classroom.

“I guess not. You're a party girl now?” His mocking tone got a reaction from you, that goddamn roll of eyes, making his heart skip a beat. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“I'm whatever you want me to be.” Your blunt confession made him short-circuit, but even when you said that, you couldn't hold his gaze, and he found that endearing, and extremely captivating. He boosted himself closer to you, his leg pressing against yours.

“Why's that? What makes you think I want you that way?” His hand dropped from the top of the table to your thigh, resting there, cold against your warm skin. You didn't answer. “You already have the perfect grades, the perfect reputation… What’s in it for you?” He kept pushing to know what was on your mind.

“how do you know about my grades and reputation?” you finally looked at him, pure curiosity in those breathtaking eyes, he was going crazy getting lost in them. He shook his head slightly before speaking again.

“I did some digging, not because I'm interested,” he paused, “but let's say I am… interested.” His fingers on your thigh moved in their place, lazily caressing your skin.

Your eyes dropped to his hand, and back to his face. The proximity made you feel drunk, more drunk than any mojito could get you. The mix of beer and his perfume ignited something in you. “About your question… What's in it for me? You.” your words take him by surprise, he narrowed his eyes at your response.

“Like I'm a trophy for you to get? A land to concord?” He asked as he laughed, his hand lightly squeezed your flesh. He knew exactly what he was doing to you with his touch, with all those questions, with his closeness, and you let him do it.

“Does that bother you? That I want you…” you looked around to make sure no one could hear you. “... just to fuck?” He smiled, shaking his head.

“Considering that I want you for the same purposes, no, it doesn’t bother me at all.” His tone was getting lower, and his hand on your thigh was going higher. His fingers hid under the hem of your skirt, closer and closer to where he wanted to be, where he craved to be.

“Here?” you asked in a barely hearable whisper. He smiled, amused.

“Here what, darling?” He asked with an innocent tone, while his hand squeezed your inner thigh. “Use your words… Do you want me to start here? On this bar where anyone can see us?” Your eyes darted towards the crowd out there, no one was paying attention to you two in that dark booth.

“Y-yes.” you mumbled and he pulled your underwear to the side, but not touching you just yet. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.” He was drunk in your desperation.

“Oh no, you can be loud, you can moan and whimper, the music is gonna muffle your cries.” as the words rolled down his tongue, his middle finger started to play with you, so slowly it felt like a punishment. “Are you this wet because of me?”

“Can you blame me?” you smiled with a ragged breath. Two of his fingers were now playing with you, touching you in gentle and soft circles, with the perfect pressure to make you squirm under his touch.

“You're so pretty, letting me feel you, taste you.” With that, he pushed those two fingers inside, making you hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop your moans. “That's it, let me take care of you, you deserve it, don't you?” His hand picked up pace, his finger slightly curled up, like he knows exactly what to do, exactly how you like it. You were overstimulated, the music, the voices, his movements, his praising, the alcohol… A build up of emotions that made you melt against your seat, with him moving his fingers almost all the way out, just to push them deeper, making you lose your mind. The way he was controlling your body with just two fingers, not even a kiss and he already knew how to make you whimper and cry. “Let go for me, darling, don't hold back.”

A high pitched moan rasped your throat as you came undone in his hand, your legs shaking, your hips thrusting forward to meet his touch. “Oh, fuck me…” you breathed out, cursing, your orgasm washing over you.

“Good girl.” he smiled and withdrew his fingers. “And yes, I'm planning to fuck you if you'll have me.” he had a winning smile on his face that made you chuckle, and once again you rolled your eyes. “Stop doing that… I get hard every time you do it.” he confessed as he cleaned the residues of your orgasm with a napkin.

“I'm definitely gonna do it more often, especially considering how much you annoy me.” his eyes shined with amusement at your words, making him laugh.

“Let's get out of here, what do you say?” he asked. You thought about it for a second. “Here's too crowded, there's too much noise, and I deserve to hear you without any ambient sound.” He took your hand in his, fingers entwined. “Don't make me beg, because I will, I'm great at it.”

“Fine, okay, I'll go.”

With excitement he stood up and pulled you out of that booth and out that bar, forgetting about his friends and you forgetting about yours. The cold autumn night chilled your bones the second you stood in the street and he noticed how you crossed your arms, hugging yourself. Without saying a word he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to keep you warm. With a shy “thank you” you wrapped your arm around his waist, letting him guide you to his apartment. Once in his building he led you up the stairs to his flat, opening the door for you.

“What a gentleman, Professor Einstein, I didn’t think you had it in you.” your little tease made him laugh. He closed the door and walked straight to you, towering over you. His fingers gently but firmly grabbed you by the chin, making you look up at him.

“That’s mean, I am a gentleman, do you want me to prove myself?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing against your cold skin. “Because I wouldn’t mind proving myself to you.” His lips grazed over your cheek. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

“Go ahead then, Professor.” You whispered, trying hard to not sound too eager. He smiled before finally giving in to the need to kiss you. His lips moved slowly, tenderly, tasting you for the first time, drawing in the soft sensation of your lips. He buried his hand in your hair, holding you impossibly close, his other hand pulled up your top just a bit for his hand to rest on top of your skin.

His kisses grow more desperate, needy, starting to feel like a drug, a fix you're gonna come back to over and over, addicted to the taste of his lips. A whine escaped your lips the second he stopped kissing you, his mouth trailed up your jawline -leaving a bite here and there, he wasn’t able to resist- and down your neck, getting from you sweet and soft little moans on his wake.

“I like the way you keep calling me Professor…” His voice was muffled by the closeness of his mouth on your neck. The heat of his breath brushing against your skin was intoxicating.

“Oh, so all this is to feed your ego?” The implications of your question plus your heavy breathing made him chuckle. “Is it a power thing? You're capable of ruining my life, is that it?” Your feisty tone only fueled him further, getting him even more worked up.

“Maybe it is, but doesn't that turn you on a little? That your reputation depends on how I feel about you?” His voice was a low murmur, an agonic reminder that –in fact– it did turn you on, his proximity making your heart jump out of your chest.

“It 's scary…” you confessed, slightly throwing your head to the side. His eyes dropped to your pulse point, he wasn't even able to focus on what you were saying. He pulled back a little to meet your eyes, his fingers firmly yet delicately grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

“It is. Scary, I mean. But you like it, _____. Don't you?” As the words rolled down his mouth, his thumb traced over your bottom lip. “The adrenaline, the fear of getting caught.”

He kissed you again, more desperate than before, yearning to take you further, to make you his, to dive and get lost in you. Without breaking the kiss he led you to his bedroom, in the way he bumped with every piece of furniture he had, making you giggle between kisses.

Once in his bedroom, he stopped right beside his bed, he let go of your lips to look you in the eyes, searching for even a glimpse of regret, anything that could make him stop in a heartbeat, but all he found was the same desire he felt. His hands trailed from your hips to your waist, his touch delicate, reverent. Hooking his fingers on the hem of your top, he pulled the piece of fabric up your head, throwing it on his hardwood floor, you mimicked his action, taking off his shirt. His eyes dropped to your bare chest, almost drooling at the sight. With gentle touch he cupped your breasts, his thumbs caressing your nipples. You watched his every move, letting him explore you.

“You are…” he started to say, kissing your neck, going down your collarbone. He knelt in front of you, his breath hot against the delicate skin of your chest. “... so goddamn beautiful.”

His lips trapped one of your nipples, his tongue circling around it, he smiled at the sound of your moan. After a few minutes he kept going down, trailing a path of hot wet kisses down your stomach. He pulled down your skirt, his lips stopping at the edge of your underwear.

“This seems like the perfect moment to ask if you want me to keep going.” He looked up with a cheeky smile, messing with you. “Do you want me to keep going, ___?” He caught you so off guard that it made you laugh.

“Oh, shut up.” At the sight of you rolling your eyes at him again, he took your words as a dare and with a laugh of his own, he threw you on top of his bed, kneeling between your thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him, while he, with ease, removed the last piece of clothing you had on. With his eyes fixed on you and your reaction, he started to kiss up your thigh, sloppy, wet, hungry kisses, and when he finally got to where you wanted him the most, it felt incredible. His tongue moved with expertise, he knew exactly where to kiss, where to lick, where to suck. He took his time to please you, your moans and whines only fueling him further, it was music for his ears, the only thing he wanted to hear tonight.

He noticed your body tensing up, the way you squirmed under his mouth, how your legs wanted to shut close, squeezing his head. He knew how close you were, but he wasn’t gonna let it happen. “Not yet, darling.” he whispered from down there, grinning as you pouted.

He got up from the floor, and as you looked at him with pleading eyes, he took his time to remove his pants, making you more desperate. His boxers were tight, his erection throbbing for you and only you. He removed and kicked them somewhere in his bedroom. His hand stroked his cock as he moved closer, his hips fitting perfectly between your thighs.

“Is this what you want?” he asked with a low murmur, teasing you with the tip. You had no words, nothing came out of your mouth no matter how hard you tried. “Use your words, ____.”

“I want it, please.” your shaky whimper almost made him growl.

The sight of you, naked on his bed, with your hair spread all over his sheets, with those big desperate eyes. His self control was slipping, and when you cried for him, he lost the last bit of restraint he had. After aligning himself, he slowly thrusted forward, burying himself in you. He held himself up with a hand next to your head, reaching down to kiss you as you adjusted yourself to him. He took a second, enjoying the way you felt before starting moving, thrusting at a slow pace to not hurt you.

“I’m not gonna break, Lew.” you whispered against his lips, making him smile.

“I know… I’m just enjoying how good you feel right now.” His lips landed on your neck as he moved painfully slowly, making you squirm under him for more. “You are so eager, aren't you?” he chuckled against your skin and pulled it almost all the way out, just to thrust back in even deeper, setting a new pace, less gentle, more primal.

Your moans echoed on the walls of his room, your nails digging on his back as he took care of you like no one ever did before. His movements became more erratic, his hips slapping against you, the sound of skin on skin flooded your senses, his own low moans and groans each time he thrusted deeper took you to the edge of release. His fingers found your clit as he kept moving, the overstimulation was way too much for you to handle.

“Be a good girl and let go for me.” A loud, animalistic cry tore up your throat as you climaxed. The feeling of you twitching and shaking around him -plus the sound that came out of you- was all he needed to get lost in you, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, he pulled out quickly, relieving himself all over your stomach.

He fell to your side on the bed, his body covered in sweat as he breathed heavily. You both laid there for a while, until your heartbeats got back to normal. He stood up and took you with him, guiding you to the bathroom, turning on the shower. The warm water relaxed you, no words were needed now, his actions spoke louder than anything he could say. With tenderness he shampooed your hair, washed you and himself, and once he was done, he wrapped you in his bathrobe, kissing your forehead.

Taking you back to his bedroom, he helped you get settled in, and he lay next to you. You rested your head on his chest, his fingers caressed the soft skin of your back.

“How can this not affect you at all?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What do you mean?” he sounded genuinely confused by your question.

“Being with your students, knowing you can lose your job, your reputation.” you looked up at him. “Aren’t you afraid someone is gonna betray your trust?”

“Are you gonna betray my trust?” he didn’t respond to your question, you shook your head saying no. “Then I’m not scared.”

“That’s not really an answer…” your whisper got him all tense.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, ____.” his tone -that moments ago was sweet and gentle- was now sharp and cold.

“Okay, I’m sorry I asked.” you tried to pull back, thinking you did something wrong, but he pulled you back against him.

“No, I’m sorry, your curiosity is valid.” He said as he hugged you, burying his nose on your hair. “I’m not scared of it because all the parties involved have something to lose, not just me, you know?”

“I guess you’re right…” you whispered and yawned, your eyelids falling heavy, your breath getting softer.

“Let’s get some sleep, darling. And if you want we can keep talking about this in the morning, what do you say?” When he got no answer for you, he knew you were already gone to the land of dreams.

______________________

The smell of coffee and the soft sound of music woke you up, it took you a second to recognize where you were, and the flashback of last night came to you in a blur. You got up and walked to the kitchen, his apartment looked so different in the morning light, it had a midcentury vibe, mismatched furniture, a lot of art on his walls, it even surprised you a little.

“Good morning.” your voice distracted him as he was making eggs.

“Hey, I didn’t want to wake you up, you are a very peaceful sleeper.” He looked at you from over his shoulder, his hair was messy, his skin glowed in the morning light.

“That doesn’t make any sense, but thank you?” you chuckled and walked to him, standing beside him, leaning on the kitchen counter.

You observed his mannerisms, watching him move with ease, like he was in his element when he was at home, and it warmed your heart that he let you see this part of him, but that also made you wonder.

“I bet you bring all your dates to your apartment.” your tone was playful, but deep down you wanted more information.

“Uhm, no, not really.” His words were not what you expected. “I don’t really like bringing people back here, it’s my space, and I like to preserve my peace.”

“Then what am I doing here?” His eyes didn’t look at you, like he was shy all of the sudden.

“It felt different with you.” He just said, no explanation, no excuses, nothing. “I just went with my gut.”

You went silent for a second, doubting if he was even telling the truth. “So maybe this can happen again? You and me?” A little smile appeared on his lips, he seemed sincere.

“Don’t get your hopes up, ____.” He joked, calling you by your last name. “But yeah, I guess it can happen again.”

He got you in his kitchen giggling at his jokes, the knowledge that this was wrong sat at the back of your mind and before you even realized, the thing you had with your Professor turned into something more than just a one night stand. Every little gesture he had towards you made you fall deeper into the rabbit hole, you needed to remind yourself that this wasn’t love. This was wrong, you knew that, nothing that is meant to be hidden can be good. But it didn’t matter, there was no going back now.

hi hi hi :) i hope u like this one, or at least i hope u don't hate it lol. Since Lew Einstein doesn't exist yet I took some liberties with his personality, I see him as a good professor, dedicated (sometimes too dedicated with those he wants to f*ck), funny but firm, etc.

#lew einstein #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #smut #student x professor #one shot #my fic #fanfic #forbidden love

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holyblonded · 2 months ago

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estrella takes on england | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: you finesse you way onto a trip with jana and ona to visit bruna

notes: finally shortening the request list. but keep them coming!

“Estrellita, do you realize how much homework you have?” Alexia asked, raising a brow as she stared at you with a mix of disbelief and tired amusement. “Like, have you looked at your assignment list at all?”

You blinked at her innocently, then turned to Olga who sat beside her on the couch, heavily pregnant and already giggling at your expression. “Umm… no?” you offered, voice high and hopeful.

Alexia sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you had, you would’ve seen the eighteen missing assignments you currently have.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully and glanced up at the ceiling like the answers might be written in the plaster. “You know,” you said after a beat, “I’ve never really thought about it that way. That’s some great insight, Mami. Eye-opening, really.”

Alexia’s face flattened into a look of unimpressed exhaustion. “You are not going to England.”

And just like that, you dropped to your knees with a gasp. “No! Please! Please have mercy on a poor, overwhelmed soul! I haven’t seen my sister Bruna in—God knows—how many years—”

“It’s been eight months,” Alexia interrupted, arms crossed as she tried to hold her ground.

“My heart aches for her! My twin flame, my rock, my soulmate!” you cried, hands clasped dramatically in front of your chest. “She’s the yin to my yang, the ketchup to my fries, the—”

“Keep aching,” Alexia said, rising from her seat with a shake of her head. “Because you’re not going. End of discussion.”

She turned and walked away toward the kitchen, leaving you collapsed on the floor in despair, reaching after her like you were in the final scene of a tragic telenovela.

Your eyes shifted to Olga, who was clutching her bump and laughing so hard tears had begun to spill down her cheeks. “You couldn’t help me?” you said, utterly betrayed. “You knew I was getting cooked out there and you just let it happen?”

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed between giggles. “But I am so miserable these days. My feet hurt, my back hurts, I can’t even see my toes anymore, bebita. If I get a laugh, I take it. So, thank you.”

You huffed, defeated, and crawled over to rest your head against her legs. She immediately began running her fingers gently through your hair, soothing in that way only she knew how.

“So glad my suffering brings you joy, Mama,” you muttered, already feeling your pout soften at her touch.

“Oh, mi nena,” she said with a fond sigh, “she’ll come around. You know, something similar happened to me when I was your age and I just snuck out.”

Your head snapped up slowly, eyes widening with curiosity. “You what?”

Olga smiled a little too smugly and leaned back. “I was a teenager once too, you know. I wasn’t always a boring grown-up with swollen ankles. I snuck out, caught the train to Valencia. My mom didn’t even realize I was gone until the next morning.”

You sat there, gears turning wildly in your brain, eyes now sparkling with possibility.

Olga narrowed her gaze. “You are not seriously—”

“I didn’t say anything,” you said, all too quickly. “Just… absorbing your wisdom.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m just saying… if one day I did happen to be in England… it would be a beautiful full-circle moment. Me, Bruna, Ona, Jana—family reunion.”

“You’re going to get us both killed,” Olga mumbled through a smile, and yet she didn’t stop stroking your hair. “Just don’t forget to clear your browser history this time, genius.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

You stood on the doormat of Jana’s apartment, bouncing on your toes with barely restrained excitement. You knocked three times, fast and eager, and when the door finally opened, you were met with a very unimpressed Ona Batlle.

Her gaze dropped to your duffel bag and roller suitcase, then back up to your far-too-innocent smile. “No.”

Before she could shut the door, you wedged your foot in the gap. “Ona, come on! Don’t be like that.”

Ona groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Why? Why? Why?” she muttered under her breath as you shoved your way inside.

“Such hostility,” you said with mock offense, hauling your bags behind you. “Where’s the love?”

Jana appeared from the kitchen, eyes narrowing the moment she spotted your luggage. “What are you doing?”

“Joining you!” you chirped.

Jana folded her arms. “Don’t you have homework?”

“…I mean yeah,” you admitted with a shrug. “But homework I can do on the flight?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no. No, no. Alexia gave us very strict instructions—”

“Pleaseee!” You launched into a full dramatic performance, dropping your bags and flinging yourself toward her. “I haven’t seen Bruna in ages! You can’t leave me here! I’ll wither away!”

“She’s going to kill us,” Ona said, but it was half-hearted, her tone already slipping toward resignation.

“Please!” you begged, clinging to Jana’s arm. “Pleasepleaseplease! I’ll be so good. I won’t even talk the whole flight.”

“That’s a lie,” Ona muttered.

“I’ll try not to talk the whole flight,” you amended, batting your lashes.

Jana sighed. “This is a terrible idea.”

“But also… a little fun?” you grinned.

She looked at Ona, who gave her the same deadpan stare she always did when things were about to spiral. But then she broke.

“Fine,” Ona said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “But hurry before we regret this.”

“Too late,” Jana muttered, watching you fist-pump the air.

You were a whirlwind the entire way to the airport— talking, laughing, bouncing in your seat. By the time you reached the boarding area, both Jana and Ona were on their phones, catching up on messages and barely keeping up with your commentary about airport snacks and airplane legroom.

Then you saw it. A little crepe stand tucked between two gates. Your eyes lit up.

You didn’t want to interrupt their texting, Ona was probably talking to Lucy, and Jana was probably updating Bruna, so you slipped off quietly. You’d only be a minute. Just enough to grab some crepes and surprise them. It took them a few minutes to notice.

Jana looked up first and immediately straightened. “Where is she?”

Ona looked up too, eyes scanning the row of chairs. “You’re joking.”

“She was right there!” Jana hissed.

“She has the worst sense of direction—why did we let her out of our sight?!”

“Because she was sitting! She was literally sitting right there!” Jana stood up, looking around in every direction.

“She probably walked straight into a wall thinking it was the bathroom,” Ona muttered, already panicking as they started scanning the terminal.

They wandered past shops, peeked into waiting areas, earned more than a few strange looks as they frantically muttered your name and tried to remain inconspicuous while definitely failing.

Then they turned a corner and saw you at the crepe stand, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, carefully balancing three crepes in your hands.

“I got us all Nutella with strawberries,” you beamed, holding one out proudly as you spotted them.

Jana groaned and sank onto the bench beside the stall. “You’re going to be the death of us.”

Ona took her crepe with a sigh, shaking her head. “Next time, we’re zip-tying you to the seat.”

You just giggled, already halfway through your first bite. “Worth it.”

The wheels touched down on the tarmac and before the seatbelt light even dinged off, you were halfway out of your seat, vibrating with excitement. You barely made it through customs before breaking into a full sprint through the arrivals area like a sugar-high toddler, nearly knocking over an elderly couple and someone’s luggage.

“Bruna!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, spotting her near the barrier with a coffee in hand, very much not expecting a hurricane to barrel straight at her.

Her eyes widened. “What the—”

And then you collided with her like a wrecking ball, arms wrapped around her waist, bouncing up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. “You didn’t think I was coming! Surprise! It’s me! Your favorite little chaos goblin!”

Bruna let out a startled laugh, stumbling back a step. “I thought you weren’t allowed to come!”

Jana, trailing behind with two rolling suitcases and a severely unimpressed expression, grunted. “We didn’t have a choice. She snuck into our Uber with a bag and a plane ticket like it was a prison break.”

“I told you!” you grinned, still clinging to Bruna like a koala. “I belong in England.”

“You haven’t even left the airport yet,” Ona muttered, hauling your duffel with the aura of a very tired single mother of three. “Can you just stand still for five seconds?”

“Nope!” you declared, spinning in a full circle and nearly tripping over someone’s rolling carry-on.

“Estrella!” Ona snapped. “I swear to God, if you don’t stop—”

“I’m gonna buy one of those kid leashes,” she said to Jana, exasperated, pointing at you like you were an unruly Pomeranian.

“She’ll chew through it,” Jana said flatly.

Bruna, clearly realizing your chaos energy wasn’t going to subside, grabbed your arm and refused to let go. “That’s it. You’re mine now. I’m holding you hostage.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment,” you grinned, letting her drag you all the way to baggage claim and then to the car. She didn’t release you even when she had to unlock the trunk, just maneuvered with one arm like a pro while you clung to her like a barnacle.

The moment you got into the car, you slid into the seat beside Bruna and immediately launched into a verbal monologue with no breathing breaks. “Oh my God, I missed you so much, like so much. Spain is weird without you and Alexia yells more now and Olga makes me eat vegetables. Also, I stubbed my toe yesterday and thought of you for some reason—OH and Soleil says hi, she was like, ‘Tell Bruna hi’ and I was like ‘I will if she answers my texts’—”

Bruna blinked. “I do answer your texts.”

“Three business days later!”

Meanwhile, Ona and Jana, trapped in the back seats, had both slumped against their respective windows. At some point, maybe around your detailed story about how you got into a heated debate with a pigeon outside your favorite café, they gave up entirely and fell asleep. You kept going.

“—and then I told Olga that I wanted to dye my hair like yours and she said no because ‘Bruna’s hair doesn’t count as a stable color reference’ which I think was super rude, honestly, because I think your hair is iconic—”

Bruna just looked at you, both baffled and amused. “You breathe through your ears or something?”

You grinned. “Only when I’m excited. Which I am. Because you’re here. And I’m here. And I missed you so much, like seriously. It’s not the same without you. You might act like you’re too cool for me, but you’re not. You’re my sister and I missed my sister.”

Bruna finally smiled, that warm, soft one she doesn’t give often. “I missed you too, little devil. Even if you drive me absolutely insane. You’re still my pain-in-the-ass baby sister at the end of the day.”

You beamed at her, totally unfazed by the insult wrapped in love.

When you finally got to the hotel, you didn’t even help unload the car. You burst into the living room like you were running a marathon, dropped your bag, and dramatically flopped onto the couch with a groan of fake exhaustion.

“I think I belong in England,” you declared, sprawled out like a dead fish.

Bruna rolled her eyes. “Hell no.”

The next morning, just as the sky began to lighten with a soft pink hue, you were already wide awake and brimming with energy. You threw the curtains open with dramatic flair, letting the sun pour into the hotel room.

“Get up, get up, get up!” you sang at the top of your lungs, bouncing between the beds like an overly caffeinated squirrel. “London isn’t going to explore itself!”

Ona groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. “It’s six in the morning.”

Jana blindly reached for your ankle from where she lay sprawled across the bed. “Estrella, I swear to God—”

“I made an itinerary!” you chirped, ducking away before Jana could grab you. “Big Ben, Tower Bridge, Abbey Road, and the Harry Potter platform thingy!”

“You didn’t even say the name right,” Ona muttered into her pillow, but you were already skipping to the bathroom, humming a song of your own invention.

Three hours later, after much groaning, dragging, and you bribing them with pastries, the four of you were finally out and about, navigating the busy streets of London. You were a blur of motion, bouncing between sights and posing in front of every single one like you were the star of your own travel documentary.

“Picture!” you shouted, grabbing Jana and Ona by the sleeves and dragging them in front of Buckingham Palace.

“Another one!” you yelled ten minutes later in front of Tower Bridge.

“You’re going to have 100 photos of the back of my head,” Jana grumbled, squinting at the glare of the sun.

“That’s okay,” you said, already framing a selfie. “Your hair looks great!”

Bruna had joined you mid-morning, stylishly dressed and sipping coffee like she wasn’t babysitting a human firecracker. She watched you literally walk straight into a pole while staring in awe at a double-decker bus.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” she said flatly, taking another sip of her drink.

Ona and Jana didn’t even flinch. “Yep,” they said in perfect unison.

Later that afternoon, the four of you were huddled around a small stall at the farmers market, arguing over which jam sample tasted the best.

“The strawberry has personality,” you insisted, already elbow-deep in a second helping.

“The apricot is more refined,” Bruna replied, raising an eyebrow at you.

While they debated the intricacies of fruit preserves, your eyes caught something in the distance. A churro stand. Not just any churro stand— this one had the silkiest, most luxurious chocolate sauce you had ever seen. It shimmered like a dream under the sun. Your mouth watered. Your sweet tooth roared to life.

Without saying a word, you slipped away. Two minutes passed.

“Where’s Estrella?” Ona asked, looking around.

Jana squinted. “She was just here.”

Bruna, calm as ever, sighed and pulled out her phone. “It’s fine. I dropped an AirTag in her bag.”

They tracked your location and, sure enough, the blinking dot led them straight to—you guessed it—the churro stand.

They stood there, watching as you happily devoured a churro, chocolate smeared on your cheek like war paint.

“Really?” Jana said, deadpan.

“Are we even surprised at this point?” Ona added.

“I should’ve dropped two AirTags,” Bruna muttered.

Eventually, the four of you made your way to lunch at a cozy little café tucked down a quiet alleyway. You were munching happily on your second helping of fries when Bruna suddenly reached over and squeezed your hand gently.

“I missed you, Estrella,” she said, her voice soft now. “You’re all grown up. But next time, I will come to Spain. You in another country is too stressful.”

You beamed at her, chocolate still faintly visible at the corner of your mouth. “Deal.”

Then you leaned your head on her shoulder and immediately began pestering her to let you order dessert. Again.

#woso community #woso x platonic!reader #woso fic #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso x teen!reader #barca femeni x teen!reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca x reader #barcelona x reader #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #bruna vilamala x reader #⋆｡˚ stargirl

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ravenclaws-stuff · 2 months ago

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Theodore Nott x reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, hurt in this part, established relationship, Theo makes a pros and cons list of dating you, reader avoids Theo like the Filch avoids a bath, reader is not in Slytherin

A/n: Never really wrote something this angsty before so please let me know if you like it

Part Two

Pros and Cons part one

I sigh, falling onto the bed. The aroma of ash and cedar floats around me. He is late. Theo was supposed to meet me in his dorm to study yet he is late. Theo and I have been dating for three months. I couldn’t believe it when he asked me out. I mean Theo is cold and shut off from the world except his small group of friends.

Fate introduced us, well in the shape of Slughorn. The potion’s professor assigned us as partners. First, he didn’t talk. Only answered in grunts and hums. Over time, he would chuckle at my remarks or correct me throughout our potions. We would study together in the library or the courtyard if I could convince him that he needed sunshine. Eventually, it evolved to late night talks in the astronomy tower where he asked me out.

Standing up, I look around the dorm. Not much in here. No personal touches. Books stacked neatly on his desk. I run my fingers along the desk, smiling to myself. No dirt. Theo is such a neat freak. My brow furrows as I spot a wad of paper sticking out from under the desk. I bend down to pick it up. Its probably just an old sheet of homework. I unfold it, my heart lodging in my throat as I read the words.

Pros and cons of Dating Y/n

Pros

Beautiful, so beautiful it hurt look at times

Smartm freakishly smart

Fantastic sense of humor

Kind, tutors the younger students

Loves to eat, I can't wait to cook her Nana’s special recipe

Never shies away from me

Cons

Different house

Sometimes too bubbly

Bossy

Wants a real relationship

The paper falls from my fingers, floating to the ground. Tears that I tried so hard to fight fall down my cheeks. I take an unsteady step back, shaking my head. Out. I need out. The door slams shut behind me. A real relationship? Is that not what he wants.

I managed to avoid Theo for three days before he cornered me. Well pulled me into an abandoned classroom. “Why are you avoiding me?” Theo asks, voice laced with exhaustion. The dark spots under his eyes tell me he hasn’t been getting any sleep. “I don’t know-” Theo shakes his head. “Please do not insult either of our intelligence by acting like you have no clue what I am talking about.” I gulp, walking around to sit on a dusty desk. “Amore please tell me what's wrong?” I shake my head, tears forming at the nickname. “Please?” Theo whispers, kneeling in front of me.

“I found the list you made.” Theo fliches as if I had slapped him. “W-what list?” The tears blur my vision as I will them not to fall. “The pros and cons list of dating me.”

The air between the two of us tense. “Amore please let me explain.” The sadness I have felt for the last three days turn into red hot anger. I laugh dryly. “What is there to explain? You had to make a list about me in order to figure out if you wanted to date me.” I stand up, crossing the room. I needed space from Theo. “Amore please you have to understand I was scared, terrified really. You make me feel things I have never felt before. Its not an excuse though. I should have never done it.” Theo says, standing off the ground. “Why did you?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounded. “I was so nervous about the way you made me feel. So Draco and Blaise suggested to make a list. A list of reason on what I like about you. Pansy told me it was a stupid idea.” I nod, my frown deepening. “What about wanting a real relationship? That was on the con list.” Theo tenses before before taking a step forward. “I’ve never done this before. Wasn't sure if I could handle a real relationship.” I glare at him, throwing my hands up in the air. “You asked me out remember. I am not forcing you.” Theo sighs, rubbing the crease in between his eyebrows. “Thats- that's not what I meant.” He takes another forward. “I want a relationship with you. I want this.” He says, pointing at the space between us. I nod, wiping my cheeks. “So do I but I need space. That list hurt me. You put my insecurities on a sheet a paper to not date me. Just, i'm sorry Theodore.” I say, rushing out of the classroom without sparing Theo a second glance. The sound of desks being shoved brings another round of tears to my eyes. “Fuck!” Theo roars from the classroom.

What do I do now?

#harry potter #hurt/comfort #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #harry potter angst

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jussstlovely · 4 months ago

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Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

Hyung Line Bf! Enhypen members comfort you when you’re stressed.

Mostly fluff but some angst, WC: around 2k altogether

Warnings: kissing, hugging, and use of pet names instead of y/n

Disclaimer: NSFW accounts DNI, please

an: Just a little something I wrote. Right now I am writing headcannons more than full fics, so I will open my requests if you have something you want me to write, (please read my rules page before requesting). Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Heeseung 희승

It was a Friday night when he heard the keys opening the door. He popped up to the sound, a smile forming on his face, but quickly disappeared when he saw you with an upset expression and tears in your eyes. He immediately got up to hug you, holding you there for a few moments before he pulled away to look at you.

“Baby, what happened?” he asked with worry.

“I had a hard day”, you were trying to hold back your tears as you replied, he noticed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Mm…no, not right now, at least”

He agreed and took your heavy bag off of your shoulder.

Once he left to take your bag to his room you completely broke down. Heeseung couldn’t hear your silent cries and you were thankful for that, the reason why you were like this is was because of the workload that your teachers gave you. This week was long so you were looking forward to its end, but of course, your teachers had to assign 3 exams on Monday and 2 projects that took at least a day to work on.

You didn’t notice when your boyfriend came back into the room, and that he was there comforting you by rubbing your back. You forced yourself to stop crying.

A moment of silence passed between you two before you got up trying to go to your room. Heeseung stopped you.

“Where are you going?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry but I need to start studying, I’ll be in my room” you replied quietly.

You were stopped by his hand gently grabbing your wrist.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked. You shook your head. “Love you should eat, would you like me to make you some ramen?”

Your head popped up to that question and you nodded your head in reply.

He smiled, “Okay, come sit down here and I’ll make you your ramen”

You quietly moved to sit on the chair, admiring him as he made your ramen, his eyebrows furrowing sometimes to focus.

“Okay, here you go my love, eat up,” he says as he hands you the bowl filled with ramen.

The smell of the ramen was enough to make your stomach grumble in hunger and without hesitation, you took a bite.

Heeseung moved to sit next to you, staring at you in awe and care.

Some moments passed before you showed him your empty bowl, and he smiled in return. As he got up to rinse your bowl you quietly admitted what had been stressing you out. He heard it.

“Well, I promise that I’ll help you every step of the way, I’ll always be here. But you look tired, why don’t we take a nap first?

“Okay,” you said as you got up to hug him.

After a few minutes, you two moved to your guy’s room and flopped on the bed together.

As Heeseung pulled the covers up, you looked up at him with admiration.

“What?” he asked with a grin.

“Nothing, I’m just lucky to have you”

“I’m lucky to have you, baby. I love you”

“I love you too.” Soon you guys fell into a deep sleep, both with smiles on your faces.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Jay 제이

When you get stressed, you tend to block out everyone from your life, just for a moment, until you feel ready to talk again. You've been doing that ever since you were young when the fights or the amount of homework was too much, but you finally stopped when you met Jay.

Jay can read you like an open book, he knows when you're tired, angry, or sad and he especially knows when you’re stressed.

So whenever you’re stressed now, instead of locking yourself up in your room, you go to him for comfort. He usually just cuddles with you or cooks you something, but today, he was busy working on a new song, you remember him telling you to not come in his room until he’s done working on the song but today has been such a hard and stressful day it had completely slipped your mind as you walked towards Jay’s room with tears coming down your face, you just wanted a hug from him.

Once you opened the door, he was surprised to see you there at first but that surprised look turned into a worried look as he saw you crying in front of him.

“Aww baby what happened?” he asked as he gestured to come closer to him.

“Can I have a hug?” you asked sniffling.

“Of course baby, come here”

You guys stayed in that hug for a few moments until he asked again.

“Ugh, I just feel so stressed right now, I have so many assignments to do, and one of my friends isn't talking to me and I don’t know what I did, I mean-“

“Baby,” he interrupts your rambling.

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay I promise I will do everything that I can to make your stress go away,” he said as he wiped the tear from your cheek, you didn’t even notice that you were crying again.

“Thank you”

“Of course sweetheart”

“Do you want to hear what I’ve been working on?”

You replied with an enthusiastic nod which made him smile.

As he grabbed his guitar you went to sit on his bed, he faced the chair to you and started playing your favorite song.

‘Whispered something in your ear’

‘It was a perverted thing to say’

‘But I said it anyway’

‘Made you smile and look away’

While he was playing you couldn’t help but smile and tear up.

‘Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby’

As he sang that lyric he looked up at you with a smile on his face, this was exactly what you needed,

‘Nothing’s gonna take you from my side…’

Soon the song ended and as he moved to put his guitar down you rushed to hug him in your arms. Tears started pouring down your face again.

“Thank you I needed that. You did such a good job!”

“Thank you, baby, I love you”

“I love you too”

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Jake 제이크

You came home from a tough day at school and work, all you wanted was cuddle with your boyfriend, but when you came home, it was silent and the lights were off. You were sure Jake would tell you if he went out. You were about to call him until you heard him talking to his friends. Oh, he’s playing video games right now.

Taking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the chair you headed to your room until you saw him come out of his room, headset still on, carrying an empty but dirty plate.

“Oh, baby hi!” Jake said coming to hug you.

“Hi, Jake,” you said in his arms with a tired expression.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” he asked as he noticed the sad tone in your voice.

“Can I talk to you?” you asked with tears forming in your eyes. This made Jake start worrying about you, you wanted to talk? About what? About you guys? About your relationship?

“Uhm yeah okay, just give me a sec, I have to put these dishes in the sink”.

“Okay, I’ll be in your room”.

Once you were in his room, you went to sit on his bed, trying your hardest not to cry.

Once Jake came in, he closed the door and went to sit in front of you.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” That’s when you surprised him by wrapping your arms around him, crying on his shoulder.

“Woah, baby, what happened? Talk to me”. That’s when you finally told him about how poorly your day went, you told him every detail from how horrible your classes were to how the customers and employees treated you, even telling him how you were starving all day because you forgot to pack your snack and lunch.

“I’m so sorry baby, what can I do to help?”

“Just stay here with me?”

“Of course baby,” he said as he moved to lay down with you.

You two stayed in each other’s arms until he got a call from his friends, telling him to hop back on the game.

“Dude I’m with my girlfriend right now, she had a hard day,” he said on the phone. To which his friend apologized, and Jake went back to lay with you.

“It’s okay, you can go back to playing with your friends babe.”

“No no it’s okay, I’ll stay here with you”.

With that, he went back to holding you in his arms, until he got another call, this time on his PC.

“Oh my gosh!” he yelled as he got up abruptly, about to end the call until you told him again that he should go play with his friends.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded in reply. That’s when he had an idea.

“Do you want to sit with me while I play?” he asked from his chair.

“Hmm sure,” you said as you went towards him. You climbed on his lap and put your head on his shoulder as he answered the call with his friends.

As you were laying on his shoulder, listening to him talk to his friends, you started humming your favorite song at the moment, ‘Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby’. Jake must’ve heard you because he started singing the lyrics quietly while he was muted.

You looked up from his shoulder, “You know that song?”

“Yeah, I love Cigarettes After Sex”. You kissed him.

“Wha-What was that for?” Jake asked, slightly surprised by your boldness.

“Nothing, I just love you”

“Well, I love you too”. He said as he kissed you again.

Several kisses later, his friends started calling him, but he ended up leaving the call.

“Why’d you leave?” you asked, he looked down at you with a soft smile.

“Because I’d rather spend my time with you,” he said as he got up from his chair, taking your hand and leading you to his bed. You followed him.

Once you two got under the covers he turned off all the lights and said goodnight.

“I love you”

“I love you too baby”.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Sunghoon 성훈

You and Sunghoon have been dating for 2 months now, and it’s been amazing, he’s so caring and loving and cute, ugh, he’s such a perfect boyfriend, so why are you arguing with him right now?

“No, Sunghoon, it’s the fact that you didn’t do the dishes when I asked you five times today”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll do them right now,” Sunghoon said, walking towards the kitchen.

“No, no, that’s not the point!…do you know how stressful my week has been? School has been giving me hell, and after that, I have to go work and deal with crappy customers, and then I get here expecting a clean home, but then I see these dirty dishes piling in the sink, and I end up having to do them every. single. day ....all I want is to come home to a nice clean house, and I understand that you’re busy too, but I’ve asked you five times today. Is that too much to ask for?”

“I-I didn’t know that that’s how you’re feeling”

“Yeah, that is how I’m feeling,” you said as you grabbed your keys and headed towards the door.

“Wait, baby, where are you going?”

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” you said as you slammed the door shut.

It was now silent in the apartment, Sunghoon didn’t know whether to run after you, stay here and clean the dishes, or just lock himself in his room. You guys never fought, and the way you just reacted worried him, why couldn’t he just listen to you and do the dishes when you asked?

As you got into your car, you completely broke down, why are you feeling like this? Why did you yell at Sunghoon? He didn’t deserve that. You should apologize, but you’re not ready to talk to him right now. He probably wants to break up after that, it’s only been 2 months, and he’ll get over you easily, but you’re not ready to leave him, you love him. Oh my gosh, you love him.

Back at the apartment, Sunghoon was lying on his bed worrying about you when he heard the keys to the door open. He popped up, you’re back.

When you opened the door to your apartment, the first thing you noticed was the clean dishes, you smiled and started walking towards Sunghoons door.

There was a knock on his door, and he got up to open it and saw you, mascara was smudged by your eyes, and you were starting to cry again. You went to hug him immediately, and he hugged you back tighter.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I've just been so stressed out lately, and I took it out on you, and I feel so guilty-“

“Shh, it’s okay, love. I’m sorry that you’re stressed, and don’t apologize it’s not your fault it was mine, I should’ve listened to you when you asked me,” he reassured you, leading you to sit on his bed.

“No, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me, just stay here with me, please”

He was surprised by your words, “Sweetie, why do you think I’ll leave you?”

“I thought that after that fight, you wouldn’t want to put up with me-“

“No, no, of course not, babe, I’ll never break up with you.” He gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him.

“Baby, I won’t ever leave you like that, okay? And please don’t feel guilty for getting mad at me when it was my fault.”

“Okay,” you said, leaning your head on his and looking into his eyes.

You two stared at each other for a few seconds before Sunghoon closed the gap between you both.

Sunghoon grabbed your waist to pull you closer, and you started threading your fingers in his hair, then you both pulled away, slightly out of breath.

He stared at you with loving eyes.

“I love you Y/n”

“I love you too, Sunghoon”

In those moments, you both hope that there will be many more days together and how lucky you are to have each other.

Hope you enjoyed it, if you did please like, comment or reblog! thank you 𓂃۶ৎ

#enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #jussstlovely

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