#I LITERALLY TEACH CLASSES AND WRITE LECTURES ON IT

[babyseraphim]

if one more doctor recommends 'diaphragmatic breathing' as a treatment for my unidentified stomach issues i'm actually going to kill someone

[autumnoakes]

i'm going to start slamming my head into the wall if this paper isn't ready to submit in 10 minutes

[oddberryshortcake]

Don’t do grad school kids

It fucks ya up

[mudstoneabyss]

so much of my blogging whenever I have classes is complaining about them but erm. in my defense they're stressful and overwhelming

[leiswxrld]

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

pairings: piercer!ellie williams x fem reader

synopsis: your obsessed with ellie williams and have developed a little thing for her but never talked to her well not until you visited the tattoo shop.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, cunnilingus (r receiving), strap on usage (calls it her dick), praise + degradation (slut, angel, beautiful, pretty), ellie williams is the mf warning, nipple piercings, public sex kinda.

a/n: I’m actually so fucking obsessed with ellie not even a joke, this was also a request from a friend so thanks bae.

credits: @mmadeinheavenn @hitobaby ❥

When it came to Ellie williams, your friends were always the first and last people to hear about how much you were obsessed with her. to the piercings and tattoos they heard it all, you went to the same university and attended most of the same classes but never spoke a word to eachother other.

You were sat in the canteen, laughing and making jokes with your friends whilst your attention turned to Ellie who had headphones in, carrying a backpack as she buys her lunch, sitting herself away from everyone.

Trying to ignore her presence, you try listening into your friend's conversation on her current sneaky link dustin, a boy on the football team who was the goalie star of the team but a total dick, she would always complain how he would be fucking other girls whilst he was with her but she'd managed to go back to him saying, 'it was just for the sex'.

Your head begins to spin, turning your attention back to Ellie who's busy phone in hand and a sub in the other, her piercing green eyes look up towards you, licking the crumbs off her lips not being able to read her unreadable expression before she goes back to what she was doing.

In your deluded mind, you coped up the idea that she might have a slight thing for you trying to convince yourself she'd might actually hook up with you.

It's Monday morning, sat in your lecture a few seats from the front as the teacher is rambling on about a midterm test that's coming up very soon and that everyone should be studying but truth be told you had been too lazy to do anything, staying in your bed whilst watching YouTube. you noticed Ellie hadn't arrived, consciously looking at the door waiting for the freckled beauty to walk through the door.

you tapped your pen against the desk, head in your hand thinking about what you were going to have for dinner later until your completely brung out of your daydream by the sound of the double doors opening, speaking of the devil.

Ellie walks in, hair in a ponytail. dressed in a metal rock shirt with ripped black jeans and black timberlands with her headphones in. she seems unfazed at the amount of distasteful looks she gets as she walks up the stairs in your direction, briefly looking at you and continuing towards the top. the professor continues to teach ignoring her as she writes on the whiteboard whilst talking.

You pretend to drop your pen on the floor, looking behind you to see her sat on the seats towards the right. she's typing on her phone, completely distracted, looking up to see you before smirking to herself.

you freak out internally, feeling your heart flutter a bit as you gripped your pen tightly, humming quietly to yourself thoughts filled with her.

a few days later, your at the tattoo place waiting to get your nipples done. it was a rather last minute decision since you've wanted them for a while but scared because of the horror stories you've heard from other girls which completely put you off at first but then you decided maybe it wouldn't be the same for you.

You begged your friend to come with too scared to go by yourself as you signed the paperwork to get it done. "Girl I'm sure you'll be fine your literally shaking"

you scoff, giving her a dirty look, "If it was you...you wouldn't of gotten them in the fucking first place at least I'm actually getting them done"

she rolls her eyes applying her lip gloss, "I just got my eyebrow pierced I think that’s adventurous enough" you continue to bicker, before a girl approaches you not paying attention before she cleared her throat.

"Y/N right" you look up to see Ellie, the girl you've been crushing over for the past month stood right in front of you and she was about to pierce your fucking tits.

never in your right mind would you think she worked at a fucking tattoo shop but here she was in a tank top, showcasing the variety of tattoos across her arms and neck. you don't remember her being this fucking built but then again you never saw her in uni without wearing punk shirts with a white long sleeved top underneath. your voice gets caught in your throat, your friend looking at you with a smirk as you push her off you, "yeah thats me"

Ellie pauses, looking at her clipboard before looking back at you. "come with me" she says, turning around as you get up from your seat. You follow her, briefly turning around to see your friend who's making sexual jokes as you flip her off.

your nervous, your heart racing as she leads you to one of the many rooms, allowing you to go in first closing the door behind you. "Have a seat on the bed behind you whilst I get everything prepared" she mutters, pointing at the bed as you sat yourself on top of it. you don't think you've ever heard her talk her voice sweet but rugged at the same time as she goes to wash her hands at the sink.

"you've ever pierced uh- nipples before" you quickly speak out, cursing at yourself for your stutter. she takes a second to look at you, not missing the way her eyes stop at your tits before licking her lips. "uh- yeah this isn't my first rodeo so don't worry your in good hands"

she drys her hands, putting on her gloves and sterilising the equipment on the tray before wheeling it towards you next to the bed. "can you lay down for me and lift up your shirt and remove your bra if you don't want me to look I won't" she says, going to turn around before you stop her.

"No its fine you'll see them anyway since your piercing them" Ellie smiles at you, slowly watching as you carefully lift your top up revealing the cute red lacy bra. The tension felt all too intimate for you feeling so vulnerable under her intimidating eyes, you don't know if she's recognised you or pretending not to still remaining professional as you struggle to unbuckle the hook.

in embarrassment, you face ellie who's busy getting her tools lined up. "hey can you help me unbuckle my bra having trouble taking it off" you squeak out and she smiles signalling you to turn around, feeling her cold hands hit the warmth of your back causing you to shiver slightly as you felt the bra strap unbuckle. "thanks"

you slip your bra off, placing it on the bed next to you. Ellie hands you a towel to help you cover up, laying back onto the bed the anticipation killing you as your nerves began to pick up again. "I'm going touch your breasts now tell me if you get too uncomfortable" you nod in response and ellie gently moves the towel down revealing your tits, sitting perfectly the cold air breezing past causing them to harden.

you hear her mutter 'fuck' under her breath, but you don't know if it was your imagination or not. shes gentle, lightly pressing her hand against your left tit, the cannula in her right. "take a deep breath for me" you do, lightly taking in air before feeling the needle going through your nipple.

opening your eyes, you see she's already putting in the jewellery. "I was expecting that to be way more painful" you admit causing her to laugh, screwing in the ball. "a lot of my customers have said that it's just your nerves making you think it will be fucking painful than it actually is"

"don't blame them I was shitting bricks when I got here" you reply, admiring the many piercings she had in her ear. you don't think you ever noticed she had that many, "that was me when I first got them, I did them myself which looking back was fucking stupid but I was 17 and wanted to be different"

"that’s so real" you could relate you managed to pierce your septum and helix in one night which resulted in blood, infections and a long healing period but in the end they turned out good. "ok I'm going to pierce the other one take another deep breath for me angel"

the name went straight down to your core, feeling the wetness seep onto your matching red lace underwear as you avoid her eyes. you take another deep breath before feeling the needle go through which felt a little painful than the last as she puts in the jewellery screwing the ball in.

"anddd.... I'm done take a look" you receive the mirror, angling them towards your tits, satisfied with the cute piercings. "omg they look so pretty" you gleam, taking a second to look at a shy Ellie, "thank you so much"

"your welcome, they suit you just as pretty as you" your gleeful, expression falls turning to look up at ellie who seems panicked at your shocked expression. "s-shit I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I-"

"you think I'm pretty" you ask, needing the confirmation from her lips once again. "ever since I saw you in the library at uni I thought you were the most beautiful girl in there"

that was the signal you needed, "can I kiss you" ellie says, restraining herself from grabbing you and doing it herself. you nod and Ellie takes your lips on hers, heads moving against each other, roughly pulling at her neck as you both moan.

"so fucking beautiful" she mutters, against your lips grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards her. she makes her way down, leaving bruises all around your neck and kissing your pierced tits carefully making you wince before continuing all the way to your stomach.

"You moan so fucking pretty- shit I have to have you will you let me fuck this pussy baby" she asks- almost begging you to let you use her to get yourself off. "y-yes please fuck me ells" the yes a whimper, just wanting ellie to use her fingers on you.

Ellie wastes no time, taking off your joggers and throwing them across the floor. she moans at the wet spot that's appeared on the matching red lace underwear, helping you slip them off. "fuck" she mutters, your pussy glistening in your juices as Ellie slowly attaches her lips onto your clit, receiving a gasp from you.

She eats you like its her last fucking meal, licking and sucking like a mad woman, moaning at the way you taste and how angelic your moans were. "taste so fucking good"

"just like that els-fuck" she groans at your words, using her mouth to suction on your clit lapping up all your juices that seeped through the white protective cloth on the bed.

Your moaning, hands slipping into ellies hair and toes clenched too fucking blissed to say anything. "I-i want to fuck you" she says, stopping for a second bringing you out of your blissed out state, "what do you mean" your confused, wasn't she already doing it ?.

"you'll see turn around and arch your back against the bed" you obey, quickly rushing up and laying yourself against the bed, avoiding hitting your newly pierced tits.

You hear her unbuckle the belt to her jeans, pushing them down to her legs. briefly turning around, she pulls down her boxes revealing a black glittery strap on. "we only have 10 minutes before my next client so we have to make this quick, angel"

"look at you so ready for my dick, how much does she want it" she referring to your pussy, feeling her tap the tip against your opening. "sooo… bad please fuck me" you beg and you hear her chuckle at your desperate pleas, positioning herself before slowly pushing into you.

"ohhhh-fuck" you moan, exaggerating the oh as she puts her hands on your hips, "so fucking tight for me its been a long time since you've been fucked hasn't it" she asks, smacking your ass.

"s-so long" you admit, the longest time you had been without sex being 5 months. she pulls you back on her strap before thrusting into you at a slow pace, pulling back only to thrust back harder into you.

Your pushing back onto her, meeting her thrusts as your moans get louder. "shhhh angel your being too loud you don't want wanna get caught getting fucked by me right" her tone is almost mocking, feeling her hand push your head against the bed muffling your moans into the hard surface.

You nod, babbling curses and muffled moans as she increases her pace, ass smacking against her strap as your hand grips onto the discarded towel next to you. "fuck back onto me baby come on" she's spanking you, whilst letting you push back onto her as you turn back to face her who seems to be enjoying it as much as you were.

"you look so fucking beautiful from here angel, so desperate for me" she's pounding into you, trying your hardest to stay quiet, your piercing hits the table causing you to wince in pain, "fuck els- I'm gonna cum gonna make such a mess all over you" you moan out, eyes rolling back as you brain goes fuzzy

the loud smacks are echoed across the room, ellie going to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling on it harshly watching as your ass bounces back, almost creaming at the sight of it. "are you going to cum for me slut" you almost silent, ellie knocking the breath out of you as she fucks the shit out of you.

"nghhh- fuck I'm cumming" you squirt all over her strap, earning a satisfied moan from ellie, who thrusts into you a few more times before slowing down. you laid slump on the bed, feeling Ellie pull out of you as you felt her tongue return to your pussy, licking up the juices with a few grunts as you whimper in sensitivity.

"Didn't take you for a squirter" she finally says, helping you to your feet. "that was my first time doing it" you admit and her eyes widen, "really..well shit I guess you just weren't getting fucked right"

Ellie helps you get dressed, cleaning you up and replacing the now soaked sheet with a new one.

"I have to get ready for my next client but I guess I'll see you around, angel" she gives you one more kiss before letting you out, you felt the obvious limp in your step ignoring the dirty looks you got from everyone in the waiting area, returning quickly to your friend who had an obvious smirk on her face.

"so how was it" you grab your purse from her, taking out your card. "it didn't hurt to be-

"Not that how was it was she more of a pink or black strap type of girl" you slap her in the arm, an obvious glare on your face. "I don't know what you’re talking about"

"you do realise everyone heard you getting fucked like the obvious limp in your step and the hickeys all over your neck is a factor" your face drains in colour, no wonder why everyone was giving you dirty looks.

" I have no idea what your talking about let me pay so we can get out of here" you pay, embarrassment on your face as the receptionist gave you the ‘I know what you just did’ look.

Ellie walks out clipboard in hand, calling out a customers name eyes meeting yours before smirking, your face heats up before you drag your friend out of the shop, missing ellies obvious stares at your ass as you do.

“hi I’m ellie right this way”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Gale x Tav

words: 1992

rating: E

pairing: Gale x Tav (post game pairing)

summary: since you all are so thirsty for an extended verison of the NSFW headcanons post, I guess I had to make one. I am nothing if not a servant to my people.

tags: magic sex (literally. but also metaphorically), exhibitionism, voyeurism, masturbation (kind of), Gale using magic for naughty reasons, projection!Gale

part ii part iii

“Alright class! Please turn your alchemy text to Chapter 8, page 394.”

There was a loud, unanimous sound of rustling paper as all the students in the lecture hall flipped through their books to the requested text. You don’t know what Gale was always complaining about. This teaching thing wasn’t that hard.

Gale had to leave for a community conference of the Blackwater staff and some of the other schools of magical arts in Faerûn. Given that they were all wizards, you had asked why they all couldn’t just project their consciousness into one place and avoid the travel, but Gale didn’t have an answer for that and left earlier that week. In his absence, he had asked you to take over his Introductory to Magics class while he was gone. Given that it was an introductory course, which mostly meant learning the basics and text anyway, and you’d had ‘private tutoring’ from Mystra’s former Chosen himself, he insisted you were more than qualified to act in his stead.

It had actually been pretty fun. The young weave masters were all eager to learn. Honestly the hardest thing was keeping them on task with the subjects instead of running off with a lot of questions about your victory over the Elder Brain and recuse of the realm. It was flattering, but not apart of the testing materials.

The students all wait patiently with their books open for you to begin, and you turn around to the blackboard. All of a sudden you felt a twinge between your legs. Not a painful one but more….

“Professor [Y/N], are you alright?”

You turn to look over your shoulder at the class, clearly spaced out for a moment, before you smile and tell them, “oh yes. Sorry. Let’s talk about alchemy then.”

You begin to write and talk to the class when you feel the sensation again. It was faint, but distinct. At first you thought it was just the seam of your trousers rubbing against your apex. But it was too consistent for that. The sensation would come. Then the sensation would go. You tried to keep your mind on the lesson but the more it came & went you had to wonder what was going on.

It couldn’t be Haarlep. Despite your adventure being over, your contract with the sex demon wasn’t. He still used your form from time to time, though your popularity in Avernous seemed to be waning as he hadn’t called on it in some time. If it were him the sensation would be constant, before fading away like a breathless sigh off your lips. So it was something else.

By the time you get through explaining the 4 key groups of alchemy, and made it to page 396, the sensation had crawled up from your core and just to the pit of your belly. You were having a harder time focusing on the lesson. Your attention now spilt between 50% focused on what was happening to your body, a mere 10% on the lecture, and the rest on the stimulating sensation between your legs that was just too pleasurable to resist.

To save face, and avoid any embarrassment like moaning out loud in front of a class full of minors, you quickly pivot the class schedule into independent study. Telling the students to go out around campus and find 5, no 15 herbs, floral, whatever to craft with for tomorrow morning’s follow up lecture on application.

Some of the students seem confused. While other just look excited to have the afternoon off for ‘foraging’. Still, the all leave rate orderly while you wave them off, and just as the door closed behind the last one you let out a deep breath you didn’t really you were holding and brace your hands against the desk.

Your body felt like it was on fire. Teased, tormented, toyed with. Your hands still splayed on the desk, you spread your legs and let out a moan. Conventionally thinking would lead on to believe that rubbing your thighs together would make the sensation stronger, yet somehow spreading them apart made more room for…whatever this was to work. Your clit throbbed at the feeling of something rubbing against it. If they weren’t in front of you, you would have sworn it was your own hand touching you. The sensation was so similar. Your fingertips twitch at the thought. Prepared to slide down the front of your pants to finish you off.

“Hello there!”

You jump with a start. Eyes wide in alarm at the sound of a voice. The immediate thought coming to mind that another professor has come to ask why the entire Introductory to Magics class is out picking herbs & flowers instead of being in a classroom and caught you on the cusp of a very public private moment. Thankfully, it wasn’t. Only Gale’s Mirror Image projection standing there looking cheerfully at you. “Gale? What are you doing here?”

“I assume you mean what is Gale doing sending me here.” The clever non-corporeal remarked. “Gale has sent me here to see how his new technique is working out. And, judging by your flushed cheeks and wanton appearance, I would say it’s going splendidly!”

Your brain struggled to gather all the bits of information the projection was dealing out through your fog. But you gather enough to finally understand what’s going on. “Gale did this to me!”

“Doing. He is doing this to you ma’m.” As if to prove a point of the explanation, there was another, firmer press of rubbing against your clit. One that made you moan again and knees nearly buckle. “Gale has informed me, to tell you, that he enchanted one of the stones on his ring to be linked with your…well…your own stone. He also wants me to tell you it’s the ruby one. On the silver band.”

The one you bought him. “Can I ask…mmm…why he did this?”

“You can ask! He says it was to give you pleasure while he was away. Long distance relationship can be tricky.” It had been less than a week. “He thought this would be a good resolution in the intermedium. And, perhaps other times in the future.”

You’re not sure if you should feel violated by Gale’s magical molestations or marvel at his creativity. It didn’t really matter in the end because all you could think about was the nagging need to cum. And one other nagging thing – “and you couldn’t possibly wait until I was home to try out this new technique? I’m in the middle of teaching your class. I’m still at the academy! What if someone comes in here right now??”

“Oh. Not to worry. Gale has informed me that the door is magically locked until 2:30 this afternoon. Something about office hours? No one can enter until after that time. Does that help answer your question?”

You let out another long, heavy sigh. One of abject relief and feeling your legs give way as you fall back into Gale’s chair. All the energy sapped from your body as you gave way to the pleasure that had been bubbly up. No longer holding it back, but instead letting it wash over you.

“Gale says he’s happy you like your present.”

You open your eyes. Seeing the projection staring at you with a blank, but soothing expression. Those unending eyes seeming to look right through you. Or perhaps, more to the point, stare past itself and straight to Gale. It was kind of hot. The coolness of its gaze. “My present, eh?”

The projection nodded. “Yes. He says he did this for you.”

“Just for me?” You unbutton your blouse. It had been feeling terrible constricting for quite some time now anyway. The projection doesn’t say anything. Nor does its expression change more than the slight tilt of it’s head, as the fabric gave way to relieve more skin and the outline of your breast in their bra.

“He says yes. But the pockets of his mind I can access independently lead me to believe it’s not purely altruistic.”

You giggle at the projection’s honesty, before your laughter turned into moans. The feeling on your clit more intense. As if Gale was trying to change the conversation.

“Fuck…Gale….” Your back arched off the back of the chair for a moment before it came back down again. “I can’t take it anymore. Are you as anatomically correct as before?”

“Hmm…I believe so.” The projection looked down at itself. Seeming to ponder the concept, as well as all its parts. “But Gale has instructed me that he’s not interested in me using that ability with you. The time in Shar’s Caress was due to the other guests in attendance. With you, Gale wants you all to himself.”

There was an odd feeling of arousal at Gale’s possessiveness, even against himself in a way, but also disappointment. You were close. But the sensation from Gale’s ring to your core wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Just as you were again about to shove your own hand down your pants, you feel a new sensation of hands on you. Not just one hand, or two, but multiple hands. Mage hands. They play with your breasts, your nipples, your ears, your hair. You lean back in Gale’s chair with your eyes closed. Moaning and panting with a white-knuckle grip on the arm rests as the invisible hands play with your body. One finally gives you what you want. Phantom appendage digits thrusting into your inner core, wet and hot.

Your hips jerk up as you let out a wordless scream before the fall back down and you let it fuck you. Legs wide. Blouse open. Mouth agape as Gale abuses his power to abuse your body in the most pleasurable way possible. You’re about to cum probably harder than you’ve ever cum in your life and your pants were still on. How insane was that?

You open your eyes, half lidded and only for a moment, to see the projection still staring at you as you fall apart. Then, you finally do. You cum hard. Bowing back off the chair so hard you hear it creak, before you fall back limp against the soft leather.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

You look up at the projection again. Trying to catch your breath and right your world again. “Yes.”

“Good. Gale is glad you did. He also says that it’s made up for a rather dull afternoon of meetings.” A shiver ran up your spine at the thought that Gale had done all of this during a meeting. “The time is now 2:00. If you would like to freshen up, I suggest you make haste before 2:30 when the doors reopen. Gale says that enjoys how you look right now, but it is probably not appropriate for academia.”

“Then maybe don’t do this at ‘academia’ locations.” You quip back as you smooth out your hair.

“Fair.” The projection agrees. “Gale would like to know if you would like to do this again then when you are not in academia. Perhaps tonight? At home?”

You bite your lip at the thought of it. Doing this all over again, only this time naked in your bed. Perhaps even able to participate more now that you knew what was going on. “Absolutely.”

“Splendid!” The projection offers you a smile before it fades. Disappearing with a last, “see you tonight” as it reabsorbed back into the weave.

Alone again, you stand on shaky legs and try to right yourself for the next class. You still had two more classes to teach before you could go home that evening and become Gale’s play thing again.

The thought made it completely impossible to be totally focused on your lesson plan. You may have told some impressionable young wizards that Fly and Feather Fall were absolutely the same spell. Oh well. Mistakes happen.

[milkteabinniechan]

Professor Chan

Possessive Chan x !female reader

warnings : implied age difference (reader is over 18!) Just smut, probably typos

I love writing about possessive Chan so please let me know if you want more <3

You knew when his offive hours were. You had memorized the hours. You fantasized. You lost track of time in his classes, staring at his hands, his lips, the way he walked across the lecture hall. He spoke so passionately about everything. He would recite poetry with fire in his eyes. And every time he made eye contact with you, your body shudder. Jesus Christ, your body would literally shudder. You'd lick your lips and close your legs together, squeezing around nothing. An emptiness you were begging him to fill. You weren't even subtle about it anymore. Your eyes glossy with need and desire. You wanted him to see you. Really see you. You were all his.

Now you were here. On his desk. During office hours. Unbuttoning his slacked black pants. His hands gently around your neck while his lips traces kisses down your neck. Once his zipper reached the end of it's line, you reach in eagerly to pull him out completely. You chuckled deeply into your neck at your readiness. It was making him hungier. You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, the girth of him pulsing into your palm. God, he was huge. You found yourself praying to a god you didn't believe in to will you the strength to take him completely.

"I want you to teach me something, professor." You spoke softly. A small smirk grew as Chan lifted one of your thighs high to give him the best view. A string of wetness spread across your center and you exposed yourself to your teacher. Your heart began to race faster as his hand gripped tighter around your thigh. His other hand grabbed your chin to pull your focus to his eyes. You were very focused on another, larger, part of him.

"are you ready?" His question was genuine. He was focused on your face, waiting for your answer. Unmoving until you responded. "Yes. Yes. Yes." You answered in slow succession. You wanted him to hear every single Yes you uttered. With that, Chan began to slide in you. Slowly at first, the sensation of fullness already becoming too much. You grabbed onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from levitating off of the Earth itself. This man. This man.

Chan was now farther inside of you. Not completely. But enough now he could grip your ass and help you move into him. You started a rhythm with him almost instantly. Both of you pushing and thrusting. His hips bucked into you and you saw stars. Your hand was wrapped around his tie now. A red tie. You loved when he wore the red tie. The leverage it gave you allowed you pick up speed. A primal growling rose from your professor.

"Am I doing good, sir?" You begged for approval. You loved it. You needed it.

"You're doing so good. Look at you. You're doing so good for me." Chan was picking up speed now. You were leaving a mess on his desk, you could feel it beneath you. You were so close. His full length now inside you entirely. Your core becoming so hot, your release was reaching its peak now and you were near falling apart. In danger of being left a puddle on his desk.

As you screamed through your climax, Chan pressed a hand over your mouth, still thrusting vigorously. "You'll have to be quiet, another class might hear you." He said with a smile.

He loved the thought of that as much as you did. You broke apart for him and his eyes promised to put you right back together again. You just hoped this wouldn't be the last time you came to visit him during office hours.

[crowsoundsonly]

dr. barnes

pair: fbi instructor!professor!bucky barnes x fem!student!reader

word count: ~6.5k

summary: you ask for some advice from your reclusive and very attractive professor.

warnings: teacher student relationship so slight age gap but i had pictured it being less than 10 years, super soft bucky, smut at the end (~1.3k), fingering (f rec) but not super descriptive, crime scene descriptions, descriptions of blood, some christian/religious references at the crime scenes, (let me know if i missed any !!)

a/n: this one held me hostage for weeks. i literally could not stop thinking about it. do i have uni exams this week? yes. but did i spend my time writing this? also yes. i hope you guys like it !!

“Explain the killer. What does he do? What motivates him? How would you catch him? A thousand words printed by the next class. Have a good weekend,” your professor, Dr. Barnes, announces with a nod, cueing the shuffling of laptops and bags belonging to FBI trainees eager to get home on a Friday afternoon.

You load up your things, your mind still thinking about the brutal crime scene photos shown on the slides of the lecture today that made your stomach turn over. While you know you have chosen to be at the FBI, you can’t help but wonder sometimes what you are doing there. Your degree in psychology and doctorate in criminology has led you to the FBI Academy, but your mind still swirls when the most horrible acts of violence are placed in front of you. You chalk it up to you retaining your humanity and sanity, so you are not exactly upset over the fact. It just makes your job more difficult.

Dr. Barnes’ class is always the most brutal, but it is by far the most fascinating class you have. It does help that your professor is the most fascinating part, being very good looking and extremely private. He shares very little personal information, telling you only that he used to work homicide at the police department before beginning teaching. You notice that he does not talk to students often, simply giving his lectures, packing up and leaving after the sea of students flood into the hallways.

You are curious about him, about what he is like when he is not lecturing, and figuring that you have little to lose, you decide to come back after your classes to ask for some help. 

…

“Dr. Barnes?” you call out as you step into the lecture hall that is still lit, leaving you to believe that someone is there. You take a few more steps and find your professor sitting at his desk, photos piled around, staring intently at the laptop in front of him. He makes no movement to acknowledge you, his focus completely locked onto his work.

You walk all the way up to his desk, repeating his name which does little to deter him. You reach a hand out and give his shoulder a slight squeeze, causing him to jump in his seat and look up at you, eyes wide. 

“Sorry, Dr. Barnes. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

At your words, he scans your face, recognition dawning on his features. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he says quietly, his eyes focusing on the books you are holding in your hands. 

“It’s okay, Dr. Barnes,” you assure him.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he trails off a bit at the end of his question, asking for your name in its absence.

You fill in your name and explain, “I just have a question. I’m writing a paper for another class and was hoping that you could give me some insight on the topic. I’m really just looking for another perspective.”

“Of course,” he says as he leans back in his chair. There is not another chair, so you take to sitting on the edge of his desk.

“The paper is about female serial killers, and I was wondering what you think the most common traits and motives are. We have discussed some examples in class, but I wanted to ask what your experience has been.”

He thinks for a moment, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “They usually work in health care professions. They’ll, um, they will be married or have been married before. They usually kill to improve their situation, so they’ll target people they know, usually men. But not all women,” he stops and looks up at you before continuing to explain a case he had while working homicide where they investigated a series of killings that followed the signs of a male killer but ended up being a woman. 

Dr. Barnes runs a hand through his hair when he finishes, leaning back in his chair. You can’t help but notice how good he looks in this position and at this angle. His dark hair tousled and glasses twirling between his thumbs, you think about how it would feel to reach out and feel his hair between your fingers. You school yourself, your face becoming hot at the idea. He is your professor, and you would do well to remember that. 

You continue the conversation, asking him questions and prodding for more insight. When you figure you have taken up enough of his time, you bow your head a bit and begin getting up from your place on the desk.

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Barnes. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

He nods in acknowledgment, a small smile adorning his lips which you watch perhaps a little too intently as he says. “It was nothing. I’m glad I could help.”

You begin walking toward the door of the lecture hall but are stopped by your name being called out.

“Would you actually mind taking a look at these pictures? I’d like to know what you see.”

You turn back around. The look on his face is one of curiosity. You wonder why he would want to ask you, and part of you wants to believe that it is because he wants you to stay, but you know better. 

“Sure,” you shrug, making your way back to his desk. “I’m not sure I’ll be of much help, though”

“Just take a look. It’s not a test, if that’s what you’re worried about,” your professor says, standing up to hand you the crime scene photos.

They are gruesome, but you don’t know what else you could have expected with Dr. Barnes. You examine them all the while trying to ignore the way he leans over your shoulder as you fail to concentrate. You are so close that if you took a single step back, you would be flush to him. 

Pushing those thoughts away, you focus your attention on the photos, flipping through them, noticing the odd blood splatter near the baseboard that doesn’t have a body laying anywhere near it. 

“What would make the killer climb on top of the counter to shoot someone, get down, and move the body?” you think out loud as you turn your head to look at Dr. Barnes. You notice how close your faces are and let out a breath at the discovery. “Dominance?” your voice is more shaky than you wanted it to sound.

“I was hoping you could tell me. My guess is they were waiting there, but it still doesn’t make sense,” he says, looking past you and to the picture you are holding. You look back down as well, grateful you did not make eye contact, the idea of the intimacy of it alarming.

“If they were standing on it, that would make sense, but the angle doesn’t really fit. It seems as if they were waiting for them to get home, and they sat, swinging their legs, completely calm and casual about shooting this person,” you pause, mulling over your words before saying, “Maybe they even knew this person. The proximity to the counter could mean that the victim was comfortable enough to approach them, and that the victim was unaware of what was going to happen.”

He hums in agreement in your ear, and a feeling of satisfaction washes over you. Turning back around, you hand the photos to your professor and take a step back. 

“I think you may be right,” he says with a nod, a small smile again creeping onto his features. You make eye contact and keep it, somewhat entranced by it.

“I’m glad I was able to help,” you smile. “Thanks again, Dr. Barnes. Have a good night.”

…

You anticipate going back to classes on Monday, knowing that you have to attend Dr. Barnes’ lecture. You don’t know if anything will be different after the night you spent talking to your professor. Part of you knows that nothing should be different. While there are only a few years between you, you are still his student.

But part of you wants things to be different. The entire weekend, you could not get out of your head the image of his face so close to yours or the sight of him as he leaned back in his chair, legs casually falling open. 

Dr. Barnes is not in the lecture hall when you arrive for which you are grateful. You settle into your seat and wait for the lecture to begin by fiddling with your laptop. When your professor does come in, you notice that he combed his hair today, letting it fall neatly over his forehead. The plaid shirt he wears still doesn’t match his suit, but you find it charming. He slips his glasses on and begins teaching.

The whole lecture you try valiantly to focus on the subject, but you fail rather miserably, unable to think of anything but how you stood right where he is, your back a foot away from his chest with him humming in your ear. It is going to be a long term if this is how every lecture is going to go.

You are brought back to reality when Dr. Barnes makes eye contact with you. He smiles which you quickly reciprocate, then he turns around, gesturing to the screen before anyone notices.

It is definitely going to be a long semester.

…

Weeks go on with you and Dr. Barnes smiling at each other from afar, both of you knowing that you would be playing with fire if you do anything more than smile. But the longer you go simply smiling, the more you want to do something about it.

And one day, he does something about it. On your way out of the lecture hall, Dr. Barnes stops you, calling out your name. You walk over, anticipation coiling in your stomach.

“I’ve another case I’d like your opinion on. Do you have time tonight to take a look?” he asks you quietly so as to not draw the attention of the students still exiting the room.

“Yes. Here at 7:30?”

He nods, making a flash of eye contact which you return with a smile. 

…

You make your way to Dr. Barnes’ lecture hall, your stomach roiling with nerves. You have thought too much about him, fantasized a little often for you to not think about it when you talk to him. The soles of your shoes click on the tile as you walk the hallway. You take a deep breath and open the door.

Dr. Barnes is reclined behind his desk, crime scene photos in his hand as he flips through them intently. At your entrance, his head flicks up to find your figure approaching his desk.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” he says as he stands up. 

“Hi, yeah. It’s – yeah it’s no problem, Dr. Barnes,” you manage to get out, tripping over your words more than you would have liked. Another deep breath to collect yourself. “What can I do to help?”

He leans against the front of his desk and reaches behind him to grab the photos he was examining before. You take a few steps closer to grab them from his outstretched hand.

“A recent set of murders. It’s odd to say the least,” he starts, watching you intently as you study the photos. 

The scene is horrifying, blood smeared across the walls, not as blood spray or splatter, but in an image. A lamb. Your mind spins as you look through more of the pictures, each of them showing blood splashed on the walls. You wonder what the killer did in order to get that much blood. There is too much for it to have come from just one body.

“How many people were found dead?”

“Only one,” he answers, leaning in to help you find the image of the body heaped over the table. You can’t help but notice everywhere his body touches yours, how his breath flutters against your neck, but you cast those thoughts away to focus on the case at hand.

“There had to have been more. There’s too much blood,” you mumble as you cart through the images again, counting as you go. A beat passes as you take in the scene, contemplating before constructing ideas.

“What do you see?”

“In ancient religious practices, a lamb would be sacrificed and the blood would be sprinkled around seven times. There are seven places where the blood was thrown on the wall,” you pause to show him each one. You glance up at your professor who is looking on intently, urging you to continue. “Then you have the body placed on the table. It could be sacrificial. The lamb was supposed to be perfect. Without blemish. Maybe – maybe the killer saw this person as their perfect – their perfect lamb, as someone who would put them in favor with God. The sacrificial lamb is sacramental. Symbolic. Messianic. It’s an act of repentance. So what was the killer repenting from?”

A hum from Dr. Barnes pulls you out of your reverie and breaks your focus from the crime scene photos. You lean around his form to place the pictures back on his desk, your shoulder brushing against his arm. His eyes follow you before he brings a hand up to rub his eyes, almost like he is physically rubbing away the images.

“Do you think the killer knew the victim?” he asks quietly, bringing his hands down to meet your eyes.

“I think they could be family. Family or close friends. They were their savior,” you answer, matching his tone.

Dr. Barnes nods in agreement and in that moment, you can see that he looks like a man who is carrying the world on his shoulders. He slouches forward slightly, his hair strewn around his ears with bags under his eyes. It takes everything in you to not reach out a hand to touch his cheek, to rub a thumb across his lips as you have in your dreams.

Appalled by your own thoughts, you take a step back to give yourself space to halt that train of thought. The movement makes him stand, subconsciously trying to keep the close proximity between you. You don’t break eye contact, making the moment intimate. Intense.

“This case has been keeping me up at night,” he confesses as he brings a hand to run through his hair with a sigh, breaking eye contact. “I wonder where the other bodies are. I can’t seem to get my mind around it.” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” you say in nearly a whisper. “You’re good at what you do.”

“Thank you for your help. It’s some really great insight you had.”

“It’s no problem, Dr. Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he says quickly, rushing it out like he knows he shouldn’t let it pass his lips.

“Bucky,” you repeat, trying the name out on your tongue. 

You then fall into easy conversation, learning more about each other. You discover that Bucky has a PhD in criminology as well, and that he used to be a field agent but decided to leave it to become a teacher at the academy. Part of you wants to ask why, but you figure that it isn’t a conversation he wants to have while still getting to know you. He asks about your life, your family, your education. He is interested in why and how you landed at the academy. You answer him honestly, not inclined to hide away as you normally do when people ask those questions.

Bucky is surprisingly sociable. Based on his reclusiveness when it comes to students, you were not expecting to hold such easy and fun conversation. It makes you want to spend the whole night chatting, joking, exploring. But you know you should not stay. 

When the conversation lulls, you glance at your watch and ask, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Bucky? I think I might head home.”

Before you can even register what is happening, he takes a singular step forward and leans in to meet his lips to yours. In shock, you stand limply, not sure how to respond. You can’t deny that you have thought about this moment for weeks, dreaming about it, imagining what it would be like to kiss him. Bucky. But you hadn’t expected it to happen tonight.

And before you have time to respond, he pulls away, opening his eyes to look at you with wide ones of his own.

“I’m sorry, I–”

You don’t acknowledge his apology, instead leaning in to kiss him again, only you are prepared for it this time. He responds immediately as his lips move slowly over yours, testing the waters. Your hands are still by your sides, but his come to settle in your hair and over your arm. His kisses are controlled and soft, not pressing for more than what you are willing to give. A sigh flutters from your nose which ghosts over his cheeks.

Breaking away for a second, you open your eyes and find his already looking at you. The both of you know that you are playing with fire. You are still his student, and he is your professor, but the feeling of his lips on yours overrules any rational thought at the moment.

You give a slight nod and he takes that as a green light to kiss you again. Bucky pulls you closer, and your hands find their way around his torso, snaking up into his hair. It is his turn to sigh at the action which causes satisfaction to roll down your back in waves that has you leaning further into the kiss, opening your mouth ever so slightly. He takes advantage and kisses you deeper. A soft moan escapes you at the feeling, followed by a shaky breath.

He pulls away, a triumphant smile playing at his mouth. 

“I’m not sorry,” he whispers.

“Me neither.”

He kisses you once more, chaste and short, but it carries more meaning than any of the other kisses. It tells you that he has thought about this, too. It wasn’t a spur of the moment, impulsive decision. And it tells you that he plans on doing it again.

…

You settle into a routine with Bucky. After class on Fridays, he stops you on your way out and quietly asks you to come back to look over a case or his lectures. You always nod and come back at 7:30. 

The unspoken truth of the need for secrecy looms over your blooming relationship, but you are almost spurred on by the illicitness of it all. You haven’t done anything more than kiss. You haven’t even interacted beyond the walls of the lecture hall. You both know that it is safest that way. 

The more time you spend together, the more you find yourself falling in love with Bucky. His quirks make you smile. The way he perks up when you walk through the door makes your heart flutter in your chest. You have never felt so valued by anyone before. He trusts your opinions. He respects your honesty. You admire his dedication to what he does. You find his quiet nature calming. 

The list of things you love about Bucky keeps you up at night as you replay scenes of kissing at his desk behind your eyes as you fall asleep. Bucky kisses you like you are ice cream on a sunny day, slow and hungry like he savors every second of your mouth on his. He never presses you for more, only going so far as to set you up on his desk, pulling your hips to his, allowing you to wrap your legs around him as you wind your fingers in his hair. He always sighs when you tug at it which gives you the opportunity to kiss at his neck, your chin always getting scratched by his stubble. 

You love the routine. However, it makes it hard to concentrate during the lectures since all you can think about when you look at his desk is how good his hands felt on your hips and how his lips were pressed to yours when you were propped up on the wood yourself.

The semester continues on following your routine. If anyone suspects anything, they don’t say. You can’t imagine that someone hasn’t picked up on the soft smiles he sends your direction during lectures, and stragglers leaving class late on Fridays must hear his whispers for you to come back. 

Steadily approaching the end of the term, you begin to question how long your routine will continue. You will no longer be Bucky’s student. Could you actually date? Would he want to? Is that what you want?

…

The familiar tug of nerves settles in the pit of your stomach as you walk to class with Bucky — Dr. Barnes if you were still professional, but you figure that his lips have kissed you a few too many times and in a few too many places for you to call him that. It is your last class in his lecture hall, meaning that beyond today, you are free to make a decision as to whether this is serious or not.

In your heart of hearts, you want this to keep going. You love how you feel around Bucky. While you have not said it out loud, you love him. You feel yourself aching to hear him say it, too. 

When you arrive in the room, Bucky is already there, nervously flipping through crime scene photos while running his hands through his hair, creating a rather haphazard mess on his head. He looks more anxious than usual, and it takes everything in you to not to stride to his desk and ask him what’s wrong. 

Instead, you brush past him, trailing a quick hand over his arm, hoping that it has a calming effect over him. His eyes flash to yours as you cast a look over your shoulder, smiling at him. He sends you a tight lipped smile back as his shoulders shrug down from their place beside his ears. 

From your seat, you watch Bucky pace around a bit, obviously concerned about something. You rub your palms over your thighs when you discover them clenched in worry. You wonder if his stress has anything to do with the reason you were nervous coming to class today — the talk you know is coming tonight. You figure it does when his eyes glance over at you every few minutes before beginning the lecture.

You find yourself becoming sentimental about the semester as you look around the room, taking in the feeling for the last time. If you and Bucky do decide to continue your relationship, you can never take one of his classes again. If you don’t continue to see Bucky, you doubt you will want to take one of his classes again. You will miss his funny side comments that come out of left field. You will miss his mismatched suits and disheveled hair. 

The sound of Bucky announcing the end of class breaks you out of your thoughts, and the shuffling of backpacks and feet brings you back to reality. A stream of students thank Bucky as they flow out of the classroom for the final time. You stall a minute, waiting for the throng to exit out the doors before approaching your professor.

“Hey, Bucky,” you say quietly, clutching your laptop to your chest. 

“Hey.”

You watch him lean against his desk, hands pressed to the edge of the wood. 

“How are you doing?” you ask the question that has been waiting to erupt since you entered the lecture hall an hour previous. “You seem nervous.”

A chuckle that comes out more as a sigh escapes him. “Yeah. I’m fine. I, uh, I just didn’t get much sleep last night. How are…how are you?”

“Wistfully contemplating the end of my time in your class,” you reply playfully, hoping that the happy tone will hide the melancholy you really feel about the idea.

This elicits a laugh from Bucky as he looks at you through his lashes — a look that always has your knees threatening to come out from under you. You take steps closer and set your laptop down on his desk, then place your hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms to settle in his hands.

“Do you want to get dinner with me tonight?” you ask, the words barely more than a whisper. You want to catch them in the air, afraid that your proposal to disrupt the routine will be rejected.

But Bucky smiles immediately, thinking for a moment before saying, “Why don’t I cook dinner?”

Your stomach flutters at the thought of watching him in the kitchen. You nod in response.

“7:30?”

“7:30,” you repeat before letting go of his hands to walk out the doors, throwing a smile over your shoulder as you go.

…

The drive to Bucky’s house is quiet but comfortable. About halfway through the trip, your hands link together, resting on your thigh. You talk lazily, asking questions about each others’ days since your morning lecture. There is something so calming about Bucky. You trust him. You love him.

Every once in a while, your eyes flick over to watch him drive, eyes intently focused on the road ahead. He can feel your gaze, so he sends a glance over to you with a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“What?” he asks when you don’t shy away from his eyes.

“Nothing, Buck. I just like being with you.”

“I do, too.”

The sweetness of his simple confession does more to your confidence than you ever thought possible. You feel comfortable around Bucky. You need only be yourself when you are with him, and hearing that same sentiment from him gives you hope that he wants this to continue just as much as you do.

You squeeze his hand, at which he laughs softly, squeezing yours back, brushing his thumb over the knuckles on the back of your hand.

Gravel crunching under tires and the faint sound of dogs barking indicates that you have arrived at your destination. You open the car door and follow Bucky to the front steps of a small house on the edge of town. A large open field is situated behind his house, neighbors nonexistent. Given Bucky’s personality, you are not surprised to discover that he lives alone, away from people, away from the city. 

A flash of nervousness pricks at your mind, as no one would be around if Bucky shows you that isn’t the guy you think he is. But you trust him, and you trust him enough to accept your fate if it does prove to be your downfall.

The door creaks open, and Bucky flicks on the light. Two big dogs come bounding to greet you both, circling his feet until he crouches down to give them the attention they are begging for. To see Bucky with his dogs makes your mind go fuzzy and warm, the tenderness of the scene eradicating your doubts from before.

“Charlie and Duke,” Bucky says, showing you which dog belongs to which name, rubbing each of them affectionately before standing and grabbing your hand.

“They’re adorable.”

“They’re good dogs.”

He leans in for a quick kiss, the domesticity of it causing your breath to catch in your throat. He pulls away smiling, then tugs you into the kitchen where he drags a chair out from the table for you to sit on.

“Sit,” Bucky says with mirth in his voice.

You laugh but do as you are told. 

“I was thinking of making steaks. Is that okay with you?”

“Sounds great.”

You watch Bucky make his way around the kitchen, obviously having done this a lot. He looks comfortable. He catches you staring, meeting your gaze head on, an easy smile adorning his mouth before asking, “What are you smiling at?”

“You. I like seeing you here,” you say quietly. 

“Not as much as I like seeing you sit at my table. I’ve thought about this a lot,” he admits with his back to you as he throws the steaks in the pan. “I like being around you. I’m more comfortable with you than anyone else. You make me feel — you make me feel normal. Most people don’t do that. They don’t — they don’t want to understand me. My old friends can only think about who I was before I quit the force. They don’t — they don’t want to like who I am now.”

The words spill out of Bucky before he can stop them, opening up to you in a way that he has not before. He has let you in here and there over the months you have been spending together in the lecture hall, but he has stayed rather private even then. Not sure what to say in response, you simply move from your place at the table to stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso, resting your cheek on his back. You can feel him relax into your touch, and it is a comfort to you both.

“Bucky, I think I am in love with you,” you whisper into his shirt. His body tenses, the sizzling of the meat in the pan filling the silence. Your heart pounds in your chest as you wait for him to say something. Burying your face further into him, disappointment and embarrassment creeping in your stomach, settling heavily when he doesn’t say anything. When a minute that feels like an eternity passes in silence, you mutter a quiet, “I’m sorry.” 

You let go of Bucky and take a step back. He quickly takes the pan off the heat and whips around to face you, pulling you back to him, whispering your name. 

“I love you,” the words are sure and confident coming from his lips. “I know I do.”

He looks at you intently, not shying away from your eyes before leaning in and kissing you softly. You get lost in his kisses, the pounding of your heart racing at a steady quick beat. Bucky backs you into the counter where he cages you with his hands as you weave one of your hands into his hair, the other running up his spine.

“Stay the night,” he mumbles between kisses.

You pull away and nod, meeting his eyes again, kissing him once without breaking the contact.

…

Settling on his couch after laughing yourselves silly over the dinner table, Bucky is close behind you with bowls of ice cream in hand. He hands you a spoon before sitting down right beside you, pulling your legs to stretch over his lap. He runs a hand absentmindedly over your shins as the two of you eat your ice cream. 

“Why did you come talk to me that night?,” he asks between spoonfuls. “You didn’t really need my help. You knew everything I was telling you.”

You smile like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “I did need your help,” you assert before admitting, “but I also just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

The sound of his laugh makes your heart flutter the same way it does when he looks up at you from behind his desk. 

“Hey, not all my professors are attractive recluses who deserve a starring role in my nightly fantasies.”

“Oh, so you fantasize about me,” he presses, the smirk on his face unlike any expression you have ever seen on him. He looks smug, proud, teasing. It makes heat flash to your core.

You hum but it comes out more as a squeak, your focus turning intently on the ice cream melting in your bowl.

“Do you want to know what I’ve fantasized about you?” Bucky asks lowly, grabbing the bowl from your hands, causing your eyes to lift to his. You watch him set it on the floor. Your heart begins pounding again as he moves to climb over you, settling between your open legs.

“What have you fantasized about, Bucky?” you ask quietly, voice shaky.

You take a breath when he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You open your mouth to deepen it, and he takes advantage, his tongue pressing to your upper lip. The feeling has your hips rolling and sighs falling from your throat.

He pulls away to murmur into your neck, “Every time I would sit on my couch, I thought about laying you down and kissing you until you can’t remember your own name.”

Your eyes are screwed shut as you tug at his hair, his words forming pools of heat between your hips where his own apply pressure. Your words fail you, only a whimper escaping you. His lips move along your neck, working their way back to your mouth, giving due attention to the places on the way that have you squirming beneath him. You hands tug at his shirt to slip your fingers beneath the fabric, skimming up his back, scratching lightly.

His kisses become feverish at the feeling of your nails down his back. One hand hooks your knee to pull your form even closer to his, hips slipping into place. You can feel yourself becoming wetter by the second, the slow circling of his hips against yours creating friction that has you moaning.

In one swift motion, his hands are gliding up your sides, taking your shirt with you. You lean up to help him before settling back down against the pillows. He sits on his heels to take his own shirt off which allows you to see him in the faint light casted by the lamp in the corner.

You notice a shining scar that extends from one hip to the other below his navel. Fingertips reach out to touch it, barely making contact before his own hand stills your movements. 

“Is this why you quit the force?” you ask barely above a whisper.

He only nods, his feelings of vulnerability silencing him. You aren’t disgusted by it. It doesn’t change how you see him. You don’t pity him. You are simply curious. And amazed at his strength. He survived whatever left him this scar.

“Can I see it?”

Bucky takes a fluttering breath through his nose then nods again. You climb to the floor, resting on your knees between his legs. You glance up at him and see his head lolling to the side as he looks down at you, eyes hazy and soft. His eyebrows are scrunched, letting you know that he is concentrated, but the dam of secrecy surrounding Bucky is breaking with every passing second.

Tentatively, you stretch a hand forward, your fingertips grazing the scar. His stomach flexes beneath your touch. 

No one has seen his scar since the doctor sewed him back up. He has a fear of pity. He knows that people won’t see him the same when they see the effects of what happened to him — of what was done to him. But he doesn’t see pity in your eyes. He sees awe and amazement. 

Without warning, you press your lips to his stomach, the intimacy of it rendering his mind blank. You hear him swear quietly which urges you to keep going. You kiss all along the scar, his hips, then upwards before you climb into his lap. You find his lips again and kiss slowly, surely, passionately.

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, too.”

You share a few more kisses before he stands up, pulling you with him to his room. He fumbles through his dressers to find a shirt and pair of shorts for you to wear. He hands them to you, then rummages through the bathroom cabinets to find a new toothbrush for you to use.

You thank him after he says that he will meet you back at the bed. The calm and comfort of being with Bucky is undeniable. The domesticity of the night has your heart skipping beats. You quickly change and brush your teeth before making your way to his bed. Noticing books stacked on the nightstand on one side, you slip under the covers of the other, sighing contently when you settle in.

Bucky comes in a moment later with only sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He decided to not put a shirt back on, relishing in the freedom that being with you gives him. He doesn’t climb into bed immediately, but rather stands and looks at you for a moment, curled up in his sheets.

“What have you fantasized about here?” you ask teasingly, but your voice comes out thinner than you had intended. 

At your words, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. He approaches the bed slowly, kneeling down beside you. 

“I want to know yours,” he says, his voice husky and low. You bite your lip, your eyes widening. A shaky inhale.

Soft kisses line the inside of your knee, trailing a path up your thighs. You let out a hitched moan when he places a kiss to your clothed core, your hands winding themselves in his hair. You tug slightly, inviting him to come up to the bed with you.

When he climbs up, you lean back, your shirt riding up over your stomach. Wordlessly, you pull his hands to your body, his calloused palms caressing the exposed skin. He runs his thumbs under your breasts, causing you to arch into his touch. Bucky can’t believe that you respond to him so keenly. He barely touches you and you are curving beneath him, aching for more. 

His lips find your neck, behind your ear, sucking gently. Your hands pull his hips to yours, rocking steadily into him. You suck in a breath, gathering the courage to grab one of his hands to lead it to where you want to feel him the most.

Bucky follows your lead without resistance, kissing you softly in an expression of consent. He helps you pull your shorts off, then presses two fingers to the wet patch on your panties. The pressure has your hips jutting into his touch, overwhelmed by the sensation when his fingers push the fabric to the side.

Your hips move in circles with his movements, his lips kissing you through it all. Moans slip and tumble from your mouth, leaving you hiccupping in pleasure. The cords in your stomach begin snapping when he speeds up his ministrations, your body contracting through your release.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers to you as he helps you come down from your high. 

Your eyes are crimped shut, but after a moment’s respite and a few encouraging kisses from Bucky, you come back to yourself. You open your eyes to find him watching you intently. You smile lazily then breathe, “Your turn.”

a/n: yayayay !! thanks for reading this !! let me know if you want to be on my taglist :):) and here is my masterlist if you want to check out my other work ! and check out MY SLEEPOVER going on right now !!

[erinlindsayy]

professor || carol danvers

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ . ┊ You're Carol's designated note taker, and usually the one teaching her a few things. What happens when you give her the wrong set of notes?

➺  warnings: dirty talk, spanking, edging, violent use of straps, carol danvers tops (but I fully believe she's a switch now), umm... general unholiness, bratting, etc.

✧   a/n: surprise... I'm back... more content coming soon... I promise I've got a val/carol/r fic coming soon, but this popped into my head and I couldn't resist... JOCK COLLEGE CAROL, OK? JOCK RUGBY COLLEGE CAROL.

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“Can any of you attempt to discern meaning from this week’s assigned reading? Why might I have selected this particular work for you all?” asks Professor Valkyrie, starting class for the day. Your hand immediately raises, and she nods in your direction. 

“Well, was not Beckett’s entire point to find meaning in the absence of conventional meaning?” 

Professor Valkyrie, nods. 

‘Interesting thought,” she says. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well,” you begin. “Beckett created a landscape for us that is so alien and foreign, and unlike what we know. The play does not include any symbolic elements, and it does not really go anywhere. You might try to make meaning out of the carrot that Didi and Gogo share, or the leaves appearing on the tree, but they literally mean nothing. At the end of the play--we, as well as Vladimir and Estragon, are all still waiting for Godot. So, in a sense, there is no meaning, but perhaps there is meaning in the fact that there is no intended meaning.” 

“Good,” replies Professor Valkyrie. “As always, a carefully articulated and thoroughly crafted response. Excellent work as usual.” 

You smile politely, and fall back into your seat as Professor Valkyrie continues to lecture about Samuel Beckett and the wonderful nature and reality of Waiting for Godot. 

Meanwhile, you’ve jotted at the top of your notes, in big bold letters ‘I hate this play!’ 

After all, the ability to just to understand and converse about a work of literature does not mean that one has to enjoy it. 

After class, you’re stopped, as usual, by the one and only  Carol Danvers. Resident jock, captain of the division one team, aspiring pilot, rumored sex god extrodinare, Carol Danvers. She’s quite the legend around campus, but not exactly for her work ethic as it pertains to academic pursuits, which are... lacking, to put it politely. 

“Do you have my notes for me,” she asks, holding her hand out. “I need to at least act like I’m going to study tonight, right?” 

You roll your eyes. “Carol, why do you ask for my notes if you never use them? You do realize that mere possession of the notes will not translate into you understanding the material, yes? You have to actually read them in order for the information to enter your head.” 

Your reply is snarky, short and snappy, but you’re fed up with Carol at this point. She asks you for notes in all the classes you share together (which, granted, is not many,) but never seems to read them or take any of her classes very seriously. Carol narrows her eyes at the response. 

“I’ll just sleep on them? Os--” 

You cut her off, finishing her sentence. 

“--mosis does not apply, Carol. You know that. You cannot absorb the material through the pores of your skin. Read the notes, and actually try for once, or stop bothering me. I could be taking notes for myself, rather than focusing on summarizing all of the lectures so that you can stuff them into your bag, never to see the light of day again. Don’t ask me for notes again unless you’re ready to be serious.” 

With that, you hastily pull out a few papers from your bag, not bothering to double check if they were the correct ones or not. You shove the papers into Carol’s and turn away sharply, not bothering to look back. Granted, you were headed in the completely wrong direction, but you weren’t about to give Carol the satisfaction of seeing your face again. 

Of course, Carol knows that you hardly need notes for your own purposes. Summarizing the lectures for her provides you with the information you need to keep your own mind sharp, with years of literary study and reading filling in the blanks to broader context for you. But still, you love to hassle her. Carol does feel guilty occasionally, knowing how much work you put into the notes you take for her. They’re always organized, and you write important little tidbits down in the margins. She always glances at them, but can never bring herself to actually study the notes. 

Tonight is different. Carol is inspired, reenergized by your scathing talk. She sits down at her desk, and finally pulls out the notes you gave her. She reads the first line, and laughs to herself. 

These definitely weren’t the notes she meant to give me, she thinks to herself. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re startled out of your evening study session by a loud ding from your phone. Normally, you wouldn’t check your phone in the middle of studying, but you’re intrigued. 

Your jaw drops slightly when you notice that the text is from Carol. 

8:57 hey. I’ve got a question about the notes

You’re shocked. Carol actually... read the notes? 

9:00 Shoot for it. How can I help? 

9:01 Well. The notes weren’t really on Waiting for Godot

9:04 Oh. Did I give you a repeat copy of last weeks’?

9:05 Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that they’re standard academic notes

You roll your eyes at her comment, typing out a harsh response before deleting it and sending a far more cordial reply. 

9:06 Oh? 

9:07 Well, for starters, I don’t think that Waiting for Godot has anything to do with sex. 

Attached to her text is a picture of your recent exploration of the things that turned you on, or as you aptly named it “An empirical study of the things that make me wet.” 

You’d never meant for anyone to see it, ever. It was purely a list of the things that you desperately wanted to try, things you enjoyed watching and reading, various things that interested you. 

You’d written the list mostly as a joke, as a way to get the ideas out of your head. You wondered how it even found your way into your backpack, and you’re ready to curl up into a ball and cry when Carol texts you again. 

9:13 I could help you, you know

9:14 I have a few things that I could teach you

9:15 What do you say we make a deal? 

You swallow thickly, intrigued. 

9:17 What sort of deal? 

9:19 You teach me literature. 

9:21 I’ll fulfill your deepest fantasies. (And take you out on a date ;) )

You blink slowly, unable to process the words appearing on your screen. A date? Lessons in sex? It all seems to be far too much to handle, and you’re not sure if Carol is serious. The prospect is alluring, however, and you can’t help but admit that you’ve had the tiniest (largest) of crushes on Carol ever since you saw her in that signature leather jacket of hers, kicking her legs up against the desk in front of her, even if your feelings were against your better judgment. You knew she was aware of this fact, and the way you were always angry around him for some odd reason. 

9:24 If this is a joke, it isn’t funny, Carol. 

9:30 I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. Be ready. We’re getting pasta.  

__________________________________________________________________________

“So. You want to be a pilot, but now you’re here playing rugby and studying literature?”

Carol shrugs. 

“My best friend Maria and I were supposed to enlist together, but some shit happened and he needed me to stick around. I’ve always been good at rugby even though my dad hated that I played sports, and so I stuck around here. Got a full scholarship for rugby, and put the dream of flying aside. The academy will always be there. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what Maria needed. I couldn’t just leave her when she needed me most.” 

You smile softly at Carol, shocked by her sudden display of emotion. She’s clearly conflicted, and her eyes drift up to the sky, staring wistfully at the dimming horizon. 

“I think that’s very brave of you, Carol. You’re a really good friend,” you say, reaching out to place a hand atop hers in a sudden burst of confidence. The evening had been oddly pleasant, and conversation flowed between the two of you. Granted, Carol was still somewhat of an egotistical jerk, but she was obviously emotionally conflicted, and she had sacrificed her biggest dream to help her closest friend when she needed it most.  

Carol looks down at your hand, tensing up for a second before flipping her palm to meet yours and giving your hand a quick squeeze. 

“I’m alright, ok? I don’t want you worrying about me.” 

You nod. Carol smiles, and moves to stand up. 

“What do you say we get out of here, and head back to my place? Maybe watch a movie?” 

You smile, nodding at Carol. “I’d like that a lot,” you whisper. “I’d like that.” 

Carol holds her hand out to you, helping you up out of your chair. You move to pull your hand out of hers, assuming she meant to just assist you up, but she holds on firmly as the two of you walk back to her vintage red Mustang. 

The drive back to her apartment is filled with throwbacks from the 90s, widows open and hair wild. You’re both singing the words of the songs obnoxiously, relishing in the sweet freedom of the open night. 

When you finally reach her apartment, your eyes are bright and your hair is messy. You look over at Carol, messy hair strewn about. You begin to laugh uncontrollably, with Carol joining shortly after upon seeing your own windblown look. 

When the laughter finally succeeds, you look over at Carol to find her gazing at you intently. You laugh apprehensively, but Carol’s gaze does not falter.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful,” she asks. 

You nod your head slowly. “Not really, no.” 

“But you had a boyfriend?” 

You nod. “It wasn’t really the best of situations. I’ve since come to many realizations about myself since then.” 

Carol smiles. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to tell you as many times as I possibly can to make up for the lack of times you’ve been told that.” 

“Carol, I don’t even know how to respond to that,” you sputter out. 

“So don’t.” 

Carol leans in over the middle of the car, hesitantly pressing her lips against yours in a tender kiss. You’re surprised at first, but you lean into the kiss, melting against her mouth. Your hands tangle in her already messy hair, and you smile against her lips. The kiss intensifies as your hands begin to roam down Carol’s back, fingers itching to explore. She pulls her hands off of you, smiling softly. 

“Let’s head inside, Princess. We can have a lot more fun in my bedroom than we ever will out here.” 

You nod your head, eagerly anticipating the next steps. 

When you reach her apartment, he leads you past the kitchen, flipping on various light switches as she heads through the living room, finally reaching her bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat, with framed photos of her and a woman that you guessed was her friend Maria. There’s a small pin shaped like a sort of star resting atop her desk, with a framed photo of an adorable orange kitten. Her bed is neatly made, and the room is incredibly put together. 

“You like it, huh?” 

You jump, startled by Carol’s voice. 

“Yeah. Um, it’s very nice,” you reply. “Super neat.” 

Carol laughs. 

“Yeah, for all my disorganization at school, I do like to keep my apartment pretty tidy.” 

Carol walks over to her desk and picks up your list. 

“I think this belongs to you, my darling. We don’t have to do anything with it, or even speak of it again should you so wish that to be the case.” 

You bite your lip, considering your options. 

“Were you really serious, Carol?” 

Your heart is beating fast, and your palms are beginning to grow clammy. 

She laughs. 

“Of course I was serious, Princess. Why would I offer if I wasn’t?” 

You look down, mumbling your answer out. 

“I didn’t really think someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me, honestly.” 

Carol laughs, walking over to you. She gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes. 

“Hey. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you drive me up a wall when you’re yelling at me to fucking finally read your notes, as you so kindly put it in your own words. Of course I would be interested in a girl like you. You’re incredible.” 

She kisses you softly, slipping hers hands underneath your sweater. Breaking away for a second, she whispers to stop her if anything is too much. Green for go, she says. Red for stop. 

Her hands roam up your body, making their way up to your neck. She gently squeezes at the column of your throat, whispering in your ear. 

“I noticed you had this on your list, Princess. I did read your notes this time, and I did study up. I know all the things that could make you tick. And yet, I still want to hear you tell me what you want. You want me to choke you? Squeeze your throat till you’re begging me to stop?” 

“Yes, please,” you moan out. 

“Then use your words, Princess. Mmm... and what else should we do today? What other things from your little list do you want to try? I know you don’t want to start off simple... You even said so yourself. Tell me with your words, Princess. Tell me what you want.” 

You gasp, head tipping back as Carol’s hands resume their exploration of your body. 

“Cat got your tongue, Princess? Normally you’re so vocal during class... Why change now?” 

You moan again, unable to speak properly as Carol’s fingers find your nipples, gently pinching. He pinches harder when you are unable to answer her question. 

Moving hers hand to cup your jaw, he harshly tilts your face to look at him. 

“Answer me, Princess. I’m growing impatient and I don’t have all day. Normally you’re so quick to answer. What a shame.” 

“Put me in my place, please,” you gasp out, voice breaking. “I want you to edge me and spank me and punish me and tell me what a naughty little girl I’ve been, touching myself to the thought of you. I want to eat you out while I’m forced to touch myself, unable to cum without your permission. I want you to choke me as you pound me into the mattress with your cock, reminding me of my place. I want to be your good little girl, moaning only your name as you show me who I belong to.” 

Carol smirks. 

“I’ll be honest—I always knew you had a thing for me. You weren’t exactly discreet. The secret is, I had a thing for you too. I wasn’t expecting you to write about me in your notes, though. And I definitely wasn’t expecting you to write something like that ever. Our little teacher’s pet, our good little girl, the smartest girl in class—and such filthy thoughts! Didn’t take me long to figure out who the mysterious blonde figure was. You wrote some pretty explicit stuff in there, Princess. You’re such a filthy little whore... So many dirty thoughts! Imagine if those notes had fallen into the wrong hands...” 

Carol’s hands dip to the edge of your sweater, swiftly pulling it off of your body. She cocks an eyebrow at you upon seeing the lacy navy blue bodysuit underneath that you’d specifically selected for tonight. 

“Did you wear this just for me?” 

You nod. 

“Good girl. I like the way you think. Now, take off those pants for me. While you’re at it, get rid of that lacey little thing. It’s pretty, but you’re prettier.” 

You obey her quickly, shedding every stitch of clothing from your body. You’re trembling with excitement and anticipation, and you’re nervous as Carol’s eyes rake up and down your body. 

“Stunning,” she says, never taking her eyes off of your body. “You’re absolutely perfect. I can’t wait to teach you how to be a good little slut for me... you’re such a good learner. Wonder if that translates in the bedroom?” 

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Why don’t you shut up and find out already?” 

Carol laughs condescendingly. 

“You sure you want to mouth off like that, Princess?” 

You nod. “You seem to be all talk right now, and no action.” 

Carol growls. “We can change that. I don’t tolerate brats around here. Brats get punished. If you’re a good girl, you get rewarded. Which is it going to be tonight, Princess. I need an answer.” 

You roll your eyes without even thinking. “Just fuck me already, Carol.” 

Carol tangles her hand in your hair, pulling your head back. “I told you that brats get punished. It looks like you've selected the brat role tonight. Get on your fucking hands and knees. I’m not going to ask you a second time.” 

You quickly obey, scrambling onto your hands and knees. You wiggle your ass slightly, but Carol firmly holds it in place. 

“Stop. Now, since this is your first time, I’m going to take it easy on you. We are only going to do ten, but mark my words, if you pull this sort of bratting on me again, I can and will increase that number. Now, I want you to count.”

The first strike comes faster than you were expecting, but it does not hurt as much as you thought it would. 

“One,” you gasp out.

Carol strikes again, harder this time. 

“Two,” you gasp out again.

He continues, hitting a bit harder each time, and your ass is red by the finish. 

“Good girl,” she whispers in the shell of your ear. “You took your first punishment so well for me—it is almost like you were made to do this...” 

She ghosts her fingers lightly over your neck, drifting down to your collarbone before moving her hands to gently massage the soft tissue of your breasts. 

With a gentle slap to your aching ass, she gives you a new set of instructions. 

“Now. For our next lesson, you’re going to suck me off. The better you do, the less edges I’ll give you tonight. I hope you’ve been studying, Princess. Either that, or you just better wish that this comes naturally for you.” 

Carol swiftly pulls her pants and boxers down and throws her shirt to the side, revealing her toned abs and muscled back. You can see her muscles ripple as she stretches her arms above her head to take her shirt off. Your jaw goes slightly slack at the sight of her perfect nude figure.

“Close your mouth, Princess. You’ll catch flies.” 

You blush. “Sorry, Carol. You’re just so beautiful.” 

Carol winks. “I can tell, Princess. Your eyes haven’t left my torso.” 

You giggle, but quickly stop when Carol moves directly in front of you. 

“Test time, Princess. Hope you’ve studied. But, if you haven’t, I’ll allow for retakes. Think of this one as a pretext, if you will. How much do I need to teach you when it comes to this particular subject?” 

You moan at her words, mouth salivating. You’re desperate to touch her, to run your tongue over her strap. Carol leans down to press a quick kiss upon your lips, immediately guiding your face to her strap after. You’re unsure of what to do at first, the feeling foreign upon your tongue. Eventually, you begin to find your rhythm, head bobbing as you introduce a hand to match your rhythm. You continue your tiny kitten licks, timing them with the thrust of your fingers. Carol is silent for the most part, but every so often she breaks her stoic silence with a loud moan or gasp when you hit a particularly sensitive spot against her body. You grind against the pillow that Carol has placed between your legs, annoyed with the lack of friction you got, but thankful to have anything at all. Your tongue continues its way along Carol’s strap, body quivering with pleasure. 

It isn’t long before she’s moaning continuously.

After all, you have always been a very quick learner. 

Carol pulls away, and you whimper at the loss of contact. She messily kisses you, groaning at the taste of herself on your tongue. 

“For your first time, that was surprisingly good.”

You beam in satisfaction.

“However, I’m still going to edge you at least five times.”

You whimper. 

“But Carol—“

“No buts, pretty girl. It’s for your own pleasure, alright? It’s good to practice delayed gratification. Now, get over there on the back of the bed for me. Spread those legs as wide as you can. I want that dripping cunt of yours on display.”

You move off of your pillow, following her instructions. Carol walks over to you, hovering over you on the bed as she cages your body with her arms. 

“I want to hear every moan you make,” she growls. “Don’t hold back on me, Princess.” 

You nod. 

“Yes, Carol.” 

Carol smiles and strokes a single finger through your dripping folds. You shudder. The feeling of her soft fingertips against your throbbing core is heavenly, and you’re unable to hide from the breathless moan that escapes your mouth. 

Carol continues to slide her fingers through the folds of your cunt, relishing in the puffy texture as she explores. Her fingers trace small circles here and there, dipping into your soaking hole when she feels like doing so, pinching your clit, edging you into oblivion. 

You ask her to cum numerous times, but she always pulls away. Finally, she pulls away for the last time. 

“You can cum this time, Princess. But I want to cum on my cock for me like a good little slut, alright? I want you to scream my name for me. Let the whole world know you’re mine now.” 

You nod, moaning at her filthy words. She carefully lines up with you and thrusts in quickly, giving you a chance to adjust to the size and foreign feeling of the cock inside of you. 

When you nod at her, she begins to thrust her hips at an ungodly pace, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. She moves one hand to your clit, rubbing tight little circles over the throbbing organ, and her other hand moves to your throat, lightly pressing down. She’s pushing you into the mattress, firmly grinning the column of your neck as her hips thrust faster and faster. 

“You like it when I choke you? When your brain starts to go a little bit foggy and you can’t tell if it’s from the sex or lack of air? You like it when I tell you what a good little slut you are, taking my cock like such a good little Princess, showing how well you learn and how well you take instruction?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out in between moans. “Please, fuck me harder.” 

Although it seemed humanly impossible, Carol managed to fuck you harder. The relentless snap of her hips grew faster, thrusts hitting further and further inside of you each time. The hand rubbing your clit runs faster, harder, and just before you’re about to rip over the edge, Carol whispers in your ear. 

“Cum  for me, Princess. Cum like the good little girl you are.” 

You scream out in ecstasy as you tip over the edge, collapsing against the mattress. Carol pulls out, falling into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you as she presses kisses to your neck and collarbone, drifting up to your forehead. 

“You did so well, Princess. You���re such a good learner. Looks like you’re just as good in here as you are in a classroom.” 

You smile. 

“I try my best. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do.”

Carol smiles. 

“A good attitude to have. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

A few snacks, some water, and one blissful shower later, you’re dressed in Carol’s old sweatpants and sweatshirt as you climb into bed beside him. She’d invited you to stay the night, and you hadn’t been able to resist. Carol flips the lights off, pressing a delicate, featherlight kiss to your forehead. 

As you lay in bed however, you remember an important fact. 

“I still have to teach you all of literature,” you mumble. 

Carol laughs softly. 

“And I have many things to teach you still, darling. But for now, sleep.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you feel Carol’s grip on you grow stronger. 

Literature could wait until tomorrow.

[winterchimez]

Teach Me How To Love | Kim Sunwoo

summary: the campus heartthrob whom you've had a crush on for the longest time finally asks you out on a date. since you have never been on a date before, you decided to elicit the help of your best friend, Kim Sunwoo, for some romantic advice.

pairing: f!ckboy Sunwoo x g.n!reader

genre: suggestive

warnings: kissing, making out with the one and only Kim Sunwoo

word count: 2,251

a/n: this is... umm yeah. (i'm still learning and new to writing suggestive so pls bear with me lmao 😭)

update (04/09/2024): part 2 is out now!!

"He asked me out."

"Asked who now?"

"He asked me out, Yuna!!" You grabbed the shoulders of your best friend, shaking them vigorously.

That was when the sudden realisation hit your friend, and she formed an 'o' from her mouth, knowing whom exactly you were referring to. 

You have had the biggest crush on Lee Hyunjae since your freshman year. Of course, who wouldn't be? He is literally the heartthrob of your campus. Everyone, including yourself, would do anything to get the man's attention. Even a smile or the slightest moment he turns straight in your direction works either way. 

It wasn't in your third senior year that you got to pair up with the infamous man in one of your science classes. Biology. How fun. 

Your lecturer chose you both to be lab partners throughout the semester, and that was when you had a legitimate conversation with the man himself. Oh, how you were so nervous back then, rubbing your palms together almost every minute, ducking your head down because you were too shy to look straight into the man's eyes. 

However, his calming and friendly persona broke off that wall between you two almost immediately and little did you know, the both of you hit off as good friends. You both started hanging out casually, even after classes, seemingly bumping into one another in the hallway lockers. 

In other words, you were whipped for the man, and when he finally asked you out, you immediately accepted the offer. 

If you were like the rest, you would've felt happy, even excited, to be going on a date with your long-time crush. You, on the other hand, felt the opposite. You were panicking, nervous, and terrified of what was to come. 

Your friend, Yuna, clearly notices your demeanour and proceeds to interrogate you on what's the matter, and that is when you let out the most inner thoughts of yours that have been bugging you for the longest time. 

Clearly, you had zero to no skills on what to do when you're out on your first date. You've seen in hundreds of films and read many rom-com books how holding hands is the least you could do on the first date, to having a passionate kiss if both sides were up for it. 

You were stressed out and had to do something to calm your nervousness. That was when a lightbulb dings right in your friend's mind, and she knew precisely the solution to your problem. 

"I dare you to elicit some help from Sunwoo." 

You paused. Sunwoo? Kim Sunwoo? Your childhood best friend? 

You were confused at the beginning as to why she would even bring him up in the first place. But as you connect the dots, the sudden realisation hits you. 

Kim Sunwoo. You both have practically grown up together since kindergarten, and you are still neighbours to this day. He was the one friend who has always stood by your side from the start, no matter how messed up or crazy your situation might be. He was also the person you'd always rant to, and he'd be more than happy to comfort you if that meant for you to feel better. 

How close were the both of you? Well, close enough that you both have determined that every Friday of the week is a movie night in his apartment that he just recently signed the lease to at the start of the year. You'd both always get the cosiest blankets and drape them over you both while seemingly cuddling with one another to enjoy the films with Sunwoo's handy-dandy mini projector that he bought for a pretty reasonable price on Amazon.

Although there was one problem, your best friend is actually the f!ckboy of the campus.

It did not start out this way, though. Neither of you knew what snapped in Sunwoo's mind. Your only guess was that he was enjoying adulthood to the fullest and getting used to university life. After attending several frat parties, having a little too much to drink and eventually hooking up with so many different women, it was too late for the male to turn back. 

You never judged him for that. It was fine by you since he still considers you to be his best friend, and you both technically still hang out with one another once every week. 

So being the f!ckboy, he knew all of the necessary basics and tricks on how one should act around their partner, especially on the first date.

Right? 

So here you were, standing right outside Sunwoo's apartment door. 

You contemplated on even knocking on the door, for you knew it wasn't even a Friday; it was a Tuesday, to be exact. And god knows whoever he is making out with on the other side. 

Because as far as you know, he was pretty “active” throughout the week except for the day you get to hang out with him. 

You paused. You kept bringing your hand up to the door and then down. Your mind was literally at a tug-of-war at this point. 

To do it? Or not to do it. 

Eventually, you huffed and returned your hands to the door until it swung open and bumped you on your forehead. 

A woman dressed in a periwinkle lace spaghetti strap sleepwear with a grey jacket draped across her shoulders noticed your presence. She immediately got you up on your knees, constantly apologising and asking if you were alright. 

You knew that grey jacket. It belonged to Sunwoo. And it was the same exact one that you always got to wear whenever you came over because you liked how it always made you feel warm and comfortable. 

But you have to brush the thoughts off immediately. Sunwoo is a f!ckboy for goodness sake, and these things are practically an everyday thing to do for the guy. 

Just as you were about to reassure the woman that you were okay, a head popped out of the door, and it was the guy you just had in mind.

"Care to explain the sudden purpose of the visit, my friend?" Sunwoo asks while he makes a warm mug of hot cocoa in the kitchen. 

While you sat at the kitchen counter, you contemplated for a while before finally telling him how the campus heartthrob had finally asked you out on the first date.

And how you actually came to elicit his help and advice. 

It took a while for Sunwoo to process the message, and he burst out in laughter once he got it. In return, you started throwing daggers through your eyes right at him as you scowled at the man. 

"I'm sorry, but this is just too funny for me." He continued laughing while placing the ready-made hot cocoa onto the countertop. 

You pout. "And I thought you'd actually help a best friend out." 

"Okay, okay, I would do anything for my bestie. So tell me-". He slips right into the chair beside you while plopping one of his arms onto the countertop, resting his face on his palm as he stares deep into your eyes. “What do you exactly need my help with?” 

"I don't know. Teach me how to kiss, flirt, and all that jazz, I guess." You shrugged, hoping that he clearly gets the message that you're in dire need of some basic love lessons to please your date. 

The man moves a few inches closer to you now, close enough that you feel his breath. He was studying your face intensely as if some sort of dirt or dust was sitting somewhere at the top of your face. He then suddenly backs away immediately, giving you a hesitant look. 

"Are you sure, Y/N? That you want to do this?" Sunwoo asked with a serious tone, which was unusual for you since you were used to seeing the goofy side of him. But if he were to ask in such a manner, you knew that he wasn't joking around. 

"You do know that if you want me to teach you how to kiss, we literally have to kiss one another, right?"

Oh. 

You were new to all of this. Hell, you have never kissed anyone in your entire lifetime. And now, you were about to give your first not to your lover but to your best friend. It all comes down to whether you are willing to do it. 

Kissing Sunwoo also meant he would give you an actual physical demonstration of the different ways to kiss or even make out with one another, which may include some physical touches on certain parts of one another's body. 

"Yes, Sunwoo. You have my consent." You replied nonchalantly, anticipating whatever move he would put up with you. 

But the man was still frozen in his seat, not moving an inch. "I don't know, Y/N. Are you sure this won't, you know, get weird between us? I care a lot about you, and I do not want something like this to ruin the relationship we've built over the years." 

You could see where the man was coming from because this was the main reason you were contemplating even stepping into his apartment for this crazy love lesson situation. 

However, it was now or never. And if this was all for your first date with your long-term crush, you're down for it. 

"Yes. One hundred percent." 

Like that, Sunwoo's facial expressions shifted as he licked his plumped lips. He then snakes one of his free arms around your waist as he inches closer. 

"Tell me when you want to stop." 

Before you knew it, he closed the space between you, and both lips were now against one another.

Holy shit. You are literally kissing your best friend now. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you moved one arm around his neck while the other moved up into his hair. 

God, his hair felt so soft. 

Sunwoo chuckled between the kisses. "Look at you go, Y/N." 

He pulled away briefly, only to whisper in your ear. "I had no idea you tasted this good, baby." 

Leaning back in, he began kissing you passionately, and eventually, it became a hot mess. His lips began searching other areas to nibble on, starting from your earlobe and then down to your neck, where he began to suck. In return, you elicit a soft moan which sounded way too sweet to his ears. 

You were floating, and damn, did it feel so good. 

Sunwoo seemingly slipped one of his hands under your shirt, earning a gasp from you.

"Sunwoo-" You gasped, trying to catch your breath. "Aren't you—supposed to go step-by-step?" 

Sunwoo smirked against your jaw as he gently brushed his lips against your soft milky skin. "Baby, sometimes things just go with the flow." 

While he rests his face on the crook of your neck, his hands are now down to your thighs, rubbing them gently. "Wrap your legs around my waist, and jump." 

You were stunned. "J-jump? What are you even-"

"Trust me, Y/N. I'll catch you if that's what you're worried about." 

"You won't drop me, right?"

He chuckled. "Only a fool would drop a person like you." 

With your legs wrapped around him, he carries you towards his bedroom, slowly laying you on his bed. 

This is dangerous. And this is all so wrong. 

You only came to ask for advice on how to kiss your crush, not to have a steamy make-out with your teacher in question, Kim Sunwoo. 

But why did all of these feel so good? Why couldn't you say stop? In fact, you wanted more. You wished that all of these would not stop and that you'd be down to continue with the man himself. 

So many thoughts were going through your mind as you reminded yourself of the true purpose of your visit, your campus heartthrob. But you knew you are so screwed at this point, and there’s no turning back anymore. 

Both of you deepen the kiss, and Sunwoo’s tongue slips right into yours, exploring your mouth. In return, your soft whimpers eventually turned into pleasurable moans to the man himself. 

God, Sunwoo. Give me more. Give me-

And then it all came to a halt. Sunwoo backed away, leaving you both to catch your breath as he stood up from his bed. 

“I think. We are done for the day.” 

Just as you were about to ask him why he even stopped in the first place, you were cut off by the man's quick response, also seemingly turning his flushed face towards the side. 

“I’ve taught you more than enough to please your date.” Clearing his throat, he helps you to get back up on your feet. 

“Oh- um… yeah. You know, thanks Sunwoo. For everything.” 

As he escorts you towards the front door, that familiar soft bubbly smile that you were accustomed to is plastered on his face. “All the best with Hyunjae. I look forward to our next movie night, Y/N.” 

“Ye-yeah!! I’ll keep you updated. Good night, Sunwoo.” 

As you turned your heel and headed toward your apartment, Sunwoo immediately slammed the door shut once you were out of sight.

His back now rests against the door, and he tries to calm his fast-beating heart down.

It was then he realised that kissing you felt entirely different from all the other women he had ever made out with.

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics (join my permanent taglist here!)

[bluejay757]

Lets talk about Simon and Betty

spoilers for episode 8

So a lot of people are throwing around some strong accusations about their relationship, some I can see where they're coming from, and a lot are really reaching.

As for the ones that I think are reaching, a lot of people are saying that Simon and Betty were a professor/student dynamic, except they weren't. Simon wasn't teaching a class he was a guest lecturer, and Betty, having read his work was interested. She was excited to meet him because she liked his research. Simon was constantly mocked in his field, if you actually read the newspaper clippings from "I remember you" you'll see that even after he found the enchiridion, he was made fun of. People were literally laughing at him and throwing things at him while he was giving his lecture. Betty likely was mocked too, it makes sense she was so excited to meet him, because this was her chance to meet one of the few people that actually shared her interest. She did not yet have a crush on him at that point in time.

I think after she got to know Simon on a personal level her fascination of him changed, as she no longer viewed him as a "celebrity" (I use that term loosely for a lack of a better word, I can't imagine his books sold that many copies, what with him being a laughing stock and him being genuinely surprised that Betty had read his work), but rather a colleague and equal. She even said that after their trip together she had grown to admire him as a person, so it's not like she had any kind of feelings for him prior to that. Now that's not to say her feelings towards him were completely normal, but there definitely wasn't a power imbalance between them.

A lot of people are saying Simon was selfish for making her stay behind, but he didn't make her. She chose to stay behind. She could have still gone on that trip, and continued to write to him and talk to him on the phone, but she chose to stay with him and go on different adventures. You're forgetting that Simon and Betty went on expeditions together all the time, it's not like she gave up her career for him, that would be a whole different story, but she made the decision to continue working in her field alongside him.

Also Simon couldn't have gone on that trip if he did want to because he wasn't offered to go, who ever it was that gave Betty that opportunity, wasn't anticipating on her bringing a friend, he also didn't have anything with him but like his wallet and keys you can't seriously expect him to go to another country with no luggage, no plane ticket, no money, no nothing. A whole part of Fionna's character arc is realizing that life's not a fairy tale, she was expecting something out of a romance novel and got a story straight from reality. Realistically the two options were for Betty to stay or to leave Simon. And I don't think her giving up her trip to Australia was a sacrifice, because there were other trips and opportunities after that, she traded that one trip for an entire lifetime of them, (or at least it would have been if war didn't break out)

And if you're gonna call Betty impulsive, call her impulsive because she went on a trip around the world with a man she had never met, not because she walked through a creek barefoot lmfao.

I'm not saying that Simon and Betty were perfect but there are other reasons to criticize them.

As for the actual problems with there relationship, none of them are their fault. Betty going literally crazy trying to bring Simon back was because of Magic Man and Patience fucking with her brain, a human being cannot handle the amount of magic she was given and it drove her to insanity. And Simon now, with risking everything to bring her back, she's literally fused with a chaos god and is going to live for eternity in that state, did you ever think maybe he wants to get her out of that for her sake? That maybe he wants closure and to say goodbye? Since he never got that chance. No it's not healthy for Simon to drive himself as far as he did to bring her back, but Jesus fucking Christ can you blame him for not wanting his fiance to suffer for literal eternity? They don't need to break up, they need therapy. I don't think their relationship pre-mushroom war was unhealthy, and I don't think it ever would have been unhealthy without Betty becoming Magic Betty.

Their relationship flaws are more so their own individual flaws that have bled into their relationship as opposed to ones caused by the relationship itself, that's an important distinction you have to see.

[xoxodiluc]

step up your game .ᐟ ❨ 17+ ❩

arataki itto ( genshin impact ) x female! reader

genre nsfw, oneshot

summary arataki itto, one of the troublemakers in your university, needed to pass his test in his failing subject to be able to play this year's football game. so he begged for you, the smartest girl in his class, to tutor him. you never thought it would lead to something more...

cw modern! university! au, sub! reader, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, size kink, unprotected (STAY PROTECTED!)

wc 1.4k+

notes simpy wrote this cuz i was thirsting over itto ok bye / let’s ignore the fact this was in my drafts FOR A YEAR.. i basically forgot how to write smut lol

ao3

"No."

Arataki Itto almost dropped to his knees. No? "W-What?"

"I won't tutor you."

"Why?!"

You told yourself you wouldn't get involved with the Arataki Gang who were notorious on the campus for being... well... troublemakers. Kuki Shinobu was an exception, though, because she's your best friend. And she mostly stayed out of trouble. You never knew how she joined them, it just happened.

"I just... I have a lot of stuff to do this week." You said, opening your notebook to read the lecture for today's class.

You heard Itto sighing sadly, and you almost felt bad. Almost. "You don't have time to tutor me this week? Even just for an hour?" When you didn't respond, he clasped his hands in front of you, "Please! I'll do anything! I really have to pass this subject to be able to play the upcoming game!"

Okay, you lied. You felt bad.

Shinobu sometimes drags you to one of Itto's football games, and he was a good player. It would really be a waste for the team if he doesn't get to play in his upcoming game.

...You know what?

Clicking your tongue, you nodded. "Fine. Every 8 p.m. on weekdays at starting tomorrow."

He pumped his fist up in the air, "Woo-hoo! I'll see you tomorrow... Uh..." You tilted your head. "What's your name again?"

All you have to do is to do your best in tutoring Arataki Itto and hope to God he does well in the test. So much for not wanting to be involved with the Arataki Gang.

"This is the third time I've explained this, Itto." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You've been in his dorm for almost 2 hours now, and you had to be back in your dorm by 11 p.m.

"Wait, wait!" Itto shook his head vigorously. "Just explain to me one more time and I'm sure I can understand it!"

You sighed at the pouting look he gave you and stood up to get your water bottle from the table. "So why didn't you ask Kujou Sara to tutor you instead? She's smart." You asked, and Itto shuddered at the mention of her name. "...What's wrong with Sara?"

"Are you seriously asking me that...?! She's literally the most difficult person to get along with!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking back to the bed. "No she's not. I get along with her."

"Hah, right. Of course, smart people get along." Rolling your eyes at his remark, you continued teaching the math problem to him. After a few more explaining, he got the problem right.

"Hey, that's correct! Good job." You flashed him a small smile, and you could've sworn his eyes twinkled with joy.

"Really?!" Without any warning, he hugged you, catching you off-guard. "I'll make sure to focus really hard so I can get all 'em right!"

You get that he was happy about it... but...

You never thought his abs would be that rock-hard. Your clothed breasts were pressed up against his clothed abs, and you felt a weird sensation in your—

Y/N! Snap out of it!

"Uhh, you there?" Itto pulled away, looking at you with a concerned look, then his eyes widened. "Oh— Oh. Sorry, it's just when I'm happy I hug... people. Like when we win games, you know? I hug my teammates and I'm sorry if I—"

"It's fine." You chuckled, and there was an awkward silence until you spoke again. "Um, let's move on."

He nodded and answered the next question. Wrong.

"No, no, it's like this..."

And before you knew it, it was already 11 p.m.

“Thank you… really! I already think I’m gonna ace this test ‘cause of you!” Itto flashed a handsome smile, “Be safe on the way to your dorm, alright?”

You returned the smile, waving at him. “I will, bye.” Itto was about to close the door but you stopped him when you heard footsteps. “Wait.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

You completely forgot someone monitors the dormitories as soon as it is 11 p.m!

Itto pulled you into his room and closed the door. You leaned back on the door in distress, “Oh, I forgot about the dorm monitor. You can’t go back to your dorm any time soon…”

“No shit.” You sighed and looked up at him.

He looks… attractive. You were so focused on tutoring him that you never realized he was this attractive.

“Y/N?”

You came back to your senses, “Hmm?”

“I said, you can stay here till the monitor is gone. They’re usually gone by 12 a.m.”

You cleared your throat, nodding, “…Yeah… yeah.”

He chuckled, “Y/N? You okay?”

You nodded once again, “I am…”

“Then… why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“…Like what?”

“Like that.”

Itto was looking at you, and you couldn’t help but gulp at the way he was gazing at you. Archons… he looked so hot. What the hell? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You walked past him and sat on the bed. “Guess I’ll have to wait… like 30 minutes or so.”

He turned, a smile on his face, “Wanna do something fun to kill time?”

All you could think about was him fucking you senselessly, trying to keep quiet so you don’t wake the others.

“Sure. I’ll tutor you some more.”

Tutor, my ass.

You were on all fours on Itto’s bed, his dick in your mouth as he stood in front of you. You wrapped your hand around the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit into your mouth, and looked up at him. He was biting his lip, grunting quietly.

“Archons, Y/N… Who knew you could suck dick so good?”

You didn’t know how it got to this point — You were tutoring him once again, but you couldn’t focus. You kept stuttering and Itto couldn’t understand you. But then seeing his hard-on… You looked up at him and he was gazing at you…

You both couldn’t resist each other.

Choking on his cock, he gripped onto your hair, hissing, “Fuck…”

Then he pulled your head away, the string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of his cock. You looked up at him, breathing out, “Fuck me.”

Itto was still panting, and the side of his mouth curled upwards. “Yeah? You gonna be quiet while I fuck you?”

“Mhm… Please…” You whimpered, then gasped when he pulled you up and then pushed you down onto the bed.

He kissed your neck, his hand reaching for your wet clit and rubbing it. You moaned quietly, rolling your hips against his hand then whining when his hand pulled away from you.

"J-Just the tip, first..." You whispered and bit your lip, feeling the head gliding along your clit. "It won't fi— Agh!"

Itto covered your mouth with his hand, growling quietly as he carefully thrust into you. "I'll make it fit, don't worry."

Suddenly, footsteps were heard outside the room. You looked at Itto as he covered your mouth, and your eyes widened when he moved against you. “Shh. Don’t make a sound…” He whispered as removed his hand from your mouth and kissed you.

You couldn't help but clench around him and he groaned, pushing deeper into you. You moaned through the kiss as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Mhhf… O-Oh…”

He's so big that you could feel his tip touching your cervix, hitting it with every thrust he does. He pulled away from your lips as he fucked you harder, your moans coming out as silent gasps.

"Fuck, baby..." Itto whispered, gritting his teeth. "You like that? Does it feel good?"

You could only nod your head in response, afraid to talk because you might moan too loud. He let out a breathy laugh as he continued pounding deeper into you.

Tears filled up your eyes from the pleasure and you could feel the knot on your stomach as Itto went faster. "Mm— 'm gonna...!"

"Shhh, do it for me, baby. Come on."

Your body shook as your orgasm washed over you. He grunted once more, biting into your neck softly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." And he finally pulled out, cumming on your stomach, "Fuck..."

The sight of your almost-passed-out figure on his bed almost made him hard once again, but he resisted himself. He fell next to you, letting out a contented sigh.

You closed your eyes, still panting. "I was only gonna tutor you. Not fuck you."

Itto laughed, caressing your thighs. "Too bad."

"So you're telling me you weren't at your dorm last night because you were at Itto's?" Shinobu gave you a disapproved look. You smiled sheepishly.

"...Look, it just happened, okay? What were we supposed to do while waiting for the monitor?"

Shinobu sighed. "So much for telling yourself to not get involved with the Arataki Gang."

xoxodiluc © 2023 | all rights reserved. do not claim as your own, modify, copy or repost.

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 4)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10299

Warnings: SMUT (public sex/office sex, fingering, masturbation, bath sex, p in v, dry humping, hand job, worshipping), Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student

Summary: Y/n had been craving more of Jonathan, more of all of him. She knew she couldn't push him to do anything, but maybe she didn't have to.

A/N: Sorry it took AGES for me to post this part, I had just moved cities and gotten settled into a new job too, so a lot of moving around for me lately.

I had quiet a bit of fun writing this part, I loved writing more of Jonathan's personality and personal problems.

I hope you enjoy this part and look forward to whatever I write next. 💚

(Office Hours/Bells Masterlist) (Part 3) - (Part 5)

-

Y/n had begun wearing skirts to class, trying to get Jonathan to fuck her. She loved the thought of him getting all hot and bothered during teaching. The skirts were tight and showed off her legs, making Y/n feel confident and sexy. Jonathan noticed the change and couldn't help but stare at her. Every day, Y/n felt more in control, knowing that she had the power to turn Jonathan on just by wearing a skirt.

She knew she had power over Jonathan and loved it. She could just fuck him at home, but she liked the thought of fucking Jonathan in his office, or even in the middle of the classroom. She loved the idea of him getting caught by fucking his student, his face beet red with embarrassment. Y/n was in control and she loved every minute of it.

In these moments, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill at the taboo nature of their relationship. It was more than just fucking one another, but queit literally living together, the knowledge that they were transgressing the conventional norms of student and professor dynamics.

As the lecture concluded, Y/n gracefully sauntered into Jonathan's office, an air of mischief accompanying her every step. The anticipation hung palpably, the room of students unaware of what Y/n had in store for their professor.

Jonathan, though accustomed to Y/n's teasing ways, relished in making her wait. A knowing smile played on his lips as he closed the door with a deliberate click, the sound echoing through the room.

Seated behind his desk, Jonathan assumed an air of calm composure, belying the desires that simmered beneath the surface. The familiar ritual had begun, a silent interplay of glances and a magnetic pull that drew them closer.

As Y/n circled the desk, a picture of effortless allure, she leaned against its edge, casting a playful gaze upon Jonathan. The soft glow of the office lights caught the subtle mischief in her eyes.

"Professor," Y/n's voice was a velvety whisper, a prelude to the seductive dance they were about to engage in.

“Y/n,” Jonathan acknowledged her with a measured response, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I’m bored,” Y/n declared, her voice carrying a tone of mischievous longing.

Jonathan, unruffled, looked up from his work, his eyes meeting hers. “I have a hundred books in here, pick one out,” he suggested, feigning indifference.

Y/n's sigh filled the room with an air of impatience, her faux boredom manifesting audibly. "I don't want to read," Y/n declared, her gaze fixed on Jonathan with a teasing challenge.

Jonathan, ever the composed professor, responded with a playful suggestion. "What do you want to do then?"

Y/n, with a devilish gleam in her eyes, gracefully positioned herself at the centre of Jonathan's desk. A confident smile adorned her lips as she beckoned playfully, "Come on, Professor... don't you want to play with your little student?" She reclined provocatively on the smooth surface of the table.

"I don't know, you have cards?" Jonathan suggested with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

Y/n's eyes rolled in exasperation, dismissing the idea of a mundane game. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me, my Dear… What do you want?" Jonathan inquired, rising from his desk to stand over her, a potent blend of curiosity and amusement dancing in his gaze.

Y/n's voice carried a sultry undertone as she made her desire known, "I want you to fuck me... right here." The air thickened with tension as her words hung in the room, like an invisible thread weaving their shared secret.

Jonathan, in response, sighed, a mixture of reluctance and longing, as he leaned over Y/n. The subtle brush of his fingers against her cheek. Jonathan sighed softly as he leaned over Y/n, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. 

Breaking away just enough to let his warm breath caress her skin, he whispered with a hint of playful authority, "Well, then... let's hope you can keep the volume down." 

Dr. Crane couldn't resist the urge to run his hands through Y/n's hair, pulling her closer to him. Y/n's tongue danced with Dr. Crane's, teasing and tantalizing him until he couldn't take it anymore. 

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he gazed down at her. “You're such a naughty little patient,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire

He leaned in and captured her mouth once again, his lips rough and demanding as he claimed hers in a fierce kiss. Y/n moaned loudly, arching her back as she felt his hands roam over her body, exploring and teasing her until she could hardly bear it.

With a mischievous smirk, Dr. Crane reached down and slowly slipped Y/n's skirt up over her hips, revealing her black underwear.

He paused letting his eyes rake over her body appreciatively before he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I think these have to go,” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Without waiting for a response, he leaned over and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, pulling them down over her hips as Y/n gasped and wriggled with excitement. reached down and rubbed his fingers over her wet pussy, teasing her until she was squirming with need. 

“You're so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he rubbed his fingers over her swollen clit. 

“You're just dying for my cock, aren't you?” Y/n could hardly bear it as his words sent shivers down her spine, her body thrumming with need as she moaned loudly. 

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she pushed her hips back towards him, desperate for more. “Please fuck me.”

Without another word, Dr. Crane reached down and slipped two fingers into her wet pussy, slamming them in and out of her eager hole as Y/n screamed and writhed with pleasure. He was relentless until she was screaming his name and begging for more.

As Jonathan fingered Y/n's pussy over and over, his eyes locked onto hers, a look of pure determination on his face. “You need to be quiet,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. 

“You don't want anyone to hear us, do you?” Y/n could hardly bear it as his words sent shivers down her spine, her body throbbing with need as she nodded frantically, unable to speak. “If you’re too loud, I won’t be fucking you.”

Y/n covered her mouth, muffling her moans. “That's a good little patient,” he whispered.

Jonathan pulled his fingers out of her wet pussy and reached down to pull his cock out of his pants, his eyes locked onto hers as he positioned himself in front of her. He pulled her hips back towards him and slammed into her, his cock slipping in and out of her pussy. 

Her pussy muscles clenched tightly around his cock as he moaned loudly. He was relentless, driving into her over and over as she held on his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. 

she reached out and tried to grab his shirt, but he was quick to stop her. With a wicked grin, he reached down and grabbed her wrists, pushing them above her head and holding them tightly as he thrusted into her.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Dr. Crane,” Y/n cried.

“Come for me, my Dear,” he whispered.

Her body shook and thrummed with need as she started cumming, her cunt clenching tightly around his cock as she squeezed it with all her might. Within seconds, he was grunting loudly as he started pumping into her, his cock slamming into her cunt as he came, his cum spurting out inside of her until he collapsed onto her with a groan.

Beads of sweat adorned their skin, glistening under the soft glow of the dimmed room. The air was thick with the heady aroma of sex. Breathless and sated, Jonathan pressed a tender kiss on Y/n’s flushed cheek.

Y/n chuckled, her breath still uneven, "Should have done this sooner," she remarked playfully.

"Well, perhaps you should have been more explicit from the beginning," Jonathan teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes. A smirk played on Jonathan's lips as he added, "I hope you don't believe this concludes our time together."

Y/n released a contented sigh, acknowledging she wouldn’t be sleeping much that night. No matter how tired Y/n was, the promise of more sex with Jonathan kept her pleasantly awake.

-

With sex becoming more common in their relationship, Y/n became keenly aware of the need for a bathtub. The ritual of a relaxing bath appealed to her, especially when after sex, Y/n can never be bothered to shower as Jonathan had fucked her dumb. 

While laying tiles, Y/n's eye caught a glimpse of the past plumbing embedded in the floor. She knew she wanted a bath eventually, but getting the main parts of the bathroom was more important at the time. However after all the leg shaking sex the two of them had been having, the sentiment grew stronger.

Y/n's enthusiasm was contagious as she excitedly skipped over to Jonathan amidst his work. He glanced up, protective goggles perched on, watching Y/n approach.

“Hey, Jonathan…” Y/n chirped, prompting him to divert his attention.

Jonathan removed his glasses, his eyes squinting slightly from the change in focus. “Careful, I’m using chemicals,” he warned, ever mindful of Y/n’s safety.

“We really need to get you a proper lab. But that’s for another day! Can we install a bath?” Y/n's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating the feasibility. “Do we have the plumbing?” he asked.

“Yep! I left it uncovered while tiling just in case. Have you not looked around in the bathroom? No wonder you wear glasses,” Y/n teased, her playful banter drawing a smirk from Jonathan.

“Well… I get paid this week for work I did for Nigma, so we can go look at some after that,” Jonathan suggested, his lips twitching into a small smile.

Y/n beamed with satisfaction and planted a quick kiss on Jonathan’s cheek. “Y/n! Be careful! Go wash your mouth, I said I was using chemicals,” he chided, a hint of frustration in his tone.

Y/n laughed, darting away with playful mischief, leaving Jonathan to return to his work with an affectionate smile.

-

A few days later, with Jonathan's dodgy paycheck in hand, the two set out to find the perfect bathtub. They wandered through home department stores, looking at various designs and features.

"Jonathan, what about this one?" Y/n pointed excitedly to a sleek, modern bathtub with built-in jets.

Jonathan glanced at it, raising an eyebrow, "Jets in a bath? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Y/n grinned, "Come on, it's not just about functionality. It's about enjoying the experience."

Jonathan chuckled, unable to resist Y/n's enthusiasm. They finally settled on a deep, freestanding tub with elegant claw feet, a perfect blend of comfort and aesthetics.

Back at the warehouse, Y/n set to work installing the bath, with Jonathan eagerly assisting. The room started to transform, taking on a more luxurious ambiance. The scent of scented candles, ones which Y/n begged Jonathan to purchase, filled the air as they worked.

As they filled the tub for the first time, Y/n couldn't contain her excitement. "Jonathan, this is going to be amazing! Our own little spa."

Jonathan, although reserved, couldn't help but smile at Y/n's infectious joy. The bath was more than just a new addition, it was a symbol of their new domestic life and the continuous evolution of their sanctuary.

Jonathan's lips curled into a soft smile as he responded, "Go for it, my Dear. You deserve a soak in the bath." He pressed a tender kiss to Y/n's temple, the warmth of his affection radiating through the gesture.

As Y/n turned to him, an eyebrow raised, she asked, "You're not joining?"

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment as Jonathan hesitated. A subtle pause lingered in his expression before he finally replied, "I have to head down to Arkham."

Y/n's expression shifted to a gentle pout, disappointment etching across her features. "Okay, be safe," she said, offering Jonathan a consoling kiss on the cheek.

As the door clicked shut behind Jonathan, Y/n found herself alone in the bathroom, the gentle ambiance of soft lighting and the soothing scent of bath salts, which she had also forced Jonathan to purchase, enveloping her. She understood the reasons for his departure, a weight of unspoken responsibilities lingering in the air. Respecting his choices, Y/n decided not to press him into revealing more.

With a graceful ease, she began to undress. The warm glow from the candles danced across her skin as she stepped into the water, embracing the comforting warmth that enveloped her body. The room seemed to hush, and Y/n sank into the fragrant bubbles, allowing the serenity of the bath to wash over her.

Each moment was a small act of self-care, a celebration of solitude that mingled with the soft symphony of water and her own thoughts. Y/n relished in the feeling of the bath, the gentle caress of the water against her skin, and the tranquility that washed away the stresses of the day.

-

The warehouse door crashed open with a resounding bang, capturing Y/n's attention as she glanced up from the couch, her towel for her hair resting on the floor beside her. Jonathan stormed in, his frustration evident as he angrily tossed his burlap mask onto the cluttered workbench.

"Jonathan? What happened?" Y/n asked, rising from the couch to approach him.

"That blasted Bat is meddling with my plans...he's getting too close," Jonathan growled, fixing a menacing gaze on nothing in particular.

"I thought Edward was taking care of it," Y/n remarked.

"Yeah, well, we both know how reliable Nigma can be," Jonathan scoffed, prompting a subdued chuckle from Y/n.

"Come on, let's just head to bed. You've barely gotten any sleep this week," Y/n suggested, her hand gliding down his arm to entwine with his.

His frown eased, replaced by a gentle look as he met her eyes. Smiling, she guided him up the loft stairs, leading the way to their shared bed. Seating him on the mattress, she grabbed a pair of pyjamas, offering them to him.

As he began shedding his jacket and other clothes, Y/n watched with a loving gaze. Jonathan undid the buttons of his shirt, hesitating before fully removing it. Slowly, he turned his gaze towards Y/n, his jaw clenched. Understanding his vulnerability, Y/n lowered her head and hopped onto the bed, facing away from him.

Jonathan harboured insecurities about his physique, often choosing to change in private or while Y/n slept. She had glimpsed his body only once, tending to him after a brutal fight, and remained mindful of his sensitivity in such moments. His reluctance to be touched lingered, restricting the intimacy between them. Even during their hugs, he only let her hands rest around his neck or against his chest.

Y/n, well-acquainted with her own insecurities, understood the delicacy of the situation and recognized the limits of what she could change without him initiating it. Yet, an earnest desire to connect with him on a deeper level persisted.

As he finished changing, a sudden silence signalled his readiness. Y/n felt as he reclined on the bed and felt his arm envelop her body. Turning to face him, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips before closing her eyes and nestling against his warmth. In the quiet moments that followed, she surrendered to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat, finding solace in their shared silence as she drifted into sleep.

-

Awakening to a chilly emptiness, Y/n opened her eyes to find the bed void of Jonathan’s presence. A surge of emotion brought tears to her eyes, but a hopeful warmth lingered in the spot beside her, suggesting he might not have left just yet. Frantically, she scanned the loft before bolting down the stairs and out the entrance, calling out for him in the night.

The creak of the bathroom door interrupted her anxious search. She turned to see Jonathan hurrying out, reaching for her shoulders to bring reassurance.

"I'm here, Y/n. Don't worry, I haven't left," Jonathan assured her, enveloping her in an embrace while tenderly stroking her hair.

Her breath steadied as she closed her eyes, absorbing the comforting embrace and inhaling his familiar scent. It was a blend of his natural musk and subtle perfume, a fragrance she had grown to love. In that moment, the warmth of his presence and the familiar aroma offered solace, grounding her in the reality that he was indeed there with her.

"Come on, back to bed," Jonathan urged, gently pulling her away and guiding her back to the comforting embrace of the sheets.

"What's the time?" Y/n inquired.

"It's only 4 AM. We don't have to be up until 8, we have a late lecture today," Jonathan explained, leading her back to the bed.

They resettled onto the mattress, and Y/n nestled closer to him. He responded by planting a tender kiss on the top of her head, the warmth of the gesture echoing the tranquillity of the early morning hours.

-

The lecture unfolded in its typical monotony. Y/n absentmindedly tapped her pen on her book, her mind wandering. Her thoughts, however, were occupied by the events of the previous night, particularly Jonathan's reluctance to reveal his body. While this wasn't an entirely new occurrence, a yearning to see him persisted. It wasn't a mere curiosity; she genuinely wished he felt more comfortable with himself.

While Jonathan exuded confidence in his intelligence, the same assurance seemed to crumble when it came to his appearance and physique. It was a stark contrast, leaving Y/n contemplating the complexity of a man so assured in one aspect of himself, yet plagued by insecurities in another.

She understood that his reluctance had nothing to do with any sexual stigma, after all, they had already been intimate, though fully clothed. Y/n longed to make him feel as beautiful as she saw him, but for the time being, she resolved to let him navigate his own pace and find comfort in his own time.

-

Back in his office, Y/n wasted no time in launching herself at him. Her lips met his with a sense of urgency.

"Eager as always," Jonathan observed with a smirk, his words a murmur against her fevered lips.

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as she planted kisses along his jawline, slowly trailing down to the inviting expanse of his neck. "How can I not be?" she mused between breathless kisses, her voice laced with a playful yet sultry tone.

He ushered her towards their usual spot on the desk, pressing her down onto it as her arms entwined around his neck, locking them in a passionate kiss. Y/n's fingers embarked on an exploration, tracing a tantalizing path down his torso until they reached the bottom of his shirt.

With a determined pull, she started to untuck it from his pants. The sudden tensing of Jonathan's body was noticeable, but he gradually eased back into the moment as her hands moved to rest on his chest. Just as Y/n's fingers ventured toward the buttons on his shirt, a swift reaction ensued, Jonathan seized her wrist, holding it firmly in his grasp. Despite this, the fervent exchange of kisses endured.

When Y/n's other hand attempted a similar journey, moving from his shoulder to his top button, Jonathan abruptly pulled away. With a resolute grip, he intercepted her second hand, keeping both pinned down at her sides. A playful pout adorned Y/n's lips, a subtle indication of her dissatisfaction with the loss of control.

"Dr. Crane, please!" she whined, the plea laced with desire.

"No," Jonathan replied sternly, resisting her advances.

"Come on, Jonathan, I want to see you," Y/n persisted, her insistence evident in her tone.

In an instant, Jonathan's restraint snapped.

"Y/n, I don't want to take my clothes off!" Jonathan suddenly raised his voice, surprising both Y/n and himself with the intensity of his response.

Y/n's face fell, taken aback by Jonathan's reaction. The atmosphere shifted, and she felt a pang of regret. "I... I'm sorry, Jonathan," she stammered, genuinely feeling horrible for unintentionally causing his distress.

Jonathan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Y/n with a mix of frustration and apology. "No, I shouldn't have reacted like that," he said, taking a step back from her.

Y/n sat up, her expression reflecting a blend of understanding and concern. "No, Jonathan, I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to gently kiss him on the cheek, hoping to convey her sincerity and remorse.

She discerned the tumultuous emotions surging through him, even as his face remained as hard as ice. Y/n could sense the regret that weighed heavily on him, an internal struggle that manifested in the hardened lines of his face.

"Jonathan..." Y/n uttered, her hand gently clasping his face, coaxing him to face her.

His eyes, clouded with remorse, met hers.

"You don't have to beat yourself up. It's your right to your own body, I'm not going to make you do anything," Y/n reassured him, trying to alleviate the guilt etched across his features.

However, her words seemed to deepen the conflict within Jonathan. His gaze shifted downward, lingering on her ankles, prompting a resigned sigh from Y/n. "Everything's okay, Jonathan... You don't owe me anything."

Jonathan, though still visibly distressed, leaned in to kiss her once more, attempting to reinitiate the heated moment between them. Yet, Y/n gently pushed him back, her face reflecting a mix of understanding and empathy. His face fell further, registering a sense of rejection that permeated the room. However, Y/n managed to reassure him with a comforting smile.

"Let's go home," Y/n suggested, her voice carrying a sense of tenderness and a promise of solace.

As the night draped the deserted university campus in shadows, Y/n and Jonathan walked hand in hand, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the empty hallways. Y/n, seemingly unbothered, offered a comforting presence, her touch a reassuring anchor for Jonathan. However, beneath the surface of this seemingly serene scene, Jonathan's internal dialogue waged a tumultuous war of self-deprecation.

With each step, the distant glow of streetlights flickering through the windows painted an intricate pattern on the ground, mirroring the intricate thoughts swirling in Jonathan's mind. The hushed whispers of the night wind through the deserted corridors seemed to echo his inner turmoil.

Jonathan's thoughts replayed the scene in his office, the tension building up to a point where he abruptly halted the escalating intimacy. His own actions weighed heavily on him, overshadowing Y/n's understanding and reassurances. In his mind, the missed opportunity became a significant blunder, a moment of pleasure that he regretted losing.

Of course, Jonathan care very little about his own emotional well-being, but was consumed by the idea that he had irreparably ruined the prospect of intimacy for Y/n. The weight of her rejection bore heavily on his conscience, convincing him that any desire she harbored for a physical connection with him had been irreversibly tarnished.

Meanwhile, Y/n's soothing presence persisted, her hand in his offering a lifeline amidst the internal warfare. She couldn't fully comprehend the strom churning within Jonathan. Her focus remained on supporting him and making him feel comfortable.

Y/n's decision to stop their intimate moment was rooted in genuine concern for Jonathan's emotional state. Recognizing his internal struggle and the weight of the moment, she deemed it inappropriate to have sex, preferring to prioritize his comfort instead.

As they approached the parking lot, Y/n glanced at Jonathan, her eyes expressing care and understanding, unaware of the intricate battle taking place within him. The walk to his car continued, both wanting nothing more than to be at home.

-

Jonathan found himself seated at his work desk downstairs, a palpable tension lingering in the air after the incident in the office. Although Y/n seemed to have moved past it, Jonathan's mind remained ensnared by lingering doubts. His understanding of Y/n's unconditional acceptance clashed with an undercurrent of insecurity, fueled by the fear that his actions had jeopardized their connection.

The mere thought that he might have upset Y/n's feelings unsettled Jonathan. He grappled with the possibility that his outburst had tarnished their intimacy, causing him to question the foundation of their relationship. Despite his penchant for a stoic exterior and over inflated ego, Jonathan secretly yearned for Y/n's approval.

Vulnerability was a territory Jonathan rarely ventured into willingly, yet he recognized the necessity of comfort in his relationship with Y/n. Hesitant and self-reflective, he hoped that she could see past the rough edges he inadvertently revealed, seeking solace in the prospect of her acceptance.

Jonathan recognized that it was time to confront his emotions and address the lingering tension with Y/n. Determined, he rose from the couch and made his way to Y/n.

“Y/n…” Jonathan said, climbing the stairs with a certain awkwardness in his gait. His movements were hesitant, and he stopped at the end of the bed, casting a tentative glance in her direction.

Y/n lowered her book, her curiosity piqued by Jonathan's demeanor. She could sense an unusual tension in the air, waiting for whatever revelation he was about to share.

“Jonathan?” Y/n prompted, studying his expressions for clues.

“I was thinking about today… back in my office,” Jonathan began, his voice carrying a mix of apprehension and sincerity.

“It's okay, Jonathan, I get it. You don’t have to say anything,” Y/n reassured him, offering a warm smile to ease any discomfort he might be feeling.

“Y/n… I trust you, and… I want you to see me,” Jonathan confessed. His face remained stoic, but the subtle avoidance of eye contact betrayed his nervousness.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, initially puzzled. "Huh?"

“I want you to see me,” Jonathan reiterated, starting to remove his blazer.

It then dawned on Y/n, and she closed her book, chucking it aside. With undivided attention, she watched as Jonathan slowly shed each piece of clothing, revealing a vulnerability that went beyond the physical, a trust he was placing in her hands.

Finally down to his underwear, Jonathan took a shallow breath, his gaze fixed on Y/n. The air between them felt charged, carrying a mix of vulnerability and trust. He stood there, exposed in both body and emotion, waiting for Y/n's response. 

Jonathan averted his gaze, a veil of shame clouding his expression as Y/n observed him. The intensity of this feeling gnawed at him, an overwhelming disdain for his own physique. Regardless of his persistent efforts to bulk up or gain weight, his body resisted, leaving him with a frame that echoed the scrawny boy he once was, enduring the hardships inflicted by his great-grandmother. A past that haunted him.

The disdain deepened with the visibility of scars etched into his skin, each mark telling a painful story. Harsh beatings from his grandmother, cruel pranks from high school bullies, and the lasting consequences of crows attacking him in the church were all etched into his flesh. The transition into becoming the Scarecrow only intensified the scarring, leaving a roadmap of trauma on his body.

Recent encounters with the masked bat added another layer to this visual narrative. Though the caped crusader didn't endorse murder, Jonathan’s encounters with the vigilante resulted in brutal injuries, vividly displayed on his scar-laden body. The physical toll mirrored the internal struggle, a reflection of the haunting experiences that shaped him.

The expression on Y/n's face, from Jonathan's perspective, spoke volumes. In his eyes, he felt repulsively hideous; regret gnawed at him for baring his body to her. How could anyone want to be with something so wretched?

Contrary to his distorted perception, Y/n looked at him with a sense of awe. The fact that Jonathan trusted her enough to expose himself left her feeling a surge of love and adoration. She was profoundly proud of him for overcoming the vulnerability that must have accompanied such an act.

While Y/n acknowledged the scars that adorned his body, they held no weight in her eyes. The marks from past tormentors were irrelevant; what disturbed her were the fresh wounds, the aftermath of recent encounters with Batman. The injustice of such brutality infuriated her; the Dark Knight ought to pay for causing harm to a man who had already suffered so much.

Oddly, the sight of his body only deepened Y/n's attraction to Jonathan. She cherished the way he looked, not in spite of, but because it was uniquely his. In her eyes, he was hers, scars and all, and she wouldn't have him any other way.

Y/n gracefully rose from her seat and approached him. Meeting her gaze with a clenched jaw, Jonathan was taken aback as she reached him and kissed him unexpectedly. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, deepening the kiss. Jonathan surrendered to the embrace, enveloping her in his arms. Y/n's hand moved, her touch exploring every inch of him, leaving no spot untouched.

She sought to understand every part of him, to shower each detail with the love she believed it deserved. Breaking away from the kiss, she fixed her gaze deeply into his eyes, leaving him with a bewildered expression.

"You're beautiful," Y/n spoke.

Jonathan's heart momentarily ceased before resuming its heightened pace. Overwhelmed with gratitude and astonishment, he pulled her back into another kiss. This one reflected his appreciation and astonishment. Never before had anyone regarded him with such kindness, and never before had he received such profound love.

He drew back, his breaths coming in heavy gasps. "Y/n, I... I..." he struggled, searching for the right words. Frowning, he looked around as if hoping the words would materialize before him.

Y/n responded with a gentle smile, silencing him with a hushed. “Shhhh,” with her thumb, she tenderly smoothed out the frown lines between his eyebrows, a soothing gesture to calm his racing thoughts. "You don't have to say anything, Jonathan. You're my beautiful Scarecrow," she whispered, punctuating her words with a kiss on the hollow of his cheeks.

Jonathan closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder, finding solace in the embrace. Y/n couldn't help but smile, her arms enveloping his body. The delight of being able to hold him around places other than his neck filled her with joy.

"You've got such a pretty little waist," Y/n chuckled, her fingers delicately tracing along his waist, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake.

A blush crept onto Jonathan's face, but he tried to mask it with his own distraction. "And you have such a pretty little mouth," he teased, his finger gently gliding along her jaw. Tilting her head up, he leaned in to share a tender kiss.

He withdrew and fixed his gaze on her. "So...do I get to see your body?" Jonathan asked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, playfully hitting his shoulder. "Wow! That's why you decided to show me, aye?"

Jonathan chuckled in response. "It was worth a shot," he admitted.

Y/n shook her head, smiling before taking a step back. He looked at her, releasing a shaky breath as he watched her remove her shirt and bottoms, leaving her in her underwear. Jonathan's gaze remained fixed, captivated by the sight of Y/n's body.

Despite any self-conscious feelings Y/n harboured about herself, the reverence in Jonathan's eyes made her feel like a goddess. "What? You gonna start worshipping me?" Y/n teased.

Jonathan sighed, playfully getting on his knees. "If I must."

Y/n gasped as she watched him kneel, running his fingers up her bare legs. He pressed kisses to her thighs, gently squeezing her flesh, creating an atmosphere charged with admiration and intimacy.

Jonathan, mesmerized by Y/n's presence, looked up at her with an admiring gaze. "You're absolutely stunning, Y/n. Every inch of you is a masterpiece," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine appreciation.

As he continued to run his fingers along her skin, he whispered, "Your body is a work of art which I do not wish to share. I could spend a lifetime exploring every curve, every line." Jonathan placed a gentle kiss on her stomach, revelling in the intimacy of the moment.

His fingers traced patterns on her skin. "I'm in awe of you, Y/n. You're like a goddess, and I'm honoured to worship at your feet." Jonathan's words held a sincerity that echoed his deep admiration for the woman before him.

Jonathan paused, looking up at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "So, tell me, goddess, how may I continue to worship you?"

Y/n struggled to catch her breath, her usual encounter with Jonathan involved his sarcastic demeanour, and considering himself a higher being. Yet, at this moment, he was on his knees, worshipping her.

"Fuck. The best I could come up with was you got a pretty waist," Y/n quipped, a playful smile on her lips.

Y/n, still caught in the unexpected intimacy of the moment, couldn't resist reciprocating the gesture. "You know, Jonathan," she began with a teasing smile, "I never thought I'd see the day you'd be on your knees for someone."

She mirrored his position, dropping to her knees and meeting his eyes. Her hand tenderly cupped his face, tracing the contours with her fingertips. "But here we are," she continued, "and you deserve every bit of adoration you're getting."

Leaning in, Y/n pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, savouring the taste of the moment. Pulling back slightly, she whispered, "You're not just the Scarecrow. You're my Jonathan, and you're worth worshipping." Her thumb brushed against his cheek, emphasizing the sincerity in her words.

Jonathan’s face was heating up, but he didn’t want to lose his dignity just yet. “My speech was better..” he said.

Y/n shoved him back, he laughed and landed back on the rug. “You asshat!” Y/n laughed, flopping on top of him. “Good thing this isn’t a competition, you competitive bastard.” Y/n kissed him. 

Jonathan enveloped Y/n's waist with his arms, savoring the sensation of holding her so intimately against his bare body. Now unburdened by the constraints of clothing, he felt a newfound freedom to express the depth of his emotions. 

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Y/n suggested, her eyes meeting Jonathan's.

He nodded, sitting up with Y/n still cradled in his arms. Jonathan gently guided them to the bed, deftly pulling the covers over their entwined forms. Wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence, they settled into a cocoon of shared intimacy.

-

After seeing Jonathan’s body in such a vulnerable state, Y/n's thoughts were consumed by the desire to have him completely. Though she knew she had to wait until they were home, the anticipation was driving her wild. The newfound openness to nudity had ignited a spark within her, making her yearn for him more than ever.

Feeling inspired, Y/n decided to visit a lingerie store nestled in the heart of Gotham. Uncertain of Jonathan's preferences, she opted for a classic yet enticing choice – a set in elegant black. Excitement bubbled within her as she perused the options, carefully selecting a few enticing pieces to surprise him later.

Anticipating Jonathan's return later in the day, Y/n planned to surprise him by preparing herself ahead of time. With a sense of urgency, she practically sprinted to the shower, relishing the idea of being fresh and clean for Jonathan. After the refreshing shower, she carefully adorned herself in the alluring black lingerie she had picked out earlier, wanting to create an enticing atmosphere for Jonathan's homecoming.

Y/n looked absolutely stunning in the black lace lingerie she was wearing, the elaborate underwear hugging her curves perfectly. The black lace moulded to her breast beautifully, letting the top of her breast slightly peak over. The lace was just modest enough to hide her nipples, but sheer enough to show off her skin underneath. The underwear sat beautifully on her ass, the lace laying against her tightly and showing off her gorgeous body. She looked like an angel, but she was doing anything but.

With eager anticipation, Y/n carefully pondered over the details of the upcoming encounter with Jonathan. Thoughts of whether he would prefer her to initiate or if he would take the lead occupied her mind. The uncertainty only fueled her excitement further, creating a delightful sense of nervousness that she hadn't experienced before.

As she lay on the bed, adorned in the sultry black lingerie, Y/n couldn't help but imagine the various ways their interaction might unfold. Would Jonathan want to slowly undress her, reveling in the details of each moment, or would he appreciate the boldness of her initiation? 

Caught up in her contemplation, Y/n was suddenly jolted back to the present as the door to the warehouse swung open. The sound echoed through the room, signaling Jonathan's return and igniting a surge of both excitement and nervousness within her.

“Y/n? Are you home?” Y/n's heart raced as she heard Jonathan's voice echoing from below, his presence becoming more tangible with each passing second.

"Yeah! I'm home," she responded, her mind buzzing with anticipation as she tried to formulate a plan.

"I'll be at my desk if you need me," Jonathan's voice carried through the space.

Caught in the excitement, Y/n impulsively called out, "Wait!" She mentally kicked herself for the abruptness. "Uh... Don't you want to hang out with me, though?"

Her words hung in the air, a spontaneous invitation that she hoped would redirect Jonathan from his desk to their bedroom.

Jonathan's voice reached her ears, his words dampening her initial excitement. "You know, I'd like to hang out with you, but I have a lot to catch up on right now," he explained.

Determined not to let the opportunity slip away, Y/n took matters into her own hands. "Okay... Come up when you can," she replied, feeling a surge of boldness.

First, she pulled off her shirt, tossing it off the loft balcony. The distant sound of fabric hitting the floor was met with a brief silence. Y/n seized the moment, deciding to escalate her playful tease. Her bottoms followed suit, creating another echoing thud.

As the anticipation heightened, she heard the soft sound of Jonathan's footsteps making their way up the stairs. Y/n assumed her position on the bed, propped up on her elbows, ready to meet Jonathan's gaze. Her new lingerie adorned her figure, a visual cue waiting to capture his attention. The air in the room thickened with anticipation as Jonathan's approaching footsteps signaled the imminent connection.

Jonathan ascended the staircase, his gaze locked onto Y/n as if he had stumbled upon her body covered in lace. His sharp inhale was audible, portraying the intrigue in his expression. Y/n, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, maintained eye contact, awaiting his response.

"Do you... like it?" she ventured, seeking affirmation.

Jonathan, seemingly entranced, dropped her discarded clothes onto the floor. Closing the distance, he approached the bed where Y/n lay. Without hesitation, he began to climb onto the bed, prompting a playful intervention from Y/n.

"Take your shoes off, Jonathan!" she insisted before he could settle in fully.

Rolling his eyes, Jonathan listened, pushing off his shoes with his feet in a nonchalant gesture. Once shoeless, he resumed his position, hovering over Y/n, his gaze fixed on her. 

Y/n seized the moment, encouraging his touch. "Take your time, Jonathan," she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips. His hands, warm and gentle, started at her shoulders, tracing a tantalizing path down her body. Each caress sent shivers through her, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between them.

Jonathan's fingers delicately traced the intricate patterns of the lace, a thoughtful expression adorning his face. His words, steeped in genuine admiration, painted a vivid picture of his appreciation.

"You transcend beauty, Y/n," he murmured, his gaze never wavering from her form.

As his fingers continued their gentle exploration, he added, "In your vulnerability, I find strength. In your imperfections, I discover perfection. You are not just a sight to behold, you are a marvel that elicits awe and wonder. And to think, I get to share this moment with you, appreciating the extraordinary artistry that is you."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Y/n whispered, a mix of surprise and gratitude lingering in her voice. 

Jonathan's words had caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She couldn't recall anyone ever expressing such admiration for her, and she found herself grappling with a mix of emotions. Before she could stammer out more, Jonathan seamlessly continued.

Jonathan's fingertips continued their exploration, tracing lines of admiration across Y/n's skin. As he gazed into her eyes, his words flowed with sincerity, a testament to the profound connection they shared.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low and reverent, "I may not believe in deities or divine forces, but in you, I find something truly extraordinary. It's not about worshiping some higher power; it's about acknowledging the sheer brilliance and beauty that exists in the tangible, the real."

His hands moved with purpose, fingers trailing down her arms and across her abdomen. "You are a masterpiece, a symphony of complexities that defy any preconceived notion of divinity. In your presence, I discover a profound sense of wonder, a recognition of the marvelous intricacies that make you uniquely, breathtakingly human."

Jonathan's gaze intensified, the passion in his words mirrored in his eyes. "I don't need gods or rituals to find the sacred, it's here, with you, in this moment. You are the poetry I never knew I craved, the embodiment of everything that makes life extraordinary. And I, in my own way, stand in awe of you."

Y/n's head spun, the weight of Jonathan's words leaving her feeling light-headed. She had never imagined deserving such praise. The paradox of Jonathan, a man rooted in logic and rationality, now worshipping her, added a surreal touch to the moment.

Kneeling above Y/n, Jonathan's eyes traced the contours of Y/n's form with a reverence that transcended spiritual boundaries. His hands, guided by a devotion that defied any higher power, explored her body with deliberate tenderness.

"Who knew the big bad Scarecrow would be one to worship," Y/n smirked.

"Well, even I cannot deny the presence of such a goddess," Jonathan said, his words causing Y/n's heart to swell with warmth.

As Jonathan sat up, he removed his blazer and woolen jumper. Y/n wasted no time pulling him into a passionate kiss. Jonathan, ever the gentleman, held one of Y/n's hands gently and guided it to his tie. A smile played on Y/n's lips as she loosened his tie, reveling in the intimate connection between them.

She pulled the tie from around his neck, enjoying the subtle shivers running through Jonathan's body. With the tie removed, her fingers moved with purpose to the buttons of his shirt. Each one undone felt like a step deeper into intimacy, and Jonathan's breath grew more unsteady with every button released.

As Y/n reached the last button, a swift motion followed, and she yanked the shirt off Jonathan's body. The fabric slipped away, revealing the intricate details of his physique. Jonathan's chest rose and fell with a mix of anticipation and desire, creating an unspoken connection between them.

Y/n rolled them over so that she now straddled Jonathan. Her fingers traced a deliberate path down his scarred chest, causing a shiver to ripple through his body. It was a sensation he'd never experienced before, someone genuinely appreciating his body. Few had seen his body, and none had regarded it with the reverence Y/n displayed.

"Such a pretty boy," Y/n murmured, leaning down to grace Jonathan's chest with kisses.

He surrendered, letting his head fall back onto the plush mattress beneath him. The vulnerability and beauty of the moment intertwined, creating an intimate dance between their bodies.

Y/n was sitting on Jonathan's lap, her body warm and inviting against his. She leaned in close, her lips just inches from his ear as she whispered, “I want you.”

Jonathan felt his heart race with excitement, his member growing hard in his pants. He couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch her, feeling her soft skin underneath the lace of her lingerie.

As Y/n leaned in closer, her hips grinding against his, Jonathan knew he couldn't resist any longer. He reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss, his hand moving down to squeeze her ass through the lace.

Y/n broke the kiss, sitting up and reaching for the button on Jonathan's pants. She smiled as she popped it open, sliding his underwear along with his trousers off and revealing his hard member. Y/n couldn't help but admire the sight of Jonathan's member, thick and hard in front of her. She grinned as she wrapped her fingers around it, stroking it gently as she leaned in for another kiss.

Jonathan was panting into their kiss as Y/n stroked him, her hand moving up and down his shaft. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure growing in his groin as he moaned into her mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re already close,” Y/n teased.

Jonathan felt himself getting embarrassed as he felt his orgasm already building, his member twitching in Y/n's hand. He tried to pull away, but she held him close, her eyes burning with desire as she whispered, “Don't fight it.”

But Jonathan was determined not to cum yet. He pushed Y/n's hand away, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to resist the urge to explode. But as he looked into her eyes, filled with both passion and frustration, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He reached out for Y/n, pulling her close as he whispered, “Ride me.”

Y/n was about to remove her underwear, but Jonathan stopped her with a grin.

“Leave them on,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “I like the way they look on you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes bright with excitement as she moved up and down on his member, the lace of her underwear rubbing against his skin. Y/n moved her underwear to the side, baring her pussy for Jonathan's pleasure.

She leaned down, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered, “Ready?”

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to groan, his member twitching with anticipation as he nodded his approval. Y/n sank down onto Jonathan's dick, her body warm and wet around him. He groaned, his hands clenching into the sheets as he felt her tight muscles grip him, pulling him deeper inside.

Y/n began to ride Jonathan, she ground her hips against him. He couldn't resist the urge to grab her hips, pulling her close as he thrust up into her, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Y/n moaned, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

He couldn't resist the urge to groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her with a growl. 

“You want it?” he whispered back, his voice rough with desire.

Jonathan groaned, his member twitching with anticipation as he thrust up into her. Y/n cried out, her body arching back against him as she pushed down onto his member, their bodies moving together in a rhythm of pure passion.

Y/n's eyes were bright with excitement as she looked down at him, her chest heaving with each breath.

“Fuck me harder,” she whispered, her voice raw with desire.

And with that, Jonathan knew he couldn't hold back any longer. Jonathan flipped the two of them over, his member still buried deep inside her. He moved his hands up to hold her waist, his breath coming in short gasps as he thrust into her from behind, their hips moving in a frantic rhythm.

Y/n watched in awe as Jonathan fucked her in missionary, his member pumping in and out of her. She couldn't help but admire the sight of him, his muscles tense and defined as he moved above her, his eyes burning with desire.

Jonathan groaned, his member pulsing with excitement as he whispered, “You feel so good.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes bright with excitement as she reached up to grab his face, pulling him down for a kiss.

Y/n kissed Jonathan's neck, her lips moving up to his ear as she whispered, “Dr. Crane.” 

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her with a growl, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as they moved together in a frenzy of passion.

Jonathan moved up to kiss Y/n, his member pumping in and out of her with a steady rhythm. He couldn't resist the urge to worship her, his lips moving down her body as he kissed and nippled at her skin, the sound of her breath coming in short gasps filling the room.

“You’re so beautiful, my pretty little patient.” Jonathan kissed Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n and Jonathan were both nearing their orgasm, their bodies moving together frantically. Their breath came in short gasps, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as they moved together towards the brink.

Jonathan looked down at Y/n, his member pulsing with excitement as he whispered, “Come for me.”

Y/n cried out, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. Her breath came rapidly, her inner muscles pulsing around him as she came to her ultimate release. With Y/n’s orgasm, Jonathan could barely hold back. He squirted is cum deep inside of Y/n’s cunt, filling her hot cavern. 

Jonathan sighed, his lips finding the soft expanse of Y/n's forehead, leaving a lingering sweetness in the air. With a gentle ease, he settled down beside her, drawing her delicate form into the comforting embrace of his arms. The world outside seemed to fade away as the warmth between them created a sanctuary, and for a moment, time stood still.

Y/n's smile radiated in the aftermath, their bodies glistening with the shared exertion. "So... how about we indulge in the bath together this time?" she proposed, a playful glint in her eyes.

"That sounds absolutely perfect, my Dear," Jonathan replied.

Jonathan's arms, held Y/n securely as he lifted her off the bed and descent down the stairs. Each step taken with a deliberate grace, he seemed to effortlessly carry her weight. As he entered the bathroom, the light played on the contours of their entwined bodies.

Once in the bathroom, he lowered Y/n down on the edge of the bath. Their eyes locked, sharing an unspoken connection that spoke volumes. The room filled with a gentle hum as he turned on the faucet, the water slowly filling the bath.

Jonathan, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, his fingers traced the edges of Y/n's lingerie, hooking onto the fabric delicately. The room was filled with the soft echoes of water, the ambiance saturated with an intimate warmth.

As his hands began to peel away the lace and silk that adorned Y/n's body, a silent exchange of sensations unfolded. Each gentle movement, deliberate and unhurried, spoke volumes about the connection they shared. Y/n's skin, now exposed to the ambient glow of the bathroom, seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Jonathan adjusted the temperature, holding his hand under the stream, testing the temperature. The inviting warmth of the water welcomed them as Jonathan carefully lowered Y/n into the bath, their bodies meeting the comforting embrace of the liquid sanctuary. He followed, seamlessly joining her in the tranquil pool. The water rippled gently, mirroring the serenity that enveloped the room.

As Y/n settled back against Jonathan's chest, the warmth of the bath enveloping them. The steam from the water curled around them, creating an intimate atmosphere that mirrored the connection they shared.

“You like the bath?” Y/n asked.

“I do, I like it very much. Such a handy little thing you are,” Jonathan said.

Jonathan's lips found solace on her temple, planting a tender kiss that echoed the affection between them. Y/n, in her attempt to find a more comfortable position, earned a groan of protest from Jonathan.

"Easy there," he teased, holding her securely around the waist. Y/n laughed, the sound echoing in the bathroom, mingling with the gentle flow of water.

"It hasn't even been 5 minutes!" she exclaimed, enjoying the playful banter.

"Well, it doesn't have to be with you," Jonathan murmured, his grip tightening slightly, the subtle embrace reflecting a silent promise of closeness in every moment they shared.

Y/n teasingly rubbed her ass against Jonathan's hard dick, eliciting a groan of pleasure from the man beneath her. Y/n couldn't help but laugh as she watched the effect she was having on Jonathan. His moans of pleasure only turned her on more.

Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Y/n's hips and held her still, his voice strained. “Stop teasing me.”

“Fine, I won’t tease you!” Y/n said.

Y/n's hand curled around the base of Jonathan's dick, guiding it inside her slick pussy. He had no time to think before her was inside of her again, his head falling back. He felt his cock slide past her tight entrance and into the warmth that awaited him. She was so wet, and he could feel how much she wanted him as he thrust up into her.

Y/n's grip on the side of the bath tightened as she rode Jonathan, her hips moving in a smooth motion that drove him wild. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her body sliding up and down his dick.

Jonathan couldn't help but tease Y/n as she rode him. “You're so horny, fucking me in the bath” he said, his voice thick with lust.

Y/n grinned as she looked down at Jonathan, his face flushed with pleasure. “Don't complain,” she said playfully. 'You're the one getting to fucking me.'

Y/n was right. It was Jonathan who couldn't get enough of her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he thrust into her with a ferocity that left them both panting. She could feel him getting closer and closer to the edge.

The water in the bath was splashing around them, creating a sense of intimacy that only added to the heat of the moment. They moved together as one, their bodies twisting and turning in a dance of pleasure.

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to kiss Y/n's back. He moved her hair aside, his lips trailing along her spine and up to her shoulder blade as she bounced on his dick. Y/n couldn't help but shiver as Jonathan's lips left a trail of fire along her skin.

Jonathan couldn't help but growl as he felt Y/n's tight pussy clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into her ear.

Y/n couldn't help but moan as she felt Jonathan's words shoot straight to her core. She tightened around him, her body demanding more of the intense pleasure he was giving her.

Jonathan couldn't help but feel his cock pulse with excitement as he felt Y/n's body clench around him. He knew he was close, and the thought of how good it would feel to come inside her only made him move faster.

Y/n couldn't resist the urge to tease Jonathan. “Come for me, Dr. Crane” she purred, her voice low and sultry.

Jonathan couldn't hold back any longer. He felt his cock jerk violently as he came, his body shuddering with pleasure as he emptied himself inside Y/n. His cum filled her walls as her cunt squeezed every last drop out of her.

Jonathan couldn't resist the urge to make Y/n feel even better. He moved his hand between their bodies, rubbing her clit with a gentle but firm pressure that made her gasp and moan. Y/n's body tightened around Jonathan as she felt the first waves of pleasure wash over her. She cried out his name, her voice filled with ecstasy.

Y/n's breaths lingered in the steam-filled air as she reclined against Jonathan in the warm bath. The ripples of water played a delicate symphony around them, echoing the harmonious cadence of their intertwined bodies.

Jonathan, ever the gentleman, pressed a tender kiss onto Y/n's shoulder, savoring the closeness between them. As Y/n pulled his dick out of her, watching as his cum too came out with it.

Y/n couldn't resist a cheeky comment, "Mhmm, I love bathing in cum water!" she exclaimed, playfully splashing the remnants of their shared experience.

Jonathan's expression tightened slightly. "Don't say that, that's disgusting," he spoke gently, attempting to maintain his composed demeanor.

"You were thinking it!" Y/n retorted with a mischievous grin, her playful banter dancing through the steam.

"I can assure you, I most definitely was not," Jonathan asserted, a subtle smirk betraying a trace of amusement beneath his composed exterior.

Y/n chuckled, her laughter echoing in the intimate space. "Let's get out now, before I lose control again," she suggested with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Jonathan nodded in agreement, his patience still intact. He patiently waited for Y/n to stand up first, a gesture of chivalry that spoke volumes about his nature. Once she was on her feet, he rose from the bath as well, extending a hand to assist her in stepping out, her legs weak from their intimate moment. The quiet tenderness between them lingered in the air, a subtle acknowledgment of the deeper connection they were exploring.

Jonathan wrapped a plush towel around Y/n's body, the soft fabric clinging to her curves. The air was thick with a mixture of steam and the sweet afterglow of their shared bath. With a gentle touch, he began to rub her arms, the towel absorbing the remaining droplets from her skin. Y/n couldn't help but giggle at the tender moment, feeling Jonathan's careful attention.

Suddenly, with a playful turn, she faced him, her eyes sparkling. She grabbed another towel and, to his surprise, started helping him dry down. His eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, a hint of vulnerability touching his expression. In that moment, their laughter mingled, creating a melody that resonated with the newfound intimacy between them.

In the bathroom, Jonathan experienced an unusual warmth within himself. Y/n had achieved the seemingly impossible, making Jonathan Crane feel cared for and, dare he admit it, beautiful. The residue of the bathwater clung to their skin as they made their way back upstairs, unencumbered by the weight of clothing.

Lying in bed, their naked forms tucked beneath the covers, they faced each other, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Y/n wore an infectious smile that seemed to radiate joy.

Jonathan, curious about the source of her happiness, asked, “Why are you smiling so much?”

The laughter bubbled from Y/n as she replied, “Because... I’m happy.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes and pressed further, “I get that much, but what has you so happy?”

Her answer was simple yet profound, “You trust me…”

As the words hung in the air, Jonathan allowed the realization to settle within him. Yes, he did trust her. In that moment, Y/n had succeeded where others had failed, creating a space where Jonathan could be comfortable in his own skin. Moved by the significance of the moment, he kissed her forehead, silently expressing gratitude for the newfound connection.

“Go to sleep, my Dear,” Jonathan whispered, his voice a gentle caress.

Y/n nodded, allowing her eyes to drift shut. In the quiet embrace of the room, she inched closer to Jonathan, seeking the reassuring warmth of his presence. His breath caught momentarily, a subtle reaction to the newfound closeness, before steadying again. It was a moment of vulnerability for Jonathan Crane, a man more accustomed to fear than comfort.

He felt safe. For once in his life, he was encircled by a sense of security in the company of another person. As the night enveloped them, Jonathan held her close, his protective embrace a silent promise. Their breathing synchronized, and in the cocoon of each other's arms, they succumbed to the gentle pull of sleep.

-

A/N: So proof reading this, I noticed I repeated a lot of things, but decided to ignore them 💀 because it really doesn't matter and doesn't change much of the story. I took a LOT of breaks between writing so forgot what I had written and just continued blindly.

I made Jonathan insecure and shit because I was basing him mostly off himself in the comics rather than Cillian Murphy, although, I use him for like everything else. I just love comic book!Jonathan Crane.

I hoped you enjoyed this part and look forward to the next part, whenever that might be. 💚

[natsuslover]

ur account is so cutee !!

do you have any erasermic headcanons? (*^^*)♡

aww tysm! 🫶

and ofc i have erasermic headcanons they’re so chaotic i love them so much. i didn’t know if u wanted platonic or romantic so i just wrote platonic bc i have more hcs for that 😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ platonic erasermic headcanons ੈ✩‧₊˚

notes— i’m rewatching mha rn so i’m actually really excited to write all these mha headcanons

ft. shota aizawa, present mic (idk his real name)

warnings: very light spoiler in one of them i think

present mic gossips about the students ALL. THE. TIME. (mostly complaining or like random tidbits of tea but it’s harmless) to aizawa but he doesn’t really pay attention lmao.

except from time to time when mic says something that’s so clearly not the truth and aizawa just has to correct him.

when mic asks aizawa how he knows so much about the students aizawa’s like “they just tell me” which gets mic somewhat ticked off because the students never go to him for anything lol.

when aizawa’s teaching class present mic just randomly pops in from time to time to “shake things up”

he blatantly interrupts the lecture and goes up to the podium and gets all sentimental while dramatically retelling the students stories of his and aizawa’s high school days.

meanwhile aizawa just whips out his sleeping bag and uses the time to take a much needed nap.

really i think present mic does that on purpose because he KNOWS aizawa doesn’t sleep enough so it’s his own way of caring.

both of them just sit and reminisce about their high school days every once in a while because they want to remember the good things about shirakumo :(

aizawa’s not the most sentimental person (at least he doesn’t show that side very much) so present mic is one of the only people who gets to see aizawa when he’s really emotional.

they’re literally the grumpy x sunshine, golden retriever x black cat, opposites attract trope.

aizawa always pretends to be annoyed or exhausted by mic’s presence but everyone knows that’s not true.

despite acting like he doesn’t care he’s actually really appreciative of present mics friendship.

aizawa often goes through tough times with all his students (especially izuku, shoto, and katsuki) getting dragged into situations because he cares and worries about them, and present mic is there cheer him up and reassure him that everything will be fine.

present mic has a really optimistic outlook on life which usually uplifts aizawa’s pessimistic attitude.

whenever it comes to lesson plans both of them help each other out to the best of their abilities because neither of them enjoy planning stuff out.

honestly, i feel like even though they were friends in high school, their bond truly got stronger when they started teaching and because of their students.

random but one time in high school present mic dyed aizawa’s hair blond while he was sleeping at a slumber party.

the next morning aizawa woke up to mic’s relentless giggling, looked in the mirror, and was too tired to even care his hair was yellow lmao. he just looked at mic like “seriously dude?” and continued to wash his face.

but when present mic looked in the mirror he noticed that aizawa lowkey looked better than him in his signature hair color and immediately ran to the store to find black hair dye to dye it back.

after all, there’s no way he’d live it down if aizawa started pulling more girls than him…

unbeknownst to everyone else, aizawa and mic have super smash bros competitions every weekend (mic’s idea obviously)

aizawa wins

every time lmao

mic gets super pissed off about it because aizawa’s not even trying like 95% of the time and he’s STILL unbeatable.

present mic hates olives and aizawa doesn’t mind them, so whenever they get food with olives in it, mic spends time picking out EVERY olive and puts them in aizawa’s food.

they both like spicy food but while present mic is huffing and puffing and hakahajcahak-ing through his food, aizawa doesn’t even have a single drop of sweat on his face.

whenever they want to skip a teacher meeting, they use each other as excuses.

like “oh shit mic just uh… fell off a mountain i have to go help him brb” or “damn looks like eraser broke his foot gotta go check!”

they’re both dedicated teachers but sometimes those meetings can get sooo tedious.

aizawa often has to help present much grocery shop even at his grown age because man does NOT know how to shop like an adult lmao.

aizawa’s telling mic how he needs more onions because he ran out but in a split second the entire cart is filled with an entire year’s worth of snacks and junk food.

one glare from aizawa and poor present mic is putting back every single food item that he got lol.

mic is without a doubt the yapper of the duo.

like bro doesn’t know when to shut up and aizawa just goes along with it because that means he doesn’t have to talk as much.

actually aizawa’s like zoned out the whole time but present mic doesn’t really care he just likes that he can talk without interruption.

both of them are such opposites it just works out somehow and i really love that for them.

ok so this is really rushed and def not my best work but my brain is so fried rn i can’t think of anything so i hope this works 😭 i’ll definitely do more erasermic hcs later on when i can actually think tho.

[creatingblackcharacters]

i'm a big horror nerd, so i loved the recommendation you had of the BlackHorrorMovies blog. i could literally read movie reviews for hours, you have completely enriched my enclosure.

also a fun occurrence this week: there was a guest speaker (dr. candice wilson, though i don't think she has content online) at my college presenting a talk called "Black horror, Black joy: the fantasy of Black male spectatorship", about exploitation horror and new Black horror. she had *fantastic* points and i wish it was online.

i've brought this up because she actually touched on a lot of topics that you did, and i wanted to thank you for your essay. i'm deeply sorry this website has been hiding your content. your elegant writing skills and digestible essay structures are out here for free while i'm attending professional lectures at a closed campus college. these topics are relevant, they are necessary, and open learning experiences are extremely valuable, especially on this website where i'm sure you've already gotten the brunt of people with very little experience in Black media discussion. we will always appreciate the patience and skill you put into all of your lessons, and i also hope your break was enjoyable. take care.

I'm glad I found something you'd like! And 🤣 look, I try to reach the folks who can't go to the college lectures. But the lectures are still important! I'd teach all this out loud to a class if I could, it'd be kinda fun. Alas. I would have loved to have seen that.

Yeah idk why the site wouldn't let that lesson take off. It was one of my favorites to write fr.

Also, "elegant writing skills and digestible essay structures" 😤🤌🏾🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 you better say that then! I appreciate it! Thank you so much for your kind words in general.

[writingwithfolklore]

Fake it til you Make it (Faking Expertise)

                One of the hardest parts of writing is that we're rarely just writers.. We have to be doctors, magicians, politicians, thieves, masters in chemistry, song writing, theatre, biology. The perfect writer would be someone with a little bit of knowledge about literally everything. As much as I’d love to spend the rest of my life just taking random university classes and learning about whatever I needed for the project I’m working on—eventually I have to graduate and, y’know, pay off student loans.

                So when you’re writing about something you really don’t know anything about, but your character is supposed to (or worse, supposed to be an expert) here’s what I do:

Research what you can

I start with the basics. Vocab lists, beginners classes or articles, and news stories about recent contributions to the field are an easy way to make your character sound like they know what they’re talking about, and also they’re super available to find. Just don’t overuse niche vocab or you’ll lose your readers—if you’re going to use a term or word most wouldn’t know, you can also define it or use context to allow readers to know what it means, stick to a few of these max.

2. Keep it vague

If my characters are learning about something in class that I know nothing about, an easy way to get by this is to start the scene in the classroom with a little intro: “open your textbooks to page 33”, and then focus on something else, “outside shadows stretched long across campus as the sun dove behind the horizon”, then finish it up, “Next assignment is on the fundamentals of linguistics we went over today. Please have it in by next week.”

        Obviously if it’s important you should teach it to the readers too—there’s only so much faking we can do in this area, but this allows you to keep from literally teaching an entire lecture within your story and is going to help you keep interest and control your pacing.

3. It’s okay if you fib a little

The truth is, most of your readers aren’t going to be experts or professionals in whatever you’re writing about either. When we read fiction, we’re reading from an understanding that the things within it aren’t realistic or stretch and exaggerate the truth. If you make some things up about the topic you’re writing about, few will notice, many less will care. It doesn’t have to be perfectly accurate, we’re here for the story, not to study for our next exam.

                If you have the basics, the base of knowledge, but build fiction or magic off of that, it will be convincing enough while saving you from spending too much money getting a masters in your topic.

                Good luck!