#Then email my teacher and let him know why I'm not there when I said I'd try to be there

[merkerlerspeaks]

Think I had a breakthrough with something tonight. No I will not elaborate.

[thefaefiction]

In Too Deep. [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston x Reader GENRE: Smut !! WARNINGS: Age gap, teacher x student relationship, smut, daddy kink, praise, piv sex, choking, degradation if you squint, aftercare, fem!reader, written with a chubbier reader in mind but it's not obvious, also the beginning is rushed SUMMARY: After developing an intense relationship with your English professor Mr. Hiddleston, you both are in too deep to let it go to waste.

A/N: im not gonna lie i had no clue how to actually begin this fic because it's literally just an excuse for me to indulge in my delusions so sorry that the first couple paragraphs are weird and rushed </3 also the school email domain is fake idk if it's real don't pay attention to it LMAO

Your obsession with your English professor was no secret to your friends. Elio, your long term best friend and dormmate, has had to interrupt you from your delusions on more than one occasion which was already one too many -- whether that be purposefully failing a paper to see him after class, wearing a skirt far too short and dropping a pencil in a calculated manner in front of him, or staring at him a little too intently during lectures -- it was becoming a problem.

In the professor's multiple classes of forty-some-odd students, there really were only a few that were delusional enough to believe they could sleep with their teacher. The difference between you and them was that you were patient with your actions and the effects it had on him.

Ultimately your patience paid off, as one Friday you received an ominous email with the heading titled 'Make-up Work' from a particular 'thiddleston@ccu.edu.' In the details, he simply requested your presence at a disclosed location only ten minutes from campus on Sunday. It was not an office nor a dorm, but a house.

It wasn't long before his intentions were made clear when you arrived; his eyes dark with lust and a half buttoned shirt upon opening the door.

"(Y/N)," He welcomed, cocking his head and shutting the door behind you. "Lovely to see you."

"Pleasure's mine," You reply, never breaking eye contact. You slide your coat off and he takes it in his hands, hanging it up for you. You knew where the night was going to end -- inviting a student to talk not just outside of office hours, but in the professor's home, is not something usual.

"I thought we could discuss an appropriate way to help get your grade back up in my class," He begins. His eyes look down for a moment, observing your obviously risqué attire. "Do you have an idea as to what way that might be?"

He was going to make you say it. There was no way around it. Still, you decided to entertain his antics until it was made painfully and obviously clear he was trying to get you to say what you know he wants you to say.

"I think," You start, voice beginning to shake. The confidence you had starting this endeavor was suddenly challenged. "I think one-on-one time is certainly needed." You press your lips together in a line.

He hums, taking an agonizing step closer. He looks down into your eyes, furrowing his brows and letting out a soft laugh. "I'm not dumb, (Y/N)," he retorts. "I know you're a smart girl. You're excellent, actually -- some of the best writing from all of my classes combined." The professor stops, taking a step back to his original position. "So why are you really here?"

A moment of silence.

"You know why," You sheepishly croak out.

"Flatter me by saying it, then." He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting for you to speak.

"I want you to fuck me."

With the words already said, there was no going back. Your chest sunk, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up and beginning to eat away at your skin. All of those feelings were put to rest the second your professor spoke: "Was that so hard to ask, love?"

Professor Hiddleston turned on his heel, two fingers signaling you to follow him like a lost puppy. He led you down a long hallway in painful silence, finally twisting the knob to a door that revealed his bedroom. It was sleek and clean, covered in shades of black and gray with no mess dared to be left out.

He shut the door behind you and immediately began unbuttoning his shirt, holding your gaze with his light eyes. "Quickly," He commented. "I don't like waiting."

Your face flushed, embarrassed at his demand. You looked away and lifted the hem of your shirt-

"You will look at me," He orders, finishing the last button. "With how bold you are in my classroom I would've thought you'd take more control," He pokes, smirking. "Who would've thought you're just a shy little girl desperate for attention from her professor?"

Your thighs squeezed together, you're sure it doesn't go unnoticed as he grins the moment it occurs. You lift your top off as he watches, simultaneously beginning to unbuckle his belt. The sound makes you shiver.

"Good girl," He praises. You shiver in response.

As he tosses his belt to the side, you begin sliding your skirt off, letting it fall to the ground and pool at your feet. Your professor mimics with his slacks, walking closer and caressing your cheek. "Bed."

You obey, laying down on his duvet as he crawls up your body, sending shivers down your spine. "Professor-"

"Tom," He corrects. "No need for formalities at this point, yes?"

You blush before continuing. "Tom, are you sure?"

"I've been sure since the first time you tried to tease me in class," He replies. "I don't think you understand that I think about you every fucking night in my bed, about the things I would do if I were just able to have you."

You smile, your confidence returning almost instantly. "You have me, sir."

Tom grunts in the back of his throat, his body towering over you as he tears your underwear off, the cracking of the seams startling you. Immediately his hands find your sex, running his hands over it and around your thighs. His hands diligently run under your back, you arch, giving him easier access to remove your bra.

"God, you're stunning," He whispers before connecting his lips to yours. He pulls on your face, his teeth making contact with your lips and bruising their pink color in moments. As he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your mouths and you squirm beneath him.

Tom sits up and begins removing his boxers. The tent in them is noticeable -- and horrifying. You can tell he's big even without seeing it.

Not like you've thought about it before, though.

Now completely undressed, he puts his hands under your waist and drags you forward with a grunt. His hands dig at the fat of your hips and travel along your plush thighs, a moan escaping your lips as his fingers dance on your skin.

"Does my little girl need her professor's cock?" Tom provokes, sliding his shaft between your folds -- up and down, up and down, up and down.

You whine, nodding eagerly in hopes to get him to just put it in already, but your meek noise wasn't good enough for him. "Use your big girl words, darling." He puts his thumb and pointer finger against your chin, urging you to look at him him; eyes burning through your skull.

"Daddy," You spit out too quick, back arching. "Please, need you inside of me so bad!" The sheer volume of your pleas and the new title takes Tom aback, yet his cock ached with every sultry word you spoke.

"Good girl," He praises, grinning at you beneath him. You watch as he inserts himself, pressing just the head into your heat. You let out a guttural moan, eyebrows furrowing in a lovely mix of pain and pleasure. He begins slowly easing himself into you further, inch by agonizing inch, until he completely bottoms out; releasing a groan as his head lolls back. "God, you feel so good princess," He praises, "Taking me so so well, yeah?"

His words struck a chord within you, forcing a smile on your face. You whimper, brain not being able to form a complete thought at how deep he was inside you and how just damn good it felt. He was much bigger than anyone you'd taken before by a longshot. Your walls clenched around him and he laughed, cock twitching inside of you. He slowly slides back, leaving just the head in, and then pushes forward quickly, earning a loud, needy, moan from your lips. "Look at you, so drunk on me, hm?" He says, pulling back and then ramming himself deep into you, bruising your cervix. "Tell me what you want, doll. What is it you need from daddy?" He teases, never averting his eyes from your gaze.

"Please," You whine, "Need you to to move, need daddy to make me come!" And without hesitation, he picks up the pace, rapidly fucking you while his hands grip the headboard. You can hear it hitting the wall, and suddenly you're glad he has a house instead of an apartment. The noises you're making are obscene, something any practiced Catholic would need to cross themselves after hearing. "Feels so good daddy!" You spit, earning a groan from him.

Tom turned almost animalistic during sex; his grunts sounding more and more like growls as he fucks you brainless. "Fuck!" He moans, taking a hand off of the wood above you. He quickly puts his free hand on your throat, squeezing and forcing your eyes to meet his once again. "Like being choked by daddy, yeah? Like daddy to make you feel powerless, hm?" He smirks, observing the visual pleasure and shock on your face.

You're so close, you can feel yourself on the verge of your orgasm, and his dirty talk was pushing you even closer. The hand on your throat squeezed, and you clenched down on him, causing Tom to curse under his breath. "Want your cum daddy," You squeak out, "Pleasepleaseplease!" You mumble in strands of pleasure.

"Feel so good," He praises. "Come for me, be a good girl and come for daddy, yeah?" He was fucking you hard, and fast, and he still managed to pick up the pace. His skin slapped against your skin, filling the room with hard smacks and grunts and moans; endless strings of 'daddy' and 'good girl' running from both of your lips.

"Want you inside me daddy," You choke out. Your head lolls to the side and bounces against the pillow, a lazy smile forming on your face. "P-please!" You whine.

That pushed Tom over the edge. He was too far lost in himself, leaning down and growling into your ear. "Ask and you shall receive," he teases.

As if on cue, you both come together, the wave of pleasure rushing over you both. You could feel his warmth filling you up, leaking down your heat and spilling onto his bed. "Fuck, Y/n!" He grunts, "Took me so so well little girl."

You couldn't think, let alone speak. Tom stayed inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, not wanting the feeling of your sweet sex to leave him. He took his hand off of your throat and stroked the site, soothing the redness with a sultry kiss. You hummed in response, letting your body fall limp. After a few moments, he pulled out.

About three things Tom was absolutely certain: One, he should’ve never become romantically entangled with one of his students. Two, engaging in this behavior put his entire career in jeopardy due to it being wildly illegal. Three, he was, without a doubt in his mind, unconditionally in love with everything about you.

As you laid on his chest, foreheads drenched in sweat and bodies stuck together, you felt more at home than you'd like to admit. One hand messaged your back, drawing figure-eights on your skin, and the other pet your hair, occasionally drawing his lips close to kiss the top of your head. You burrowed your head into him, clinging onto his body. He grinned.

"I should've never let it go this far," Tom said, his voice raspy and deep with post-sex clarity, "but I'm afraid I'm in too deep to give it up now." He let out a low laugh, your head bouncing with his chest.

You smiled. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to return to normal after this," You commented, "and, well, not to be dramatic but having sex with your professor twice your age does things to you." Tom chuckled, looking down at you and tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

"This is all so wrong," He mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows and pressing his lips together, "And yet I wouldn't have it any other way." He pressed a kiss to your lips, the kind of kiss that left a permanent stain of love and lust on your mouth. It was deep, meaningful, and romantic. Tom stared at you, taking in your features and basking in each and every one. "You are breathtaking, darling."

You hid your face in his neck, attempting to suppress the toothy grin you'd almost shown him, however he pulls your head up with his pointer finger and thumb, admiring your rosy cheeks. "Poor baby, so sensitive to my compliments," He jests, letting out a low hum.

You roll your eyes at him. "It's not my fault that daddy somehow knows all of the words that light a fire in me," You emphasize on the word 'daddy,' which forces what sounded like a groan from the back of his throat. "I don't want to go," You admit, falling back into his embrace.

"I know love," He says calmly, stroking your hair and pulling you into him tight. "We can stay like this as long as you'd like, but eventually I'll have to bring you back."

You hum into just chest. "Just a little bit longer," you say to Tom. "I'm still recovering."

⟡

When you arrived back at your dorm, much later than you anticipated, Elio looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. "Back so soon?"

"Shut up," You laughed, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking off your shoes. You wobbled into the dorm, legs still sore and threatening your balance. Clearly Elio had noticed this, as the first thing he said after greeting you was "Well aren't your movements suspicious," and your cheeks flushed red. "I do not need to explain my late night endeavors and my later night actions," You began, "But,"

"But..?" Elio lead, leaning forward in his seat.

"But." You ended, pressing your lips together with a hidden grin and nodding your head.

"No!" He gasped, smiling widely and clasping his hands, putting his chin on the top of his fingers. "Please tell me everything! Not that I need to know the gory details of your sex life but, like, was he..?" Elio put his hands in front of him, fingers forward, and spread his arms apart.

"Shut up!" You giggled, swatting his hands. "But yes. Yes he was. Very."

"I knew it." He said, shaking his head. "I knew he was packing."

"Not to ruin our gossip but I need to lay down with a heating pad or something because standing is hurting my body," You laughed. "I think that man busted my cervix."

"Okay, TMI," He said, rolling his eyes. "But honestly go get some rest, lord knows you need it for seeing him tomorrow."

You were confused at first, then realized that tomorrow you had Tom for English, and you had absolutely no idea how you were supposed to face him when the night before he had you moaning 'daddy' and railed you into oblivion. But that was an issue you could deal with tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully.

ⓒ THEFAEFICTION, 2023. DO NOT TRANSLATE, REPUBLISH, OR CROSS-POST WITHOUT EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[d3athmaskd1v1n3]

Hello, welcome to the Yandere side of fanfic! I have seen your first fanfic, and it is good! Can you write another one with Dr.Crane as a psychology professor who takes an interest in his quiet student and decides to kidnap her one day because he feels he is the only one who truly knows her?

Case study

Johnathan Crane x Fem!reader

(Squueeeee! My first request! I hope you like it. I took a few creative liberties with it, I hope you don't mind. I got to writing as soon as I got the request.) (TW! Kidnapping and inappropriate student/teacher dynamics)

She was a good student, but she was… spacey. One could call her meek, odd, quiet, like she'd shatter and break at any moment. She had the demeanour of a prey animal.

She would often space out during lectures, lost in her daydreams. Because of this, she often asked her professors to repeat themselves. As you could imagine, plenty of professors found (Y/N) annoying, but Professor Crane was different. He took his status as an educator very seriously, and almost seemed delighted to help (Y/N).

The small chats they had after class, the emails she’d send to him to inform him she was late, the questions she’d ask during lectures, it all painted the image not of a dimwitted girl, but of one who was clearly intelligent yet far too…

Fearful.

It was elementary to deduce that was the source of his obsession. Fear was his domain. It's what his research was built on. To see somebody who's natural state of being seemed to be that of trepidation was like dangling a piece of meat in front of a hungry dog.

“I'm sorry for asking too many questions during class today, sir.” she said one day after an especially lengthy lecture. “I didn't mean to drag it on like that. I know I must have ticked off the other students.”

“It's quite alright, Ms. (L/N). In fact, I was glad to see you speak up more.” he smiles as he reassures her. He isn't the most handsome man, being rather tall, gaunt and gangly, but his words and his smile filled her with a warm, comforting feeling.

“You did?”

“Of course! It makes me happy to see young people who are so eager to learn.” he paused for a moment, the gears in his head turning.

“You know, I find it interesting how quiet you are. You're an intelligent young woman, yet you go about your day constantly worrying about the thoughts and feelings of others. Tell me, Ms. (L/N), why is that?”

That question made (Y/N) falter for a minute. It came out of left field.

“To be honest, I don't know. I’ve always been like this, I guess.” she answered.

“Most people don't know why they do the things they do, or act the way they act. They simply believe it's in their nature. I disagree, however. People tend to learn unconscious lessons in their childhood that carries into how they behave in adulthood.” Crane explains.

“Yes, yes, I know. We’ve covered this in class, remember?”

“Of course I do, Ms. (L/N). I'm merely thinking out loud, you see.”

“You're wondering what happened in my childhood that taught me to be so flighty?” (Y/N) asked. This made Crane let out a soft chuckle.

“Always quick to follow, aren't you? I like that about you.”

“So what is your guess?”

Crane liked how bold she’d become when they spoke one on one. Seeing her come out of her shell made him feel prideful.

“You were bullied and your teachers didn't do anything about it. Because of this, you learned to keep your head down and not to complain when things go badly for you.” Crane replied with confidence. “You learned that other people are out to get you. That anyone can be a potential bully. Those who aren't bullies are enablers, and enablers are always those who have authority, like your teachers.”

“That's pretty specific. Suspiciously specific.”

“Did I get it right?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath before nodding. It was eerie how spot on he was.

“I'm a psychologist. I know how these things work. I also get the feeling you have had your brain picked before. Have you ever gone to see a psychiatrist?”

Again, he’s spot on.

“Yeah… I’ve been to my fair share of psychiatrists.”

“I thought so. You have a unique mind. It's a shame people dismiss you.”

She couldn't lie, hearing him say that makes her feel happy.

With that, she quickly and politely said her goodbyes and left the lecture hall. Crane lingered there for a while, still thinking, analysing and dissecting everything about (Y/N).

As she got off the city bus and made her way home, (Y/N) felt the November chill hit her skin. It was dark out.

Damn these late classes. She thought to herself.

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

With one swift motion, her assailant grabbed her, putting a cloth over her mouth and nose.

She thrashed about, trying desperately to shake her attacker off of her.

“Deep breaths, Ms. (L/N), take deep breaths.” a familiar voice rings out in the night. Is that…?

Before she can finish that thought, the world around her fades away.

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was the smell of food wafting in from another room. Then, she looked around. It appeared like she was in a guest bedroom. The bed was covered with warm quilt blankets, and the room was nicely yet sparsely decorated. It would have been rather cozy if she knew where the hell she was.

The next thing she noticed was the fact her hands were tied. Shit. She can't do much without the use of her hands. She can't even grasp the doorknob.

She felt panic start to set in. Just what the hell is going on?

The door to the small guest room opened, and Jonathan Crane entered with a plate of eggs and bacon.

“I knew you'd be hungry when you woke up. You slept through dinner last night.”

Last night? So it must be the morning, then.

“I can't eat without the use of my hands.” (Y/N) said. Despite the panic she felt, she had to be smart. There's no use in putting up a fuss if it could get her in trouble.

“Right you are. I didn't want you sneaking off while I wasn't in the room to watch you. You sleep very soundly, you know?”

He set the plate on the bedside table, then untied her hands.

“Now, I know you must be very alarmed, but do not fret, my dear. I’m not going to harm you like my other students.”

“Huh?!” she couldn't even hide your shock at what he just said.

“Oh, surely you've noticed a few of your peers missing from class as the semester went on.”

“I-I just assumed they dropped the class.” she stammered a bit.

“No, no… I merely needed some test subjects for my research. I can't study fear without scaring the living hell out of people, now can I?” he let out a laugh like he just told an innocent joke.

“But don't worry, dear (Y/N). I don't see the use in subjecting you to such a thing.” he watched as she picked up the plate of food and slowly begin to eat. She didn't even feel like eating after hearing your professor just admit to torturing people, but she was hungry.

“Do you like it? I hope you enjoy scrambled eggs. If not, I’ll make sure to make them differently next time.”

“Why aren't you going to torture me?” she asked, setting the plate back down on the table.

“Why? I have much more interesting things to learn from you than how you’d respond to fear. After all, you're always such an anxious mess, aren't you, dearest?” he responded with honey in his words, as if he was talking to his beloved and not his student. “No… I want to know about the rest of you. I want to know the sides of you that even you don't know about. The parts of you that are buried beneath that fear.”

He lifted a hand up to her face, cupping it gently. She looked into his eyes. His eyes were full of warmth, but that did nothing to comfort her at all.

“(Y/N), it's alright. I’ll take care of you…

As long as you let me study you.”

[fandomwritingbit]

Okay what about one where there reader is Michael's new (hot) art teacher and William is just "Michael you need to join the art club immediately" or "well I GUESS if the pta needs help with the spring art festival -"

Hello! This has too so long I'm sorry 😶 Uh I hope this is what kind of thing you were looking for, thank you so much for the request.

Side note it took me so long to figure out what pta was lmao

So,

art teacher (gn)reader x william afton (sfw)

"Well, I'm happy to let you know that Michael is doing really well in my class. He's an absolute pleasure to teach." You smile, looking from the father to the son. The resemblance was more than evident, but their attitudes were opposites, Michael sat as he always did, hunched forward, his hands twisted together, he was scarcely able to hold your eyes for more than a few seconds. His father though took up a lot of room in his chair, his posture reeking of easy confidence and he had no difficulty looking at you. It was moments like this that you could learn a lot about a student’s home life and it was abundantly clear that these two weren’t so close.

"But?" Mr Afton prompted, his tone jovial. He was beginning to understand why his son likes art so much. A lovely thing like you leading the class? Who could blame him? He'd expected some old lady wearing well too many scarfs, glasses on a pearled chain around her neck, not someone like you.

"But,” You can’t help but smile, heat rising to your cheeks, “as I'm sure you've learnt from his other teachers tonight, currently Michael might struggle to meet the entry requirements of universities." As you spoke, you had to work hard to keep your thoughts on track, this man was attractive in a way you didn't expect. He smirked when you paused, and you forced your gaze on Mike. "But as I said to Michael before, we've got plenty of options to boost grades."

Michael spoke up, "Need to join a club or something."

Nodding, you turn to explain why to Mr Afton. "Yeah, certain enrichments can be graded. I'm advocating the art club… He'd get the opportunity to make a portfolio, which Unis love, and I have no doubt he'd excel." The man before you looked bemused, his eyes flicking up from your lanyard to your eyes. 

"And, do you run the art club?"

You grin a little embarrassed, "Yeah, I do-"

The dad chuckles and looks to Mike offhandedly, "Then you should absolutely join." To which he rolls his eyes, partly at his father’s blatant flirting and at the lack of enthusiasm at joining your club.

Mike sighs, "Yeah okay, I'll go."

"Smashing. I'll put you on my register." You pull out the document from your lever-arch folder and quickly jot his name down. Whilst doing so, the man opposite you watches your left hand for a ring and on seeing there wasn't one, smirks from ear to ear.

Once done, you quickly put your hands out in an attempt to stop them from leaving, "Uh, before you go. I'm really sorry to ask, but we're holding an art festival next week and I'm struggling to find some help... would you be willing to lend a hand?'' You automatically feel guilty for asking. Doing so in person put a lot more pressure than a general email, but you were hoping to almost force him. Like you’d tried to with every other parent tonight. 

You catch Michael’s expression, you’d asked him the other day if he had anyone that would want to help out and he’d laughed a little, “Uh no, not really.” he’d said.  You do feel like you’ve gone behind his back a bit, but if you can’t get a few more pairs of hands this festival is going to fall on its arse.

He sat back in the chair, his feet poking out at your side of the desk, "A festival? What exactly would you have me doing?" 

You smile, pleasantly surprised that he was obliging you, "Mainly the setup, it's a lot of stuff to move out to the green. Though of course all-day help would be appreciated, I just don't want to push my luck."

"You already are," he smirks, "when is it?"

"Next Friday, the 19th." Your eyes go wide as you wait for his answer, all the other parents you’d asked tonight had told you that they were working on Friday, as people tend to do, and you have a feeling that he was about to say the same.

He hums, “Friday-” but is cut off by Michael, 

“You work Fridays.” he states, a harsh tone on the words, making you think that he really didn’t want his dad to help you out. 

Scoffing, he shoots his son a look, “Yeah I do.” Before turning his attention back to you, “But, I could skive it.” The expression on his face is hard to place, perhaps mischievous, or sly. Regardless, you panic slightly.

“Oh. No, you don’t have to do that, Mr Afton-”  

He puts his hand out to silence you and it works, you bite your tongue instantly, “I know, but I will. It’s not exactly like I help out frequently.” He’d decided already, either because his son was clearly desperate for him not to do so, or because he’d like to spend a bit of time with you. Let's face it, it was both. And so, you were left with little option but to graciously accept, and you thank him. 

As your student and his father leave, he shakes your hand. “Thank you, Mr Afton. You’ve really helped me out.” Both your hands encase his and it doesn’t occur to you that that is unusual until you do it, heat beneath your face. He flashes you a smirk that makes your blood ice, before nodding. 

“It’s fine really. Should be fun.” 

~

Friday was as manic as you had expected. The second you arrived at the college you were behind, the mass of stalls and pieces of art were absurd to move even with the three others you’d manage to recruit: the head of languages, Martin, a science teacher, Kris and of course, Mr Afton. Another parent was expected but dropped out last minute, adding to the workload. And the people in charge of the stalls and activities wouldn’t arrive until kick-off so to speak.

Surprisingly, Mr Afton was a godsend. Helping you drag the stall skeletons on to the field, well you dragged them, he rather easily picked them up, somehow managing the awkward height and weight without breaking a sweat. 

“Now, you’re just showing off, Mr Afton.” you giggle, trying not to look at the way his arms flexed whilst he carried the objects. You can’t really help it though and try to steal what glimpses you can as the two of you lug 12 stalls outside. If you’d have known he was doing the same you probably would’ve dropped everything and made a fool of yourself, so mercifully he’s much slier with his staring than you are.  

It’s only when you’re done with the moving, the two of you can start decorating, the other workers put on duty setting up the games, things like a ring toss and lucky-dip. You study him for a moment while he’s distracted tying the string of a line of bunting around a nail that probably shouldn’t be sticking out of the stalls, and good lord this man looks a lot like his son. Everything from the dark hair which probably wasn’t as neat as he’d left it this morning, to the shape of his brow, making his eyes look hooded and narrow. The difference was all attitude and experience. You have to glance away when you start thinking about his experience. 

“Ooh what are you looking at? Am I doing it wrong?” he asks, bringing heat to your cheeks at the knowledge that he’d just caught you staring for way too long. He turned his head, looking down the sting, checking to see it wasn’t coming undone or tangled. 

“No, sorry.” your smile hints at your embarrassment, “It just crossed my mind how much you look like your son, sorry.” God you hate the way you’re smiling just because he’s looking at you but it’s completely involuntary. 

He smirks at that, “Well, I am fairly certain I’m his father.” his tone was playful despite the nature of what he was joking about. “I take it you don’t have any kids?” 

“Uh no, no I don't. What gives that impression?” 

“You look well rested.” he walks over to you and crouches down to look in a box at your feet, “And you’re smiling too much.” 

You giggle, “I know.” You rub at your temples, “It’s a nervous thing.” The second you say that you question yourself why, what a weird thing- you feel so awkward. He’s just a man. An attractive man- yes. But just a tall… brooding… handsome… man. 

“And here I was thinking you were just enjoying my company.” he sniggers, bringing you out of your head, it’s been a long time since a bloke had made you all skittish like this. He properly faces you now, searching your eyes. “What’s making you nervous?”

You, you internally answer, quickly thinking of a more appropriate response, “Just uh today. I have a feeling it’s going to be an absolute nightmare.” You drop your eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

You briefly rest a hand on your forehead. “Got no choice really.”

He moves to walk past you but pauses, standing half behind you. “Well, I can stay and help out. If it’s not me that’s making you nervous?” he smirks as he moves away, his voice teasing, riling up some butterflies in your stomach. 

~

He stays, and soon after the others arrive, students flogging their wares and local crafts aficionados, though you have them actually working, you don’t mind Mr Afton drifting around doing a bit here and there. As nice as you find him, he didn’t strike you as someone that would be happy to run a stall on his own. 

Once everything has settled down and the festival is running smoothly, you allow yourself a moment of a break. He finds you sitting on a bench just off the green. There he takes a seat beside you, digging in his pocket for a packet of cigs. 

“You can’t really smoke here, you know.” you laugh as he stops mid action, his lighter half raised.

He shrugs, reasoning “I’m outside.” resuming the act though now watching you for further reaction.

You fold your arms, a grin contradicting the seriousness. You’re well-aware that you weren’t going to stop him. “Still a college… I won’t tell on you though.” 

He chuckles as he takes a drag on it. This was like a flashback to his youth, so he plays his part, “Good. No one likes a sprag.” Man, it’s been a long time since you’ve heard that.

You try to steal a glance at his left hand, wanting to triple check that he wasn’t wearing a ring. Not that you would say or do anything, you just need to know. Not seeing a wedding band wasn’t enough though and the question dances around inside your head.

You finally bite the bullet and spit it out. “You’re not married then, Mr Afton?” you gesture to his hand, to give him context to how you arrived at that. You’d tried to sound like you were making small talk but it failed miserably. 

The mean laugh he lets slip is pure reflex. “No. Not anymore.”He wanted to tease you by asking why you wanted to know, but you’re already flustered and avoiding his direct gaze. 

“So you’re uh…?” you hesitate to finish the question, realising you were jumping to a conclusion. 

Thankfully he finishes it for you, “Divorced? Yeah.” He just loved how you smiled at him in relief there, the amusement evident on his face.

You try to explain why you fumbled that so badly, talking quickly, “Well. I didn't want to say divorced and get it wrong."

“In case…?”

God, your face is hot again, why can’t you just talk normal to this guy. “In case… you know… you were uh widowed or something.” 

“Or something?” he questions again, trying not to laugh at how you were stumbling. 

You put your head in your hands, laughing self-deprecatingly at yourself, “Leave me alone - I’m…” 

“Nervous?”

“A little yeah.” you speak, your face still obscured. “I mean you’ve come and sat with me. I’m just curious why.”  

You don’t need to look to feel the smirk on his face. “Maybe cos I wanted to.” You feel his movement on the bench and look up to catch his gaze, his head cocked to meet your eye line almost perfectly. “You’re pretty, you know. Even with your head in your hands.” 

Your eyes open wide at his bluntness as you try and think of something to say in response. You’re starting to see why Michael was so desperate to keep him away.

[squishyneet]

♥*♡ SUNLIT DAYS ∞:｡ itachi uchiha *. * ·

tw: heavy school-related trauma, emotional abuse/neglect, mentions of chronic illness

Itachi is twelve years old. It's midnight and he scrambles to finish handwriting his essay for history class. He reads it over one last time before tucking it away in his backpack to bring to school tomorrow. He sleeps peacefully knowing it's been taken care of.

_

"Itachi! Get in here!"

Itachi's heart skips a beat and he nearly stumbles as he walks into the kitchen after coming home from school.

"Yes, father?" he whispers, head low and trying to avoid eye contact.

"What's this about you not turning in an essay!?"

"I turned it in, father."

"Was it late?"

"I had written it and forgot to turn it in." That was the same lie he told the teacher when he handed it to her.

Fugaku sighs loudly. "Don't forget again." is all he says before leaving the kitchen.

"Yes, sir." Itachi mumbles, more to himself than anyone else.

_

Itachi is fifteen years old and is sitting at his desk expectantly, attempting to calm his breathing and focus on the assignments in front of him.

"Itachi!" Mikoto barged into her son's room. "Explain to me why I got an email from your teacher saying you have 40 missing assignments!?"

Itachi turns to face his mother in his seat and remains silent.

"How the hell did this happen, huh!?"

Itachi still says nothing.

Mikoto breathes heavily and runs a hand through her hair. "You are going to sit there and do every single one of them. This door is going to stay open, and you are not going to sleep until it's done!"

"Yes, ma'am . . ." Itachi mutters, angry but obedient.

_

Itachi is sixteen years old and he is sitting in his father's office, looking back and forth between the window and his handwritten notes for history. He's not allowed to work anywhere else for the time being. He's got the same song on repeat in his headphones but presses pause when he sees Sasuke walk by.

"Nii-san, what are you up to?"

Itachi looks up and pulls down his headphones. "Working, Sasuke."

"Do you wanna go get something to eat?" Sasuke asks excitedly.

"I don't have time, Sasuke."

"You used to have time . . . hngh." Sasuke leaves the office, feeling dejected.

_

Itachi is seventeen years old and he's got graph papers sprawled out on his bedroom floor as he attempts to design a house as fast as he can.

"Itachi."

"What, Shisui? I'm busy."

Shisui leans in the doorway trying to come off as approachable as possible. "I hear you've been having a hard time in school."

" . . . You're a little too late, Shisui." Itachi remarks, still staring at his paper.

"Itachi, just tell me what happened," Shisui pleads breathily.

"You know what happened, I don't do my homework."

"I mean, what did they say to you?"

"It doesn't matt-"

"It matters to me!"

Itachi sighs and releases the papers in his hand. His lip starts to quiver and his brow furrows as he stays silent.

Shisui swiftly joins him on the floor, embracing him in a hug. "Let me help you, okay?"

A single tear falls while Itachi relaxes into Shisui's body.

_

Itachi is nineteen years old and he's got himself mostly under control while he's in college.

He tries to avoid speaking with his parents and being home as much as possible, electing to spend time with Shisui and Obito instead. He's got more free time nowadays.

"How's it going, 'Tachi?" Obito nagged. "School treating you good?"

Ever since he got a new job, he's been acting like a third parent, not to Itachi's disliking.

"Yeah, school's fine," Itachi responded, gazing up at the sunlit clouds hovering above where they were waiting for their food to arrive.

"You feeling okay?"

"I haven't been feeling too well, actually," Itachi said, squinting at Obito. "I've been having some weird pains all over my body and I can't sleep. I feel tired and I can't focus during the day, too."

"You should go to the doctor. Maybe it's just a vitamin deficiency or something," Obito reassured him.

"Maybe, but I don't think I would have a deficiency."

"I know we have some relatives that have symptoms like those. Hope you're not getting sick."

"Yeah, me too."

[boredcoldandhungry]

Teacher AU pt 2

prev part

Nico decided, right then and there as he stood in front of the entire freshman class during their orientation assembly, that he needed to start saying no to his students.

It started way back in May, right before the school year ended, when Nico was eating lunch with Will in Will's classroom. A few kids sat at the desks eating and chatting amongst themselves while Nico and Will sat at the teacher's desk.

Then Calvin Douglas strutted into the room.

"Ah! There are my favorite teachers!" Calvin loudly exclaimed, scaring the freshmen in the corner of the room.

"Hello Calvin! What can I do for you?" Will asked politely.

"Mr. Di Angelo-Solace... es, woah you guys need a nick name or something. Anyway, as you know I'm going to be senior president of the student council next year," he said, pulling a desk closer to where they were sitting and sitting on top of it.

"Yes I heard, congratulations," Nico replied, giving the student a weary look.

"Yeah thanks, so, I was thinking, for freshman orientation next year, we have them play a game," he brought his hands up to make a dramatic gesture in front of his face, "match the class to the Di Angelo-Solace!"

And after a few harassing emails, Nico ended up standing next to his husband in front of the whole incoming freshman class.

"Okay freshman!" Calvin's voice boomed out of the sound system as he yelled into a microphone standing next to Nico. "Now that you've learned our school chants, we have a game for you guys! The two wonderful teachers standing next to me are both Mr. Di Angelo-Solace. Now they have the same name but they teach wildly different classes and your job is to figure out which is which, okay?"

The freshmen let out a confused cheer. Nico smirked at the visible wheels turning in their heads. The favorite guess as to why they have the same last name Nico had gotten so far was 'Are you guys cousins? Or is one of you adopted and you're brothers?' They lived in Oregon for god sakes you'd think the kids would be able to figure it out.

Nico was brought back to the present by Calvin's voice screaming through the speakers again. "Okay, between the two of them they teach... History! English! Italian! Art history! andddd Journalism!!"

This kid could easily become a demagogue if he ever rose to power. Nico would still probably vote him for president.

"Okay I have these necklaces with the names of the classes on the lanyard, when I point to a teacher cheer if you think that's their class, whoever gets more cheers will get the necklace! Everyone got it?"

Cheers of approval filled the gymnasium and Nico felt Will shift closer to him.

Calvin went through all five classes while simultaneously causing Nico and Will severe hearing loss.

Will ended up with the English lanyard, which was pretty obvious. He was wearing a cardigan for god sakes. He also ended up with art history which made Nico giggle considering the only thing Will knew about art is whatever he picked up from Nico's rants during his college art finals.

The kids almost got Nico right giving him history, Italian, and Journalism. Nico was far too dyslexic to be in charge of the school paper, but everything else was right.

The kids seemed pretty proud of themselves to have gotten most of their guesses right.

"Alrighty give them a big round of applause guys!! We'll start our next game in a second!"

Nico and Will sat down in the teachers section. Will grabbed Nico's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

It was gonna be a good school year.

next part

[veeluvss]

My Girl, Lily Prentiss (3)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"I knew you'd still be here," Rossi sighed, stepping into Emily's office. "Hi Dave," Emily sighed, putting some hair behind her ear. "How are you doing?" "How would anyone be doing right now?" she snapped but then felt bad. "Sorry, I just," she took a deep breath. "How about you head home? Get some rest so you can think clearly," Rossi suggested. "I can't do that," she said, holding up her file. "Work to do." "Have you eaten?" "No, I'm not hungry," Emily replied. "Emily," Rossi said gently, he came around her desk and closed her laptop softly. He sat one leg on the desk, lifting himself up and turned to the raven-haired girl. "This is going to be so much harder if you don't look after yourself," Rossi told her. "I'm fine." "Don't bullshit me," Rossi said, so calmly. Emily couldn't help but laugh. She leaned back in her chair and turned to him. "I know it hurts. I know it's hard. You need a clear head to get the quickest and best result in finding her. Go home and rest." Emily groaned and nodded. "I can't believe I let this happen. If I'd known they were treating her like-" Rossi stopped her with his hand. "I know. That's why you need to protect her now."

That night, Emily slept heavily, the stress of the day exhausting her. She dreamt of Lily, now. Being her own. She dreamt of waking up to her brunette baby beside her in bed after a nightmare, holding her close, and smelling her hair. She dreamt of taking her girl out to the park, on a walk or out to dinner to treat her. She dreamt of her girl's laugh, her cry, her smile. She dreamt of her having Lily back, as her own.

"Right, if I'm Lily, where would I go?" Morgan asked, standing around the table.

The team had concluded that Lily had originally run away from home however, the lack of contact had been disturbing. The last she was seen was getting in a black SUV outside a gas station, 20 miles from her home. There were two people in the front of the car and Garcia, for the life of her, couldn't trace them or the vehicle. "I'd find someone to love me," Tara said, honestly. "Skyla told me that Lily regularly told Tori she didn't feel loved." "Is that not what she was trying to do online?" Morgan asked, writing it on the board nonetheless. "A young girl reaching out for validation on her body is very different to finding someone to love her," JJ explained. "Perhaps she had a boyfriend." "All of her chats I could find were all her deals, none of them even slightly resemble a relationship," Garcia shrugged, tapping on her laptop. "Could she have had a boyfriend in person?" "Her teachers doubt it, she spoke to no one. When she was in school that is." "What about out of school?" "Again. Everyone agrees they've never seen her with other people." The group went silent, all deep in thought. "Has anyone spoken to her biological parents?" Reid asked, suddenly thinking. JJ nodded, "Prentiss is there now."

Keeping her hands at her side, Emily walked through the prison. She waited for the guard to push open the door then clenched her jaw. Harold Addams. The sight of the man in front of her made her unbelievably angry. He destroyed her life. "Prentiss, Prentiss, Prentiss," he sniggered, folding his arms across his chest. "Long time no see." "Addams," she said sternly, sitting in the chair opposite him. "What did I do to deserve such a pretty reward hm?" He asked. Emily felt sick. "Where's your daughter?" "Lily? Well, shouldn't you know that?" "She's been missing for three days. Where is she?" Prentiss wasn't playing around. "How would I know? I'm locked up." He was answering questions with questions. "Have you been having any correspondence outside these walls?" "Only with you beautiful lady," he glistened, leaning forwards. Emily scoffed, "usless."

Garcia sat in her tech cave, searching through every bit of this girls life. She'd unsealed records, she'd logged into all her accounts, read her messages, her emails, her bank statements. Lily was loaded with sugar daddies and in a normal instance, Penelope would be jealous. She hummed as she tapped away on her computer, trying to find even a trace of some sort of dodgy deals behind the scenes. She groaned, picking up her laptop and heading to the round table. Reid was there with JJ, scoring through the printed documents.

"Doesn't it make you wonder why Emily was so connected to her?" Reid asked, as Garcia sat down. "It was a failed undercover mission, Em was trapped in there with Lily as her only mental escape," JJ explained, shrugging. "She was only seven, she didn't understand," Reid siad, frowning. "That's the point," Garcia said. "It's like me looking at all these baby animal pictures," she smiled and sent them to the screen. She cooed at the fluffy baby cows with flowers in their mouths. "Yeah, her break, her way to realise there was still innocence there," JJ explained.

"Why do you think they used the little girl though?" Tara asked, coming into the room also. "People show a more vulnerable side with kids," Spencer said. "Statistically, 68% of abductions are more successful if a child is involved to lure them in." "So they used Lily as a way to get women to them?" "Yes. That's what they did." Emily confirmed, coming in the room. "They would look after her, bathe her, treat her like a princess and then if she did the slightest thing wrong, her dad would rip them away - rape them so she could hear them and then hand them back all bloody and bruised. If the women did something wrong, he'd beat Lily in front of them." "Jesus," Rossi groaned, taking a seat. "Emily, what role did the brothers have? These cases keep-" "That's it! The brothers!" Spencer said suddenly, standing up. Everyone looked at him. "Richard Addams and Thomas Addams. Look here," Spencer said, grabbing a piece of paper he discarded. It was chats between LILLIL, URB0YISR1CH and TOMCATDADDYRAT. It looked like normal texts to the naked eye but now with an idea on the names, Spencer began circling certain parts of the conversation: 'Gas', 'Law and order', 'back' , 'love', 'daddy's girl'. Every second word made a sentence on it's own. The boys were giving her a meeting place.

"Guys..." Reid said. "They were telling Lily to be at the gas station at 3am in order to avoid the cops and they could stay hidden. They want her to feel the love, the one her daddy gave her." He read out, like a robot.

"What does that mean?" "That means they're just as bad as their father." Emily spat out. "Find who these boys are Garcia," she added, walking away. "Now!"

Emily paced up and down her office. This wasn't possible. Richard was dead. Emily had killed him. She had no idea how it was possible. She remembered hearing Lily's screams and Richard's groans in pains. She could hear Thomas screaming for his brother to move. He begged him to move, to breath. Thomas was praying his brother wouldn't die - not like this. Lily scrambled into Prentiss' lap, assessing her brother with the agent. "Richy," the small girl whimpered, touching the blood pouring from the boys chest. "Get her out Prentiss!" Emily heard one of her team members say and she nodded. She grabbed the girl's weak body. Lily clung to her, hiding her face in her neck as Emily shielded her from the gunfire. They ran through the warehouse, Emily trying her hardest to remember the way out.

Eventually, she escaped into the sunlight and dropped to her knees, cradling the crying girl in her arms. "It's okay sweetheart," she whispered, brushing Lily's bloody hair from her face. Her blonde hair, now splattered in red. "Emmy's got you."

Emily had shot Rich in the chest, they both watched him bleed out. It wasn't possible he was alive now. There was a knock on her office door and she just opened it. JJ stood there, wringing her hands together. Emily let her in, closing the door behind her without saying a word. "We've spoken to Thomas's foster parents, since he turned eighteen, they haven't seem him at all," JJ told Emily. "Okay." "Garcia is running their information, trying to find out anything she can on the boys." "Okay." "Em," "He's meant to be dead." Emily said, staring out of the window. "I killed Richard Addams and now he has come and taken my baby away," she whispered. Her hand rested on her chest and she felt the pain.. "We'll find her Em, and the boys too. They won't get away with this," JJ said, she rested her hand on Emily's shoulder, offering support. "Damn right they won't," Emily said. She turned abruptly and walked out the door, leaving JJ behind in her office.

Tara and Morgan were back at Lily's house, looking for any sort of sign she knew her brothers. They'd searched everywhere they could think of until Morgan got a call from Garcia. "Please tell me you have good news Baby Girl," "She keeps talking about a cabinet." Garcia said. "'I keep special pictures locked in the cabinet for you,'" Reid quoted through the phone. "Okay, what does that mean pretty boy?" "I think the pictures might be some sort of coy. Maybe its information, is there any sort of cabinet there?" Reid asked. Morgan looked around her room, phone at his ear. "Not an obvious one." "What about anywhere else in the house? The Bathroom?" "Why would she keep secret things in the family bathroom?" Derek asked but walked towards it nonetheless. "Nobody will think to look there," Garcia added. Morgan shrugged and investigated the cabinet. Then he saw it, the pill bottle with writing on both sides of the label. Instantly he peeled off the sticker, looking on the back. It was an address. Tara was over his shoulder.

"Let's go." They said together.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ table of contents

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 9

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, possessive behavior, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, explicit language, toxic dom/sub relationship, more arguments

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

A/N 2: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! I'm feeling way better and I'm merging towards my social life as well. I did a litte editing and changing on part 8 where they argued. But it doesn't affect the plot. Feel free to check it out :3 Two more chapters and WT will be completed (I hope I'll get it done by December based on my current speed lmao)

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

From joannaklein@dwightuniversity.edu.cn

Dear all,

I hope this reaches you well. This email is to remind those of you who have yet to submit your form for assigning a supervisor…

You have been looking at this email for quite some time. Opening the link at the bottom of this email too. But you haven’t made a move yet.

You have thought about having Andy as your supervisor, but that idea sounded like a lifetime ago. And now, there’s no way you’d let Andy be your supervisor.

How are you going to face him? This is more than just some misunderstanding from last semester. This is you two breaking up. Broken up. Whatever.

You are not making him your supervisor.

Taking a deep breath, you text a reply to the message your barely-friend Fiona sent you half an hour ago.

Fiona: Are you going to choose Barber as your supervisor?

You: No. Klein.

A few more messages come from Fiona after you send it. But you ignore them, knowing that she’d be asking dumb questions.

No, probing questions like “what are you going to write for your dissertation” or “should I include my pilot study into my dissertation” or other things that she wants to make an impression in front of her supervisor without “borrowing” from your answers first.

Bitch.

You feel like screaming. Which you did, after punching your mattress and burying your head into the pillow. Only lifting your head when you are completely out of breath.

With everything that happened with Andy, Laurie, Fiona and your schoolwork, it feels like nothing could alleviate you from the endless mess of self-doubt and self-hatred. Hating others as well. Hating your friend choices. Hating your boyfriend choices. Hating your school which led you to him. Hating everyone and every being on this very planet.

Hating yourself.

“Fucking hell.” You mumble to yourself. Pulling your laptop close to fill in the form for dissertation supervisors.

Typing word for word of your dissertation title, and selecting “Joanna Klein” as your preferred supervisor.

I hate my life. The idea keeps floating in your head like the obnoxious bubbles in a soda can, spritzing tiny drops of irritating reality into your face.

Andy has just received the email from Joanna Klein to all available lecturers and professors about supervising students in their dissertations.

He found the familiar name – your name – in a heartbeat. Merely sticking out his lips and making what Laurie would call “a bitch face”, as he found your name under the list of students under the supervision of Joanna Klein.

The pure imagination of pulling the strings behind your dissertation, of having a say in what you could not refuse, seeing you writhing under his grasp, gets his blood pumping in his veins.

He’s probably sick to the bones. One brief moment of clarity tells him so. To get high just to watch you struggling in his control. The adrenaline rush of knowing you are helpless, having no one to turn to but him.

He probably needs help.

But who needs help, when you, the most direct and sufficing way of satisfying his hunger, practically serve your weakness on a silver platter?

Andy pulls his chair closer to the desk, makes up his mind, and starts typing on the keyboard.

He is doing what’s best for you.

You might not see it that way for now but…

You’ll understand, eventually.

Andy sits in his office. Waiting. Patiently. Tapping his fingers on the table surface, as he looks out of the window.

It has only been a while, since you last came to his office to deliver his suit and your breakup.

However, things turned rather quickly, as there was no room for argument as the final version of the list containing supervisor and their students to tutor through the dissertation was settled as the last nail in the coffin.

Five students, students that he is going to supervise, are about to enter that door. And one of them being you.

He grins, thinking of the fact that you are tied to him for the rest of the term time.

No use running. He rolls your name on his tongue silently. He’s far beyond any help could ever achieve in pulling him back. He wants you, one way or another.

He’d keep you, treat you like the precious thing he adores, if you behave.

If you do not… well, there are more than a few ways that he can think of to devour you.

He’d keep you, one way or another.

Five students, including you, walked through that door, sitting on the chairs that he prepared. You picked the seat furthest from him, in a small corner. Didn’t make eye contact. No friendly “hello”. No nothing.

He doesn’t mind.

He knows that you are still mad about your little dispute.

He will tolerate it, knowing that you still love him.

He will explain, tell you that he will fight tooth and nail for you. Tell you that you could start over. He was being unreasonable. He was frustrated and angry, and he lashed out on you, that he was sorry about it all.

Later. He will explain later.

Andy clears his throat, folding his hands on his stomach, “Today we’ll start by having a brief introduction of yourselves. You obviously know me, since I’ve taught you all, but I would still like it if you could introduce yourself to each other. You can tell us about your name, something about yourself, and also tell us about what you are planning to write for your dissertation…”

He pays no special attention to you. He comments, nods, and gives useful suggestions based on everyone’s self-introduction.

“I understand I’m asking for a lot of work in a short amount of time. However, I would expect you to produce a general frame of your dissertation by the next meeting, which is two weeks from now. In the framework, you’ll be talking about how you want to approach your topic-” He stops Fiona from scribbling on her notebook, but ignores you who are doing the same. What can he say, he favors you in the smallest of details, “I’ll send you all an email after this meeting for the framework you’ll be writing about. The topic, the details you are going to investigate, the methodology – I’m sure Professor Rifkin has explained this in her class, and also, keep an open mind when you are writing the dissertation, especially for those who are employing a qualitative method to analyze their data. Any questions?”

You are the first to rush out of his office after he declares that today’s session has come to an end.

He waits until the last student has left the floor before heading out.

The entire floor is quiet. Dead. Deserted.

His shoes barely make a sound on the soft carpet as he steps out of his office, finding you on the floor, sitting on the carpet. You have opened your laptop, but it seems blank.

You gain your consciousness when he approaches, looking up at him. A sigh leaving your lips before you speak, “You did this.”

Not a question, but a firm sentence.

You know he was behind this transfer of dissertation supervisors.

Andy neither confirms nor denies. He cocks his head slightly, looking at your tired expression, “You will need to work on your methodology. Your arguments wouldn’t be convincing if you only state the method for your dissertation.”

“Can’t we be those ex-es like friends? Stop torturing each other over the fact that we broke up? Can you just leave me alone?” You take a deep breath, saying the words that you know he will be disapproving of.

He takes a seat on the couch in the open space, about three feet from where you are sitting, but he doesn’t have to put extra pressure on his neck looking at you from above.

Andy interlaces his fingers into a fist, his thumbs tapping each other.

To tell the truth, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let go of you. Couldn’t watch you go away.

“Look-” Seeing him unresponsive to your plead, you change your tactics, switching into defiance, “If you want to be a bitch about our relationship, I will have to put in a request to the faculty about changing my supervisor.”

Andy lets out a cold, hard laugh. Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Andy “kindly” tells you about the regulation that runs around the place: “Nice try getting rid of me, sweetheart. But even if you do, and that’s a big ‘if’, you would still have to write your dissertation, and during scoring, your dissertation would be assigned to lecturers based on your topic. And I know all your topics, sweetheart.”

Your lips visibly tremble in fear, so are your arms, “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” His tone turns sharp, “I can put an A into your months of work, or an F. Your choice.”

“Yeah? And what should I do for an A?” You shut your laptop with a loud snap, jumping from the spot on the floor to your feet. Clenching your teeth and hissing like venom burns your mouth, you challenge him even further, “Suck your dick, Professor Barber?”

“Be nice, sweetheart. I’m trying to be a friend.” Andy narrows his eyes, the threat in his tone is evident, “First of, I suggest you to be respectful when talking to me.”

You glare at him with fire burning in your eyes.

“I'm not a monster, sweetheart. But if you poke me like that, I don't mind putting a little discipline inside that pretty little brain of yours. Try to stay on my good side, yeah?” Andy stands to his full height, buttoning his suit jacket as he stands up, casually tugging the hem of his shirt and his tie. After tiding himself up, Andy lifts his hand to caress your jaw.

You jerk your head on instinct but his fingers dig into your neck, reminding you, painfully, of the night that he went overboard and fucked your throat.

His grip softens when he feels you freeze on spot. Tracing his thumb on your jawline, he murmurs, “Remember, sweetheart? I'm your Dom. I tell you something, and you do it.”

“You're not my fucking Dom.” You grit out.

“Still bratty, I see. You're a handful but I doubt there's anything that can't be solved by some punishments.”

His thumb forces you to lift your chin, even so, you refuse to look at him.

It takes you a few seconds to regain your voice, “You can't expect me to whore out myself.”

If that’s what he’s asking.

Andy presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering by your ear, “I don't really mind, sweetheart, as long as it is you.”

Some sense finally comes to you, your body shakes like a leaf in both fear and fury, you try to sound tough, but it comes out no better than a whimper, “I could report you to the board of malpractice.”

“And I have a lawyer friend, honey. He's the best in town. God knows how long a lawsuit can take. 18 months? 24?”

“Honey” was usually meant for Laurie, but he is beyond caring which endearment belongs to whom at this point.

“You're ... evil.” You want to move, but you cannot, not when he’s still having an iron grip over your neck.

“Maybe.” Andy shrugs, letting go of your neck, “Now run along before I do something evil, like fucking you over my desk.”

You pack your things as fast as you can, leaving the place without another word.

The rest of the term time passed in a blur. He attends your graduation ceremony with a heart-felt smile, knowing well that he black-mailed you into accepting his supervision and that you have an impeccable dissertation as he almost looked through every word of it, which probably violated ten faculty rules, if not twenty.

He is still clapping when you receive the graduation certificate from Joanna Klein, while he stands on the side. The next thing he knows, you are rushing towards him with a knife in your hand, carving his chest almost in half and he dies before the ambulance can reach the hospital.

His soul floats in mid-air as he watches everything pans out.

Laurie takes over everything, every property in their marriage.

You are charged with murder, serving your life-sentence in a max-security prison.

And Laurie… Laurie divorced him and marries the man she was having an affair with, decorating Andy’s house into a shit-yellow color, laughing and doesn’t have to worry about the rest of her life since she has all the money, cars, and houses that she could get their hands on…

Andy wakes up screaming.

Panting.

Taking a few seconds to realize that he is not in a ghost state and that he is still alive.

Alive. Awake. In his home. In the middle of the night.

Everything in the dream felt so real. Like it actually happened.

Andy touches his chest, where the skin and flesh are intact.

He is still alive.

He sweated through his sheet.

Another few seconds pass and he stays up, hands over his face, recalling the horrible dream.

The absolute nightmare where he told Joanna to switch you to his-

Shit.

He pulls himself over the bed and snatches his phone from the nightstand, checking his email.

The sudden blue light from his phone has him cursing. After flipping over his inbox and finding that he received the email of supervising students yesterday, but hasn’t made a move yet, he lets out an exhale of relief.

He groans and lies back to the bed. His heart still pounding frantically.

A string of curses flies out of his mouth.

Rest assured that he is not going to pull a favor and get you assigned to him.

But he wants you so bad.

How can he live when he wants you so bad and he pissed you off by saying the most harmful things that could be ever said to you?

Tag List: @geminiflanagansblog @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @nouk1998 @sarahdonald87 @charmed-asylum

[foster-the-world]

Onward and Upward

Last day of school. Onward to 3rd grade, 2nd grade and 4K. Can't believe she's going to be a "big kid" in the 3rd grade. They grow up so fast, its goes too fast, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah.

They were happy this morning. Certainly no learning will take place today. Bee's teachers is bringing her 9 and 13yo. Bee loves, loves, loves the 13yo. Our flight to my parents house is 8pm tonight. Got an email that we could change for free due to bad weather. It looks like maybe the storm is coming in later. Fingers crossed.

The girls had their awards ceremony last week. Disappointingly 2nd grade only did "you completed 2nd grade" awards for everyone. Lame. 1st grade had individual awards but they were generic - leadership, academic excellence. Rebel won both big awards because she's a teachers pet type. I had to miss because I don't have vacation hours at work. My husband said all of the kids were really excited for each other. I loved, loved Bee's teachers awards last year. Every kid got two very specific awards. They were very, very sweet and captured each kid beautifully. The kids tried to guess who she was talking about and they were 100% correct because the teacher really understood each kid so well. I had tears in my eyes. One of my favorite things is to see my kids being known and loved by other people. I wondered if it would be less so with a kid who has much more challenging behaviors. But nope. Baby boy was very well loved and known this year also. His teacher sent me a long text message about how much she is going to "miss her boy." She also sent a ton of pictures that capture him really well. Bee wrote "You are a great teacher. You treated me like family" in her teacher's card. So sweet. Teachers gifts sent off (flowers + gift cards). Feeling relieved to have all of the end of school year stuff over with.

I'm enjoying Clair Lombardo's books. I got a bunch of new books for baby boy on hold at the library. Found some about personal space. He's more of a crasher into other people so I'm not sure it will translate but let's see. His social skills class finished yesterday. If insurance paid we would keep sending him but I don't think its worth the steep price for what he got out of it. He understands social rules he just doesn't always follow them. They have a summer camp - nice to know for future reference.

The ADHD parent coach has given us some good suggestions we are trying out. We mentioned taking him to stores is difficult. He wants to run around and touch everything. I think it would work better in the suburbs where they have carts. In NYC we try to hold his hand while holding all of our purchases. Stores are smaller so less space for him. Anyway, he suggested we try it when we don't actually need to buy anything. That way we have time to set rules for him (stay near us, don't touch everything) and can leave if he's not following through. We are also going to put him in charge of finding one item. He can then buy/keep the item if he follows all of the rules. He gets three warnings. Normally we only take him when we have to buy something so we can't follow through with the threat of leaving if he doesn't listen. Not sure why we didn't think of this before. Fingers crossed some practice will help him/us out.

His sitter said he is interested in reading the pamphlets/how to's from the ADHD parent coach. Which is appreciated. Once again thankful to have so many people who want my kid to succeed.

His sitter owns a backpack company. Such a cool idea. They are really high quality: https://shiftbackpacks.com/ I'm really hoping they go viral at some point. I suggested he try to get in the NYC private school circuit. Those rich people have money and are all about letting their kids express their emotions.

Bought my husband (and I) tickets to Sturgill Simpson in October for his Birthday. Birthday present done and I get to see a concert = yes, please.

[theliterarywolf]

Oh my God it happened! I had my first ever Karen parent encounter today. Wolfy! *kicks door open* Holy FUCK!

Story Time.

It's spring break so we're doing room by room detailing (Custodian Guard!), not quite the deep scrub of Summer where it all smells new at the end but more like doing a solid once over with a vacuum and a pleather touch-up

I have the fire doors at the end of the hall closed since the school technically is open but they're not supposed to go beyond the office without a chaperone. I hear this ungodly banging. Like someone is trying to actually break through a union rated fire door. I was shown the mess of where one of the SpecEd kids had a sensory over load and wigged. Ended up running body first into the door and then puking all over it from the pain of...something or other. I heard collar bone and also dislocation and also head trauma. I DIGRESS! Bang, bang, bang. At the door Wolfy! I go see WTF and poke my head out. This 5 foot something of a pants suit wearing business woman with a fucked up hawk cut (looked kind of like that ugly fug from the Lorax) rips the door from my hand and barges past. THIS FUCKING BITCH ignores me as I keep pace demanding to know what in the world she thinks she's doing. She stops at a locker, points, and tells me to open it. I said No. And oh NO, uh oh, round the fucking merry go round we go! This bitch explodes! "This is my child's locker and if it's my child's locker its my locker now open it!" Or some such. Honestly she was pitching into my tinnitus and I just started tuning her out. Shrills of property rights, and police, and I let her wear her self out when the door opens again and there's my HoF, El Jefe. It's spring break, the HBIC up behind the big desk put him in charge. He already looks like he's ready to take his crock off and knock her block off LA CHANKLA style.

No, he's a true working class gentlemen. Friendly, but authoritative; assertive, but even handed. Asks her how she got in, what she was doing, why she was doing it. Would not let her talk over him. She accused me of cursing. I said check the cameras. We go and see the display in the security office and since our cams capture sound as well everyone got to see an awesome rendition of Cotton Candy complete with booty dance (I'm doing my job I don't give a fuck), before we find out she had tried the office, they denied her entry, so she just went looking for an unlocked door and barged her way past a delivery that was in progress, made her way to my hall, and began knocking, pounding, then attempting to break her way through the fire door and her entire tirade is caught on persistent media device. Nobody clapped because this bitch is throwing insults at everyone. Then I found out WHY she was so upset. I said I was going to explain that I couldn't open anything without my bosses approval, but she launched into a fit and that's when El Jefe showed up. So we call the HBIC and she's pissed because she's using actual vacation hours to ensure a spring break for her kids and tells us to take security and open the locker. Kid was vaping. Cart box fell out soon as I opened the locker. Peaches n Cream cool hit single cart. 10 year old kid. Fuck. I know I did nothing wrong but I told her I understand her shock and empathized any ways. Knowing that your kid is doing nicotine and god knows what else from these prepackaged crap packets. Security takes pictures, emails are sent, CC'd, forwarded, in duplicate, witness statements, police were called but no charges pressed she was just walked off the premises with little coaxing. I think she was just processing at that point. Found out later through the break-room telephone that the kid ended up in a local Psych hospital...I honestly feel worse for the kid knowing that. The places we have in this town are just...fucking scams.

See, you got the 'fun' unhinged Karen, I always got the 'how dare that teacher say something not perfectly squeaky clean to my precious baby! I demand to be let on campus so I can beat her ass at ONCE!' Karens.

Even though the 'not perfectly squeaky clean' comments were:

High School - *in response to a kid shouting 'I like my bitches silent' across the classroom several times during class'* "You probably shouldn't call someone else a bitch when you're acting like a bitch yourself, now get out.'

Middle School - *in response to a kid being disrespectful and saying that they don't even want to be in school* "You know, back when I taught high school, sometimes the best advice I could give to people with your point of view was 'maybe you should just drop out'."

*in response to the class refusing to settle down after utilizing literally all of the school's call-to-actions and calls-for-silence* "Okay, I want it as silent as a corpse in here, thank you..."

But, I have to say, I was laughing at your Cotton Candy booty-shaking antics... Then I got sad near the end.

[lokiforever]

New teachers at school!!!!

Chapter 10

Series Masterlist

A/N: Greetings,midgardians!So,my lovely mortals as many of you know, following the results of the poll JK's role is now officially switched to a student. Tom will be teaching History and English.....

Nyt!💚

Y/N : Stay, please!

You said in a low, meek voice. His heart clenched at the sight of you so sad and troubled.

Tom : I'm right here, sweetheart.

He said and sat back down on the bed and once he was one hundred percent sure that you're back in your slumber , he got up and laid on the couch in the room . Just in case you get another nightmare, though he sincerely hoped you don't .

He had to admit ,this nightmare got him wondering that what so bad happened to you because of which you get those awful nightmares. He was pretty sure about the fact that they're connected.

-----------------------

You woke up by your mobile alarm, only to find ,Tom, peacefully sleeping on the couch. Always a gentleman. You didn't exactly remember what happened last night....but he was there with you,that much you could recall. You felt a bit bashful, now that you think of it ....he was your professor afterall 🤷🏻.

There was a text from Y/B/F/N....

" Hey!! I'll be staying at Jungkook's ..."

"Hey! Amazing!Sorry for replying late, At Tom's ..... 😅". You replied

You got up , as quietly as you could, didn't want to wake your professor up from his deep, peaceful slumber . As you tip-toed your way towards the door, you decided to make some breakfast for you two . So, you went down to the kitchen and started cooking.

You decided to make a proper English Breakfast with a cup of Earl grey. Humming a tune to yourself , you started cooking.

*After 20 minutes*

You felt a pair of hands on your waist and if it wasn't for the fact that you could recognise him just by his scent you'd have beaten the man up . 😅 Just a reflex after that incident because of which you get the nightmares.

"Good morning, darling!" You heard Tom's angelic voice, it sounded deeper as he just woke up.

He placed a kiss on your neck which made you smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart! Breakfast is almost done!"

His heart skipped a beat at the name , you never call him that.

"Mmmm.....I can already smell the delicacy you're whipping up ! What's on the menu?" " Classic english breakfast with a cup of your favourite Earl Grey tea !" you replied. "That sounds wonderful!! Let me help you set the table!" he offered politely. "Sure, thanks!"

As he helped you set the table up, you plated the breakfast.

"Bon appétit !!"

A contented moan escaped his lips as he took the first bite and hell if you wouldn't kill to hear that sound again....

" Mmmm ....you are an amazing cook , darling!! It's the best breakfast I've ever had! Scrumptious!!" He praised you with a heart warming smile.

" I'm glad you like it, Tom !! But hey - you yourself are a great cook !" you said . "Not as good as you!" He protested "Oh, come on!" you chuckled , a blush rising up your cheeks.

"Holy Shit!!! WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE !!!!!" you said as you looked at the time. "Late to what, darling?" He said, totally clueless. "COLLEGE!" You replied. For some reason, he started laughing. " Why . Are. You. Laughing. Tom !!????" Somehow, this made him laugh even harder. " You didn't check the emails , did you?? " He said.

As you picked up the phone, you saw an email from your college informing that all the classes are cancelled for this week. "Ohh.......... sorry" you said , completely crimson from blushing. "It's perfectly fine, dear! Plus, do you know that you look cute when you're angry?"

This made you blush even harder, if that was possible......."Come on !!!" you said.."I'm merely stating what's true" said he . This made you chuckle, "Thank you, sweetheart!"

*After the breakfast*

"Y/N ??" He said while you were making a presentation on your laptop for a project ...so, you hummed in response. "Uhh.... If you don't mind me asking......" he trailed off, so you looked him in the eye and asked - " What is it that's bothering you, Tom ?" " It's just.....last night......as you were having that nightmare, you were asking me to tell someone to stay away....... who's that ?" he inquired, his voice full of concern.

You felt like your heart has stopped beating, your face went pale and you started sweating. "Uhh..........unmm...I-I .......i-it....." you tried to say something but failed as you felt a lump in your throat.

"Hey - Hey , it's fine, darling! You don't need to tell me if it troubles you ! " He got up and brought some water for you . "Here, have some water " ......

"I'm so sorry for the sudden outburst..... it's just - " you tried to explain, only to be interrupted by him "It's okay sweetheart, you don't need to explain!" He softly stated. "Wanna watch a movie?" he asked to distract you from that grief of the nightmare.

"Sure!" you said. Both of you then proceed towards the home theatre he had.

"Choose the genre, dear " he said. "Umm ....... what about a thriller or maybe even horror?" you suggested. "Up for a thrill , are we ?" said he .

You guys decided to go with "The Shining" a classic. He even made some popcorn and got a few cans of cold-drinks .

*Sometime into the movie*

You clutched onto Tom for dear life and hid your face against him as one of the scariest scenes came . The fact that you were watching it for the first time didn't help at all . "Do you want me to put something else?" He cooed slowly. "No, it's fine, thank you for asking!'

*After the movie*

"Good Lord , that was amazing, awfully scary.... but amazing!" You chimed in to which he chuckled, "I'm glad you like it, darling!" He said and kissed you on the cheeks which made you blush. You did not see that coming.

"Oh my ! It's 12:30pm !! I must go now!" you exclaimed. "Please stay for lunch..." said Tom. "Trust me, Tom ... I'd love to but I really have to go..." ofcourse, he did try to make you stay but you had to go .... " ........fine ! Let me drop you, at least!" "That would be a great help!" you said. " Oh come on, darling!"

*After the he dropped you off*

You were still sitting in his car , in front of your apartment...... which was apparently locked . Y/B/F/N must still be with JK.....

"Tom?" "Yes, darling.." "Would like to join me for lunch, please?" "I'd love to, darling, but as you know the weather conditions are rather.... harsh. I better get going before it gets worse." He said refering to the windy weather.. "But-" you were interrupted by his lips on yours ...."Some other day, darling, I promise" he said.

"Okay......." you said, not fully agreed. "Come on, like I said, it's a promise!" he said and chuckled. "Fine. I must go, then..." you replied. "What if you grab your essentials and stay at mine?" he suggested.

Chuckling, you said, "Tom, I..umm...you know, I....I can't...plus Y/B/F/N would be alone if I do so.... thanks though " you smiled ... "Okay......but text me if you need anything, no need to go out in this wheather" 'Okay, so it's official. He is the sweetest man in the universe.' you thought.

"You're so sweet !!!!!!!" you said, placing a kiss on his cheeks and you could swear you saw him blush. 'and the cutest too' you continued your previous thought.

"I'll get going, now . Bye, Tom" "Goodbye , darling!" You opened the gate of his car and stepped out, waving to him one last time before making your way towards the door of your apartment.

After a few minutes your best friend also returned.

"Y/N , I'm home !" she called out . "Oh, hey !! How did it go ?" you said. "AMAZING!!!!" She exclaimed. "Well, that's great. But I need the whole story" you said and chuckled. "Done!" said your best friend, chuckling.

The next few days went normally.

Time skip......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*MONDAY*

You were qurrently getting ready for the classes and the first one was English.

Outfit of the day👆🏻

You paired your dress with a black overcoat as it was cold outside.

"Let's go, shall we?" you asked your best friend. "Totally" she replied.

On your way, you guys grabbed a cup of coffee and headed towards your destination...

English Lecture

You sitting on one of the front benches with your best friend. You both were a bit early so no one else was there yet .....as you took a sip of your coffee, you heard the door open and what you saw made you choke on your drink.....

"Good morning, professor" said your best friend. "Good morning, Miss Carter. Um, Y/N you okay?"

You could almost sense a smirk on his face at your obvious reaction.

Okay!? The man literally changed his hair colour and then he's asking you if you're 'okay' ? As if he wasn't already enough he had to change his hair to Black didn't he? And the cherry on top was the outfit he chose.....a blue knitted sweater with a pair of black slacks.

( they could've been a bit less 'tight')

Holy Fuck.

" Y-yes I'm good, thanks!" you reply not so 'swiftly' . "Oh, that's better"....

"Mornin', d- Miss Y/L/N" he said after a slightly awkward stop....and you could tell that Y/B/F/N was trying her best not to laugh, roll her eyes or even grin.

"Good morning, professor!" you said blushing

You couldn't have been more grateful for the lack of audience .

As the students started entering and the class begun, you tired your best to not be distracted by the new change.

*Later in Tom's office*

"You seem to like this, huh?" he said refering to his new hair colour which was totally unexpected as he was the ever subtle one.

"I-I.....uhh...." you were more blushing than talking, earning a chuckle from him.

"Don't worry darling, I won't bite...... unless you ask me to, ofcourse" he said with a smirk and you could swear he winked.

Ok, so now it's official. He is acting a bit different today. You quite liked it, tbh.

You gulped. You just gulped.

"Anyways, my beloved what are your plans for Christmas?" he asked switching the topic like a light switch. "Uh....umm..well, Y/B/F/N is going out with her family so I guess I'll have to either go with her or spend it alone"

"You're not spending it with your family?" he asked "I never met my actual parents.....my aunt brought me up and she too passed a few years ago" you said, tears welling in your eyes but you quickly hide them. "...... I'm so sorry...... What if you stay with me?For Christmas?" he asked "Um...I beg your pardon"

"How about you spend Christmas with me?"

*********************

A/N : Hey mortals!! I know this chapter is a bit short.... sorry....I have a news for you guys,I won't be writing or posting anything for the next one month as I have a lot to work on...... again, I apologise.

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @dishahaldar @lotsoflokilove23 @jennyggggrrr @imlokisgloriouspurpose

[ravenzeppeli]

Praise Me Deeply |Formaggio x Male Reader Extreme Lemon|

Warning: strong language, dirty talk, rough/nasty sex, talk of exposing (consensual), ass eating, dom/sub relationship, humiliation/degrading. MA.

Commission for @johnnybwanny

"I love working with Formaggio," you told Risotto as you stood in front of his desk. "He's a great teacher. I really enjoy being under his wing."

Risotto nodded his head, "Are you just saying that due to any romantic feelings you have towards him?" He questioned, his dark eyes staring into your soul, making you slightly nervous.

"I promise I'm not," you quickly replied, telling only the truth to your capo as you always did. "He really is an amazing teacher. Working with him makes me uncomfortable. He honestly uses his stand so fucking well, I wish I had his self control."

"That's good to hear," he replied. Despite his face showing no emotion, you could tell he was pleased with what he was hearing. "That's the only reason why I called you into my office. I wanted to make sure you and Formaggio were compatible as partners." You wanted to smirk at that last part but refrained, thinking of a different kind of partnership than what he was thinking of.

You nodded your head, "do you need anything, boss?"

"I'm just going to send this last email to Polpo and leave. Lock up if you end up staying late again or sleeping the night at the base," Risotto told you, his eyes falling back to his computer. "One last thing, how professional would you say Formaggio was?"

You let a smile creep across your face, thinking of all of the times you and Formaggio have hooked up after completing a job. The rush you felt every single time you licked his ass, the total bliss you felt when he deeply fucked your hole and jacked off your cock, pushing you past the limits of pleasure. He was so addicting, better than any drug. You were so fucking into him. Everything about him made your cock twitch with excitement.

"He's extremely professional, and I'm really glad to be working with him," you told Risotto, him nodding his head once, letting you know that was all he needed from you. "Have a good night, Risotto. I'll see you tomorrow." You nodded back, walking away and leaving him to finish up his office work.

As you stepped out of his office door and closed it, you froze completely, seeing the familiar tanned shoes of Formaggio standing right in front of you. Your face completely turned red, hoping he didn't hear you. Before you could speak, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you down the hallway, making a right.

He pulled you into the bathroom all the way down the hall, shutting and locking the door. "You know what you just fucking did?" He questioned, voice hard as he flicked the bathroom lights on, his face showing no emotion, causing you to instantly worry. "Well, do ya?" He crossed his arms over his chest, his broad muscles being a slight distraction.

You shook your head, backing up a few steps. "I don't know what I did, but it was never my attention to disrespect you. I'm really sorry." You've never made him mad before.. you hoped that he wasn't mad at you, that you didn't say anything that might have upset him.

The serious expression quickly faded, a huge grin appearing on his face as he uncrossed his arms. "Aw, that's so cute. I'm not mad, I was just messing with you." He licked his lips, looking you up and down, his head nodding in approval. "I'm actually very happy with everything that I heard you say. I'm extremely happy if I'm being completely honest. You just made me look real good in front of Risotto."

"I meant every word I said," you told him, and you meant those words deeply. He really was a great teacher, and he was an even better partner. "I really like that you're my partner. I wouldn't want to work with anyone else but you."

"Still got that anal plug in your ass waiting for me?" Formaggio questioned, his question catching you completely off guard. You didn't want to say yes, despite the plug being firmly in your ass, keeping it stretched out and ready for him. "Shit, who am I kidding? You always obey me. Strip for me, I wanna see my student naked. Examine you."

You slipped your shoes off, "Well, of course. Anything for my favorite teacher." You smirked a little, slipping off your shirt, placing it on the bathroom sink. "What if Risotto hears us?" You unbuttoned your pants, pulling them down, revealing to him that you were wearing a dirty pair of his underwear. "Familiar?" You felt the blood rush to your cock, it suddenly springing to life in his underwear.

"You dirty boy," he muttered, leaning back against the bathroom door, his large erection standing firm in his pants. "So? We hear Sorbet and Gelato all the time, what's another couple fucking in here?"

You shrugged, slipping the underwear off. "Well.. I did keep the anal plug in like you asked. I even gave myself an enema beforehand and recorded it and sent it to you like you asked. Full face exactly like you wanted. I hope you enjoyed it, it was embarrassing for me."

"Fuck yeah I enjoyed it, I love adding to my personal collection of you," he replied, unbuttoning his pants, pulling his pants and boxers down, his cock springing to life. "Now, come be a good boy and suck all over my cock and balls. Do a bad job and I'll send the video to the group chat, shoe them how nasty you are. How you're my fucking slut."

You walked over to him, going down to drop to your knees, only to be stopped by him grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking you to stand back to your feet. "What's wrong?"

"Where's my fucking kiss? You can't suck and fuck me downstairs if you haven't given me a little kiss yet. Fucks wrong with you?" He smacked your cock, a pained moan escaping your lips, causing him to repeat his action.

You pressed your lips against his, giving him a gentle kiss before pulling away, turning your head away slighly. "I really love kissing you.. it just makes me so excited." You felt precum drip from your cock, your face heating up once more. He was just so attractive, with his deep voice and firm body. So dominant, the kind of man that'll have you hooked for life.

"Show me how excited you are," he commanded, snapping his finger, pointing to his cock. "Don't use your hands. I only want throat and tongue."

"Yes, sir," you replied, dropping to your kness, taking his 8 inches in your mouth. You wasted no time, your head bobbing back and forth as you sucked his cock, your cock twitching with pleasure. You wanted to wrap your hand around your cock, you wanted to pump as fast as you could as you tasted his delightfully sour cock. You held back, knowing to only do what he tell you. During sex, he was in charge, just like he was at work. You loved being beneath him. You loved every second of it.

"I can't wait to tear that ass up, I know you're nice and stretched out for me." He patted the top of your head, a laugh escaping his lips. "I buy my slut the best anal plugs and cock rings, don't I?"

You nodded your head as you continued to suck his cock, his precum coating the back of your throat. You let your tongue swirl around his tip, feeling a sense of pride wash over you as a groan escaped his mouth.

"Yeah, suck that dick like you mean it. Then give my balls some love before you tongue fuck my ass. You gotta earn my cock in your ass, you gotta work hard." He continued to pat your head, pushing you down to his balls.

You placed a kiss on each one of his hairy balls, taking them in your mouth, sucking as you stared up at him. You saw pleasure all over his face, seeing him satisfied causing even more precum to spill from your cock. You let his balls sit in your mouth a few seconds, enjoying the taste of his sweat and musk before you pulled away.

As he turned around you stuck your face right in his ass, not bothering to spread his cheeks as you let his ass cheeks bury your face, your tongue quickly finding his hole as you began to slip your tongue in and out of his ass, your cock twitching uncontrollably as you bobbed your head up and down, tongue swirling In and out.

"You're so fucking good at that," he mutteted, his voice filled with dominance and pleasure. "Better be, I'll post clips of you fucking your ass with a cucumber all over the internet. Wanna be exposed?"

"No sir," you replied, your voice muffled as you kept your tongue in his ass. You sounded like a fool, just like he liked. He loved getting off on your humiliation, and you got off on being humiliated by him.

"Are you a little ass licker? Tell me how much you love licking my ass, keep your tongue in my ass," he told you, his voice slightly strained, as if he was about to bust. "Do it now!"

You kept your tongue deep in his ass as you spoke, "I love licking your perfect ass Formaggio. I worship your ass," you told him, sounding as if you were trying to talk with marshmallows filled in your mouth. "I love when you use me."

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, roughly yanking your head back. "Get into doggy style. I'm going to fuck you on this dirty bathroom ground, and I'm going to fuck you hard!" His voice was ran over with such excitement and dominance, causing you to instantly drop to the floor.

You arched your back, spreading your legs as your hard cock rested on the dirty bathroom floor. The bitter coldness causing a chill to run down your spine. You felt Formaggio behind you, slowly slipping the anal plug out of your ass, sticking it into your mouth.

"Since you made that comment about getting caught, this'll muffle that mouth of yours," he told you. He spread your ass cheeks, spitting a thick wad of his spit right into your stretched hole before he slipped in. "You don't know how good it feels to hear you talk good about me. I fucking love that shit." He began to thrust swiftly, his hands digging into your sides as he held you in place. "Suck on the plug ass licker."

You began to suck on the plug, low moans escaping your mouth as you felt his right hand drop from your waist, wrapping around your cock, pumping as he roughly thrusted in and out of you.

"Fuck," Formaggio groaned, filling your ass with hot cum. "You can cum now."

You came immediately after he said that, your cum filling his hand as you weakly collapsed on the bathroom floor, panting. "How are you so amazing at everything you do? I think that was the best sex I ever had."

He grinned, stepping over you, pulling the shower curtain back. "You say that everytime I fuck you. Good." He helped you up, guiding you into the shower as he stepped in with you. "Let me get you all cleaned up now."

[writermuses]

Hello darlings!

I'm still alive/here. I know I owe all the things and I appreciate you all following my "queue that" rule because I haven't been on my computer to write let alone draft. In case you're wondering what I've been up to I'll give you a bulleted list of the teacher life near D.C. under the read more.

🩵 Natty

Here's some chaos:

My student pulled the fire alarm and rather than addressing that for the felony it is, kiddo is on a 1 month suspension (you get 45 days for fighting) Worth noting this student was previously expelled 2 years ago for a gun situation.

We've had 2 mob fights at my school and another at the next closest high school (they also had a stabbing and the response was "well at least it wasn't our school on the news this time")

I've had more meetings than there were days of the week and worked past 5 nearly every day (we love unpaid work... i'm talking like full time job hours of unpaid labor)

My school has gone through more than 12 principals in my 6 years here and the new one has given me 9 blocks of classes to have my students research, make posters, assemble 550 meal kits, complete a reflection, and present a summary (to whom? idk bro) All while never answering my emails... in case you're wondering it costs 20k to get the groceries for this task alone. As of right now I have 3 students that can build the 550 meal kits. We have 2 80 minute blocks to build them all or our low income families have nothing to eat over spring break 👍

Our bell schedule is changing so that we'll have 3 lunches with students required to be in the cafeteria, instead of 2 where they're in our classrooms. This will end all in school clubs (RIP Four Square Club 😢 ) and we need 350 more chairs in the cafeteria 😂 fyi I had to have 3 students standing per block for 4 weeks because we couldn't get desks and chairs for my classes of 33. When I got desks they gave me elementary cubby desks. (I teach HS. The average 'kid' is like 5'5 hahaha)

The students booed the new principal so loudly at the pep rally that I could hear it with earplugs in and she didn't send their bitch asses back to class. She said, "Hmm, I think I hear some boos? Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last."

Here's some cute shit:

My nearly non-verbal gem of a human told me a joke: Why did the sun go to class? To get a little brighter!

That same student: His current hyperfixation is roasting my lack of an immune system. He calls me his weakest superhero 😂

In a room full of extremely politically divergent teenagers, they almost unanimously agreed that a person facing criminal charges shouldn't be allowed to run for office and then had civil discourse about it.

The hype of my Afghani students getting to teach their class the Arabic alphabet when we started our new module. (Also their hype over the teachers showing up to their club's fundraiser)

A parent made shirts for the seniors on our 🏀 team (just 4 boys). They got to pick their favorite and most impactful teacher and she wanted each one to have a different teacher wearing theirs but 2 of them insisted it be me and wouldn't budge 😭 (also one of them interviewed to play ball overseas so 🤞 for him)

A parent made the staff valentines day cupcakes

A student in culinary arts gave me a banging cinnamon roll the size of my head

A quiet student from last year came by to tell me he bowled nearly 300 and made brownies- they were not pot brownies, I took the risk and it was worth it 😂

2 of my kids with over 100 absences showed up this week! They won't pass but 👍 nice to know they're like alive

[arcane-sync]

This is 100% some specific part, just dont know who I am right now. I am just... tired and pissed, and I have enough control to say things I'm not usually allowed to say.

First, and honestly the less severe of the two offenders: this fucking school. The only other school in the area with the same program is more than double the cost. So transfering isnt really an option. But i hate HATE having to keep an eye out for a short list of professors who want me kicked out of this program. I finished this semester and as i got ready to leave the final class, the teacher said goodbye with such vitriol. I pointed out that it sounded like get out. Her response was "well..." then she tipped her head like i had a point then walked away. I hate sitting here and praying her bias doesnt tank my grade in that class. I kind of like my 4.0. I hate that i will have to spend the next two years here watching my back. I've stopped keeping my diagnosis a secret. I will not sit back and let this school teach my fellow students that DID is a mythical creature when the 12 month prevalance rate is HIGHER than bipolar, OCD, and anorexia (at least according to the DSM-V. I dont own the TR yet). I wont hide when i have in ACTUAL EMAIL the CHAIR of the department saying I "am not allowed to continue in this program until such a time as I am cured of my disability." Sure its resolved for now, but I know I am holding a smoking gun.

And the fact that DID celebrities on tiktok and twitter are on a hate campaign against professionals? Yeah, triggering that anger more. Fuck them for roping me in with the entire profession. For making parts of us feel WRONG for wanting to enter the field cause theyre all getting painted as villains right now. They talk about professionals not listening to people with DID as if there are not professionals practicing RIGHT NOW who have DID. Talk about being stuck in the middle, when both your fellow professionals and your clients hate you.

And second, our husband: Who still refuses to use preferred pronouns. Who was OFFENDED when he found out we have male alters and accused us of being trans. Who still says it was okay to try and give us an exorcism when our DID first started showing (and the fact the first part claimed to be a demon is beginning to feel like a flimsy excuse). Who eats out meals without telling us then gets offended if we do the same. That I have to RATIONALIZE every single purchase with. Every single dollar spent has to be reported and labeled as to why we bought it so he can balance the budget. But like... we are paying out of our own bank account that is filled exclusively with our student loan money. So... why? Unleas he doesnt actually think we will get a job after this degree and is constantly preparing to take on our medical and grocery expenses. But we don't have the money to leave him and no support network in the area to help. Who still defends himself saying it was my BIBLICAL DUTY to give him sex. Who went a year without and growled out that he will NEVER go that long without sex again, and that sounded an awful lot like a threat at the time. The man that so many of us are still scared to talk to about anything remotely related to politics because its more important for him to stand up for his political beliefs than comfort our fears. Birth control, trans rights, riots, shuts all of those thoughts down with his anger. And yet, I'm in the minority on leaving this relationship. The others dont think its that bad. That he can get better. That he's TRYING to get better. As if him trying to get better absolves him of suffering any sort of punishment for his past actions. And the marriage counselor AGREES. Says things arent getting better in the relationship because we wont let go of the past. That its our TRAUMA and resulting trust issues ruining the relationship.

I'm tired of swallowing down acid when I feel like I have every right to be spitting it in other people's faces. But the others beg me to. And for the life of me, I cannot convince the others otherwise. They wont listen to me.

[commiemartyrshighschool]

When I was on the fence right before I took this job a seasoned older writer with a great voice said to me "you don't need a mentor, you need an editor."

The reason I was on the fence is because when I had just a couple technical questions before accepting the job offer the guy I had interviewed with and built a little rapport with responded by saying he had put in his two weeks notice, and that I should get in touch with the person taking over the role. His last day was also my first day.

That should've been ample warning.

Because not only did I not get a mentor (which as an early career journalist I'm now realizing I do in fact need!), I didn't get an editor either. After that meeting I've been in the same room as him five, maybe six times, almost always involving him either telling me a story about looking up his third grade teacher's skirt or telling me a young girl "deserved" a concussion for being at a Boy Scout camp.

And as much as I started dreading those conversations and found the handful of perfunctory zoom calls useless, I've been reduced to single line emails as a sole mode of communication. I know for a fact he will not read the second line of emails in most cases, because when he asks me for the information contained there-in and I copy and past the exact same line in reply it is the first time he has ever seen it.

If I insist on getting acknowledgement or approval of a story (he's furious when I pursue a topic without letting him know or if it changes focus away from his own bias, so I am reluctant to even lay groundwork for stories that might get canned) he'll get annoyed that I've sent so many emails.

Given how poorly we are communicating I looked into his twitter to find out a bit more about the guy, and apart from his obsession with prop comics who didn't even think their own work was that funny it's mainly his work moonlighting elsewhere that skirts conflict of interest and features shittily written op-eds espousing worse opinions, spreading anti-vax conspiracy theories, claiming that Patriot Front is a "Soros funded false flag," all leavened with a weird mixture of Anglophillia and thirsty replies to well muscled conservative men and male fetish models, on what was until recently a bluechecked account explicitly linking him to our publication

I could probably tolerate a handful of these things, particularly him telling dudes to take their shirts off, but it's crossed the line into repeated and dangerous disinformation spreading that I think reflects negatively on the publication.

He's done almost nothing to show me the ropes or teach me about the beat, in fact actively discourages me from developing a beat by rejecting any topic that's too "similar" to one recently covered at the start of the week and then assigning me coverage of something exactly the same by the end of it. When I do get introduced to anybody through him it's a persistent PR flack he's just tired of dealing with.

And you know what it's all made me paranoid. I totally AM reading too much into every email and overthinking them. But while my insane reads have turned out right on occasion the bigger issue is I'm worried I'm slowly losing my ability to interpret other people's messages.

I could kvetch about the rest of the company too, but I don't see the point. The department that makes money is the event planning portion of the business that massages local egos with awards ceremonies. I'm not sure why but people keep buying ads that go into a PDF only print newspaper as well too. A lot of that is just small biz/media bullshit, but it doesn't help that there's this nexus of dysfunction and fascism that's the majority of my dealings with my coworkers.

[seitmai]

All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

Yes, awards for everyone 👏🏻

He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over.

That's so cute🥹

He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo.

Oh, he is down bad 🤭

Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on?

So rude 🙄

Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

I have a feeling that his shorts are not only snug, but also tiny 😏

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

🤤🤤🤤

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?" He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home." "Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Marty is the true MVP her!! 👏🏻 Bradley you definitely owe this man, idk invite him to your wedding with Gorgeous or name your first child Marty maybe? Seems like a fair trade to me 🤷🏻‍♀️

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do.""Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?" "Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

Giggling and kicking my feet reading this 🥰🤭

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?" He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath.

They are truly connected 🥺

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

🥺🥺🥺

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else.

I'm stressed, I need him to get home safely to go on the beach date and more importantly for Nat to get her 2 dinners!! And the kids obviously!!!

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too. 

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

----------------------------

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

-----------------------------

Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

--------------------------

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt. 

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially. 

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

-------------------------------

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

---------------------------

Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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