#and I’m never not polite to teachers

[engagemythrusters]

WOW teacher sent the whole office gifts of pens and shit… except me? wow okay never mind how much work I put in for you when you fucked everything up

[sanemistar]

᧔o᧓ satoru x fem!reader, established relationship (married with a son), lots of fluff, i’m just so obsessed with dad gojo he’s living in my head rent free

you never expected to get a call from your son’s school on his very first day, you were pretty sure he was just fine before satoru had taken him to school this morning. you walked out of the house and quickly headed to your son’s school, worried about him.

the moment you arrived, you were shocked to see satoru was still there, with his arms tightly clinging onto his son’s body as he sobbed against his ears, refusing to let go until you had to intervene and pull him away.

“mrs gojo, we’re very sorry to call you so suddenly. but as you can see, mr gojo has been like this for the past 30 minutes, and classes have already started.” the principal said and you politely bowed your head, you grabbed your husband’s head and forcefully made him bow in apology

“let’s go to class now, baby. listen to your teachers and be a good boy, okay? if you do well today, mommy will get you a treat.” your son nodded obediently and you kissed his forehead before dragging satoru, and walking out of the school.

“toru, i can’t believe you would cling to your son like that. you could’ve made him miss his classes.” you scolded your husband, who was still sulking about leaving his son alone. his head drooped down in discouragement.

you knew your husband was so clingy, which was why you were skeptical about letting him take your son on his first day of school when he asked you to this morning. but he begged you so much with his irresistible puppy eyes so you couldn’t say no. if you knew he’d act like that, you wouldn’t agree to it in the first place.

“but babe, what if he gets scared or hurt when i’m not there to protect him?” he tried justifying his actions, you were aware of his good intentions and his fear was reasonable considering the fact that it’s a completely new environment from home, and you too wished you wouldn’t have to leave him. but it was bound to happen anyway and you had to brace yourself for it.

you sighed and patted satoru’s head, your fingers running through his soft, white locks in soothing motions. you couldn't stay mad at him any longer.

"i understand how you feel. it was hard leaving him there, i miss him already. but toru, it's a part of his growing up process. one day he's going to grow up and have his own life, so until then, let's protect him together while he explores life." you said with a smile, entwining your hand with his as he grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it softly.

“not only is my wife beautiful, but she’s also very wise. i love you, y/n.” satoru murmured gently before leaning in to leave a sweet kiss on your forehead.

[niningtori]

make you cry | part one

part two: beomgyu's ending | part three: hyuka's ending

pairing: beomgyu x you, huening kai x you in alternate ending

summary: beomgyu is your manwhore best friend who you've been secretly in love with for years. one night, he asks you to blur the lines between friendship and physical intimacy for his own convenience.

genre: ANGST, romance, smut (mdni), fwb

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, dom!gyu, eventual sub!gyu, fingering (vaginal), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 4.2k

notes: hi friends! i'm not completely satisfied with this, but i'd rather it be done than sitting in my drafts. pls don't be mean ;_;

being in love with your best friend is not for the faint of heart, you think. in some cases, it’s the easiest thing in the world, but beomgyu makes it difficult. he’s not a bad guy, at least not deep down, but as you watch him break the heart of another notch in his belt, you can’t help but shiver at the fact that he’d very easily do the same to you if you gave him that chance. not that you ever will, that is, but the thought still remains.

you met in grade school. for you, it was a classic case of love at first sight. you had just fallen off the swingset and the teacher had yet to notice you, so you were crying alone when he came up to you with a dinosaur bandaid in tow. he looked like an angel with the sun encircling him, and even as a child, you thought he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen as he held his little hand out for you to grasp. you had no chance to steel your heart when he asked you if you wanted to be friends, and after that, the rest is history. 

that was years ago, but the image of him holding out his hand is engraved in your bones. you think about it even now as you watch him make the poor, unfortunate girl in front of you bawl like a baby. she asks him why he's doing this, what she did wrong, how she can fix it to make him stay. but he's dead set on breaking her heart tonight. and you'll be the one who takes his tipsy ass home after he's done ruining this girl’s perception of love. you’re nothing more than a glorified lackey and enabler, but that's just how it is.

“god, i don’t know why they can never just let go. they always have to make it so hard,” he grumbles in the passenger’s seat of your car. he seems more annoyed than genuinely upset and you can’t help but to feel for the girl who he just unceremoniously dumped in the middle of a house party, so you speak up for once.

“it’s not her fault, beoms. she just really likes you,” you reason. not that it matters, anyway, but you feel better after speaking your mind.

“so it’s my fault? i just don’t get it. i told her no strings attached from the beginning. the fact that she took it seriously is her own problem.” well, nevermind about feeling better. you feel even worse for her now.

“it’s hard not to get attached to you,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks, not even really paying attention to what you’re saying, but still asking for the sake of being (what he thinks is) polite.

“no, it’s nothing,” you reply quickly.

“mmm,” he nods, completely preoccupied with his own issues to really give a fuck about what you have to say. then, as if by a stroke of genius, he says his next words without much thought.

“i just thought of something! you would never act like that with me, would you?” you can’t help but scowl. of course you’d act like that. you’re a normal human being with normal feelings. you’ve already fallen for beomgyu without the physical intimacy, so you can’t imagine how you’d act if you actually had sex with him. but you can’t tell him that, or else he’d start suspecting something.

“i guess not,” you sigh. 

“then why don’t we hook up instead?” he asks, genuinely earnest. 

“no,” you say simply.

“why not?” he frowns, somewhat offended.

“i’m not interested,” you shrug. you don’t realize that your indifference has the opposite effect on beomgyu. what he perceives as your disgust only interests him more.

“c’mon, i’d definitely show you a good time,” he argues.

“i’m fine, thanks.” 

“no, you’re not fine. you haven’t slept with anybody in months. not since what’s-his-name, right? it’s the perfect deal. i’ll give you the time of your life and i’ll get to fuck without any feelings involved.” you try your hardest not to say it’s too late for that. those words will never leave your mouth, though. or else he’d drop you like a hot potato.

“i said no and i mean no. besides, i kind of like somebody right now.” you’re not lying, really. you truly do like, even love, somebody right now, and he’s sitting right next to you.

“who is he?” he asks. “actually, your taste in men is so shit, i don't even wanna know.” usually, that would hurt your feelings, but this whole situation is so fucked up you can’t even find it in you to stifle your laugh. 

“true.” he cocks an eyebrow at your answer. you should, in theory, vehemently deny this. just how shitty is this guy for you to not even put up a fight? 

“okay, i lied. now i really wanna know. who is he? yeonjun?” he asks. you giggle even more.

“no. yeonjun is sweet, but no. and i’m not telling you, so you should give up.” 

“you think yeonjun is sweet in comparison? damn, this guy must be fucking scum,” he laughs. you can’t help but shake your head with an airy laugh of your own. yeah, he’s so awful he even makes yeonjun look sweet. at least it seems like yeonjun has a conscience when he fucks somebody over. beomgyu, for the most part, has none.

“he’s not all bad,” you say softly, still smiling and resting your head on the headrest of your car. 

“but still bad,” he argues. 

“mhmm,” you hum. “still bad.”

-

beomgyu doesn’t mention hooking up again after that, and for that you are thankful, you think. is there a part of you that regrets not saying yes? in a way, you do. who wouldn’t want to be even closer to the one they love? but you know the closeness would be a lie. even if you were in closer proximity physically, he’d still be far away emotionally. too far to ever catch him. and so you sit at the counter of this shitty bar and watch him try to woo one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen, and by the looks of it, it’s working. you smile bitterly and down another shot, making your stomach feel hotter and hotter. you know that by the end of the night, you’ll feel sick, but you’d rather be physically sick and drunk rather than emotionally sick and sober. 

“you okay?” kai asks, sliding into the seat next to yours and cutting into your daze with ease. 

“aren’t i always?” you answer with a wry smile.

“it’s that bad, huh?” he asks. beomgyu is your best friend, sure, but kai is the only person in the world who knows about your feelings for him. he also feels like the only person in the world who would understand them. 

“yeah, it is,” you mumble, downing yet another drink as you watch beomgyu grinding on the girl salaciously. 

“wanna get out of here?” he asks sympathetically. you should say no. beomgyu will be angry that you left  him, even if he’d ditch you in a heartbeat to get laid. but now, as you watch him shoving his tongue in the red-lipped mouth of the girl who will now be the impossible standard you’ll hold yourself to from hereon out, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“i do,” you smile, for real this time, and his grin matches yours.

you’re so drunk, you barely remember how you got home, but you’re here and so is hyuka. you don’t cry, even if he kind of wishes you would just so you could let it all out. you laugh, even, as he tells his dorky jokes and beats your ass in mario kart. things are going so well, you don’t even hear the pounding on your door until kai says something about it.

“i’ll get it,” he says soothingly when you unsteadily try to stand up.

“thanks, hyuka,” you smile. and that smile stays planted on your face until you see who’s at the door. beomgyu. and by the looks of it, he’s pissed.

“what the fuck is your problem?! how could you just leave me there alone?” he asks as soon as he’s let in. your face sinks and all prior happiness is washed away in an instant.

“you weren’t alone,” kai cuts in defensively. “she was alone until i came and got her.” beomgyu is actually a little embarrassed by this blatant callout, but he’d sooner die than admit it.

“well, she should’ve said something, at least,” he counters, face still hot and voice still as loud as ever.

“i thought you were going home with that girl,” you reply meekly. 

“and you couldn’t just ask?!” he snaps. 

“you’re being an asshole,” kai argues. “nobody wants to watch you tonguing down some random girl, and she’s not your babysitter.” the room is deathly quiet after this. beomgyu is fishing for words, but he’s too drunk to quite think of any at the moment. he wishes he were sober so he could put kai in his place, but the words never come. all he knows is he’s pissed beyond anything he can properly articulate and it’s driving him crazy. 

“you’re drunk,” kai adds sternly. “go home.” 

“hyuka, it's okay,” you say gently. “he's too drunk for that. he can crash on the couch.” beomgyu doesn't know why, but he scowls at the nickname.

“but —”

“it's okay,” you repeat. kai’s face looks torn. 

“alright, then i'll head out,” he relents after a few seconds. “the both of you just need some sleep,” he says with a sharp glance towards beomgyu, who is still fuming, by the way.

“thank you,” you say with a terse smile. he returns it with a smile of his own and shuts the door behind him. beomgyu watches the entire interaction and somehow feels even worse.

“what the fuck was that? is he the guy you’re hung up on or something?” 

“no!” you exclaim incredulously. “hyuka is a nice guy, and he’s just… helping me with some things right now.” you’re not the most eloquent person on a good day, much less while drunk, so that’s all you can really say at the moment.

“what ‘things’ could he possibly be helping you with?” he snaps before realization dawns on him. “you told him about that guy, didn’t you?! you can tell him but you can’t tell me?” 

“he… he just understands,” you say. you knew beomgyu wouldn’t just let this shit go and be done with it. he’s like a child finding out his dog likes somebody better than he likes him, and it’s exhausting.

“are you sleeping with him?” 

“what, no!”  you say firmly. 

“you are, aren’t you?” he sneers. “you won’t let me touch you, but you’re letting him?” 

“is it so hard to believe that a man just wants to be my friend without wanting to fuck me?” truthfully, yes. you’re good looking and his experience tells him that men always harbor those intentions. well, he does, at least. and for some reason, as he looks at you in your big t-shirt and sweatpants, those intentions are brewing even more. 

“beomgyu?” you ask tentatively. his eyes are so intense it seems like he’s even more pissed off,  somehow. your innocent look stokes the flames of what’s already been burning for you.

as if he’s possessed, he stalks his way over to you, grabs your face before you can even react, and plants a bruising kiss on your soft lips. you gasp when he meanly takes your bottom lip between his teeth and he can’t help but chuckle. the kiss is cruel for so many reasons, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t knock you off of your feet. you’re usually so restrained around him for reasons only you and kai know, but you feel your inhibitions melt as his tongue enters your mouth. he tastes like alcohol, but then, so do you, and he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, if his hungry kiss in any indication, he seems to love it. 

one of his hands travel under your big hoodie and he tweaks your already hardened nipple between his fingers. 

“does that feel good, baby?” he asks lowly, and you feel yourself becoming even more wet. you're too embarrassed to respond, but judging from his tone, he already knows your answer. 

his kisses are unrelenting and fierce, no gentleness or care to be seen, but you’re so sweet he can’t control himself. he’s been wanting to do this ever since he hit puberty, but you’ve never seemed interested in him for reasons he can’t understand. but now, you seem more than interested as you let him lead you to your bedroom. he lays you down on your bed and takes off your sweatpants. when he sees you, naked and glistening just from a few touches, he licks his lips in anticipation.

“all this from a few kisses?” he teases, rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. you can do nothing but gasp in response as he pushes one of his long, calloused fingers into your heat.

“s-so tight, it’s sucking me in,” he moans. “i can’t wait to see how you feel around my cock.” he adds a second finger and curls, hitting your sweet spot. all you can do is moan as he takes his thumb and rolls your clit. he watches your body rise and fall with the pleasure and it fascinates him like nothing he’s ever seen. your eyes are screwed shut, but he can’t help but prod and tease to see the different facial expressions you show him. before long, he’s pounding into you. the sound of squelches mixed with your moans only goads him further and further until you’re clenching down mercilessly on his fingers.

“aww, does that feel good, baby?” he coos. “wanna feel even better?” post-release clarity should hit you right about now, but you’re only more eager when he removes his clothes. his lengthy cock, angry and reddened, springs up and slaps his stomach. you whimper at the sight and he smirks at how needy you are.

he hovers over you and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he begins to rub his stiffened length up and down your slit. 

“gyu, you need a condom —” you begin to protest.

“why? i’m clean. and i don’t fuck just anyone raw,” he argues as the head of his cock comes dangerously close to hooking on your entrance. you’ve never been able to say no to him for any meaningful amount of time, so relenting isn’t out of the ordinary for you. but more than that, his words, though unromantic, spark a bit of hope in your heart. you’re special, you think. 

“do you trust me?” he asks. 

no. not at all.

“of course.” and he pushes in. his arrogance falters as you take him in, inch by throbbing inch. it’s a tight fit, and the way you clench around the tip of his cock only drives him further and further into madness. how can you feel so good? how can this feel so perfect? 

your poor pussy is equal parts trying to suck him in and trying to resist so the intrusion is forced out. to him, it feels like heaven. 

“t-tight!” he hisses. “relax, baby, or you’re gonna break me.” for some reason, his words comfort you, allowing him smooth entry until he’s completely sheathed in you. you both moan when he completely bottoms out, balls hitting your ass in the most lewd way. his precum mixed with the result of your release seep into the bedsheets. he stays there for just a moment, pushing your hair out of your face, and his next words are uncommonly tender.

“you look so pretty like this,” he muses, and you don’t even have time to blush before he’s unsteadily pulling out, pussy pulling him back in like it never wants him to leave, then thrusting back in again. 

“oh m-my god,” he says as he begins to ram into you. “so good, baby. you’re taking me so well.” 

“b-big!” is all you can manage to say as he continues to fuck you open.

“oh baby, are you going dumb on my cock? can’t even manage to get the words out, can you? it’s okay, don’t think. i’ll take care. of. you,” he says, punctuating each word with his mean thrusts. 

you’re crying now, the pleasure too great to stifle your tears. beomgyu thinks you look absolutely lovely like this, lovelier than anyone he’s ever seen, especially when he looks at where you two are joined and watches himself enter and exit your puffy pussy. each gasp, each breathy whine you emit makes him feel crazier and crazier. he aches so much, he has no choice but to continue pounding into you until he's relieved. so he does. he’s gripping the plush of your thighs like he might die if he doesn’t have something to hold onto. 

he leans over to give you a nasty kiss, all tongue and teeth. when he parts from you, a lewd string of saliva falls from your mouths and he can’t control the chuckle that escapes him when he sees your pupils are blown out as you flounder for his lips again. 

“look, baby. look at how good i’m fucking you.” you look down and see how his cock protrudes from your tummy as he rams in and out of you. “nobody else has fucked you right, but don’t worry, i’ll make sure to fix that.” your pussy involuntarily clenches at his filthy words and it’s enough to make you come.

“c-coming!” you manage to choke out as you spasm around him, back arching deliciously. he follows soon after, thrusts becoming uneven before you feel his cum shooting inside of you.

-

fucking beomgyu comes naturally, and often. he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. hooking up becomes almost a daily affair, but you’re so hungry for him you can’t bring yourself to protest. you fuck in his car, on his couch, over the fucking kitchen counter, even. all plans to go out with anyone else are immediately dashed in favor of being with him, instead. you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, and even if you know, know, know it’s fruitless, you can’t help but relent when he looks at you like a man starved. 

“this can’t be good for you,” kai tells you one evening in the comfort of your apartment. it’s a rare occurrence to have a free night from beomgyu’s clutches. kai hasn’t seen you in weeks because you’ve been too “busy” with beomgyu. 

“well, i know,” you sigh, too tired to argue with him. 

“if you know, then why do you do it?” he asks tentatively. you can’t help but give him a look. 

“you know why,” you say. 

“he's just messing with your head. you know this can't end well.” you flinch at the word “end”. you know it, he knows it, beomgyu surely fucking knows it, but you can’t help but give in every time. “what are you gonna do when he inevitably fucks you over? and he will, just like always.”

“i… i’ll deal with it when the time comes,” you protest. he sees your defeated expression and lightly tilts your head so it’s resting on his shoulder. your retribution for your actions was always well on its way, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. 

you hear a key turning in the door. there’s only one person in the world you’ve given a spare to, so you aren’t surprised in the slightest when beomgyu walks in with that signature smirk on his face. he scowls a bit when he’s greeted with the scene of you and kai sitting so intimately.

“am i interrupting something?” he scoffs as you raise your head from kai’s shoulder.

“no,” kai replies before you can even fix your lips to respond. to your mild surprise, he doesn't push any further.

“whatever,” he shrugs, plopping down next to the two of you and pulling out his phone.

“wanna see this girl whose number i got today?” he asks casually, swiping through his phone eagerly. so that's why he didn't wanna meet up. your heart feels like a hole’s been blown straight through it. you and kai share a deep look, which beomgyu completely misses as he pulls up a picture of a beautiful looking girl. 

“this is her,” he says with a triumphant smirk. you don’t — can’t — respond. you just have a blank look on your face.

“what?” he asks petulantly. “she’s really pretty, look!” he insists, pulling up another picture. “she’s one of the hottest girls i’ve seen in a minute.”

any last shred of hope or dignity you have is strangled in its crib at his careless words. your eyes are hot and your stomach hurts so much you feel like you’re going to vomit. kai notices your discomfort and decides to put a stop to this once and for all.

“alright, that’s enough,” kai snaps. “nobody wants to see that shit.”

“what’s your fucking problem?” beomgyu retorts.

“my problem is that you’re a fucking moron. grow up.” beomgyu’s not one to get physical, at least not in a violent sense, but he’s on the precipice of breaking that streak at kai’s harsh words.

“stop, hyuka. it’s okay,” you say softly. beomgyu is so furious, he almost forgot you’re here, but he's genuinely confused by kai’s words.

“what's okay? what is it that you're not telling me?” beomgyu asks. 

“it's not okay, actually. he’s fucking you but he comes around and pulls this shit right in front of you?! she won’t say it, but i will.” 

“kai, don’t —” 

“she doesn’t care! no strings attached, that’s always been the deal.”

“you may be stupid as fuck, but surely you’re not that stupid,” kai sneers. “so if you say you don’t already know, you’re just a fucking liar.” beomgyu pauses at this. is he saying what he thinks he’s saying? surely you didn’t catch feelings, right? but one look at your face, and he knows kai is telling the truth. 

but why? and when?

“since when did you…”

“since always,” you say quietly. 

“oh, fuck. look, i —”

“it’s okay. i already know,” you cut in. and you do already know, but you can’t bear to hear him say it. beomgyu, in all his glory, processes this and instead of regret, all he feels is anger.

“i’m the piece of shit guy you can’t get over? are you fucking serious?”

“hyuka, you should go,” you say instead of letting him watch the melodrama unfolding before him. kai looks uncertainly between the both of you before relenting. 

“call me later, okay?” he says, wiping tears from your eyes that you didn’t realize had fallen.

“okay,” you reply with a sad smile. he sends beomgyu one last scathing look before gathering his shit and slamming the door behind him. 

“you tricked me!” beomgyu exclaims as soon as the door shuts. “i would’ve never fucked you if i knew you’d be like this.” just like everyone else. he doesn’t need to voice the last part, but you already know he wants to say it, which just hurts you even more.

“did you really not know, or were you just pretending not to know ‘cause it’d be inconvenient for you?” that shuts him up. kai was right, he’d be stupid not to know. maybe not at first, but surely along the way. surely when you’d look at him so longingly after sleeping with him, or the way you’d look so sad when he didn't stay after sex.

“listen, i’m so sorry that you’re scared, or angry, or whatever it is you’re feeling. i really am. but are you so selfish that you really think nobody else is afraid to have their heart broken? and do you think that means you’re allowed to hurt everyone else instead?” you ask quietly. every new word pierces his heart like nothing he's ever felt before. he wants to say something, but for the life of him, he can’t think of anything quite fitting. 

“i think you should leave,” you say after what feels like an eternity of silence. he looks at you with watery eyes and you almost feel guilty, but you’re through with feeling things for him that he’d never have the courtesy to feel for you. “go,” you repeat defeatedly, striding to the door and holding it open for him and he feels more and more like a rat you want to chase out of your home.

he looks like he wants to say something, but one look at you tells him you’re done listening. with heavy feet and an even heavier heart, he heads through the doorway, pausing only before he’s about to cross the threshold. he has a sinking feeling in his gut that tells him this is probably the last time he’ll be here. 

“are we still friends after this?” he asks lowly, eyes wide and more desperate than you’ve ever seen them. 

“no,” you say simply, and shut the door.

notes: not a ton of smut in this part, but i think the next part will have more i fear.

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

[fingertipsmp3]

Just remembered I still need to cancel that job interview I got signed up for against my will

[thepinkmermaidprincess]

rafe came by your dance studio to thank you for helping his daughter but when he sees you doing an heels choreography,he might say more than just thank you…. 🩰❤️👠🎀

dance!teacher!reader x single!dad!rafe ♡

you were a ballet dance teacher for a group of adorable little girls on monday & wednesday & saturday nights,you loved teaching them one of your favorite things in the world. but on tuesdays & thursdays & fridays you were a heels dance teacher!!! you loved the gracefulness & softness of ballet but you also loved the sexiness & the technique of heels.

right now,you were watching your little angels practicing their ballet routine for the winter spectacle in two month,they were making so much progress so fast!

like every night,you waited for every little girl to leave before leaving but tonight sofia cameron came talking to you at the end of the class. you thought she was the cutest little girl you had ever seen,she was full of ambition & never give up. and well….you will never cross the line with one of your student’s parents but my god was her dad,rafe cameron,handsome. he camed to every single one of his daughter recital with flowers for her AND FOR YOU. he always pack her the cutest snack for the longest repetitions and if you needed help organizing something, he was always the first one to propose his help. you also knew that he wasn’t with sofia’s mom anymore,you guessed when she never came at any recital or to come pick her up from practice,you learned later that she abandoned sofia and used rafe for money. that made you mad & sorry for rafe but especially for sweet sofia.

“miss y/n ?”,sofia’s sweet voice asked you.

“ yes sweetie ? is everything okay ?”

“yes…i just…well it’s a little stupid but…how do you do to be so confident ?”

“oh sweet girl…it’s not stupid at all…turn around to look in the mirror please…you see that ?yourself ? well…that’s your bestfriend,you’re going to spend the rest of your life with your beautiful little self. so the best thing you can do is give yourself the biggest hug & a lot of love and support yourself through every good but also bad moment ….”

then,she broke your heart by crying,you crouched down behind her.

“sofia..is everything okay ? is someone annoying you ?”

“yes..some guys at school are a little mean…”

you took her hand in yours,turning her to face you,“sofia i want you to not listen to them,ignore them,you are the sweetest most amazing girl ever,you’re polite & kind,whenever one of the girls need help you’re always here and you’re so funny,always cracking jokes that make everyone laugh !!! never doubt yourself for anyone. ever….did you talk about it with your dad ? ”

“yeah…..it made him so sad..hate seeing him sad….he tried to go talk to the school but they didn’t stop…i know he’s been so tired after work…i dont want to make him sad….but now everytime they made me cry,i’m gonna think about you ! thank u miss y/n i like you so much…you’re the best”,she said before jumping into your arms.

“well i think you should talk about it again with your dad…he loves you so so much and no matter what he will always help.he is just sad because you’re his little princess and he don’t want you to ever get hurt.”

you hugged her back & tickle her until she was laughing and smiling again.

and it’s at that moment that rafe entered the studio.

“oh…hi baby…..miss y/n”,he said walking to you & sofia still hugging.

then sofia left your arms before running to go hug her dad.

“hi daddy”,she was practically shinning with happiness.

he laughed and you thought it was the most beautiful sound ever.

“damn baby…what got you so happy ?”,he ruffled her perfect bun and the thought of him taking time to make her hair perfectly everytime warmed your heart.

“miss y/n…she’s the best….and she’s so pretty,isn’t she dad ?”

“yeah…she is baby…the prettiest but not as much as you tho…go get your bag baby,sarah cooked your favorite chocolate cake for ya.”

sofia went happily get her back,you knew sarah was rafe’s sister because she often come to sofia’s spectacle with her husband john b.

“sorry about that….didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”,he said scratching his neck,you thought you even saw his cheeks reddening.

“oh no it’s okay really…..”,you smiled sweetly at him,your heart jumping.

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you were currently practicing your new routine on dance for you by beyoncé,it was the new routine you were going to teach your heels student tonight. your group was a group of twenty women and all of you formed a little dance family,now organizing dinner party to share the latest drama and gossip of y’all’s different life.

you dance during the entirety of the song,your body moving gracefully and sexily on the floor…the song was sexy and passionate and you tried to incorporate that in you choreography by moving your legs gracefully & moving your hair & arching your back…the sound of your high black heels resonating in the studio.

it was 6 PM,so you were the only one here yet,your class started at 8 PM.

when you finished your beautiful routine,you turned around to stop the music and that’s when you saw rafe. he was leaning on the doorstep,his arms crossed,his jaw thigh and his eyes were burning with something you couldn’t quit put a name on.

“oh my god…m.cameron…hi…hum…what are you doing here?”

“hey…didn’t meant to interrupt you i’m sorry. i came to thank you for whatever you said to my daughter yesterday. she….well today,she responded to her bully by saying that they couldn’t hurt her anymore because she was her own best friend and she would never again let someone make her feel bad for being herself because she was amazing….i….thank you. so much. she’s been so sad lately and whatever you said made her realize how wonderful & loved she was…so for that,i will always be grateful to you miss y/n truly.”

“m.cameron-”

“call me rafe..please”

“..rafe..i’m so happy to heard that….you raised sofia wonderfully,she is amazing!!! truly !!!! i did nothing but tell her to true,please give her a big hug for me tonight.”

he laughed.

“i will,miss y/n, i will……i….excuse me if i cross boundaries but i didn’t know you danced anything other than ballet ?”

“oh well…on the day i’m not teaching the girls ballet,i’m teaching heels choreography to a group of woman….mhm…just how much did you see exactly?”

“enough to know that you are intensely talented and…beautiful.”

you gasped.

“shit..sorry i wasn’t planning on saying that…i don’t want to make you uncomfortable,i’m going to go. thank you again so much.”

“no m.cam..rafe..it’s okay…thank you….i love heels dancing for that…it…it made me feel beautiful and powerful. it’s a great form of expression.”

“i’m happy to hear that…you shouldn’t feel anything other than that.”

his gaze traced your face before fixing on your lips.

“listen….would it be okay if i crossed boundaries even more by asking you to have dinner with me ?”

“i don’t know m.cameron…is it a date ?”

“if you want it to be…i want it to be.”

“yes.”,you tried hard not to cheese like a teenage girl but you couldn’t help it,rafe cameron was so handsome.

“perfect…i am not going to tell soph anything yet…she’s just been so crazy lately,always reminding me how beautiful you were and how…single you were. i think if she knows that you accepted my dinner offer,she is going to die of happiness.”

you laughed loudly and without any shame.

“has she been playing the matchmaker?”

“yeah….she really has…when are you free for the date?”

“my class on friday night got suspended so i’m free.”

“perfect,i send a driver here to come pick you up…i think you might not want be to know where you live just yet…you know,first date rules and all.”

“yeah thanks rafe. i see you friday ?” he needed to leave now before you accidentally jumped on him and started kissing him like a mad woman.

“yes,love,you’ll see me on friday. have a nice dance class tonight….”

“thanks.” but you didn’t know how you will be able to focus on anything other than him,and the way he was looking at you….with his beautiful bedroom eyes and the way the nickname «love»rolled down his tongue.

you ended up seeing rafe the next day when he came pick sofia up from dance class….he winked at you and when friday night rolled you were jumping of happiness. the night went by so fast,conversation & flirting never stopping.at the end of the night, he opened the door of your cab for you and asked you to text him when you’ll arrive safely back home but not before promising you another date.♡

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀໒꒱ ‧₊˚

rafe’s pov of your discussion & your dance.

when i entered the dance studio the last thing i thought i will be seeing was miss y/n dancing on the floor in nothing but a pair of heels & some tiny black short & black bralette.

my god,was she the most beautiful little thing i’ve ever seen. i tried hard to not cross boundaries with her because she was sofia’s dance teacher but she was haunting me. slipping into my mind at any moment,when i’m working,when i’m shopping and i see her favorite parfume,when i’m watching sofia dance in the living room…..

and now ? now i’m fucking blessed by the sigh of her,opening her legs and arching her back on the floor sensually …..fuck me. she would look so pretty like that for me…on my bed….naked….she was so fucking sexy,the rain behind her pouring down on the window and the gray color of the sky casting a dark glow across the room. i needed to shake those thoughts,there no way she would be interested. i mean i was older than her and i has a fucking kid for god’s sake.

she turned in my direction and gasped when she saw me.

“oh my god…m.cameron…hi…hum…what are you doing here?”

“hey…didn’t meant to interrupt you i’m sorry. i came to thank you for whatever you said to my daughter yesterday. she….well today,she responded to her bully by saying that they couldn’t hurt her anymore because she was her own best friend and she would never again let someone make her feel bad for being herself because she was amazing….i….thank you. so much. she’s been so sad lately and whatever you said made her realize how wonderful & loved she was…so for that,i will always be grateful to you miss y/n truly.”

thanks to her my daughter was truly smiling again and opened up to me again. not only was she the sexiest fucking woman alive but also the sweetest to my daughter? was she created only to ruin me ? fuck…the sigh of her hugging my daughter made me too happy. way too happy.

“m.cameron-”

“call me rafe..please” i needed to hear her say my name,in her sultry sweet voice.

“..rafe..i’m so happy to heard that….you raised sofia wonderfully,she is amazing!!! truly !!!! i did nothing but tell her to true,please give her a big hug for me tonight.”

she was so goddam sweet, i couldn’t help but laugh. i don’t remember the last time someone other than sofia made me laugh. i also couldn’t help myself but to try to learn more about her. and this fucking choreography.

“i will,miss y/n, i will……i….excuse me if i cross boundaries but i didn’t know you danced anything other than ballet ?”

“oh well…on the day i’m not teaching the girls ballet,i’m teaching heels choreography to a group of woman….mhm…just how much did you see exactly?” the way her cheeks turned bright pink was the sweetest thing….what if ? what if she had the same crush on me than i had on her ? would it be so bad ? it certainly didn’t feel bad to me.

so fuck it. i’m saying what i think.

“enough to know that you are intensely talented and…beautiful.”

she gasped softly and my heart started pounding,what if i has read all of this wrongly?

“shit..sorry i wasn’t planning on saying that…i don’t want to make you uncomfortable,i’m going to go. thank you again so much.”

i needed to get out of here. right now.

“no m.cam..rafe..it’s okay…thank you….i love heels dancing for that…it…it made me feel beautiful and powerful. it’s a great form of expression.”

the way she was looking at me with her big beautiful bambi eyes made me realize that no. i had not misread the situation. she wanted me too,if i listen to her body language or..her thighs clenching together.

“i’m happy to hear that…you shouldn’t feel anything other than that.” she shouldn’t feel anything than the goddess she was.

i couldn’t help but look at her and at her beautiful full pink lips….what would she taste like? i wanted to find out so bad but before…

“listen….would it be okay if i crossed boundaries even more by asking you to have dinner with me ?”

“i don’t know m.cameron…is it a date ?”

fuck yes,hell i’m asking for mariage.

“if you want it to be…i want it to be.”

“yes”,she responded so fast,smiling so brightly.

fuck,she was beautiful,i wanted to make her smile forever,to maker her laugh.

“perfect…i am not going to tell soph anything yet…she’s just been so crazy lately,always reminding me how beautiful you were and how…single you were. i think if she knows that you accepted my dinner offer,she is going to die of happiness.”

she laughed loudly,the sound making my heart jump.

“has she been playing the matchmaker?”

that she has,yes.

“yeah….she really has…when are you free for the date?”

“my class on friday night got suspended so i’m free.”

perfect,all mine.

“perfect,i send a driver here to come pick you up…i think you might not want me to know where you live just yet…you know,first date rules and all.”

as much as i wanted to kiss her and push her until she was pressed between me and the wall and gently push her legs around my waist —fuck her legs would look gorgeous wrapped around me— i needed to go slow. both for her and for me. i will not make the same mistakes.

“yeah thanks rafe. i see you friday ?”

“yes,love,you’ll see me on friday. have a nice dance class tonight….”

and i’m going to spend the rest of my night thinking about her dancing like that again but this time,just for me.

“thanks.”

hope u loved it ♡ English is not my first language so i apologize for any mistakes <3

notes : should i make this like a little universe ? when any of you can like give headcanons,requests prompt….bcause i had so much fun writing it <3 i don’t think i’m going to make it a serie but more like writing randomly about them. sight …i love single!dad!rafe ♡

[immawraffle]

This week is so busy with all my classes and assignments and I have a final on Thursday (which actually cuts halfway into my next class) and I’m a horrible procrastinator who gets no sleep aaauuuughh.

[scarfacemarston]

Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader Oneshot

For Lesbian Visibility Week! If you enjoyed this, please note and reblog! Feel free to send other prompts or requests! Prompt: The students come into your classroom complaining about Natasha as a teacher not knowing you're her wife. This is version 1. You sighed as you glanced at the digital clock on your computer. Damn. Your planning period was almost over, and you really needed to finish grading these essays. Soon, you would be back to teaching your high school history classes for the day. The period ended far too quickly as students began to file their way into the classroom, discussing this and that. You were so engrossed in your work that you were hardly paying attention until you heard “Ms. Romanoff” mentioned not once, not twice, but in a string of sentences. Oh boy. Ms. Romanoff was one of the more controversial teachers at the school known for her no-nonsense attitude, sternness and sarcasm , but she was also fair with a dry sense of humor. “Why did I take international politics as an elective? Oh, that’s right, I thought it would look good on my transcript!” One student said sarcastically. “She’s so nitpicky! I got an A-. AN A MINUS!” “Hers is the only class I don’t fall asleep in anymore. Not since….last time.” “She’s so strict even the Macklin brothers shut up.” “She’s terrifying. I heard she used to be an undercover agent in the CIA”. You smirked at that one. You should probably look into that rumor. “A spy? Shut-up, man. Who’s going to believe that?” “I heard she was a failed actress.” “I heard she voiced the Russian Siri.” “I heard she’s a rich heiress that lost all her cash.” “Look, guys, I don’t care. She just ripped our class to shreds.I just can’t right now. Nearly the entire class failed her last test. These test corrections are going to take all night.” “At least you’re allowed test corrections! We’re her AP class and the only way we can make up points is through a new essay.” “She’s scary. I swear” “I think she knows what I’m thinking and then that makes me think more and then she thinks what I’m thinking and that thinking makes my head hurt.” “I was ONE minute late to class and she gave me a late slip!” “One time my grandma called me in class, and she made me pick it up.” You shot a quick text to Natasha before the bell rang. Her classroom was two doors down from yours since you two were technically in the same department. Time to log off your grading program and begin class. You pulled out the binder with today’s lesson plans ready to begin. “Wow, you all are full of comments about Ms Romanoff today.” You said neutrally. “Miss Y/N, you don’t understand. She’s so ….uh, extra.” You withheld a smirk. Natasha wasn’t what you would call extra, but she was set in her ways.” “I don’t think she’s extra. I think she just has high standards.” You responded. One of the students rolled their eyes.

"Do you all talk about me like this when I'm not here?"

"Nooo Ms. Y/N, we would never!"

"Well, maybe you could extend the same courtesy to my wife next time," you said, withholding a laugh. The room fell silent. A pin could have dropped.

“Fuck” you heard someone say under their breath. “Language”, you chastised, but you couldn’t say you blamed them. You saw the students in various forms of awkward shuffling, a cough here or there or “Ummm” or “Uhh” as students tried to form sentences. “Wait, you’re married?” a student questioned before being glared at by the others. Your fourth period class was near silent for the rest of the period, with the students seemingly still in shock. One minute til the bell rang. You saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of your eye. Thirty seconds. Natasha knocked on the door. “Hey, you, we’re all ordering from Robert’s Deli for lunch. You want your usual or will you finally try something new?” Natasha teased. The class whipped their heads collectively towards the door. It was becoming harder not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Y/n?” “Oh, you’re scaring my class, dear!” You said, smiling widely. Natasha scoffed. “Dear, huh? Oh, so they found out, didn’t they? As if us entering the building together and leaving together in the same car wasn’t hint enough that we’re married.  Yeah, I might have scared a few of them. It was well deserved, trust me, Isn’t that right, Reynolds?” Jason Reynolds sank down into his seat, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. The bell rang. The students couldn’t scramble enough as they grabbed their bags and rushed past Natasha. You gave a small laugh as you finally met Natasha. “You’re a mean woman, you know that?” “Hey, you texted me, babe.” “It was great, not gonna lie. Sorry the “secret” is out.” “It’s not like we’re closeted, we’re simply professional. I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner….or maybe I’m not.” Natasha muttered. Your stomach growled. “Alright, I’ll look up the menu. Find something new to try for once. Promise.” You said in response to your stomach. Natasha nodded. “Don’t want you to scare the next class because you’re hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

[charmedreincarnation]

I shifted and manifested with your Morphics challenge !!!!!

I am sharing this on an alternate account because I don’t feel comfortable posting on my main account. I want to continue using my main account so, I hope that’s okay.

I’ve been in the LOA community for a while and have consumed every piece of information. You know how it is.. I had a Reddit and TikTok shifting account and was literally helping people shift with my advice. But aside from maybe slightly hearing or seeing my DR, I had never succeeded, and even that was years ago.

I’ve gotten lazier yet more somehow ambitious since 2020 when I first started this journey, which is insane because you know how when you first find out about shifting, you have a lot of symptoms and almost do it, but then months and years pass, and you’re more desperate yet doing the same useless things. It was like that. I was enlightened; I could spew every method to you backwards, studied many years from teachers like Neville Goddard, Joseph Murphy, Florence Scovel Shinn, Wayne Dyer, Earl Nightingale, Louise Hay, Esther Hicks (Abraham-Hicks), Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Wallace D. Wattles, Rhonda Byrne—okay, everyone and their teachers. I also spent so much money on paid subliminals, meditations, teacher personal subscriptions, witch spells, lucid dreaming supplements, etc., but there are some things money can’t buy, so really, don’t waste your money lol.

I’m not here to be wise and do nothing with that wisdom, so I realized maybe instead of trying to do everything so mighty and intricate and be pretentious in my intelligence, let me try something so simple I would be shocked if it worked. Then I came across a post that was like, "Everyone is going to shift in September," and I almost cried because I have been trying for almost 5 years. I’ve given everything, and I was starting to think LOA is a cult because, let’s be real, it checks off all the things of a cult:

1. Charismatic Leaders: Many LOA teachings are popularized by charismatic figures who attract devoted followings, similar to leaders in cults.

2. Promised Benefits: LOA often promises significant personal benefits, like wealth and happiness, which can be enticing and lead to strong adherence.

3. Community and Belonging: Followers of LOA often form tight-knit communities, sharing experiences and supporting each other, which can resemble the communal aspect of cults.

4. Us vs. Them Mentality: Some LOA teachings might create a divide between "believers" and "non-believers," fostering an exclusive mindset.

5. Simplistic Solutions: The idea that simply thinking positively can solve complex life issues might be seen as an oversimplification, similar to some cult ideologies.

It’s almost religious, but most people are religious, and you know what? Without faith in something, people might have probably just (TW) killed themselves. Everyone has some kind of cult behavior—religious, politics, loyalty to family who don’t love or respect them. At this point, if it was a cult, I guess I was okay with that. Hopefully, the belief would at least give some sort of false comfort. Because having awareness and enlightenment and still suffering is even worse. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Then I came across your challenge, and tbh I had tried every subliminal, meditation, binaural beat, etc., so at first, I thought, how will this be any different? But then I saw the LOA Bella success story, and I just felt this was my calling because I had never related to a success story so much. I wanted to cry because it felt like a sign.

This isn’t a very exciting or good story, but all I did was:

Morning
https://youtu.be/gOpZAPo8VvU?si=FA2oxWQkR6l2KU_M

During the day (together)
https://youtu.be/67T-wX2iqfM?si=-f-TvsYyQ_D-od1L
https://youtu.be/xwaSBZFucGg?si=8-XLLROuoIypBSu0

Overnight
https://youtu.be/uBHMmHbQwa0?si=h01rp0Ngdl7Xhv9C

Basically I had a lucid dream and woke up in my waiting room because I had used lucid dreams to get into the void state, but they were also fake voids, and it was annoying to think, "Wow, I’m going to wake up with my dream life," and then fail. So I was taking no chances. I had a dream I was at work, and this lazy girl was being lazy as usual but an actual nuisance. We were outside, and I was like, "Wait, I don’t work outside," and then I got too excited, so I started jumping around and did a backflip because I heard that helps stabilize the dream. Then I commanded my annoying coworker to take me to a portal, and she did. I envisioned my waiting room and set the intention that when I close my eyes and enter the portal, I would wake up in my WR. I walked through, and then I fell. I was scared to open my eyes, so I affirmed just in case as I fell, and I heard the beach waves, and I knew it was there.

I only did this for manifesting purposes because then I intended to shift back to the same reality but where I had my dream life and master shifting abilities and void ability.

Honestly, I was so depressed at that point I didn’t particularly have any dreams or aspirations, so I didn’t know what would make me happy, as sad as it sounds. But I just slid into my WR bed and set the intention because I knew anything is possible in my WR and fell asleep. When I woke up, I woke up in a brand new house with a brand new family in a beautiful room.

Now, like I said, I didn’t have any intentions, so for the last few days, I’ve been having so many surprises and things happening that I now realize, of course, I would want this. I am just very happy, and I can’t believe it was so easy after almost 4 years.

I don’t have any stupid enlightenment advice that I would have thought I would have when I finally succeeded. As stupid and cult-like as it sounds, don’t give up—something will click.

That's amazing! I'm so happy for you and your success :)) and I am even more happy that you’ve found happiness when you don’t even know what you wantedand that it worked out.

I had a very similar experience and what I took from this is to be open to experimenting with different methods because what might not work today could be the key tomorrow and it can seem random.

I wish you the best with your dream life and I hope you continue to find happiness in different ways

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Alpha - Logan Howlett x ftm!reader

A/N: Hi! Um, this is my first work within the fandom! This was written with X-Men Logan in mind. Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N. This is so self-indulgent, so please be nice

Please make sure to read the tags carefully! They’re there for a reason

CW: Reader is a wolf mutant; Logan and Reader get off to a tense start; Reader is implied to be pre-op ftm, via the use of sports bras; implied wet dreams; use of the words slick and wet to describe Reader’s arousal; a/b/o dynamics? maybe?; misunderstandings; rough sex; pet play? (Reader is called pup); Reader is referred to as handsome; grinding; fingering; use of the word dick to describe Reader’s parts; overstimulation; no use of safe word; unprotected piv; multiple orgasms; implied aftercare

2493 words

The first thing you notice about Logan is his scent.

Not that you know it belongs to him. But it’s all you can smell as you talk to Jean. Thick and heady and strong. Musky like an animal and cloying like smoke.

Jean, of course, can tell you’re distracted. Instead of calling you out on it, she simply calls him in. Him and Scott enter at the same time, with an air of tension between them. Not that you care for long.

You’re too busy ogling the man in front of you. Rugged and handsome, more like a mountain man than a teacher.

Yet, that’s how Jean introduces him. Logan Howlett. History teacher.

You smile politely. You hold out your hand and try to not get too offended when he doesn’t shake it. You can tell he’s wary of you. Not that you could blame him.

You must be giving off a scent of your own, though you can’t smell it. But you can hear his inhale, feel the way his eyes watch you. You know he knows.

Especially when he straightens up. Lifting his chin and widening his stance. Establishing his dominance in a more subtle way than most other males. Perhaps he’s just that assured in his position.

Either way, you can feel your instincts itching at the back of your mind. The desire to submit. To recognize his authority. It pricks at you like a needle, but you brush it away. You’ve had enough of submitting to men like him. If he wants it, he’ll have to earn it.

Jean rests a hand on Logan’s arm, softly scolding him, probably for what he’s thinking. “Hey, be nice. They’re a wolf mutant.”

“A wolf mutant?” He looks unimpressed.

You stand your ground. Your nerves are starting to buzz from the force of his gaze. You hate stare downs, but you can’t lose this one.

“Yeah.” You answer him yourself. “That’s me.”

He scoffs and looks you up and down. “Yeah, whatever, bub. You ever even see a real wolf?”

You know what he’s doing and you hate it. But at least he’s not mistaking you for a girl and being all overly nice. You’d rather get his blunt side than his fake side.

“No. I’m a wolf mutant, not a real wolf.” You at least try to keep some of the sarcasm from your voice. Trying’s worth something, right?

Logan doesn’t look impressed. He crosses his arms, which prompts Scott to finally step in. “Welcome to Xavier’s Home for—“

“Thanks.” You interrupt him with a smile, but your gaze never leaves Logan’s.

Scott seems caught off guard. “Why… don’t I show you around…?”

Something in you relaxes at the thought of being away from such an intimidating man like Logan. You nod and accept his offer.

On your tour, your thoughts keep drifting back to Logan. Even away from him, your body sets on edge at the thought of him. He’s going to be trouble for you, you’re sure of it.

Most of the mutants at Xavier’s are surprisingly accepting of you. The adults, you mean. You don’t tell the kids.

Maybe it’s because you have Jean and Scott on your side, but most of the adults don’t bother you after learning your secret. Most of them find out when you come to training wearing a sports bra and baggy pants.

A few have questions. Most just leave you alone.

You’ve never been more grateful that Logan wasn’t around than during that particular training session.

The tension between the two of you has only gotten worse. You’re sticking by your defiance to his posturing, even at the expense of your pride. Your nerves hate it as well, practically screaming at you whenever Logan gets too close.

Part of you can’t figure it out. You’ve been around men like him before, but never with this reaction. The other part of you doesn’t care enough.

And yet, you care enough to be relieved that he doesn’t directly know your secret. It’s not a huge deal; you’re pretty sure Jean would’ve told him by now. But it’s still nice that he doesn’t know from you.

Until he does.

The whole day starts with you feeling off. You have one of those good dreams, and wake up in a puddle of your own slick. Definitely a damper to your morning.

Then they run out of your favorite breakfast food, some of your students are late to class, and it goes on and on.

By evening you are pissed. Not just at life but at yourself. Because the one thing you cannot get out of your mind is your dream.

You can remember strong arms. Growls of your name. A thick cock bullying its way between your legs. Delicious pleasure.

But you cannot remember the face. It eludes you all day. Stuck there at the back of your mind. On the tip of your tongue.

It’s not until Logan walks into your classroom after your last class that it hits you. With horrifying, picture perfect clarity.

Logan. It was Logan. You had a fucking wet dream about Logan.

Even worse? You’re not as opposed to the idea as you thought you’d be.

For a moment, you’re just staring at Logan. He raises an eyebrow. “You okay, bub?”

“Uh, yeah.” You hastily gather up your things, hoping beyond hope that he can’t smell the slight arousal you feel.

You know it’s too late when you brush by him and he stiffens. You know he can smell you. It doesn’t help the problem.

“What—“

You make your exit. Very fast. Very undignifying. But he doesn’t follow, so you count it as a win.

Two things change. The first is that you start avoiding Logan as much as possible. The second…

Well, the second is that he features in every single one of your dirty fantasies. Every wet dream. Every random horny thought. All Logan.

And it is infuriating.

Logically, you know why. He’s the protector of the house. The ‘alpha’ of the pack, so to speak. Sooner or later your body would react to his presence. He’s strong, handsome, and gruff. Literally your type.

You still blame it on your biology and pretend you don’t think of him when you get off.

It works for a week. One week, that’s how long you get before Logan corners you in the Training Room.

The moment you smell his musky scent, you know you’re fucked. He smells like anger. And something more that you try really hard to not think about.

But this moment was to come eventually, so you gear yourself up and face him head on.

You know you’re a sight. Sweaty and out of breath, wearing a sports bra and pants. If he didn’t know before, he sure does now.

Logan stops a few feet away from you. He eyes you up and down, frowning slightly. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says gruffly.

You cross your arms and wait for him to continue. Slivers of anxiety spiking through your body.

“Why? Why are you avoiding me?” Logan looks frustrated and it makes you want to cower. Shrink down and beg for his forgiveness.

You hated it. How dare he make you feel this way? All because you’re stuck with a fucking wolf mutation that makes you want to hide like a little puppy from him.

So you push against your instincts. Straighten yourself up. Meet his gaze full on. “What does it matter why?”

Logan blinks. As if he hadn’t been expecting your defiance. Then he rumbles out a growl. “You missed the team training session yesterday. How are we supposed to make sure you’re ready for missions if you don’t show up?”

It’s your turn to blink. To stare. To be confused. “What?”

He crosses his arms, unintentionally making his forearms stand out so perfectly. Not that you’re noticing, of course. Just another pesky side effect of his presence.

“You’re one of the most capable mutants here,” Logan says firmly. “So if you have an issue, let’s talk about it now.”

“Wait, you’re here about missions?”

He nods. Then frowns. “What else would I be here for?”

Suddenly you feel stupid. Absolutely stupid. “So… you’re not here about…” You gesture to your body.

His frown deepens. “What?”

“You know,” your anxiety feels like fire ants in your stomach. “The fact that my body is—“

“I could care less, bub,” he says bluntly. “It’s your body.”

You want to cry. You want to laugh. This whole time you’ve been stressing about Logan, and he hasn’t given a single fuck.

You relax. Your anxiety dissipating so fast it makes your head feel funny. That’s one of your problems solved.

And the other?

Well, it only gets worse.

It all comes to a head on a random Tuesday.

Scott, Jean, and Ororo are off on a mission. The students have all been dismissed from their classes. You’re in the Training Room, working out yet another filthy dream about Logan.

Your fantasies about him have gotten more intense now that you know he doesn’t care about the way your body is. It’s a major, major problem. You’ve started getting dehydrated from the amounts of slick you’re creating.

Which is why you’re in the Training Room instead of getting off. You’re lucky Jean and the Professor haven’t said anything yet, but sooner or later they’re gonna know.

You’re working through your third round of training dummies when a scent catches your attention. Musk and thick smoke. You stop immediately.

“Don’t mind me,” Logan says, a hint of amusement in his gruff tone. “I’m just here to train as well.”

Your hopes for training might as well be ashes in the wind. There is no way you are going to be able to focus on anything other than him.

“Wanna spar?” You ask, false cockiness in your voice.

Instantly your instincts are screaming at you. Challenging the alpha to a fight? You might as well give up your position in the school now. No one challenges an alpha to a fight without a cause behind them.

Excessive horniness apparently didn’t count to your wolf brain. But it did to you.

Logan eyes you. He seems tense; can he smell your light arousal in the air?

“Sure.” You find yourself both relaxing and tensing at his agreement.

You clear the floor and get into your positions. Your instincts start to settle, helping you focus. You take a breath, and move.

The sparring is brutal. Fun and exhilarating, but brutal.

One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know you’re flat on your back. Logan pinning you down. One hand keeping your hands above your head, the other keeping your waist against the floor. His knee nudged between your legs.

You get wet ridiculously fast. You’re panting, gasping for breath, and you can smell your own arousal. You can feel the slick coating your thighs, soaking through your boxers.

You meet Logan’s gaze. Your wolf instincts are mostly quiet for once. Probably because he already has you pinned down. The only thought in your head?

Submit to him.

Logan’s pupils are blown. He’s panting too, and you know he can smell you.

“You into this sort of shit?” He asks, voice hoarse.

You can’t do much against the instincts of your brain. You let your head rest against the floor. “Into you, maybe.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Logan’s voice is rougher than you’ve ever heard it. The sound goes straight to your core.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he growls, “and it’ll never have happened.”

“I want this,” you say, a hint of a whimper in your voice. “Logan, I need—“

His mouth smashes against yours. It’s not pretty, it’s not delicate. He kisses you like he’s starving, ravaging your mouth. Nipping at your lips until the tang of blood fills your mouth.

It’s not pretty, but it makes you oh so wet.

You moan into his mouth, struggling against his hold on you. You want to rake your fingers through his hair, buck up against him, really just anything more than what he’s giving you now.

“Settle down, pup,” he growls.

Your body responds embarrassingly fast. You still, panting into his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, “please, Logan, I need you.”

He smirks. Nudges his knee against your crotch. Even the slight amount of friction feels like heaven and you chase it with a moan.

“Dumb little slut,” he mutters. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh, handsome?”

You just whine, too busy grinding against his knee to answer. You need more. You need more. Why isn’t he giving you more?

“Logan,” your voice breaks, “Please!”

“Please what?” His fingers ghost along the waistband of your pants. “Use your words.”

“Please touch me,” you whimper.

He smirks, his words dripping with condescension. “Good boy.”

You almost cum just from his words alone. And when his fingers dip under your waistband, sliding into your boxers to circle your dick?

Your vision blurs with pleasure, your body squirming underneath him. He doesn’t let up, just keeps rubbing his fingers against you. It’s torture, pure delicious torture.

“Logan!” You sob. “Too much!”

“Too much?” He mocks. “I can fucking smell you, pup. I can smell the amount of slick pouring out of you. It’s not ‘too much’ till I’ve drained every last drop of cum from your dick.”

As if to make his point, he stuffs two fingers inside you, stretching you out and making you sob. When you start to squirm, he shifts, letting go of your hands in favor of pinning down your waist. Keeping you firmly against the floor.

You burrow your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly to keep from screaming as he curls his fingers against that one spot inside you.

It’s exquisite, mind-numbing, perfect.

He bullies his cock inside you after your third orgasm, stretching you out and making you babble mindlessly. You’re a mess on the floor; fucked out, sweaty, and coated in your own slick.

The sounds are obscene, and you hope to god no one outside the room can hear you.

You can barely feel your legs, lost to everything except the pleasure and the feeling of his hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. Over and over and over.

He cums once, and fucks it all back into you. It’s not until you’re literally drooling on the floor that he finally lets up, cumming inside you for the second time.

You whine softly as he pulls out, blearily cracking open your eyes.

“Hush, pup,” he soothes. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He lifts you into his arms and you nuzzle into his chest. Uncaring about how messy you are, or about the puddle of cum and slick left on the floor.

It’s just Logan for now, and you’re content with that.

[cusimmrbrightside]

I have always liked the idea of the school for mutants being very literally a school, and I know yes it is but I mean in the sense of if you want to be an X-men, you have to be a teacher. They have exams at the end of years, they have Ofsted checks (for those who don’t know what they are, it’s essentially people coming to check that the school is good at being a school) and they have teachers for every subject, which brings me to my next point;

“I’m Right You’re Wrong, Here’s What The X-Men (‘97 specifically) Would Teach As Subjects”.

(Also this is based off of UK school system but I use American terms like “seniors” and “AP” and “Midterms”)

Maths Teacher Gambit is surprising, for a guy most assume to not being entirely smart, an idiot goof off who’s the comedic relief. But you need to know numbers to gamble, and that he does with being very well versed in mathematics way past an AP level. He’s made the promise for every senior class that he will teach them to play blackjack on the final day, and has only ever lost once. Which is when the rule of “no betting real money” came into place.

English teacher Jean reminds me of the kind of teacher who would let the social outcasts into her class for their lunch breaks. The kids more likely to be bullied and she will fight tooth and nail to make sure those kids bullies don’t come into that classroom. they’re loud and shout and shouldn’t really be in there but no one has to know and she certainly won’t be telling them to leave any time soon.

Physics teacher Magneto is very specific to my highschool experience I’ll be honest. I had a physics teacher who was an actual Dr with a PHD and he hated being there. His classroom has (well, had since the building was knocked down about 5 years ago now) this one cabinet that was never fully shut, it was always open just about an inch or two, and he’d stand with his foot hovering just above it and then slam down on it whenever we got too loud so the noise would shut us up. That’s very magneto coded. Erik Lehnsherr would purposefully make the cabinet always a little open so he can do that.

Biology teacher morph is just a funny concept, a person whose physical form and change and morph into just about anything. They are considered one of the “fun” teachers, you could easily convince them to let you watch a movie all class as long as it was biology centred, but with classics like Osmosis Jones, you’re not stuck watching a documentary about animals giving birth.

Chemistry teacher Storm does not fuck about with children’s education. She is not strict by any means whatsoever, she just will not bend to someone saying they want to watch a film or should do a practical instead of theory. She has a set curriculum. She knows what she will be doing by the first week of the summer holidays and already has the room set up all pretty and organised.

Geography teacher Scott has the unfortunate job of telling his students that, they just won’t be looking at memorising country flags and politics. But hey!! Rocks are cool!! Beach shores are cool! Lake formations are cool! He’s the vice principal and designated nerd teacher. He once beat the elite four for a student on their copy of Pokémon Red because the student promised they’d do well in their midterms. Yes, he was in his 30s when the game came out, he doesn’t care.

History teacher Logan is a walking fun facts book. He’s exhausted, goes on smoke breaks on every gap of time he has, dislikes his job and will randomly get passionate about one specific topic, and will then dedicate his next 4 classes to that topic. Having been through a lot of modern history with personal experiences, he’s able to bring a lot of souvenirs to show his classes. Bullets, helmets, clothes he once wore hundreds of years ago, his personal memories of basic inventions like the vaccine.

PE (physical education) teacher Rogue is full of fun sports games, you can join any kind of sports team you can imagine and if you ask nicely enough, she’ll put Just Dance on a projector in the sports hall so you can just play that instead of actually play an actual sport. As long as you leave her class exhausted and without time to have a shower before your next class then she’s succeeded in making whoever your next teacher is absolutely miserable (bonus points if it’s Logan with his enhanced sense of smell).

Art teacher jubilee does believe that there is a right way to critique art. And she can be a little in your face about it. She does think you can have wrong opinions especially when it comes to your own art. If she overhears you saying you didn’t something wrong, she’ll scream into a megaphone “adapt, improvise, overcome!”. There are no mistakes! She’s eccentric, bubbly, creative and brilliant, the only one suited for the job.

It wouldn’t be a school without budget cuts. That’s why Nightcrawler is both the languages and religions teacher and he’s beloved at both. He comes up with roleplay scenarios the students can play to help learn their chosen languages, he has varied religious texts in his room and when he says to the students “I’ll pray for toy during exam season” he’s not actually joking.

(I forgot about Hank I’m actually going to cry he’s one of my favourites and I forgot about him. He’ll be in pt two or smth.)

[01zfan]

peach fuzz | l. at

camp counselor!anton x camp counselor!reader | 12k words

this fic took everything out of me omfg…so much fun to write and i loved writing it too. i listened to peach fuzz by tyler the creator, juke jam by chance the rapper, birds of a feather by billie eilish, and words by passenger while writing this.

contains: the ups and downs of friendship, cheating, protected sex (BE LIKE THEM)

anton learned through the gentle pushes from his parents that no kid his age should’ve avoided other people like the plague. when anton’s teachers would clear their throats while he was talking he knew it wasn’t normal for him to have such a soft voice. he couldn’t stop himself from clamming up when adults in sterile offices and white lab coats asked him questions about the friends he didn’t have.

anton didn’t know anyone else like him existed until he met you.

even if the doctor told his parents not to overreact and that anton could’ve simply just been painfully shy, they did not take well to the news. within a week anton was dropped off at summer camp. apparently the solution to an anxious child was to ship them off to an unfamiliar environment with kids they’ve never met before for nine weeks. 

anton had to be bribed to leave the car, and he clung to his mother’s leg and dragged his feet on the gravel as he trudged in her shadow. he watched kids dressed in the same khaki shorts and the same camp ridgewood on their shirts. when kids got too close to his safe space anton only nestled further into his mother, so much to the point that he wrinkled her dress pants.

“and i’m guessing you're anton?”

at the sound of someone else calling his name besides his parents anton froze. he slowly turned around from the screaming kids to face the lady sitting at the table. she wore the same thing as anton, except she had camp counselor stitched into her hat and a name badge hanging from her neck. anton could barely see her over the table and the camp ridgewood banner that hung from it. anton heard his parents repeat her name but didn’t dare to say it out loud as he kept half of his body hidden behind his mother. 

“anton, don’t be rude, say hi!” his mom said.

all anton could do was shake his head and burrow further into her side. the lady at the desk didn’t try pushing him to answer, and she didn’t ask his parents if he could speak. she only peaked underneath the desk briefly before looking back to anton and smiling.

“i have a friend i’d like for you to meet. i think you two will get along very well.” she said.

anton watched the lady beckon to him. the promise of a friend was enticing, but it was not enough to leave the comfort of his mother’s leg. his hands had to be manually pried from her pants and he had to be guided behind the table by his dad’s hand on his shoulder. 

anton dragged his feet, half-expecting to see the same doll that was in all the doctor’s offices. but to his surprise—and his parents—he saw you underneath the table. years down the road his mom would describe you as a frightened dog, wide eyed and ready to attack while you slunk to a shaded corner of the table.

anton thought you looked polite.

you had your chin resting on your knees while you readjusted the strap on your shoe a million times. you looked apprehensive at the three pairs of unfamiliar adult eyes staring you down. the sound of velcro ripping only ceased when you looked at anton. 

anton’s parents were surprised again when they heard their son read your name out loud. you nodded silently and looked for his name tag. they gasped when anton sat down next to you after you silently made room for him underneath the check-in desk. 

after that, you two were inseparable. when given the option to either sink or swim both of you became solid rocks. you sank to the bottom of the ridgewood lake together. you two you were both picked last for all the sports and no one knew your names, only referring to you two as “the quiet ones”. people had to fight tooth and nail to get a response from either one of you. both of you were believed to be mute, something that had to be debunked by your parents and the sole camp counselor who heard you both speak. 

your soft spoken attitudes and meek demeanor was a match made in heaven. everyone believed you two communicated telepathically, like there were magnets constantly keeping you two close together. you two were inseparable for the nine weeks you spent together at camp. when the summer camp came to an end and you two had to be (forcefully) separated, anton didn’t speak for a month in protest and he cried all the way home. rocks were trapped between the soles of his feet and his sandals from planting his feet in the ground.

the next summer you both found eachother again. you didn’t wear velcro shoes anymore and anton could look adults in the eye now. no time had passed between the two of you, the moment you saw eachother everything felt like it was back in place—that’s the only way anton knew how to describe what he felt then. 

you two saw eachother at camp again the next summer when anton started becoming lanky and uncoordinated and you started speaking up for yourself. 

then the summer after that when anton became the tallest camper and you both became too shy to comment on the growing tension and the profuse apologies after making the slightest physical contact. 

time continued to pass and you two continued to change, but that feeling only grew. anton no longer cowered behind his mother and he was able to make friends his own age, but he felt shy at the mere thought of you. even if anton grew out of his debilitating meekness like the doctors said he would, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he got when he was around you. like impending doom or something looming over him but it made him as happy as it did sick. he convinced himself that all friends felt that way about eachother. he also convinced himself that all friends needed to hear the other’s voice to fall asleep and that the blush appearing across his face constantly was normal.

before you both knew it, your last summer as campers came. you went from the youngest to the oldest. you guys wore a different colored shirt than the rest of the campers and all the counselors seemed to include the word final into every sentence. 

anton started feeling a pit form in the bottom of his stomach when the camp counselors started acting like the senior campers were going to die and be buried at the lake. he even imagined the procession, all of the adults wearing black veils as they said their final comments about each camper. when they would get to him they would just shake their heads before saying here lies anton, the one that never made a move and never will because he’s going to college upstate while she’s staying to go to community college. and he actually asked to be buried alive.

“anton.” the sound of bottles clanking together in taesan’s backpack brought him back to their shared cabin. “you ready?” he asked.

the only thing that distracted anton from the end of summer camp was his fellow campers becoming increasingly daring. there was an unspoken rule that as you aged up in the camp, you had more freedom. it was a silent agreement between the older campers and the counselors, a sign of respect and something similar to carrying on a tradition. the only rule—which was ironically the first thing broken—was that they couldn’t be reckless. so each night the older campers would wait until lights out so the counselors could deny culpability and sneak off into the forest so they could do exactly that.

if he was being honest, anton didn’t have a taste for alcohol and he didn’t enjoy the idea of being out in the dark unknown so late at night. he preferred to be in his sweaty cabin instead of being eaten alive by the mosquitos and the idea of being caught, but each night before lights out you would text anton you coming out? and he couldn’t stop himself from sending back a yes, as long as you are there. (you always were, sitting across the campfire from anton with a drink in your hand and talking to all the friends you made over the years). 

“here, take this.” taesan said, handing anton a case of beer.

anton’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he hesitated to grab the case. his roommate had to shake the case towards him and raise his eyebrows before anton replaced taesan’s hand with his.

“how the hell did you sneak this onto camp?” anton asked.

he asked the same question everyday and got the same answer. each time taesan would just shrug his shoulders and say i have my connects with a smirk on his face.

(it was the spirits store owner thirty minutes away who always likened taesan to a korean kurt cobain.)

after anton shook his head and walked outside, he saw his fellow campers one by one sneak out of their cabins to head towards the forest. the quiet symphony of twigs snapping underneath creeping feet filled the air but no one awoke or thought to investigate. anton remembered being so scared his first day of camp all those years ago that he didn’t go to sleep. while he was looking out the window trying to will his mom miles away to come pick him up he saw the then senior campers walking into the forest the same way he was now. he would’ve never thought that he would end up becoming one of them, especially the one that helped supply the alcohol. but he was easily swayed by your smile and the cheers of his fellow campers as he doled out beers to anyone with their hand out.  

anton saved the last beer in his hand for you as he pointlessly used it for bait to lure you from the other side of the campfire to the spot right beside him.

if someone where to ask, the two of you would agree you didn’t know how it happened. adrenaline and alcohol made the night fuzzy for you both—all you guys could really recall was the crackling sound of the campfire and other campers talking. both of you could’ve been catching up with the people you would probably never see again, but instead you and anton opted to sit so close that the sides of your sweaty thighs were glued together and your shoulders bumped anytime either of you laughed. you two couldn’t be bothered to talk to anyone else, jumping from topic to topic while subconsciously swatting away bugs that got too close. 

you two would’ve told everyone that as the night progressed you both slurred on about college, coming back to camp, and everything that happened in between. anton would withhold that he was grateful he could blame his rosy cheeks on the fire and the beer in his hand when you shyly said you were going to miss him. anton would’ve omitted the adrenaline rush he got when he held eye contact with you for longer than three seconds to tell you that he would find a way to keep in touch. he felt significantly drunker when you told him that you were his bestfriend and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

anton remembers the campfire burning down to just the embers and taesan putting half empty bottles of hard liquor back in his bag and sohee telling everyone else it was time to call it a night. he remembers feeling cold even in the muggy heat of summer after you got up from sitting beside him, but he remembers feeling warm when your soft hand grabbed his to lift him up from the tree trunk you two sat on. he remembers not letting go of your hand and you intertwining your fingers with his, and how you squeezed so tight you left crescent moon shaped impressions on the back of his hand. he remembers you looking mischievously towards the rest of the group in front of you before pulling him off the beaten path. anton remembers widening his eyes before your face silently begged him to trust you. he remembers following behind you a second later, led by your hand as you headed deeper into the forest. 

anton remembers the leaves tickling his face and the silence of the night as he followed behind you. just as he was lost in the forest anton remembers feeling your hands move to his chest as you pushed him against the trunk of the tree. he remembers the twigs poking into his back as you quickly pressed you lips against his. just as the shock settled and anton’s hands clutched at your camp shirt you pulled away.

“are we gonna remember this?” you asked breathlessly.

anton grabbed your bare thigh in his hand as he clumsily lifted the leg and pressed into the small of your back to bring you closer. he swallowed thickly, trying to remember your soft lips and the taste of liquor mixed with your spit in the short amount of time.

“i’ll forget if you want me to.” anton murmured.

so when you nodded your head before crashing your lips on his again with more fervor anton forced himself to forget. he forgot your giggling voice and how you leaned into his side and wrapped your hand around his waist. anton forgot about the twigs loudly snapping under his heavy feet and your hands that greedily pressed into his chest and stomach. he forced himself to forget how he kissed you until he was dizzy and out of breath, and he forgot the way you had to wipe your lips with the back of your hand. he forced himself to forget the million drunken kisses he pressed to the back of your hand and your fingers that prodded his flesh. he forgot about how welcoming your dark room seemed behind you and the regret on your face when you told him goodnight.

anton didn’t know he had the right to remember until you came by his cabin the next night. seeing you in the dead of the night was the first time anton had seen you all day. anton knew you were avoiding him, and in an effort to remain casual he let you do it. he had to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach each time you would avoid his eyes or suddenly cut to a different direction than him. 

you were both staring at echother wide eyed, trying to see who the first would be to remember. trying to forget was useless when you bit your lip to try and find the words. the only thing anton could think about was how he ran his tongue over your top row of teeth before you tilted your head and stuck your tongue in his mouth. your eyes were focused on anton’s chest as the memories came back to you too.

“i don’t want to ruin our friendship.” you said quietly. 

senior campers walked by anton’s cabin towards the forest in a mass exodus. they were too busy trying to go undetected to notice you two staring at eachother in the doorway of anton’s cabin. in that moment, with the lightning bugs and the overwhelming unsaid it seemed like it was only you two. there was a party that was about to go on, and it would be the first party of the summer that you would miss. anton had another case of beer to hand out but he couldn’t be bothered. he had the chance to be alone with you for the next hour and he wanted to be completely sober. 

he backed into the darkness of his cabin and you followed after him step for step like you were lost in a trance. you closed the door behind you and let yourself get caged between anton and the wall. 

“nothing is going to change.” anton said before grabbing you the same way he did before.

anton was right. for that last week of camp nothing changed between the two of you. you were the same inseparable pair in the daytime and it was the same at night. the only difference was that you and anton found yourselves sneaking around at night to kiss eachother on the lips. sometimes you would be straddling anton’s hips on a recliner in your cabin while you pulled at his shirt and other times you would be underneath him while he gripped your waist. you two were able to convince yourselves you were getting closer through the intimacy. what was a better way to learn about your friend than to kiss them for hours on end? 

the last week of camp, kissing was the only thing on your minds. anytime anton would speak you would forget to listen to the words coming out. anton’s head was constantly on a swivel trying to follow your every move. the final days passed right by the both of you. seeing you stuff your final bag into the backseat of your parents car hit anton like a freight train. you two spent all your time kissing that you didn’t talk about the future. time was out and all you two could do was hope the last kiss you shared the night prior was enough.

“i’ll see you later, anton.” you said.

tears stung your eyes and anton felt a lump forming in his throat. he wished he could kiss you. he imagined your heart was slamming in your chest the same way it was the night before.

“i’ll call you.” anton nodded his head in an effort to shake off that sinking feeling. “every night.” he added.

anton kept his promise. he called you on the way back home, he called you even when he had nothing else to say. he called you when he moved into his dorm, and you were the first person to see his finished side of the room after he set all of his things up. your voice became a lifeline for anton while he adjusted to his surroundings.

he discovered that rich kids who went to ivy leagues were undeniably dense, almost as if they didn’t know people existed outside of their tax bracket.

anton still remembers the looks on his peers faces when they found out where he was from. he was able to hide that he grew up surrounded in the remote boonies where everyone wore true camouflage and drove large pickup trucks. anton credited it to the fact that he didn’t have a heavy country accent due to his parents actually being from new jersey. he grew up with a lack of southern influence in his home, so much so that he didn’t realize he would miss it until he went up north for school. no one knew about southern hospitality or the comforting idleness of being surrounded by nothing but open road and livestock. anton was overstimulated his entire freshman year—he had nothing to do his whole life then suddenly he could do everything. he could get his ear pierced in a store the size of a closet then go thrifting down the block and go to a tourist spot all within the hour. anton loved having things to do, but he missed the simplicity of the countryside. he liked the lack of choice, the fact that there was only three things to do and you needed a car to do any of them.

you seemed to be the only one who understood him. each night he would talk about his day and end it with talking about his clueless peers. he talked your ear off while he laid on his side with his phone balancing on his cheek. he kept going even through your sounds of acknowledgment. anton didn’t realize he was ranting until it was late into the night and your voice started sounding light and airy.

anton knew that he should’ve hung up after he realized what time it was. but your voice sounded so sweet when you were assuring him that he would find people like him the longer he stayed in there. but anton didn’t want anyone else besides you. he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he imagined you with him in the city everyday, and that he had a page on his notes app filled with places he wanted to take you to. anton moved to his back to stare at his ceiling when he remembered that’s how you always laid in bed. he adjusted the phone in his hand and held it close to his ear. 

“how are you, though?” anton asked quietly.

“hmm.” your voice was even more quiet. your hums were barely picked up by your phone’s receiver as you tried thinking about the current highlights of your life. “community college is easy. like alarmingly easy.” you said.

both you and anton laughed into your phones at the confusion in your voice. he wondered if you made the face you always made when he would laugh at one of your jokes. anton wondered if you were sleeping next to your plushies he bought you or if you had pulled your covers up to your chin.

“i miss you alot though.” you said honestly.

then he wondered what you were wearing. maybe you had on that cute two-piece set that you always wore to camp or maybe it was so hot in your room that you wore nothing.

“did you hear what i said?”

anton pulled himself from his musings at your question. you sounded more awake than before, and the interrogating tone of your voice made anton perk up from across the country.

“i wasn’t listening.” anton said sheepishly. “i’m sorry.” 

“don’t be, you must be tired.” you said.

anton heard you shuffle in your bed and he wondered if you were checking the time on your bedside clock. 

there was complete silent on your side of the line before anton heard your deep sigh.

“you should probably go to sleep, right?” you asked.

both you and anton were silent on opposite ends of the line more awake than ever. if he closed his eyes and focused on your breathing he swore you were right next to him on his tiny twin bed. he took in a deep breath and ran his hands down his chest until he settled on the waistband of his shorts.

“i’m not tired.” he said.

you didn’t waste a second responding to him. anton felt the air in his dorm room prickle with electricity as sweat preemptively started lining his body.

“me neither.” 

if anton knew that the next hour and a half would’ve resulted in you two avoiding eachother he never would’ve quietly asked you what you were wearing after you asked him what he was thinking about. he would’ve never told you that he missed you more and more everyday and that he wished to touch you more than anything. but you two were acting off of your own carnal desires, fueled by lack of contact and never going further beyond kissing and grinding when you both knew you were running out of time. he didn’t stand a chance when he heard your breathy whimper when you asked for permission to add another finger. each heavy breath crackled through anton’s speaker, and he wrapped his hand tight around his dick imagining it was you. a confession might’ve slipped out in between the callings of your name and the rhetorical can you feel it’s, but the fog of chasing after something made anton act on impulse only. he finished in his hand the same time you clamped around your fingers, and as soon as the euphoria washed away all you two were left with was an intense silence and heavy realization over the phone. when anton finally opened his eyes he noticed the mess he had made on himself and of your friendship. 

anton laid in the bed, uncomfortable and sweaty with wet sticky hands when he heard your heavy pants on the other end of the line. before he could comment on the sudden change in the air he heard you pull in a sharp breath.

“i should go to bed.” you said quickly.

when you hung up before anton could reply, he knew something was wrong. his mouth was still agape when he heard the two definitive beeps on the other end of the line. he still stared at the ceiling, hand resting on his loose stomach as everything sank in.

he waited for you to come to him first. if he was told what he did wrong he could’ve apologized for it. was he too brash? was he too desperate? did he say your name too much? knowing you had become an innate part of anton. he knew what your favorite movie was, what you liked to do and how you talked. so when you left him hanging on the other end of the line and didn’t tell him why, he felt like he knew nothing. he no longer knew how to speak in class or turn in assignments, he didn’t know how to make friends and he didn’t know how to leave his dorm. 

maybe that’s what pulled him back to camp. without you anton was left to scramble for a shred of familiarity, even if that meant he would have to become a camp counselor. he prayed his personal hell as a child would became his oasis as a young adult and serve as a mental detox from the fast pace of living in the city and a reprieve from his challenging school curriculum. if he was lucky, he would get the same cabin and pretend the creak in his floorboards was you. so he applied to be a swim instructor and lifeguard on a whim.

he never would’ve thought that you had the same idea as him. 

when anton first unloaded his things from the back of his moms’ car and saw you heading into your old cabin he felt warmth the same time he felt the panic wash over him. in the spilt moment he realized the girl who looked like you was actually you everything stilled. the kids running around unattended ceased, the sound of camp counselors yelling for order was silenced. the only thing in anton’s sights was you and the wide eyed look on your face when you noticed him. 

the whole day he felt like he was chasing after your shadow. he heard oh, she was just here and you missed her all day. anton was examining your counseling schedule all day, trying to find a time that lined up between the two of you. he didn’t have his epiphany until the middle of the day when he was hunched over rereading the times of your schedule instead of looking when his next class was. anton realized that even if he felt like he didn’t know you anymore, you two were still had to be the same. that’s why he waited until nightfall and caught you on his way to his cabin to talk.

anton ironically caught you on his way out. before you could make it up the three stairs to knock on the door anton opened it, clad in black to try and blend in with the night. when you two recognized what the other was doing, your eyes both widened the same way.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“what are you doing?” he responded.

you looked at him with eyes wide as saucers while your hands fidgeted at your sides, stumbling over your words as you tried to figure out what to say. you would’ve stayed out there all night if the senior campers didn’t start leaving their cabins to head into the forest. the risk of being caught by kids who were also at risk of being caught pushed you into anton’s cabin. 

you closed the door behind you and felt himself getting lightheaded. the last time you were this close to him privately he were touching eachother all over. now you leaned your back against his door, hand nervously flexing around your hand.

“i’m sorry for not calling you.” you apologized while your eyes were fixed on the floor.

“it’s alright.” anton assured.

he thought he was going to die the first night you didn’t pick up your phone. he went to a party and drank too much and kissed a girl who very much believed they were dating now. he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was in a very committed relationship that wasn’t a relationship with his bestfriend.

“i just can’t believe we fucked over the phone before fucking in real life.” you said.

anton couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face. your bluntness caused him to take a step back and realize how odd the situation between you and him had become. his mind shamelessly went back to that night where he was whimpering your name with his dick in one hand and his duvet in the other. he told himself in that moment that he would’ve never done it if he knew it’d lead to this but the way you stood before him now only made anton see phone sex as an opening—an opportunity. so instead of lying and telling you he would’ve taken it all back to have you in his life in the same capacity as before he looked down at the crown of your head that still hung low.

“that doesn’t mean we can’t do that now.” he said quietly.

anton watched your head instantly perk up at his words. he saw you blink as you the words sunk in. anton showed you he meant it by grabbing your arm and slowly walking you backwards to his bed. he watched you take slow steps at first, almost a stumble as you followed him across the creaking floorboards. you almost tripped on the thin fraying carpet and anton saw it as another opportunity. he held your arm even tighter before he finally sat on the edge of his bed to look up at you. you were set in the middle of his sights, the wooden logs of the cabin served as your backdrop. he bit back the compliment that rested on his tongue to play with the end of your shirt instead. even if a year had passed his hands still fit perfectly. he gently pressed his thumbs into your waist, until the fabric of your shirt crinkled underneath his grip and your hands went to his shoulders.

“anton.” you said quietly.

anton instantly looked up from your waist to your face. your pupils were dilated and your body leaned towards his but your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you nervously smoothed the fabric on his shoulders. 

“you got a girl back home now?” you asked.

referring to his college upstate as his home felt odd. although there was alot of things in new york it didn’t have his parents house, it didn’t have this camp, and it sure as hell didn’t have you. but anton knew bringing that up would’ve just been seen as deflecting, so he kept the same grip on you to show that nothing had changed when he nodded his head.

he didn’t know if you avoiding eye contact was because you were hurt or if he was reading too much into things. anton decided to focus on the way you started pinching the fabric of his shirt that draped his shoulders and your eyes that focused on his neck. 

you were silent for a moment, focusing on the base of anton’s neck before you tilted your head to the side.

“how would you feel if i did the same thing?” you hummed.

anton noticed your tone wasn’t shy anymore. if you were upset you hid it well. you spoke to him the same way you did over the phone, coy and saccharine. 

“how’d you meet her?” you asked.

“what are you wearing?”

“at a party.” anton answered.

“how long have you two been dating?” you asked.

“are you touching yourself right now?”

“not even dating, really.” anton leaned back hoping you’d follow but you stayed in the same place. “just talking.” he added the truth quickly, hoping you’d come closer to him.

“how long?” you repeated.

hearing the stern edge to your voice took anton all the way back to your gentle orders that came through the speaker of his phone. he listened then and he listened now. anton racked through the foggy timeline of his talking stage at college until he came up with a number.

“three weeks?” he said.

anton watched your head cock to the side at his answer. he practically watched you calculate the time from the infamous phone call to the soft launch that anton reposted to his instagram story. when everything added up you looked back to him with a smirk on your face.

“you missed me that much?” you asked.

anton didn’t hesitate to nod, even though some part of him believed he should be withholding such information. if there was a handbook about being friends with benefits with your actual platonic bestfriend, anton was sure that talking about romantic endeavors would be under the list of things not to do. but your hands wandered down from his shoulders to his chest and slid all the way down until your fingers grazed his clothed collarbones. anton wanted nothing more than to get pushed down by you until his back his the mattress. when you experimentally pushed and slotted yourself between his spread legs anton came to the decision then and there that he would give you what you wanted until you returned the favor.

“you know i always do.” anton said while pulling you towards him.

you smirked again and pushed his chest a little harder. anton gave into your strength immediately, happy for an excuse to press his back against the mattress.

he looked from his spot on the mattress to see you still standing in front of him. he pathetically reached his hand out to you, trying to get you to close the gap. but you were steadfast on your side of the bed, looking down at him like you were waiting for something. anton racked his mind for what you wanted to hear, but instead he gave you the truth.

“you’re my bestfriend. how could i not miss you?” he said quietly.

anton didn’t know why that worked. maybe it was the honesty, or maybe it was hearing your relationship be lamented in the still of night. regardless, it was the last thing you needed to get you to stop holding back. like a switch had flipped you were no longer stoic or had to be guided by anton’s hands. 

you crawled onto the bed and straddled anton’s body while ridding yourself of your clothes. he couldn’t keep up with your confession that you were too cowardly to advance beyond kissing last summer. anton could only helplessly nod and press his lips to your neck when you told him timidly between gasps that you wanted him but not between the satellites floating in space. you needed to hear his voice in real life, and feel his real hands on you instead of screwing your eyes shut and pretending your soft fingers were his. the only time anton pulled away was when you told him breathlessly you wanted to go all the way. 

he crawled onto the bed and lifted his upper body to your bare chest while his hands ran up and down your back.

“are you sure?” anton asked, eyes wide.

after you nodded and arched into his touch, anton repeated the same sentiment back to you. he pulled you close by the small of your back of your pants while he pressed his lips to any place he could reach. 

after that night, it set the mood for the rest of the camp. just like the year before you two ended up spending a majority of your alone time sneaking around to be reckless. becoming camp counselors and having your own cabins made everything entirely too easy. you no longer had to pull anton into the deeper part of the forest to kiss him, all you had to do was wait for a break in your schedules and invite him to your cabin. 

each time it started and ended the same. you two had developed your own signal, a simple head nod before you turned around and started heading in the general direction of your cabin. anton would follow far behind you, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of kids and other counselors as you both made your ways back. you would go in first and anton would make sure that the coast was clear before coming in. he would close and lock the door behind you, say something about how you were already ready on the bed for him. you would always tease him back about his girlfriend, repeating the same thing you said to him the first time.

“how would you feel if i did the same thing?” you sounded like you were thinking it out loud, mentioning anton’s almost girlfriend without directly stating her name.

anton never answered your question directly. he would distract you by nipping your skin or pulling your hips to his a little faster. anything to interrupt your thoughts, or to push everything else out of your head until it was just him. it worked for the most part, but the question still remained in the back of your head. in between moments of bliss you would look down at anton, lost in you the same way you were lost in him. he didn’t think you had it in you to get in a relationship. he knew he had no right to restrict you from pursuing someone, but he always tried and prove you only needed him in life. when he would cover your classes for you, when he wordlessly understood what you needed, or preemptively got you something you wanted. when anton would hold you down the way you needed or suffocate you with his weight in the best way it was him silently saying why would you need anyone else? for the most part it worked. but each time antons’ phone would light up from a notification you felt a sick churn in your stomach. how would you feel if i did the same thing?

he never answered you, so you decided to find out for yourself.

“you should probably answer that, right?”

anton first was nervous bringing up the elephant sitting on his beside table. he believed he was making a mistake bringing up the quiet ringing of your phone and the annoying buzz on the wooden tabletop, but pride blossomed in his chest when he saw how quickly you turned your confused head look up from the pillow. anton’s dick twitched in his boxers as he felt your whole body stiffen for a moment as you tried to work through your foggy brain.

“what?” you said, voice still hot and bothered.

anton’s dick jumped again when he saw you crane your head back to look at him. 

even if he stopped pumping his fingers in and out of your heat, and the camp was completely silent from it being in the middle of the night, you didn’t register anything outside of him. anton watched your eyebrows furrow from confusion to relief when he purposely pressed his scissoring fingers against your soft walls.

when your eyes finally focused back on him anton flicked his head towards your vibrating phone on the corner of his table. he couldn’t stop his wicked smile when he saw you slowly realize what he was talking about. you stiffened even further, your eyes grew wide in panic, and your walls tightened around his fingers.

anton could only blame you so much for not noticing your phone. past a certain time it was automatically set to do not disturb, rejecting phone calls and texts until the morning. anton could only guess two people from your contact list that overrode your silenced notifications. he looked around for his own phone as he adjusted his legs that stretched down the length of his tiny twin sized mattress.

“feels so good you didn’t even notice your boyfriend calling?” anton cooed.

when you parted your lips getting ready to speak, anton plunged a third finger into your cunt. you turned your face back into the pillow to muffle your moans, further arching your back as you preened your hips towards his hand. anton leaned forward from the headboard of his bed and pressed his wet lips to the swell of your ass as your walls clenched around his fingers again. 

life was perfect when you were laid out for him like this, face in the pillow with your ass up in the air. you were in between anton’s outstretched legs, holding onto his calf for dear life as your head was facing towards the foot of the bed. anton had to rip his attention away from the thin layer of sweat that coated your body and your nails that dug into the muscle of his leg as your phone continued to vibrate beside him. he rolled his eyes when the contact picture of your boyfriend lit up your phone screen again. 

“he’s just going to keep calling if you don’t answer.” anton said, not caring to hide the annoyance in his voice.

he knew better than anyone that a suspecting partner was not going to stop until they got their answers. this happened the summer before when the girl anton pretended was you wouldn’t stop blowing up his phone. 

he would’ve been more gentle with you about the situation, maybe he would’ve ignored the buzzing for your sake. but you seemed to only get aa boyfriend in the first place to spite him. he remembers the shock of seeing the smiling mans face on your instagram story. you revealed your new partner the same way anton revealed his—how could he not think this was a pointed attack? he waited for you to drop the games and to ditch him, but you kept him by your side despite talking to anton everyday. reminiscing on the times your boyfriend told you to get off the phone with him caused anton to bend his fingers at the knuckle inside of you just to see feel squirm again. 

you turned away from the pillow, your face flushed and eyes bleary as you shook your head.

“i don’t wanna talk to him.” you babbled.

anton looked away from your phone, instantly giving you a mocking pout at your pitiful expression. 

you had the same dejected face when anton opened the door for you an hour ago. after countless summers of sneaking around you had your back facing him and looked towards the moon. you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings in the slightest, it would’ve been too easy for you to get caught breaking one of the few rules camp counselors had. but anton’s reprimands were caught in his throat when you turned around to face him. instantly he saw your flushed face and fresh tear tracks that were smeared across the bags underneath your eyes. your arms were crossed and your head hung low, you seemed so small in front of anton he almost thought the gentle night breeze was going to whisk you away. that’s why he wrapped his hand around your wrist so quickly and brought you into the comfort of his single cabin. 

you stood in front of his door for a long time, anton was only able to coax you further inside after he sat on his bed and wordlessly beckoned to you. 

he inwardly cheered to himself when he saw you take the slow steps towards him. he tried to watch with a neutral face as you came closer and closer, your feet creaking with each step on the old wood floorboards. he scooted away from the corner of the bed to make room for you, not bothering to fight the lean in his body when your weight caused a dip in the mattress.

the way you sat perched on the corner of his bed reminded anton of the first time you ever came in his cabin this late at night. it was a night like this one, a gentle breeze that almost got rid of the sticky humidity that hung in the air from the lake. that summer night was before you two had any rules to your arrangement, and long before your boyfriend came along and complicated everything. anton felt himself getting nostalgic at the way you almost hid yourself from him, how it was so obvious you wanted to tell him something but you were still trying how to find a way to say it. 

at the end of the day words always failed you, evident in the way you still nervously bit your lip while trying to muster up what you needed to say. anton scooted closer to the small corner of his bed you occupied. you messed with the loose sheet but didn’t move from your spot at all. anton covered the rest of the gap, planting his hand behind your back to give you something to lean on. you leaned to him without hesitation and rested your head on his shoulder. you had been so cautious to touch him since you arrived, sticking to your guns saying i have a boyfriend now, we can’t do this anymore. but all that seemed to be forgotten when you sniffled once more and darted your tongue to wet your dry and cracked lips.

“take your time.” anton said.

you nodded, and silence beyond the slight movement of trees outside took over the space between you and anton. 

“he wants me to quit.” you said.

anton moved his head from your shoulder to look you in the face, wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumb.

“why?” he asked.

anton knew why. you knew why. your boyfriend knew why. everyone in the camp knew why. but you still shook your head before letting it hang, sniffling again.

“he just makes everything so complicated.” you said.

anton nodded sympathetically like he wasn’t the reason for your relationship being so hard. anton overheard the arguments on the phone, you candidly showed him the messages of your jealous boyfriend without a second thought. anton had seen the threats to break up over your contact with him and the confusion of your boyfriend about your male bestfriend. anton had also seen your refusal to give him up, which made him proud. 

he imagined your boyfriend back home, fuming so much to the point that he yelled at you to quit your job solely because anton was there. he unknowingly pushed you right to anton’s doorstep, sitting on the edge of his bed with your head leaned into him. anton smiled at the thought of your boyfriend seeing you now, but by no means is he a bad guy. he listened to you when you told him that you two could no longer fool around. but anton knew that he would help you feel better by any means—maybe your boyfriend knew it too. 

“things don’t have to be complicated when it’s just you and me.” anton reasoned.

he saw your frame shake a little as you laughed. even if his only view of your face was the top of your head he imagined the scoff and the eye roll.

“i’m serious.” anton reached his hand to wrap around your shoulder to bring you closer. “we know eachother better than anyone else.” he said.

“you say that until we date and then we break eachothers hearts and never speak again.” you are still sniffling while you speak, and you bring the end of your shirt to wipe away forming tears.

anton grabs your shoulders and manipulates your body to face him. your are wide eyed and trying to hide your post-crying face from anton. he thinks you look beautiful, but that’s besides the point. he makes sure you’re looking directly at him before he speaks again.

“i’m not asking for anything else with you. being your friend is the only thing i need.” he says honestly.

“you want me to just wait around all year until the summer comes around?” you ask.

you sound skeptical, but he can tell your interest is peaked by the way you get closer to him. he prays that you understand what needs to be said without him having to verbalize it, just like you always have. anton has already tried the relationship thing in the time he was away from you. you haven’t had the chance to realize that everything falls short when it’s not with the person you love the most. 

“doesn’t it feel like sometimes you have to explain yourself too much to him?” when you don’t object, anton moves closer to you. “isn’t it exhausting being with someone who doesn’t know you?” anton continues.

anton watches the tears start to form in your glassy eyes again as you wordlessly nod your head. he can only imagine how tired you must be from your little boyfriend. 

“don’t you get nervous at the thought of being alone with him because it’s not me?” he asks.

maybe anton is projecting, but it’s hard to tell when you agree with everything he says. you nod your head and reach your hands out to touch his sides. in other cases where hands have been timid yours are sure, even through a whole year of not being in this type of contact with him. 

for a long time, the two of you are silent. the only sound is the creaking mattress underneath your sitting bodies as you two run your hands down the other. both of you are lost in the opportunity of being so close again. anton feels your hands grip his shoulders, and you dig your hands in so deep anton almost feels the pain. his hands go to your lower back and apply just enough force to leet you know what he wants to do. he looks down at your thighs, how soft and welcoming they are then travels up to your face. when he finds you already looking at him his chest starts to feel tight.

“you’re my bestfriend, anton.” you say softly.

he nods, feeling something sting in his eyes.

“you’re my bestfriend.” he says back.

you get a little closer, letting your body be pulled by his greedy hands.

“you’re my bestfriend.” you repeat.

anton’s eyes stay locked in on yours, and he puts his full body on the bed.

“you’re my bestfriend.” he says again.

you stands on your knees on the bed and anton does the same. he looks down at you, and a hand goes to cradle your face. the single tear that rolls down your face is fat and glimmers even in the darkness of your room. anton catches it with his thumb, wiping away your tears like any bestfriend would do. your hand reaches to his face, then goes around to the nape of his neck. anton only needs to feel you pull at him once before he closes the distance between the two of you.

anton understood why you gave in the first summer you two came back as camp counselors. he knew better than anyone that romantic relationships were fleeting. he was constantly surrounded by flings and endeavors that crashed and burned. but when he talked to the people in his life about his friends, there was always the common consensus. maybe it was wishful thinking, but anton that your relationship would come to an end. having a man check on your every move was unsustainable, and when you would eventually come to anton for advice he would tell you this. 

when you eventually came to your senses and broke up with him you would find someone else, the same way anton would find someone else too. then those relationships would end, or come to a toxic boiling point the same way they always do. but through it all, anton knew that he would have you and you would always have him. being able to be your friend was more prestigious than being among the ranks of the terrible man that broke your heart, that left you crying in front of anton. but as your friend—your bestfriend—he was the only one. he was the only one you came crying to the same way you were with him. the place you held in eachothers heart took up more room than any romantic relationship ever could. 

so anton did what any good friend would do and started reaching for your pants the same time you started reaching for his. your hands were pulling at his waistband but anton was quick, his large slender fingers reached past the elastic of your shorts and underneath the fabric of your underwear. you bathed his hand in heat before he reached his hand further down, bumping your clit before making it to your hole. when anton prodded your hole he already felt your slick coat his fingers. 

he smiled against your lips, and smiled even more when your hands froze. like you went through a factory reset, your mind instead went to pulling at his shirt instead of his pants. he pulled away from you and let your shaky hands pull his shirt over his head. he traded out his hands inside your pants to fully get hi shirt off. even with his non-dominant hand he knew exactly where you needed him, only because it was you. you were instantly responding to his fingers, whiny and trying to figure out which way to go. anton broke apart from your lips to watch his hand jump underneath the fabric of your shorts. you did the same, eventually burying your head in his chest when the sight became too much.

anton led you to your back first, and placed a kiss on your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. you squirmed from the sensation, and anton made a point to suck on the skin until he knew there would be a mark left behind. he watched your hands flounder, searching desperately for something to do.

“take your pants off.” anton breathed.

instantly your hands were pushing down your pants and your legs were kicking to get them all the way off. when they were discarded over the edge of the bed anton moved his fingers to play with your clit. your shirt rode higher up your body and your back arched. he looked down at your reactions, wondering if you were always this sensitive. 

he pulled away from you and backed away up he rested against the headboard of the bed. you followed him all the way there, shimmying your body in between his legs. he smiled and tapped the inside of your thigh to break you out of the brain fog.

“how do you want it?” he asked.

“don’t wanna think about anything.” you said.

anton responded by pulling your body closer to his, then placing his hands on the side of your body to flip you around. you obliged immediately, becoming malleable to anton’s hands. he flipped you onto your stomach then propped your legs underneath you. 

“arch for me baby, that’s all you have to do for me.” he mumbled while pressing a hand to your lower back. 

anton took it upon himself to do all the work. he spread you with one hand while trailing his wet fingers up your thighs with the other. you shivered for him even if it felt like it was a million degrees in the cabin, and you pushed your hips backwards even if he was giving you what you wanted. anton still took his time, only putting the first finger inside of you after his hand on his ass kept you still.

by the time he had two fingers inside of you, your boyfriend’s contact photo lit up your screen again. anton’s hand that was still having to keep your ass in place reached across his body to grab the phone. he scoffed at the contact picture and the identical emoji that was tacked onto the end of anton’s contact name. 

past your phone anton could see your eyes blown out with worry as you weakly waved your hand.

“don’t answer it.” you whined.

“i won’t,” he continued driving his fingers into your contracting heat while he silenced the phone and unlocked it. he saw the notifications of the voicemails lit his face up while your body swayed and rocked with his hands. “you should atleast listen to the voicemails, though.” he said. 

before you could respond, anton went to the longest voicemail and put it on speaker. he tossed the phone to land beside your face that was turned away from the mattress. he watched you try so hard to focus while you listened to your boyfriend’s voicemail.

“how are you?” his voice crackled over the speaker of your phone and anton watched you try to cover your face. 

anton felt sick hearing the dejected of your boyfriend’s voice.

“he thinks he can yell at my bestfriend then call your phone all teary?” anton’s voice is so soft it barely pierces through the sound of your moans. 

“we need to talk this out, seriously.” the voice on your phone said. 

anton leaned forward, his body eclipsing yours as he started working in a third finger. your back arched deeper and anton pressed his body against the curve. he kept leaning forward, until his lips were by your ear. he smiled wickedly against the shell before parting his lips.

“he wants to talk it out?” anton questioned. 

you shook your head against the bed and preened your hips backwards.

“he’s so mean.” you babble before turning your head to face the mattress.

“so mean.” anton coos back to you.

anton could tell you were getting close. you started trying to fight against his hold on your ass a little more and your cunt started contracting around his fingers erratically. another call from your boyfriend was banished to the back of your mind as you started repeating his name over and over again. he gave you countless hums of acknowledgment, waiting for you to give him the last thing he needed.

“please put it in.” you whined.

anton quickly pulled his fingers from your heat and your form instantly crumbled. you lowered your ass as you caught your breath and as anton pushed his pants down your phone lit up again. this time you responded by pushing the device off the bed entirely, not caring less if your screen shattered on the hardwood floor. anton would’ve laughed, he would’ve teased you for not caring anymore but he was too focused on looking for the condom in his drawer.

“please hurry.” you said weakly.

you started finding your form back while anton reached around and brought the foil packet to your mouth. you clamped your teeth around the perforated mark and when the corner disappeared past your lips anton pulled. the packet opened and anton watched you push the end out past your tongue, the top part of the packaging sitting in the same indent your phone previously was. something about this was insanely poetic, he was sure of it. the way your inhibitions crumbled for him and the way you looked back before lifting your body from the mattress. 

you stood on your knees again and rid yourself of your shirt and bra. anton watched your back become exposed to him as he worked the latex onto his dick impatiently securing it in place before pressing his chest to your back. with one hand wrapped around your body to hold you in place and the other leading his dick to your cunt he was in heaven. the sound of your phone vibrating on the ground was the last thing on his mind.

the bed was shaky underneath your shared weight. anton’s body enveloped yours again, and the dips in the mattress caused by his knees made your body sway. he used it as an excuse to hold you a little tighter, to bring his head to rest on your shoulder as his tip prodded your ass and then your hole. your hands grabbed his bicep and you shamelessly dug your hands into his skin.

“anton. please.” you plead racked through your body.

anton let go of his dick and his hand went to your hips instead. he pushed forward the same time he pulled you down, and you clenched around him before your walls fully loosened. anton’s hips kissed your ass when he was fully inside, and you threw your head back to his shoulder as you adjusted. anton felt your heartbeat and the walls the same, he was sure that his heart hammering against your back matched it too.

“i missed you.” anton murmured.

neither of you were sure what exactly he missed, if he was talking about sex or something entirely too intimate. whatever it was, all you knew was that he had it—and when he pulled his hips back to push back in he got it again.

anton placed kisses to your neck and back as your lips parted from the feeling. anton wanted to get lost in the pleasure himself, but he knew he had a job to do, he had to show you how good of a bestfriend he was. so even though he his body becoming taut he had to make sure you were finished first. he lifted his head from your shoulder to kiss your cheek and then your parted lips that were to distracted to kiss him back. he watched you try and form a sentence and smiled against your cheek.

“are you close?” he asked.

you nodded against his shoulder and turned your head to face him. your lips closed into a pout, and he felt your body getting weaker around him. his hand that was on your waist pressed into your stomach where he swore he could feel himself. anton’s hand drifted down to your swollen nub and he felt you trying to fall forward. he readjusted his grip across your body, and you gasped again at being manhandled.

“not too much right?” anton said it sarcastically, already knowing the answer.

“i like when you hold me.” you answered.

anton hummed against your throat and started working his fingers faster against your clit. your hands that were holding his held him tighter, so much to the point anton thought you were going to break the skin. 

“keep going.” anton’s mattress creaked underneath your weight as you shifted on your knees. “i’m close.”

when your hands started reaching backwards to pull at anton’s hair that’s when he finally acknowledged the pain. in the moment he hissed from pain and loosened his grip on you, you were able to finally let your body fall forward on the mattress. anton followed after you, and you were wedged between the mattress and his large body. anton pressed his full body weight against you, and you had no where left to go. you didn’t want to be anywhere else and you let him know that through your moans that increased in volume. he lost himself in the new angle and the way you felt underneath him. his legs were on either side of yours, pressing them together. you were somehow tighter, causing anton to thrust into you harder and harder.

“so good.” he whispered into your shoulder blade.

“so big.” you whined.

anton saw your white knuckle grip on the sheets when he pulled his head away from your back. he saw your entire body move with each thrust. he clasped his hands over yours after tracing the lines of your knuckles with his eyes. you fit into him perfectly in his hands and you were soft under him. everything about you fit perfectly wit him.

“so close.” anton said before kissing your sweaty cheek. 

you nodded against the mattress and started arching your back against anton’s hips. he was able to hit you even deeper than before. 

he could feel his heart almost burst in his chest.

“i love you.” 

he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to say it. him leaning forward to whisper it directly into your ear was filled with intention. your body froze as a reaction, then anton felt your walls contract around his dick as your body pressed deeper into the mattress.

“i love you too.” you whined, words prolonged and ending with a gasp.

anton continued fucking you through your orgasm as you became a sobbing mess underneath him. it wasn’t long before he was pressing his sweaty face into your back as he released into his condom, shaking and giving you a few final thrusts as your body went from being tense to completely limp.

he pulled out and settled to your deeper. your breathing and heartbeats were synced, anton reveled in that before rolling off of you to your side. you still were face down in the mattress, back raising and lowering as you tried to pull yourself together. when you started moving anton put his hands on you again, turning your body around so you were facing him. a;ready your eyes were closing, the drool down the side of your face and the fresh tear tracks drying on your skin. he thought you were beautiful, he smiled while wiping away the mess with his hands, coming forward to place a light kiss on the apples of your cheeks. you hummed constantly before scooting towards him and anton took the initiative to pull you into his chest. you burrowed into him and he wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes.

anton’s blaring alarm clock pulled him from his sleep. hearing the harsh sound made him draw in a quick breath. he shot up from the bed like a vampire and pulled in a gasp like he was coming up from the water. his heart thudded in his chest and his brain pulsed in his skull as the rhythmic blaring only got worse. after a moment of trying to wet his dry mouth he flailed his arm to the side, turning off the clock and almost knocking it from his bedside table in the process.

when his brain fog cleared and the alarm was finally off, anton realized that the only thing left in his room was him. he heard the songbirds that made a nest in the tree next to his cabin and he heard the passing sound of kids yelling and running but he didn’t hear you move across his sheets. 

anton for a moment believed that he imagined you showing up at his door. he must’ve had a vivid dream of you sitting on the corner edge of his bed with your body caved in on itself and you looking at him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. but anton knew he’d never have a dream about you in pain—he had his fair share of dreams about your eyes filled with tears and your body on his bed, and the occasional dream of you two coming back to this camp in the future, maybe with a family of your own or as friends—but never a dream about you in pain. so when he needed the last bit of proof that last night actually happened, he turned towards your unofficial side of his bed.

one of the best things about the night after was that you always left a trace. being with you always left a taste in his mouth and a smell that lingered on his sheets and clothes. anton wasn’t sure if you left behind pieces of you on purpose, but he was grateful regardless. anton ran his hands over the cold crater in his sheets and saw where you pulled his covers off of your body before you left. anton wondered if you left smelling like him or if you leaned over to take one last whiff of him the same way he did to your side of the bed now. 

his mind fully woke up the same time everything came rushing back. first it was the tiny things anton remembered—the way you arms rested on his shoulders and how your hands locked together behind his head. anton planting his feet into the wooden floor of his cabin as you walked over to him. the feelings of your soft skin that covered your spine and how it was a perfect path all the way down. anton could still feel the warm air of your gasps against his neck and down his back and the feeling of your chest pressing into his graphic tshirt—if he focused hard enough on his mattress anton swore he could see your naked body with his covers on you haphazardly. if he closed his eyes and focused he could hear your moans and callings of his name in his ear. 

following right behind the details were the big events. trailing behind anton’s recollection of your teeth pressing into his neck anton remembered your boyfriend calling, and after he remembered you weaving your fingers in between his he recalled your confession that he wanted you to quit. he remembered all of your confessions last, how they tumbled out right before the end and you both were asleep before you could talk about it. anton’s head darted around the space of his room as if he could still see the words in the air. instead he came face to face with the harsh light that only made the stress headache and the woke-up-to-fast migraine worse. anton covered his face and audibly groaned, but seared into the back his eyelids was your face when anton told you he loved you. 

this was entirely too much to process at 8:23 in the morning.

just as the shock of everything was beginning to set in, anton heard the three loud bangs at the door. he waited for the fourth—anton actually propped himself up on his knees and silently he prayed for the fourth knock—but instead all he heard was the sound of a man on the other side of his door clearing their throat.

“anton. are you awake?”

anton got out of his bed so fast his vision spotted hearing minho’s voice. he thought for a moment he was going to kick the door in and discipline him for missing the morning meeting. anton cleared his throat as he stood in only his boxers. he may not be ready, but he was awake.

“i’m awake, sir.” anton answered

“your campers are done with lunch in thirty minutes.” anton looked at his alarm clock and realized he was running extremely late. “make sure you have all of the swimming equipment ready at the lake.” minho ordered.

“yes sir.”

anton got dressed in a haste, still pulling his camp counselor shirt over his head as he walked towards the shed that housed the swimming equipment. by the time he made it to the tiny brick building he already had sweat beading his hairline. the inside of the building felt like a brick oven. anton was being baked alive as he grabbed the life jackets and threw them into the wheelbarrow. anton was in such a rush he didn’t even react seeing the tiny spider in the cobwebs by the tiny window. his only concern was getting out to the bearable heat as fast as possible.

after leaving he took a deep breath and checked his watch. fifteen minutes until his campers would be at the lake. anton didn’t even have time to complain about the heat of the brick oven before he had to lift the wheelbarrow and head towards the lake.

the sweat that beaded his hairline began falling down his face. even if it was a downwards path to the water anton was still sweating from the exertion. occasionally he’d have to set the wheelbarrow down to bring the end of his shirt to pat the sweat away before the salt found its way to his eye. he pushed the wheelbarrow with the life jackets over the hill before mumbling to himself that the camp really needed a better way to transport the life jackets.

when anton made it over the hill and the ridgewood lake was finally in view, anton knew it was you immediately sitting at the end of the wharf. even if your back was facing him and you were wearing the same uniform as everyone else. since he seemed to be admitting things lately he could pick you out from a mile away, or he could imagine you to the point of fruition. in a cartoonish way anton even believed could tell you apart from your evil twin. you pointing at another you saying she’s the imposter! get her! anton would know which one was the real you by asking who fell first (the real you would say it was you but anton fell harder). he focused on your back while pushing the equipment down the hill, and wondered if the sound of the wheel hitting the rocks would catch your attention.

after setting the swimming equipment near the water, he slowly started making his way down the wharf. you were still unsuspecting, or maybe you already knew that anton would’ve come to you like this. there had to have been a reason why you were conveniently at the lake the same time anton had his scheduled swimming class. there also had to be a reason why anton was so nervous approaching you. the water gleamed and moved gently around the two of you, the tiny ripples reflected the sun. anton made his way past the kayaks tethered to the dock and deeper into the lake to get closer to you. he was still dry and his weight creaked on the wood of the wharf but it was like he was hovering towards you. 

you still didn’t turn around when anton’s finally set next to you. anton peered at your face nervously. your eyes were closed and you faced the open water, anton almost felt like he didn’t exist. 

what should he say? he opened his mouth and closed it twice, licking his lips after the second time. anton propped himself up by pressing his hands into the rough wood then clasped them together in his hands. you still kept your eyes closed and faced forward, only difference was that a smile was etched across your face. 

“i don’t want to talk about last night.” you said, eyes still closed.

anton nodded even though you couldn’t see him and he sighed contently even though he felt conflicted. he wanted to pointlessly pry, he needed to quell the overwhelming feeling in the pit of his stomach that you were still with your boyfriend. he selfishly needed to hear that he was the only man in your life even if you only saw him nine weeks out of the year. 

“have things changed?” anton asked quietly. 

he took you scooting your body closer to his as a life preserver. when you finally opened your eyes and turned to face him anton still felt like he was drowning.

“do you want them to?” you asked.

the light bounced from the water shined on your face. the caustics from the tiny waves mapped across your face, changing and constantly moving. anton clasped his hands tighter in his lap.

“no.” anton said.

simple and straight to the point, but so much was left unsaid. he didn’t want to think about not seeing you next year, he wasn’t sure if he could face the truth that you were still very much with your boyfriend. but you sighed contently and leaned your head to rest on his shoulder, and put one of your hands over his. anton instantly unclasped his hands and clutched yours desperately. you sighed again—maybe you did break up with him.

“then they haven’t.”

anton swore he could hear the sound of kids coming towards the lake. he heard the rippling waves and the kayaks rocking on the water behind him. he heard you draw in another breath and scoot even closer to his body. he looked at the sun reflect on the lake as he scooted closer to you too. you rested your head on his shoulder and just like that, a million things were said without a single word. 

“you’re always going to be my bestfriend.” you said quietly, still looking at the water.

neither of you decided to read too much into your words—you two have your entire lives to decipher the meaning.

[onsomenewsht]

I like it in the city when two worlds collide

About when she’s her hometown hero and you wish to fill your own home

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1.5k

》 be like a kid in a candy store [phrase]: to be very happy and excited about the things around you, and often react to them in a way that is silly and not controlled

Admiring Alexia as she builds her foundation, little piece after little piece, it’s honestly one of the best things you had the privilege to witness her achieve. Sparks of excitement radiate every time she talks about it, every time new ideas are brought out or new steps forward are made.

You’ve been next to her since the very beginning, since it was all just a desire to make an actual difference for the next generation of girls in football.

And you’re next to her today, as it comes alive in her hometown.

It’s so beautiful and meaningful, your heart beats with pride.

“Nice speech, have you ever thought about a future in politics?”

“I can’t think of anything worse”

Alexia welcomes your hug eagerly, taking a moment between your arms to ground herself after all the talking and the smiling.

She’s happy, she truly is. But she also needs to stop for a second and just feel that happiness.

“I think your mama is one step away from building you a statue with her own bare hands”

The Catalan bursts out laughing, looking at her mother. Eli is beaming with joy and pride as she speaks with one of her old teachers, who somehow finds himself here to support her project the same way he supported her football dream back in the day.

“We’re all really proud of you, Alexia”, you say, holding her hand between yours to make her understand how much she has done. The beautiful impact she has on the one close to her and the one who shines from a distance because of her light.

“You say it all the time”, she dismisses as her cheeks turn a little more red under the praises and the Mollet sun.

“Yeah, I need to keep feeding your ego or you’ll die without attention”

“Idiot!”

The jab is light and mocking, you know how she feels about the running joke.

It goes back years, you weren’t even dating yet, but the teasing way you compared her to a fairy who can’t live without people believing in them sticks. The Barcelona’s captain keeps denying the comparison, you know she secretly loves your way to show admiration and support.

“Come on, I think they’re teaming up the kids and I want to make sure Eloise is with you”

“I don’t play favouritism”

She does, but you’re not wanna call her out for having a soft spot for your best friend’s daughter.

The walk toward the makeshift sports ground set up for the occasion is short, filled with stops to talk with people, hug excited children of all ages and shake hands with even more excited parents.

It doesn’t take much to put in place a little tournament, Alexia plays in the second round and you somehow find yourself involved too. You’re just glad the unfortunate kids who have you on their team do most of the work, allowing you to move around and look busy.

The odds are even in your favour when you find yourself alone in front of the goal and all you have to do is kick the ball into the back of the net.

You make sure a certain blonde athlete is looking when you mock a little bow.

From that is a blur of laughs and jokes between you and all the people who came here to support Alexia and her foundation, never stepping out of your role of a proud girlfriend.

When it’s her moment to get involved in the game, you are in the front row with the best view, always happy to see the footballer in her element - doesn’t matter if it is a stadium filled with a screaming crowd or an improvised kickaround with a soft ball and energetic kids.

And the kids are, indeed, full of energy and burning with excitement to play with an actual two time Ballon d’Or winner. They remind you of her.

“You’re drooling”

“I’m not”, you talk back, annoyed, yet unconsciously swiping your lips.

You’re not gonna dignify your best friend with a better answer, keeping your gaze fixed on the Catalan. You love him dearly, Teo has been your rock for years now, but he can be such an asshole.

“You know your own goddaughter is playing too, right?”

“Elo’s really good”

“She’s just doing whatever Alexia is doing”

It’s cute how much the young girl looks up at the footballer. Not just for the incredible and dedicated athlete she is, but also for the amount of care and attention she always reserves for the kid whenever the two are together.

It warms your heart every time.

“Do you think she is gonna let them win?”, Teo asks, genuinely wondering.

You only grin at his question. Alexia is not gonna let those kids win just because, doesn’t matter how adorable they are.

“She’s way too competitive”

“Those are children!”

As an answer, your girlfriend fakes a pass on her left, letting a boy, not older than ten, slide in the wrong direction and completely miss the ball. You notice as she tries to hide a smile behind her hair, finding another kid with a precise long shot.

Little shit she is.

“She’s way too competitive”, Teo confirms, giggling with you when your girls celebrate the winning goal.

“You can practise parenthood tonight if you want”

“I’m not babysitting so you can go out with that brunette you’re seeing”

He almost looks offended by your assumption, but you know him well enough.

The opportunity to spend time with your goddaughter is always appreciated and cherished, she’s a wonderful kid and no one managed to drag Alexia into their shenanigans as effortlessly.

But you have other ideas for tonight.

“I’m planning on letting her give me–”

“Shut up! Innocent ears are around!”

Alexia’s eyebrow rises as she approaches, with an open smile on her face and one hand firmly holding Eloise as she basically wraps herself around the footballer’s leg.

“What are the two of you plotting?”

“Do you want to babysit Eloise tonight?”, he asks with a smirk.

The cheers from both your girlfriend and the kid came faster and louder than any protest you could find in yourself.

The only reasons you don’t smack your hand on the back of Teo’s neck are the comforting arm around your waist and the well placed kiss on your cheek.

He owns you big.

But not even your best friend’s annoying self is strong enough to spoil your mood today and looking at Alexia going around for another hour or so with games and small talks, her smile never fading, is the best view you’d ask for.

She’s glowing.

You see her play and interact with kids all the time, it’s always a pretty sight and it always warms your heart how caring she is. Today, for some reason, it’s beautiful and a bit overwhelming.

Maybe it’s just your hormones, you should check your cycle’s app.

“Amor, are you good?”

Alexia’s voice brings you back, thinking too much sometimes traps you in your own mind. The nod you give her is not really convincing, but a light kiss on your intertwined hands is enough to calm her for now.

“Eloise’s team won the tournament”, she says eventually, pride filling her words.

You look at the kids, still playing around as the day slowly comes to an end. The two of you wait on the sidelines, letting the young girl have another couple of shots at the inflatable goal before taking her for an ice cream and home for the night.

“I thought there wasn’t really a winner”

“Technically no, but–”, the blonde’s lips curve in a well known smirk, “between me and you, she totally won”

“Difficult not to when a Ballon d’Or winner is on your team”

“I don’t play favouritism!”

“Oh, no, I know, you didn’t even let them see the ball”

At least she looks a bit embarrassed about being called out for her competitiveness and her attitude, having unmistakably played with a bunch of children without actually going easy on them.

“I couldn’t expect anything less from la reina”, you kiss the blush on her cheek and she doesn’t hold back a smile at your attention, “But don’t worry, I know you will go easy on our kids”

Her face, now bright red, can’t hide the surprise at your words.

“Our kids?”

“Yeah, we both know they will have you wrapped around their little tiny fingers as soon as you–”

The Catalan silences you with a firm kiss, shaking hands holding your face. She takes a moment, appeasing her fast breath and your running mind.

“Our kids?”

“Alexia, I thought this was all a twisted plan to ask me to have your children”, you joke, moving a hand around to remind her of the event still in place.

“Thank God you finally noticed”

fine.

[zweiginator]

Crawling After You (Patrick Zweig x Reader)

includes: mutual pining, friends to lovers, secret relationship

Patrick was your best friend in the whole world since childhood. You both went to tennis camps together and then to boarding school. Your parents are best friends, and they all thought your friendship would fizzle out by the time you hit puberty, but you stayed close.

And both of you would be in your own respective relationships that would inevitably fizzle out when your partners couldn’t get past your closeness. The bona fide twinkle in your eyes when you saw each other, even when it had only been a day or two.

Your friends all have crushes on him; they giggle and twirl their hair at his matches. They say they’re there for you, but you see how they blush when Patrick grunts, when he peels his shirt off and throws his battered racket against the pavement.

“You’ve never thought about fucking him?” Your friend asked you after your match. You were pissed about losing; Patrick was in your peripheral, beaming with his own friends about his big win against an NCAA favorite from UCLA.

“No.” You took a gulp of water, shaking your head. “I haven’t.”

“Do you think he thinks of fucking you?” Another friend butted in. “I mean, how can you resist that?”

You repeated yourself. “No.” Another sip of water, to help you hold your tongue. You weren’t in a good mood. “Patrick does not need help in the dating department, I know he doesn’t think of me that way. We are friends and that’s it.”

Except, since last summer, you had been fucking. A lot. The problem was that you and Patrick hated being told, “I told you so.”

And every single person you had crossed paths with, from middle school teachers, to tennis coaches, to acquaintances in your class were convinced you and Patrick would inevitably end up together. The story was too picturesque, your interests too aligned.

So you kept it a secret. You kept your chin high when girls fawned over Patrick, and he bit the inside of his cheek when boys whistled as you entered the court.

Last summer, Patrick and you got in a huge fight. You had never fought before; your friendship was uncomplicated. Neither of you ever directly competed against the other in tennis, you had almost everything in common. But after a team dinner one night in July, he and you were seething.

“Oh my god, Patrick.” You shoved his chest, annoyed that he barely moved from the force. You were in the parking lot, leaning against his expensive Jeep, a gift from his parents. “All you do is talk about the most shallow, meaningless fucking things.”

It started after he began to complain about your piqued interest in politics. You had always been well-read, but as Patrick said, “You just don’t need to talk about it all the fucking time.”

“What the fuck do I talk about that’s shallow? Tennis? Because last time I checked we both do that.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t fucking shove me.”

You mocked him. You knew that was his biggest pet peeve. “You’re mad because I care about what’s happening in the world? Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m mad because you sound like a piece of shit politician, and your fucking personality changes as soon as you start talking to a new guy. And you’re becoming so fucking pretentious since you started hanging out with that fucking douchebag Vincent.”

You scoffed. “I find it funny you call me pretentious when you grew up in a fucking castle. Ironic coming from a kid who had escargot and caviar served to him on a platter at age 6.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re just saying shit that doesn’t even make sense because you know I’m right!”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I don’t change my personality. I’m not even talking to anyone right now, and if I were, why does that even concern you?”

“Oh okay.” Patrick nudged you to move you away from the driver’s side door, letting himself in. “Get in, it’s about to rain.”

“No. What were you gonna say?”

He yelled your name. “I don’t want to get drenched. Just fucking get in!”

You crossed your arms. He was right, the wind was picking up, goosebumps peppered your arms all over and your hair blew into your face.

“Fine, then don’t.” He got into the car and started it. The headlights hurt your head and burned saucers into your retinas.

The rain began slow; fat droplets splashed against the curb and dribbled down your cheeks. And then it was faster, and the wind grew stronger, and you stood your ground. Patrick watched you, he watched your gray Stanford shirt get soaked, and your tennis skirt become plastered to your legs. Your hair was flush against your cheeks, eyelids heavy.

“Fucking get in the car.” He wasn’t yelling anymore. His shoulders were slumped, and you know he felt defeated as he got out of the car.

“Why don’t you tell me anything?” You started to cry. You didn’t know where this was coming from; this tantrum.

Patrick was soaked too. “I do tell you things!”

“Not as much.”

“It’s hard. It was easier when we were kids.”

“But what changed?” The engine grew louder, almost crescendoing in your ears.

"We aren't kids anymore. Everyone is always asking about me and you. There's no such thing as our innocent little friendship."

His words broke your heart. And he saw that as your shoulders slumped and your eyes welled with tears. "So what?" You asked. "What are you saying?"

Patrick sighed, pushing his wet hair away from his face. His white t-shirt was see-through, his broad shoulders rippling as the wind tore against his lean body. His voice was soft now. "Let's go back to the hotel. Stay in my room and we can talk."

The ride to the hotel was silent. Usually, Patrick would complain about water all over his leather seats, but he didn't say a word, and you wondered why, out of all the heartbreaks you had been through, why this conversation had chewed you up and spit you out so violently.

You sat on the bed with him and waited for him to speak first.

"Do you need a towel?"

You shook your head.

"What I was saying before," He began. "Why do we act like it's normal that in each of our relationships, the common denominator is that we are way too close?"

"We've never-"

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just saying maybe this friendship isn't really serving us anymore, and maybe it's causing more harm than good."

"You know what?" You stood up, grabbing your bag. "I've sat here and been your best fucking friend for twenty years, and now you're just taking the easy way out like you always do." You slung it over your shoulder. "I'll leave. Don't worry, I'll leave."

You wanted him to chase you down. He didn't. He didn't say bye or that he was sorry. One big fight during twenty years of friendship, and it would seemingly be your last.

The tournament was going on for another 3 days. After 2 nights of barely sleeping and going through the motions, of leaving the court whenever a mens' match was on, there was a knock on your door. You let him in; of course you did.

"I wasn't telling you I didn't want to be friends anymore." He whispered. Your back was against the door.

"Okay."

His finger trailed from the dip of your collarbones to your chin. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallowed, loudly, looking up at him inquisitively, waiting for him to finish his thought.

He fucked you with your legs over his shoulders, while your roommate was at lunch with the rest of the team. Patrick muffled your moans by spilling his own into your mouth. Sweat dribbled off his chest and your nails raked down his back as he thrust into you, over and over and over again. Twenty years of reserved angst and repressed feelings manifested in desperate whimpers and the sound of skin on skin echoing off the chipped taupe walls.

No words, at that moment, needed to be said. He was yin and you were yang. Your friendship began and ended where your bodies met. And it would never be the same.

He told you he loved you after he came, and you reciprocated those feelings. Something was so thrilling about the secret, though. Of people gossiping and speculating about the two of you. Of you both feigning disgust at the idea of fucking your best friend, only to ride him in the back of his car until the windows fogged up, and his chest was red and raw from your desperate scratches.

You loved the thrill. One whole year of sneaking around and nobody had a clue.

One year of pretending to get sick at parties, so Patrick would follow you into the bathroom and eat you out on the bathroom sink until your legs shook, raw from his stubble.

One year of Patrick tugging on the collar of his shirt during a match to signal he wanted you waiting in his car for him afterward. If he won, he made love to you slowly, rocking his hips, so his cock went deep, deep inside. When he lost, he spat on you, and left bruises on your ass that stung the next week as you sat on the metal bleachers.

It was hard to fit twenty years of love and pining into that one year without it bubbling over. At graduation, you and your friends threw your caps into the air and Patrick kissed you. Hands on your waist, tongue in your mouth.

The team gasped. They hadn't known your secret for the past year. But they did know it was only a matter of time.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I know | Megumi x Reader Ft. Gojo

Request: Megumi and the reader no longer know how to meet on the sly without looking too suspicious, but Megumi adamantly refuses to let Gojo know about their relationship. What if the reader is a student from Kyoto and everything happens during the exchange event? And, conveniently, Megumi doesn't know that there are cameras installed throughout the forest monitored by the teachers.

Pairing: Implied!Megumi x Fem!Reader; platonic Gojo/Megumi

Content Warning: Fluff, main focus is Gojo and Megumi, Megumi is a moody teen

For @yaninnaacu

Satoru likes to tease people. For his own entertainment and to try to build friendships with them. It also didn’t hurt if, in the end, his actions made their lives a little better and brought some happiness to them. A small laugh in a harsh world like this could mean a lot, the right push could change someone’s entire outlook.

So, he likes to play the fool, try to get people to let their guard down so he could wiggle in through an unknown crack and maybe make their world a little easier to breathe in and it wouldn't be a lie to say his own as well.

This holds doubly true for one precious student in particular.

“You seem excited. Ready for the big exchange event?”

Megumi stops his stretching, rotates his neck a few times to get out the last of the cricks, before turning to face him. The training grounds are empty tonight, save for the two them, and Satoru has never seen Megumi this interested in training.

“Not particularly.”

He says that but the Megumi that Satoru knows would never be this determined. Megumi may not have realized it but Satoru has been watching him train ever since he came back to the school. He hasn’t had much time to watch over the other students since training Itadori, but he knows that they’ve been making strides. Megumi included.

“I heard about what happened with Aoi,” Satoru says, poking around in the younger boy’s wounds to see if he can find the reason for this sudden burst of passion. “I thought you’d be interested in fighting him.”

“I’m over it.”

“Really?” Satoru says with a laugh. He has no reason not to believe Megumi, but he still has the suspicion it might be a little deeper than that. “Something has to be on your mind. You’re not normally this energetic.”

He racks his mind, trying to find the last time he remembers the kid having any sort of pep to his step so to speak. He’s always been a bit…restrained except when—

“Oh.”

Gojo smiles.

“I remember now.” Satoru chuckles lowly and dares to pat the boy on the shoulder. It’s a little harder than he was aiming for and Megumi jerks forward with a scowl. “It’s because your girlfriend is coming. Her clan enrolled her into Kyoto, right?”

If there is one thing about Megumi, it’s that he doesn’t change one bit with age. That glare is still just as scary as it was when he was five.

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Megumi corrects, his eyes downcast. “We’re…friends.”

“Still!?” Satoru really, really doesn’t mean to sound insensitive but he is honestly surprised. Megumi always treated you politely and with more regard than others. Granted that bar was so low that people in hell could trip on it but to Satoru it was noticeable that Megumi held some type of soft spot for you. Satoru clears his throat to try to regain his composure and hopefully stop Megumi from stabbing him with his eyes. “Ya’know events like these provide the perfect opportunity to impress someone; show them what you’re made of.”

Satoru means it. He genuinely wants to help, and he doesn’t think you’d be adverse to giving Megumi a chance if Megumi would only give himself the chance first.

“Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“Don’t be that way,” he says, extending his arms out in an effort to offer his time to his little student. “How about you train with me one more time before the event?”

“No thanks,” he disagrees immediately, and Satoru deflates over the fact that Megumi didn’t even stop to think about it before grabbing his pack and walking away.

Megumi isn’t willing to take that step yet, he guesses.

The morning of the Goodwill Event comes faster than most. The teams set off while Satoru and the other teachers find a cozy room to set up in and watch the festivities. Everything seems to be going well so far with the teams fighting and breaking off in different directions.

It isn’t long after when Satoru picks out one student from Kyoto different from the others. Satoru could tell that the other students were aiming to pick each other off one by one, and he had his ideas on why that was the case. However, the crow focused on you noticed you weaving through the forest, ignoring the other students in the vicinity, as you made your way to a very specific destination based on your speed and concise path.

That is until you’re stopped by one of the curses released into the area.

“Utahime, it looks like your little busy bee is engaged in battle with a curse.”

The other teacher doesn’t turn her direction, focusing on another screen.

“Fushiguro is on a direct path towards the fight as well.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, his blindfold widening with the strain. Sure enough, the two of you collide on both screens, and it isn’t but a matter of seconds to take out the curse together. It isn’t unusual for the two schools to fight together; after all, the rules did state that exorcising curses was the top priority. Next, would be—

“Now, what will they do.” Satoru tilts his head to the side, watching Utahime as she brings a hand to her mouth and mutters behind it. “Normally, I’d have no doubts that she can beat him. However, given the terrain, she’s at a disadvantage.”

Satoru hums to himself, wondering the exact same thing. The two of you should be pretty evenly matched in this situation; but as he watches the screen, he notices that neither of you look interested in fighting.

In fact, Megumi is touching you, hand crossing over your face and moving your head around. Satoru can barely make out the sight of blood on your face with the screen this zoomed out but it doesn’t matter as Megumi wipes it off. There’s only a small moment where Megumi lets his forehead press against yours as he cups your cheeks.

Gojo raises his blindfold over one of his eyes, just to make sure he’s seeing this correctly. Surely, he is when Megumi briefly kisses you. He can barely contain his laughter. He knew it! There was no way you two weren’t dating!

“Stop talking to yourself, 'hime, and look.”

Utahime looks back up at the screen, her face scrunching. “Are they?”

“I knew it,” Gojo repeats his thoughts. This time he does laugh as he kicks up his feet and throws his hands behind his head.

“What are they saying?”

“I never took you for a voyeur.”

“Will you shut up!” she says before glaring back at the screen. Her eyes search out for Megumi, who has already headed out of this broadcast area to the other. “Where is he going?”

“Looks like he’s headed straight to Kamo. I can’t imagine him smooth-talking the information out of her but there it is. My students really do take after me. I’m so proud.”

“You’re insufferable,” Utahime replies, scoffs, then returns to watching the battles unfold.

After the events of the Goodwill Event and the chaos of that Special Grade intruding on the event, Satoru takes the time to check on all the students injured during the fight. He makes his last stop Megumi, who had spent the longest time getting the spores taken out of his stomach before being patched up by Ieiri.

With his hand on the door handle, Satoru stops outside the door to his room. He can sense two people’s energies from behind the wall, one from Megumi and the other from…oh…looks like someone came to comfort Megumi before he could get the chance.

The words from behind the door are low.

How are you feeling? Does it hurt?

Satoru laughs to himself when Megumi obviously tells you to stop mothering him and that you’re worrying too much. He doesn’t know why the little guy still has such a hard time letting someone care about him, but it comforts him to know that you’re not willing to accept it as he hears a harsh “stop being stubborn and let me see.”

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize when he presses on the door too hard. The door squeaks inward causing him to tumble in a little clumsily on his tall limbs and for you two to pop up like spooked deer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he dismisses clumsily – caught red handed. “I was coming to check on my favorite student, but it looks like his girlfriend is already taking good care of him.”

It’s adorable how your eyes widen and your mouth gapes as you sputter out an incoherent excuse. “No, I was just uh—” your fluster only increases when you finally realize you’re still holding the edge of his shirt in your hand while his hand is gripped on your wrist obviously midway in stopping you. You aggressively push his shirt back to him, making him hiss as you tap his stomach. “This is a misunderstanding, sensei.”

“It’s alright,” Satoru says, raising his palms and flattening them to let you know it’s fine to calm down. “I already know. No need to pretend.”

 “How do you—”

“Funny thing about the event,” he starts, taking one long step in the room to the nearest chair. He spins the chair around, sitting in it backwards with his legs hugging the chair and his chin rested on the curve of the back. “Teachers keep a close eye on the students, accessing their battle prowess and team strategies. It just so happens that to do that we need visuals. Mei Mei’s crows…recording devices…cameras…yeah I don’t think there’s many blind spots to miss any battles or when a pair of students want some alone time together.”

Backing away from Megumi, you place your hands in your hands and bow your head towards him. “Sensei, we didn’t mean to do anything against conduct. I just…wanted to help Megumi and the vesse—Itadori.”

“I’m not lecturing you, so there’s no need to be so formal,” Satoru tells you, not that he minds having someone who gives him a little respect around him. “I want to give you my blessing.”

Megumi is the first to object, his nose stiff and scrunched as he bares his teeth at Satoru, mostly in surprise. “No one needs your blessing, and you’re not my parent.”

“Ouch. So touchy,” Satoru remarks, his smile stretching as he glances back over to you. It’s cute how he gets so worked up over something so small, well, he guesses young love isn’t so small, and he can’t help the little urge he has to tease him. “He’s so grouchy. Honestly, you’re way too good for him.”

Megumi hisses. “Get. Out.”

 “No, it’s okay,” you say with a smile, stand, and gently press your hand to Megumi’s shoulder. “I should get going. I’ll come check on you later, Megumi.”

You make a beeline to the door, pausing only to give a short bow.

“Good night, sensei.”

“Good night,” Satoru waves casually, as if he didn’t know that bow just now was to hide your flustered face as you scurry out the room. “She ran off…Cute.” Despite your actions being endearing, the same couldn’t be said for the side-eye he was receiving from the dark-haired boy. “Don’t look at me that way. How come you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Because you’d act exactly like that,” being the answer.

“Okay, okay. You’re not completely wrong,” he agrees. He willingly fell into Megumi’s irritation, riding the waves of it to hopefully end up on a small island where forgiveness was waiting.

Megumi didn’t give him that.

“Didn’t I tell you to get out already? I’m recovering.”

Satoru thinks if Megumi has the energy to keep up his attitude then that must mean he’s doing well, which is good given the nature of his wounds from earlier. Satisfied, Satoru decides to give his charge some peace.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll talk about you lying to your teacher later.”

He doesn’t give any mind to the growl Megumi gives him or when the boy ignores his wave by adjusting his gaze to the flowers on the nightstand.

Satoru would lie to say that attitude doesn’t hurt sometimes, but that’s okay. Even if Megumi was distant about it, even if he still didn’t want to give in and accept the fact that Satoru very much cares about him, you care about him as do his other classmates.

If Megumi could remember to accept that and to allow the rest of you to hold onto him and learn to hold onto you in return, then he’d be alright.

So, Satoru stops at the door, because he just has to make sure that Megumi doesn’t make the same mistakes that he did. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Satoru sighs when he doesn’t receive a response. “You should treat her well. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I know,” he reassures him bluntly.

“You can always ask me for anything,” he offers, without the bravado and grandeur, and he lays himself out, extends an invisible hand for Megumi to reach towards, just as he always has whether the boy wanted it or not.

And Megumi falters, if only for a brief second, he lets his eyes meet Satoru’s a bit more softly, with less caution, and his voice has lost all the bite that was there moments ago.

“…I know.”

Megumi forces his eyes back down and refuses to look at him. It reminds him of the kid who let his guard down enough to fall asleep next to him for the first time many years ago.

“Good talk then!” he remarks with a thumbs up and a laugh. Otherwise, he might not keep his composure that the warm feeling coating his being makes. “Make sure to get some sleep. We want you well rested for tomorrow’s events.”

Satoru doesn’t expect a good night as he grabs the door but he doesn’t expect Megumi to call out to him either.

"Hey."

It’s with a tinge to his ears that Megumi finally looks at him again.

“...Thanks.”

[ajortga]

competition

pairing: slytherin!toxic!jenna ortega x ravenclaw!fem reader

summary: jenna loves to joke around, you both know it. as she gets braver and braver with her jokes, it comes with a price, eventually hurting you and taking away something you loved most.

warnings: slight angst, teasing remarks, heavy makeout scene, rushed ending, enemies to lovers

word count: 5.2k+

based off request!

-

Jenna criticizes literally everything about R's performance (J's an ass here 😓), while R is actually starting to get really pressured, J would always have something to say, thennn R gets tired of J's bs and begins focusing on themselves more, which would lead to R ignoring J for atleast a month or two, obviously J's pride is awfully. THEN J CONFESSES TO HER FRIEND, (how inlove she is w R and how she misses R sm) WITHOUT KNOWING THAT R IS NEARBY, OVERHEARING EVERYTHING. 😍😍 A DAY AFTER... R JUST TAKES J IN A PRIVATE ROOM AND KISSING TF OUTTA HER.

Slytherin Jenna! x Ravenclaw R!

-

Your test paper gets put on your desk, your teacher murmuring a small, “I expected better, Y/N.”

There was a 65% circled in red and it made you sick to your stomach, you had never gotten a low score before, especially in potions. You knew your concoctions and effects, you swear you had mixed everything perfectly. You groan in frustration, cursing to yourself.

Your hand scrunches, breathing in deeply as you ruffle your hair, now hearing the voice of the person you would rather befriend a frog with and use them first as a sacrifice for a blood sucking demon. 

“How can someone fail a potions exam? You managed to get first place for being the biggest dweeb, messing up the easiest class.” Jenna slightly smirks, teasingly as she approaches you and whispers sharply in your ear, your eyes glaring at her. “It’s impressive you didn’t notice a small switch of potions. All I did was switch the labels of the potions which had the same color and you didn’t even notice.”

Of course she switched up the potions to set you up for failing, “You know how important this is to me.”

“Aw.. I’m so sorry Y/N,” she mocks, “What a pity.” She pouts, “I don’t care.”

You want to smack her in the face, maybe throw that explosive potion you made to melt off her face, but you don’t. At this point you’re thinking of something to get her back, packing your spell books.

“I swear she won’t get off my shoulders, I haven’t done a single damn thing to Ortega.”

Emma laughs, nudging you, “Maybe she just likes teasing someone sweet like you.”

An annoyed exhale leaves your lips, not knowing what she meant by that, “Well she better stop it,” you grab your broom stick. 

Your friend thinks a little, “Just put a small spell on her broomstick! Nothing, you know, to make her hurt, just maybe throw her off balance.”

That interests you, you're trying to think of a sparkle you could just add onto hers. You notice she hasn’t gone to class yet and clearly you can see the large stick hidden between her name. As you approach, your fingers touch the stick, feeling the way your body immediately focuses, then you pull your finger away to go back to Emma. You feel like you shouldn’t, but you don’t feel a single ounce of guilt as a smirk forms when you reach her.

“Come on,” you urge, taking Emma’s hand as you make your way outside with your broom sticks. 

You use your right hand, grabbing it forward as Mrs. Hooch stays on the side, watching. You’ve all gotten the hang of it either way, it’s rare for some people to fall.

“Up!” Emma and you say in unison, seeing your sticks fly up as you smile at each other and hop on, ready for a flight.

You giggle, feeling yourself ascend. 

“Y/L/N,” You hear Jenna’s voice behind you, making your figure turn to face her. You see her stiffen. 

Emma gives you a look, cunning. 

“Ortega,” you greet, not so politely, but not rude nonetheless. 

“I’d challenge you to a racing match, but I do know that your ass is scared that I’ll beat and outrun you in seconds.”

You give out a snarky laugh, “I highly doubt you could even reach me by the time I ascend. I’m better at you than flying, we both know that.”

Jenna does know that, sort of. And she doesn’t want you to prove it, not during flight class while everyone is watching.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to challenge me, niñita,” you respond again, seeing the way Jenna was thinking.

“Then I challenge you,”

“And I accept.”

Emma nudges you, you hear her whisper in your ear, “Well, she’d probably complain, you did sort of spell her broom and she’d notice as soon as she’d get on.”

A grin forms on your lips, tearing your eyes from the tiny Jenna, “Well, I spelled it so that if Jenna were to try anything, cause that’s the bitch she is, the spell would take effect. I’m not entirely making myself win at all. I know for a fact she’d try to make me loose, she doesn’t want to lose at all, well at least to me. I know her long enough to know she’d put a spell to make me lose balance, Em.”

You see Hooch in the corner of your eye, “Plus, Hooch is watching everything, and because I spelled her broom before hand, nothing will happen until she aims some spell at me. Hooch will see that, or at least a little sparkle and chant of words. But she won’t see mine, since I spelled it before, and she’ll just think Jenna lost her balance trying to spell me.”

Emma looks at you, not knowing if you should go on.

“Em! Seriously, Jenna has been making me miserable this year, and I haven’t done anything. This is just a playful harmless thing. It’s the least I can do. I could’ve spawned a rat in her dorm that follows her everywhere!”

“Go, I sort of want to see her fall.”

The grin that disappeared forms again, winking at her as you hop back on your broom.

Then you two are off.

-

You rush through the field, feeling the wind blow through your hair. You loved feeling that cool breeze, it’s unreal, flying is your favorite thing to do.

Jennas not far behind, but far enough to know that you’ll win. 

She groans to herself, watching your pretty, she meant nasty figure speed ahead.

The brunette’s eyes narrow, she wasn’t going to let you win without a fight, she focuses on your broom, she’s close enough to do something. 

The wind is making your hair go crazy, but in a good way. Everyone is waiting their turn from below, watching you race through the course. Fast enough to feel their hair blow from your swiftness.

An exhale pasts her lips, you can see her trying to come closer, or almost urging you to slow down. But you don’t, of course you won’t. You speed faster, dodging an incoming tree and turning a corner.

Jenna feels blood rushing through her ears, murmuring something under her breath as she gets ready to swish through you and laugh.

She begins the spell, feeling her fingertips slightly tingle. But as soon as she’s about to shoot a spark, her hands let go and she sees the blue flying spark stumble towards you. Instead of it hitting your broom and making it shake, your hair flies through the wind and it shoots back at her. 

Jenna yelps, feeling the way her broom starts to shake.

Emma giggles from the sidelines, as soon as you pass the blonde’s figure, you send her a thumbs up and a knowing wink.

God finally.

The brunette loses her balance, feeling the broom shake left and right, she’s clinging onto it tightly, smacks her head on loose branches. She feels herself slow down to regain a steady pace, but as she speeds up again, you’re already gone, swerving a corner.

-

The tiny brunette grumbles from the benches, watching you smile and jump up and down. 

“Impressive play out there, Y/N. You just might be our best flier out there, keep your swift performance and you’ll be on for Quidditch.”

You already knew you’d win, even if Jenna hit your broom with her spell. You’ve won every time racing against the class.

You approach her, giving her a half-hearted smile, you’d take it as a smirk.

“Well, someone tried to cheat.”

You hear her huff, and it makes you giggle, you brush off the stick that is stuck in her hair.

-

“I regret doing that, Em, that tiny tiny 3 foot 1 foot cockroach is making me fall into her traps,” you murmur, stomping your foot.

“At least you got a taste of revenge, Y/N.” 

“I guess so,” you say, sinking into your seat, you feel yourself begin to find her playful and harmless banters to be stressful by every joke and scandal that girl plays.

-

As Quidditch season approaches, Jenna swipes her hair to the side, tying it up as you watch her with narrow eyes. It’s just a regular racing match this time. No ball. Just two talented people against each other.

Well, one more talented than the other, you think to yourself

Hooch brings you two together, in which you stare each other down, your gaze not faltering on each other.

“Goodluck, I wish you two a fair match.”

You two shake hands, though you both won’t admit it was a genuine one. You give Jenna a final glare before gazing back at the field, focusing. 

“Ready?” Hooch says, you don’t respond, just a subtle nod.

“And.. Up!”

You and Jenna shout at your brooms.

“Up!” you command, seeing your favorite item fly up, you jump on it.

Then you both swing off.

Again, not long after, does Hooch see the way your practicing and after school matches with friends are working well. You’re much farther than Jenna is, and again, it’s like no other match. But this time Jenna isn’t going to let you win again.

She growls, casting spells onto your broom and immediately, you feel your broom slow down.

“What the hell.” You mutter to yourself, you dive down. But it seems like your broom isn’t listening.

It’s swishing up and down, left to right, and you steady yourself, but you’re shaking.

You're swinging back and forth and you're losing control, you can’t make your broom stop. It’s not like just a shake of your broom and you lose balance before catching yourself, this time it’s worse. Your broom isn’t listening.

You scream to yourself, not too loud. But Mrs. Hooch can see the way Jenna is catching up, she knows Jenna did something, but it’s not looking good. Sure playful banters were okay. 

But instead of dodging a tree, you smack your head straight into the leafiness, feeling the thorns of the leaves sink and cut beneath your eye. Jenna swishes through you, not looking back. The pain immediately comes through, harsh stings roaring through your skin. You cry out, completely losing balance on your broom, crashing into the tree harshly and feeling your head bang into the wood. 

Jenna still hasn’t noticed the damage she’s caused.

You feel yourself fall.

Farther and farther.

Till your body crashes down on the grassy field, your bones from the fall aren’t helping. You hear the way they crack. And then you feel warm blood trickling down your forehead and down from the cut on your eye. You whimper.

Black spots invade your vision and you feel carsick. But you know you’re not in a car.

Your eyes flutter, making a soft groan as Emma approaches you. You can barely see her worried face but you know she’s scared.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” She says, it’s muffled. You don’t respond, her figure is blurry, you can barely see her blue eyes.

Before you can even think of a response, your eyes shut.

And as Jenna reaches the finish line, she just turns around, to notice you at least tens of feet below from her, collapsed on the ground and curled up. She can’t help but feel a gasp fall from her lips, diving down and getting off her broom stick.

She didn’t mean for it to get this chaotic, she was just hoping you’d crash into a branch and get all angry and fussy. Not get hurt. As she approaches closer, she sees blood trickling down your face as your chest heaves up and down. Emma looks at you, worriedly as everyone surrounds you two.

Jenna feels something that she doesn’t want to admit, she feels guilty for hurting you. You had barely done anything to her, but she’s messed with you countless times, you’ve gotten in trouble for it.

And you never ratted her out. The one time you decide to get her back, she’s taken things too far.

“God,” she murmurs, her voice betraying her as she pushes through the crowds of people, “Is she okay?”

The way her friend turns to her, your best friend looks like she’s about to explode, “Does she look okay? DOES SHE LOOK OKAY JENNA? What the hell were you thinking?” the blonde says the last part half aloud, where only Ortega can hear.

“I didn’t think she’d get hurt!” Jenna retorts, kneeling down and putting her hesitant hand over your chest, feeling the way it was beating quickly, chest going up and down, up down.

Immediately nurses come and drag you out, Emma following you as they take you to the infirmary. 

Jenna feels herself following too, until Hooch catches up with her.

“Ortega!” Her voice is loud, screeching as she pulls Jenna off to the side, “what on earth do you think you were doing? You’ve gotten Y/N seriously hurt because of a stupid practice match! Don’t think I didn’t catch the lame spell you’ve cast.” her eyes are wild, angry, “You know we don’t allow spells on the battlefield, I know some of Hogwarts students have broken it, but it’s never been so severe, you’ve hurt her tremendously. She’s bleeding, and I think she’ll suffer some sprains.”

Jenna nods, she understands. Sort of. She wants to understand, she knows what she did was bad. Hooch takes a deep breath, “I’m disappointed with you.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know if Y/N will heal in three months, she’s been our best and fastest player, with quick decisions and speedy moves. She might have to sit out on Quidditch, I was looking forward to taking the trophy this season. And I would disqualify you, send you to detention after school everyday till she properly heals,” Hooch takes a deep breath, “But you have to be one of our players because you have the ability to. That doesn’t mean that you won’t get detention. I’ll even ask Dumbledore to exclude you from house games.

God, Jenna didn’t mean to make you be kicked out this season. She knew how much you wanted it. She can’t help but feel guilty.

Hooch’s voice once again speaks up, “And I expect you to apologize and pay her a visit. You two have never gotten along, but I know you both care about each other. Even if it’s slight.”

A soft nod leaves her, her eyes lingering on your small figure that is now being taken to surgery. Maybe she’ll slow down with the pranks.

-

As soon as visitors are allowed in, Jenna begins to stand up and approach your door.

“Ortega, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t open that door,” it’s Emma's voice, but this time she sounds much more angry. Unlike the voice the brunette is used to hearing.

The way Jenna stands there, Emma narrows her eyes, “You’ve already hurt her, what more can you need? Unplug the oxygen tank and start laughing your stubborn ass up? I don’t think so.” 

She was taken by surprise, the fact that both you and Emma have gotten used to her tricks, she feels herself biting her lip.

“N-no.. No, not anything like that. I just wanted to apologize. I know my tricks have gone a bit farther than expected.”

Emma approaches her, pressing her finger to Jenna’s chest, “You’ve hurt her more than enough, and I can see it. She’s done nothing to you! Nothing!” your best friend growls, and Jenna backs up.

“You just don’t understand how much you’ve pressured her! Because you’re too busy standing there like the spoiled person you are on your banters.”

Jenna smacks her hands off, raising both of her hands to show she’s ‘surrendering,’ “I know, I know Em! Just let me apologize.”

“Not when she’s just about to wake up, you wouldn’t want the least expected person who hurt you to show up as soon as you wake up. Give her time,” the blonde grumbles, shushing her back to her seat as she enters your room. Jenna stands up again, noticing you're still unconscious.

Emma can feel her presence, and decides not to turn back as she sits on the chair next to you. Your face lost its color. None of the pink shade that tinted your cheeks when Jenna teased you. The pink shade that she wanted to see was gone, replaced by a pale, tired face, sound asleep. 

There were cuts all over you, she saw some bruises and there was a big bandage wrapped around your right cheek. She also saw a deep cut that was gauzed up in your arm. She winced. A few broken bones maybe.

She didn’t know it was this bad. The only noise was Emma’s sniffles, and the small beep of your heartbeat’s monitor. Jenna sighs, scooting closer and hesitantly bringing her hand close to your face. She felt like if she were to touch you, you would turn into dust. 

Her hand gently traces your fast, your nose slightly twitches, but she knows you’re too weak to move or wake up. Then she brushes through your hair, it’s weird beginning to see all the times she’s treated you wrongly as something she shouldn’t have done. Each trick got worse than the other, more risky of being harmed. And now look at you, all broken and bruised.

I didn’t mean it, Jenna thinks, looking down at your tiny figure.

I really didn’t mean it.

-

Your eyes flutter closed, and immediately you close them again, groaning from the whitest most lightest light you’ve ever encountered, covering yourself with a blanket. As soon as you move, you moan softly in pain, feeling pain roar through your body.

“Stay still,” you hear a familiar voice say, you can’t lend your finger on it. It sounds pretty, and before you can process it your brain switches that thought off. It’s your annoying rival that casted a spell that got you here in the first place. Jenna stupid Ortega.

You grunt, looking up at her, you feel bandages around you, avoiding contact with the brunette.

“Emma should be back soon, she was getting some flowers for you.”

“Good, then you can leave.”

Harsh.

You hear the way Jenna sighs, and you shake it off, turning slightly so you can face the entertaining wall instead of her.

“Look Y/N, I’m sorry.”

..

“Please, can’t you see I’m apologizing?”

“No, Jenna. You knew I didn’t like these things you did to me before. And you decide to apologize now? Do you think it’s going to make me forgive you just like that?” You say, turning back at her, a storm brews behind your eyes.

“I can’t participate in the one thing I was looking forward to this season! Just because you put this spell that you knew could harm me badly! You knew I wanted to be in Quidditch!” Jenna winces at your increasing voice.

“You could’ve been on the team too! It’s not just one of us! But you got your actions in the way before you could even think! And now you want to apologize?” It's loud, your voice begins to falter a little. Your shoulders untense, and Jenna can hear the monitor of your heart increase by four times, she shushes you, pulling you onto your back.

“Stop,” she says, her voice is too soft for your liking, you can’t think. Too much is going on in your mind, “Please.”

“Get out Jenna.”

“W-what? You don’t understand.. I’m trying to-”

“Jenna, get the hell out!” You snap, your eyes filled to the max with unshed tears.

You stay silent, before cracking out a tiny, “Please.”

And like that, Jenna walks out of the room, murmuring an “I’m sorry.”

Just this time, she really wanted you to know that she meant it.

-

It’s been a month, and by now your arm was barely healing, and there was a stupid ugly mark of a cut on your face. The pain was harsh, if your arm didn’t heal by the time Quidditch began, all your practice and effort would flush down the drain. It scared you.

As bad as the pain got, your mark would probably never fade, there would always be a purple cut marked under your eye. Even once it’s completely healed, ones that meet you will notice your cut, in a lighter shade than your actual skin tone. It made you cry every night, silently. 

It was stupid to cry over, your deep bruises weren’t even close to healing. Every time you would accidentally press into it, you’d shriek in pain. You felt insecure of yourself. It didn’t feel good, every time you’d look at yourself in the mirror there would be your healing cuts scarred over your body. 

“It looks s-so ugly..” You hiccup, looking at yourself in the mirror, Emma by your side as she shakes her head, “Nonsense, it’s okay.”

“It might never go away.” 

“And that’s okay, when you're older, you’ll find it silly, I promise. It’s a reminder of being here, and to remind you that competition is less superior when it comes to safety.”

You can’t help but feel yourself shrink, watching the scar on your face haunt you.

-

Jenna sees you in the hallways, you're in half her classes. But every single time she looks at you, you’re never looking her way. Not like before. Not when exam scores are passed out during Snape or McGonagall when you usually turn around and she waves her high score in the air, but you always wave yours back, grinning happily when you got one percent higher than her. She found you annoying, but now she feels like she’s taken you for granted. You were the one who taught her how to properly care for her plant in Herbology, although most of the time she’s retained information from the random songs and joking nerdy remarks. 

Jenna hated sitting next to you in that class, she loved teasing you and making you explode from frustration. She hated the way you looked at her and had the ability to somehow use some Hogwarts nonsense to make her think back at your smile. 

It was something you did to her, it couldn’t have been herself, she’d never be thinking of your smile or you in general. You must’ve casted a spell on her.

Yet she remembers that she’s thinking about you right now. 

Anyways, she hated the way you smirked at her and kept kicking your feet to hers, then growing some mushroom on her damn shoe.

“What the fuck Y/N? Why is there a green toadstool on my fucking foot?” She says, angrily as you laugh and fall out of your seat. She tries shaking off the small mushroom with her foot, but then it makes it grow even bigger.

And by the end of the day there is a 20 foot mushroom on her shoe, shading her as she walks home, heading straight for the knife to cut it off. 

The thought made her smile a bit. She didn’t want to admit it, she didn’t know how you did it. Or maybe when she kept tapping her pen to purposely annoy you, then when you snapped, light blue sparkles flew out of your mouth and made your voice sound wonky.

Now, you barely looked at her. For the entirety of when you were gone, you had to catch up. She felt a little relieved, you could finally talk to her by asking for notes. Didn’t want to admit the pit in her chest when you asked the person behind you.

I’m sorry, Jenna thinks, she wants to scream at you and apologize until you forgive her.

You ignored her, and she knew she deserved it. She treated you so wrongly. Sure she knew you never mind those moments she looked back to, but she knew that she grew more and more brave with her pranks, growing less and less cautious of even thinking of your safety and feelings.

She hates seeing that look in your eyes as everyone in Hooch’s class shouts, “Up!” with excitement, and you sit there, alone on the bleachers as you watch. 

As you watch your whole class fly off, Emma giving you a small, concerned look, and a tight-lipped, forceful smile forms on your lips, assuring you were fine.

She hates the way she can remember the smile leaving your lips as Emma leaves off for the race, then looking down with melancholy traced in your features.

I’m sorry.

The shorter brunette can’t stand the way you look at everyone fly off, knowing that someone that you know won’t be you will probably take your place in Quidditch. She can see it in your eyes, kicking the dirt, hoping that somehow you can kick the pain and broken limbs away.

This time, she can’t tear your eyes away from your tiny figure.

Yet she knows that you won’t even look at her, never noticing the sympathetic stares she gives you, replaced with the ones once filled with competition.

-

Emma’s voice is dull, almost like she doesn’t want to talk to Jenna after the incident.

“You’re seriously asking me to have Y/N talk to you?” she questions, looking at her with suspicion.

“Please, Em! It’s been a month, and I’ve been trying to apologize.”

The blonde crosses her arms, trying to defend you, “Well what if she doesn’t want to talk to you or apologize?”

“I don’t care!” Jenna throws her arms in the air, “I know what I did was wrong and if I’m being honest, class is getting boring without having her competition and silly remarks behind my back.”

Jenna freezes, what she says kind of sounds weird.

Emma hums, then she turns to Jenna, “So, what are you saying Jenna?”

“I care about her!” She groans, rubbing her cheeks, “I’m starting to think that I’ve cared about her since I met her but didn’t know till my actions got her hurt. I was going to apologize but now I’m shitting desperate. She won’t get out of my mind and.. I don’t know!”

Jenna groans, trying to think of what this was, “I just keep thinking about the things she doesn’t do anymore, and it’s sad not having her by my side. I feel guilty. And I need to apologize even more so she can get out of my head! Em, please, I can’t get that stupid silly cute smile out of my head. And I can’t damn focus knowing that the girl that sits next to me in McGonagall is full on avoiding me!”

She doesn’t realize the way she’s been rambling, she looks at Emma, whose face expression has changed. In some way, she’s slightly having a grin on her face, “You’re in love with her.”

“What? I don’t know! Maybe, I just-I feel bad, and I want to apologize and make it okay again. It’s just so dull and I’ll.. I don’t even fucking know. I just miss her and the way it used to be.”

“You should’ve told me that,” your soft voice sing-songs from behind her, making her tense up and turn around.

“Y/N,” Jenna stutters.

“Jenna,” you mumble, voice slightly breathy.

“I didn’t think you were-” she squeals in surprise as you drag her by the arm, panting softly as you drag her into a room, god who knows what Hogwarts classroom this is.

“Look Y/N, I’m sorry, but why are we in someones-mmph.” You seal her lips with a random spell under your lips and you place your finger to her mouth. 

You slightly smirk, god she missed it, she looks down at your lips, she rolls her eyes, “Apologize to me and I’ll let you do what you’ve wanted to do.” You undo your spell, taking off your finger from her mouth as she begins to speak.

“Wha?-”

“Go on.”

You were teasing her, and she breathed, “Okay, I’m sorry. For hurting you, I know I went too far,” she was rambling as she speaks a little faster, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just felt more brave as much as I teased you and I know I went too far this time. And I promise I didn’t try to hurt you, I know how much Quidditch meant to you..” she gulps again, taking a breath. “What I did led to a lot of things, and I’ve noticed the way I grew upset when I knew you began to avoid me, and I’ll admit I miss you.” Jenna says the last part hesitantly.

The brunette looked up at you and you were looking at her, hesitant eyes, but almost filled with need? She now noticed the more visible cut on your eye, and you look away, seeing her gaze on the mark you were most insecure on, you cover your face.

“Stop that,” Jenna smacks your hands away and it feels like her hesitation swept away, she slowly reached up to cup your cheeks, in which your uncertainty melted. She looks at the mark, it was better than when she saw you unconscious on the floor. That’s all that matters. She wants to roll her eyes but now she feels weird when she does that.

“Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, “Just a little.”

"I'm sorry about Quidditch."

"I'm still angry about that, my arm should heal soon though, before it starts."

.. An awkward silence passes, then you look down at her pink lips.

Jenna hums, then you tug her closer, making a small whine.

“Please kiss me.”

Jenna’s eyes widen, taking her hands away from your cheeks.

“What?”

“Please,” you plead, your eyes filled with want.

Her eyes flicker from your lips as she cups your cheeks again and brings you to her mouth. As they meet, you’re all small and soft moans, kissing her with need. Hunger. It’s different. Teasing you doesn’t come with words, she’s teasing you with her mouth, feeling the way you grip onto her. 

More more more, don’t stop.

You taste exactly how Jenna thought you would, but just so much better. So addicting, it makes her mind spin with you. Coca cola and addictive vanilla. It mixes well with the taste of hers, you let her capture your tongue. It’s feverish, tongue and want combined. She indulges in the way you make a tiny moan as she nibbles your tongue. Your wanting lips push harder to hers, your body pressing against her as you slightly find something to grind against.

It’s heated and different. She tugs you closer, finding it adorable as you pull away for a tiny breath, then continue, like you don’t want to stop feeling her lips on yours. Her hands. Your fingers tugging against her hair.

Long moments after you pull away, you both are panting, your head buried deep into her chest. She rubs your hair.

“I didn’t think you were that experienced,” you whisper.

She rolls her eyes, pressing her lips to your forehead, “I didn’t think you’d pull me into a room and start begging me to kiss you and make out with you.”

“Mm..”

“Well, did my kisses grant your forgiveness for me?

“Maybe.”

“What if I give you another round?”

She smirks, seeing the way you lean back into her.

“Deal.”

She presses her lips that just left yours once again, feeling your hands tangle back into her hair.

[sweetiecutie]

Dating Tom Marvolo Riddle

Warnings: NSFW, possessiveness, toxicity

A/n: sorry for the long absence babes! I’m in my depressive episode again, but I finally managed to finish those hc’s, they’ve been in my drafts for ages🙄. Anyways, hope you’ll enjoy it💖

Even though Tom never expresses his attraction toward you verbally, you can still see just how much you mean to him through his actions. His love is all about the small gestures like fixing the askew collar of your shirt, sharing his notes if you have difficulties in some classes, making sure that you eat enough etc.

You’re the only one who can actually touch him. Of course, teachers, especially Slughorn, often give Tom encouraging pats on the back or shoulder, but only you are allowed to touch his skin. To play with neat waves of his dark hair, brush your fingertips against Tom’s cheekbones in endearment, interlock your fingers while walking down school halls together. Only you

Tom is very possessive, not only with treasured magical objects, but also with you. He wants everyone to know that you are his, his and his only. Most of the time one of his hands rests securely around your shoulders or waist, keeping you as close as possible, glaring down at anyone who looks at you longer than a few seconds

Because of said possessiveness Tom is almost always by your side - you sit together in all your shared classes, and if it happened that he doesn’t take one of the subjects that you do, he has his devoted followers to be right beside you instead, making sure that no ‘unreliable’ people from your class are in near proximity to you. Outside of classes - you’re almost always seated on his lap. In the common room, courtyard, library - everywhere. He especially loves it when you sit on his lap during his privat meetings in the Room of Requirements - him sitting in the head of a long table with you cuddled up into his side, surrounded by his followers listening resolutely to every word he says. It gives him such a sense of power, having not only all of his minions, but also you - the only person he loves - at his complete mercy

Every one of Tom’s followers knows better than to talk to you, unless you are the one who starts conversation. And god forbid them being anything than polite and friendly to you.

Casual dominance? Yes, Tom is all about that. He likes it when you submit to his orders, no matter how small and trivial they are. “Darling, finish your tea, you need to warm up after a walk” or “Go to bed now, it’s too late” or “Put your book down, you’ve been reading for too long. Let your eyes rest”. And it angers Tom so much when you disobey, he wants what’s best for you, why can’t you see that? Most of the conflicts you guys have are actually caused by that, because you too don’t like being pushed around like a small child

Talking about conflicts - it is extremely hard for Tom to admit that he’s wrong, so if conflicts do occur between you two, Tom makes it look like you are the guilty one (even if you’re not). So yeah, he’s still a bit toxic, no matter how hard he tries to suppress it within himself

NSFW ahead!

Despite popular opinion walking around this mesmerizing platform, I don’t think that Tom sleeps around with every person he deems attractive. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ll be his first (and only) sexual partner, even despite all the girls and boys almost throwing themselves on him in hopes of getting at least one touch

WILL👏FINGER👏YOU👏LITERALLY EVERYWHERE👏 Okay but this man has absolutely no shame when it comes to his lover (meaning you). Plus points if you’re in public place like library or classroom, and god, is he cocky. “You gotta be quiet, yeah? Don’t want other people to hear how much of a slut you are, do we?” all while his long slender fingers make their way up under your skirt, past the elastic of your pretty panties, and all you are left to do is to spread your legs a bit wider for Tom, and try to be as quiet as possible. And oh, don’t forget to take notes, you’re still in a middle of a class!

NOT into daddy kink. Being an orphan, even the word ‘dad’ itself feels strange, wrong even for Tom, so if you want to call him daddy - expect him to freak the fuck out. But if you’re into names he’d love it if you call him ‘sir’ or ‘master’, it gives him sense of power and authority over you

And while we’re on this topic - you’re called everything BUT your name in bed. Tom loves calling you names - whore, slut, fucktoy, darling, sweetness, princess - all that stuff. And oh, when he mixes praise with degradations, all while fucking you absolutely stupid *sighs dreamily*. “What’s that dollface? Is it too much for you? Can this slutty cunt take no more of my cock inside, hm? Stop pretending sweetheart, I know how much of a greedy whore you are, so shut the fuck up and take it”

Definitely will pin you against the wall as he towers over your smaller form, one hand resting next to your head while the other one cups your face gently, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes while whispering the filthiest things ever, making your panties soaking wet in a matter of minutes just by using his words. “You’re so needy, aren’t you? Walking around in that short skirt, swaying your hips like that. Think I didn’t notice, hm? I’d love to see those hips swaying while you ride my cock, what do you think about that?”

Even though Tom expects full obedience from you, he still likes it when you get a bit bratty. When you comply with every one of his orders, but there’s still something mischievous and coquettish about your behavior - naughty little comments slipping off your tongue here and there, and then you are batting that pretty doe eyes up at him, as if it wasn’t you saying all those things. “Moan louder” he orders in a strained voice, hips snapping into yours with loud smacking sound. “Fuck harder then” you quip back, sly smirk curling your lips at the sight of Tom’s perfect eyebrows pulling together in a frown. Your small giggle dies in your throat as man pulls out of you, just to slam his cock all the way back into your pussy, making your body jolt forward with the ferocity of the impact. Want it harder - you get it harder

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖