#and still many papers left to grade

[trek-tracks]

It's a fairly significant birthday for your trusty Trek blogger today. This has been a year filled with personal achievements, milestones, triumphs and heartbreaks alike, many of which aren't even related to Star Trek in the slightest. Thank you all for hanging out with me while life happens in the background. You mean a lot to a lady who's boldly (though tiredly) going into a new year.

Love,

Bev

[yardsards]

thinking about the fact that i was so socially awkward as a teen that the school wanted to me out of class to attend "social skills classes" once a week (to which i attended one and demanded i be removed from the program cuz it was just me and about a dozen equally uncomfortable probably-autistic kids who also probably did not want to be there, being forced to do icebreaker activities by deeply condescending special education teachers)

how did i not receive an autism diagnosis til i was nearly an adult and specifically advocated for myself to be taken to a professional to get checked out for autism and adhd???

[barley-st-band]

hey does anyone know how we’re supposed to survive it all. asking for a friend

[allurilove]

Yandere Professor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.

*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.

Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.

You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.

You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.

You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.

When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.

Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.

He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.

Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.

He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.

Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.

“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.

His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.

It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.

Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.

It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.

His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.

Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.

“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.

“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.

Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.

His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.

“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”

“You weren’t understanding my hints.”

He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.

He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.

He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.

He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.

Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.

The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.

He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.

That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.

That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.

Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.

[deadsetobsessions]

Woo! I’ve finally got time to write! Had to go to a wedding, suffered through eight whole hours of pure disorganized mess, and got mad about it. Emphasis on the disorganized part. So, I bring you: party planner!Danny Phantom.

——

If anyone was to see him now, they’d definitely think that it was odd that Danny was the one in the party planning field. They wouldn’t be surprised if it was Jazz, but Danny ‘wing it’ Fenton planning things? Never.

But here he was, clipboard in hand and checking off hors d’œuvres from the list.

“Anton, could you do a check of the sound system? Make sure everything’s working?”

“Got it.”

Danny lifted the buffet table, laden with heavy food, and used a bit of his ghostly strength to move it over.

“Perfect.”

He double checked the seating chart, and readjusted the miniature ice sculpture centerpieces he made for the party.

Wayne Manor was all lit up and perfectly dusted. Danny ran through his mental checklist. Tabled? Check. Dance floor clean and scuff free? Check. DJ booth and open bar running without issues? Check. Live band setting up with back up instruments and strings? Check. Decorations on point? Oh, he’ll have to get the team to readjust those.

Time to check-

“Danny! How’s it going?” Bruce Wayne beamed and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Danny smiled politely. “Mr. Wayne. Everything is going smoothly. Would you like to check the food the chefs have made?”

“Sure, sure! I definitely need to eat before I drink, haha!”

“That’s a good idea! Good thing you’re about to try a bunch of food.” Danny matched the billionaire’s energy. He’s going to get paid so good.

“So, Danny, are you going to college?”

Danny passed him a small sampler. “Ah, I can’t. Some stuff happened in high school and I don’t really have the grades or the money to.”

Plus, his credentials were in another plane of existence and he hadn’t figured out how to transfer those records yet.

“You could still attend college, I’m sure! Your parents might be able to help pay?” Bruce nommed on the food. He gave a thumbs up.

Danny sighed. “It’s not always an option. Plus, my parents are dead.”

In this universe. His own? Alive and kicking GIW ass.

“Oh, I see-”

“Father.”

“Woah!” Danny blinked, looking down at the baby Wayne the popped up next to his father’s elbow.

“Damian! What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Damian shot his father a flat glare and dragged the laughing billionaire away.

Danny snorted and returned to his tasks. He has to check the speeches and the lighting. Hm… he doesn’t have time to adjust everything how he wants it.

Good thing he knew a guy that could stop time.

“Hey, Clockwork?”

——

“Father, I understand your inclination towards adopting poor black haired and blue eyed orphans, but I would like to remind you that I have far too many siblings to be adding yet another bumbling buffoon.”

“I was not considering that, Damian.”

Damian let go of his wrist with a grimace. “Denial is not becoming of a Wayne, Father.”

“Yeah, B. I could see you grab the adoption papers from all the way over here.” Tim adjusted his tie. “Anyways, Dick is on his way. He’s running a little late because of some stuff in Blüdhaven.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

——

“Batman.”

“Oracle.”

“Look at the footage of Wayne manor.” Oracle pulled up the video surveillance scattered through out the manor. Specifically, the ones of the west ballroom. Daniel Fenton stood in his spot, looking down at his clipboard but a second later, he's moved three inches to the left and the decorations had subtly been moved more aesthetic spots. "I think Danny might be a meta. We'll have to look into him."

Batman stood up, allowing the fondness he had for Danny as Bruce Wayne drain away. This is a potential threat, and Batman will treat him like one. (Danny will remember this.)

"Contact Flash. I need him to scan for any temporal disturbance."

"Understood."

——

"Brucie!" A socialite squealed as she came to bestow hugs upon a long suffering Bruce. "My god, this place is gorgeous! You must give me your planner's number. I could absolutely use some fresh eyes for the Annual Spring Party."

"Awe, Janine! I gotta keep some of the good things to myself!" Bruce whined, inwardly smirking as he saw his kids mock-gagging behind the lady's back. "What if your party's cooler than mine? What should I do then? You're already so gorgeous! Why, is that a Birkin?"

Janine lit up and all but forgot about getting Danny's contact information. Bruce patted his own back for a job well done, even if he had to listen to Janine's itemized list of random luxury goods she had to buy before being offered a bag.

He's a Wayne. The Gotham Hermes wished they could partner with the Waynes. Plus, he's pretty sure he's got at least three of those bags somewhere in the manor to bait out Selina.

Catching Danny sliding in between the servers and going towards the kitchen, Bruce quickly excused himself with a disarming himbo grin.

Time to subtly grill the kid.

——

"Hey, Timmy?"

"Hello, Dick," Tim smiled elegantly at the couple who's companies he was about to bring six feet underground and excused himself. "What's up?"

"Have you noticed that the ice sculptures haven't melted at all?"

Tim blinked, eyes sliding over to a harried Danny being followed by Bruce on a mission. Oof.

"Freeze?" He asked mildly, face innocent of any nefarious thoughts.

"That's what I'm thinking." Dick smiled sunnily, throwing an arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Heard the guy's living out near Crime Alley. We should get Jay to check it out." Tim pretended to laugh, grinning as his brains made plans for a stakeout.

"Heard, my ass. You totally stalked him, didn't you?"

"Got proof?"

Dick snorted, removing his arm. "Nope. I'll let Jay know. You should probably help Danny out, though, he looks like he's about to lose his temper."

"Bruce is at it again." Tim sighed. "Yeah, okay."

[hysteria-things]

can you do a teacher!chris and a college student pleasee. (With smut. And if you want to!!)

PROFESSOR STURNIOLO

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!teacher!chris x student!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: this isn’t your first problem with this specific professor, but at this moment you’re fed up and want to put your foot down.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, p in v, degradation, spanking, masturbation (female), making out, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, squirting, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,535

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: we are locked in🫡

your professor dismissed class mere seconds ago, and everybody either has already left the lecture hall or is still packing up. “are you meeting us for lunch?” your friend says, zippering her bag and putting it on her shoulder.

you scoff, shaking your head. “can’t.” you say, ripping out the essay you wrote for this class that was due a few days ago. “professor sturniolo gave me an F on the essay.”

“again?” she questions genuinely shocked. “he’s got a bone to pick with you.”

this isn’t the first encounter like this you had with your professor. this class — your argument and persuasion class — is the only one you’re failing this semester.

not in your three years have you ever had this type of problem, and after many F’s, you’ve finally had enough.

“well, good luck.” your friend sighs, leaving the classroom with the remaining group.

now, that leaves you and him.

it would be a different story if you didn’t do the assignment right or didn’t try on the essay, but you’re one hell of a writer and you’re sure he knows it. you’ve always been good in school, ever since a young age.

normally you wouldn’t pick up fights with teachers, but your blood has been boiling for this dude for weeks.

“what’s your problem with me?” you say sternly, wiggling the paper in your hand as you step down to where he is.

he stops erasing the board and turns to you. “class is over, ms. l/n.”

yeah, no shit.

you roll your eyes. “so? i want to speak with you about my recent essay. you always give me F’s and never explain why. i would understand if it happened once before at the beginning of the year, but for every. single. one? it’s ridiculous.

he’s emotionless as he listens to your rambling, then he shrugs. “it wasn’t good enough.”

you crinkle the paper in your fist and slam it down on the desk in front of you. “wasn’t good enough my fucking ass, professor sturniolo. is it a favoritism thing? or are you fucking the other chicks in your class so they can have good grades? is that what i need to do? do i need to fuck you?”

the moment those words left your mouth, you knew that was a huge mistake.

you wouldn’t be surprised if he does, though. he’s not much older than you, and he is attractive.

he licks his lips, tilting his head toward himself. “bring it over.”

you gulp, feeling slightly intimidated. you uncrinkle the page and hand it to him, who is now sitting in the chair.

not even reading it, he stares at it and looks back up at you. “sorry. your paper didn’t meet the expectations.”

your pinch your lips together to keep you from screaming at him. “you didn’t even read it.” you shake your head. “i should’ve dropped this class when i had the chance. you’re cocky, and a waste of my time. i’m failing probably because your teaching sucks.”

as you start to storm out, he speaks up. “i’m going to have to clean that filthy mouth of yours.” he smirks. “teach you a much-deserved lesson, then afterward you can see if my teaching still sucks.”

you pause in your tracks, face turning beat red as you slowly turn back around. “w-what?”

he motions you to come over with his finger, and for some reason, you listen.

grabbing your wrist, he pulls you over his lap so you’re straddling him. again, you let it happen. you can’t help the wetness that starts to pool between your legs.

“you can admit it, you know,” he whispers, dragging his hand from your waistband to your mouth. he grazes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“a-admit what?” you stammer, shuffling in his lap which causes him to groan and hold your hips.

he chuckles. “deep down you want me to fuck you. i bet you touch yourself to the thought of me like a desperate little thing.”

you look away, face turning even redder than before if possible. “nuh-uh.”

“your face says otherwise.” his whisper shoots a chill up your spine as he starts to unbutton your shorts.

the way your fingers move quickly inside of you have your eyes shut with your mouth dangled open.

you were lucky enough to get a single dorm, so you can do whatever you want without being sneaky about it.

the way your legs are spread makes your fingers dig deeper, curling to hit the right spot. you grip onto your sheets tight, moans and other loud noises leaving your lips.

your previous orgasms make a mess below you or the back of your thighs, but you don’t stop. you’ve been at this for almost an hour because your mind is only focused on one thing.

your lecturer.

professor sturniolo.

“shit.” you pant, your orgasm building for the nth time. you let go of the sheets to massage your breast, pinching at your nipple from time to time.

you whine. “just like that.”

legs shaking, your fingers get coated with yet another orgasm, but you wish it wasn’t your fingers.

you wish it were his.

your shorts are now on the floor, along with your shirt, underwear, and bra. chris still has his clothes on except for his pants.

hovering just above his tip, your lips move in sync with each other. his tongue fights yours, and the erotic sounds of you two kissing fill your ears.

his hands rub along your back before spanking you hard, ruining the intimate moment. you pull away to gasp.

“sit,” he demands, mouth agape as he looks down to watch you try to sink onto his dick.

you grunt from the pleasurable pain, stopping just about midway. he’s probably the biggest you’ve ever seen. “it’s not gonna fit.” you whine.

“i’ll make it fit.”

with that, he grips onto your ass, hammering up into you without being able to adjust first.

you grab onto his shoulders for dear life. you moan uncontrollably, the feeling of him raw inside of you making you grin like a fool.

you’ve been wanting him to do this for a very long time.

“look at you.” he starts, smacking your ass to have you jolt. “having the professor you allegedly hate balls deep in you.”

“i-i do— ha-ate you.” you struggle to get out, a hand landing on your asscheek again.

“is that so?” he mocks, waiting for you to talk back but instead you moan even louder. he nods. “that’s what i thought.”

he bites his lip, looking at the way your tits bounce rapidly and at the bulge in your belly, eyes widening slightly. he’d never seen something like that before.

“i should keep you around more often after class.” he groans, seeing your face of pleasure.

eyes rolled back, mouth hung open, hair disheveled and sticking to your forehead from sweating.

“you make a pretty little cocksleeve.”

that sentence makes you clench around him, your body starting to quiver from the overwhelming feeling. “ngh— feels so go-od. y-you make me feel s-so good.” you whimper. “wanna cum!”

“not until you apologize.” he tuts, grabbing and then spanking your ass. “say you’re sorry, and i might let you cum.”

you whine, his cock now kissing your g-spot more than it did before. “i’m s-sorry.”

“for?”

“for— mm!” you squeal. “for being b-bad.”

“and?”

“and-and—” you can’t finish because of the sudden clear liquid squirting out of you, now making your pussy squelch more than it was before. your back arches even harder, your brain all dazed and dumb from the overstimulation.

you start to lose stability from being too weak, so chris has to hold you by your arms.

he groans, shaking his head at the terrible mess you are making. “come on. you can do it.”

tears spill from your eyes, sobs running past your lips. “a-and for t-talking back. fuck!”

his dick twitches inside, his thrusts getting sloppy. “i hope you’re on the pill because i’m going to fill you deep, baby.”

you can only make sounds, so a high-pitched moan echoes throughout. you’re seeing stars the closer your orgasm approaches before it finally snaps and you’re smearing the ring of white around his dick.

he doesn’t stop, causing your body to twitch in his grasp as another orgasm builds since he’s still fucking deep to your g-spot.

“close again?” he laughs fake. “scream for me. let people know how much of a slut you are; letting your teacher use you to get a better grade.”

your body slowly starts becoming limp, eyes fluttering closed as you moan.

he spanks you for the last time, not caring that his job is on the line.

“louder. they can’t hear you.”

screaming this time, you cum once again when he holds you down on his shaft. you collapse onto his chest, quiet sobs leaving your lips as you feel his cum start to fill you.

he peppers kisses on your shoulders, peeking over them to grab a pen and clicking it open. he scribbles over the previous grade on your essay to write a new one.

A+

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @catalina-island @mbsbaby @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopeno1

[rottiens]

⊹ synopsis. . as your beloved husband, it is his duty to indulge you in your fantasies. even in the unspoken ones. ⊹ tags. . (18+), husband nanami x reader with female anatomy (no pronouns used), petnames (honey), suggestive, dirty talk, finger sucking, reader has a hands kink. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Discreetly you glance back, your eyebrows raise unconsciously and your heart does that unusual throbbing that you hadn't experienced in a long time in Kento's presence, at least since you got married. You didn't want to admit that married life had tempered a bit the passion of the early years, when your hands couldn't be still standing next to each other, when you struggled to control your restless gaze and burning cheeks because you had to share the same team for a mission with your boyfriend. On the other hand, Kento was always more reserved, more serious. When asked if you were dating, he would simply say it was no one's business, although his cheekbones would change color every time someone mentioned your name.

After you left school behind, graduated as sorcerers and began accepting special grade missions, Kento and you talked about your relationship and how you saw yourselves together for much longer, starting a family, growing plants together and perhaps enjoying a quieter hobby that didn't involve exorcising curses. The two of you considered joining a book club or visiting the countryside on weekends.

Then one day he dropped one of his knees to the ground and handed you the beautiful ring that now decorates your finger, physically sealing a union to which you were both long committed: it has been exactly four years and three months since the wedding that only close people and family members attended. Since then you have kept a low profile, you had accepted married life and the everyday life it brought with it, although that didn't mean you had stopped loving Kento like the first day —on the contrary—, it meant seeing him every day and extinguishing a little of that adolescent spark that once burned you from inside every time you spent more than three days away from each other.

However, since a couple of weeks that spark had come back to life hungrier than ever and it's not until now that you find out why.

The sound of the paper sliding under your husband's fingers is soothing to you. Kento does this almost every night: reading a book, sometimes even reading aloud to you until you fall asleep. His glasses rest on the tip of his nose, his bare chest rises and falls like the waves of the sea, and he's wearing gray pajama pants. You've watched this scene so many nights that you've learned to recognize the meaning when his brow furrows or when he pouts as he immerses himself in rich reading. At this moment, as he sometimes does, he gently caresses your calf, sending shivers along your limb, generating fluttering heartbeats in your chest and between your legs.

Kento turns another page and calls out to you, "Honey," without looking away from the book. The timbre of his voice draws you to him. "Are you okay?" he asks again, now watching you with wrinkles in his forehead that denote concern.

"I'm fine," you assure him without maintaining eye contact. "Can't I enjoy the sight of my handsome husband while he reads?" The word "husband" draws a smile on his face, causing the corners of his mouth to turn up. You only need to utter that one word to have him completely captivated.

"I'm almost done," he announces as he dives back into reading.

You gulp. It's his hands, you suddenly recognize. The realization hits you in the forehead. There's something in the way his thumb runs across the page, something in how his open hand holds the back of the book, in his thumb tapping the cover and then bringing it to his mouth to play with his lip. It all gets your bloodstream pumping adrenaline.

The thought makes you run away from the scene like a teenager in love. At first you were in total denial, hands? How could you tell him that his hands turned you on, wouldn't that be weird? However as the days go by you find it harder to control it and make it go unnoticed, you find yourself looking at them when Kento takes your hand to go outside, when he holds the steering wheel of the car, you find yourself squeezing your legs when his fingers tighten around the watering can to water the plants and the worst of all, when he cooks.

Now, as he finishes decorating the cake, he was wearing those black jeans that were your favorite, along with a brown shirt that had the first two buttons open, leaving part of his collar exposed. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to his elbows. You couldn't help but stare at him in fascination, feeling the saliva pool in your mouth.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" The question sneaks in among your swarm of thoughts, and you stop yourself from watching him work to stare into his eyes that don't look at you.

"I know," you reply simply, which elicits a purr of approval from him.

"Want to try?" He abruptly changes the subject, but still, encouraged, you nod your head. With his index finger and thumb, Kento pinches a small piece of cake and brings it up to your mouth. You stretch your neck to catch his fingers, and the taste of vanilla and cream glides over your tongue. Even after swallowing Kento doesn't withdraw his fingers, and you don't move either.

The playful thumb, still with traces of cream, reaches just beyond your lips to meet your tongue. Your eyes widen as red alarms go off in your mind and your thighs press against each other.

"My hands, hm?" it catches you in mid-act, unable to move, your body turning to stone in the middle of the kitchen. "What's so special about them?"

"I-I…"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Kento purrs as he pushes a little further, the pad of his thumb massaging your tongue in small circles spreading the sweet taste on it. "Suck it, I know this is what's been filling your mind." And you do, closing your eyes at his command, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as Kento begins to fuck your mouth. "I can't believe you didn't comment to me about this little kink of yours, it offends me even." You groan, unable to look him in the eye, succumbed to the feeling of fighting for your dignity or surrendering to pleasure. "Maybe you need me massaging your thighs, maybe you want them around your neck… playing with your tits or maybe I need to make you watch my thick fingers go in and out of you, my thick veins standing out in my hands as I pump my fingers inside that wet pussy." You whimper, Kento laughs. "I guess I'll have to cancel my dinner tonight, I need to get each and every thought you've had with my hands out of that pretty head of yours while you comment on what it is you like so much about them."

[goggles-mcgee]

Phantom Fudge

I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.

My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!

His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.

I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.

So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.

That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.

From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.

Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.

Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.

One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.

Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.

They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.

A coincidence surely.

Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.

Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.

The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'

Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.

While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.

The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.

[fatkish]

Aizawa and Class 1A x Student Alchemist Reader

In this, the reader has the same tattoos as scar. The reader’s left arm deconstructs molecules and their right arm reconstructs molecules.

The reader is quirkless so they use Alchemy to even the odds and are good at combat.

The reader took the entrance exam and has similar grade to Momo. Momo and the Reader share the 1/20 place amongst their peers

The reader aced the written test and destroyed the robots by using their alchemy to disassemble them. They got 45 villain points and 45 rescue points

When the teachers were looking over the students papers, Aizawa and Nedzu were amazed and skeptical of the reader being quirkless

Aizawa didn’t believe that you were quirkless so he used his quirk on you during his quirk apprehension test. Obviously it failed and he realized your were being honest on your paperwork. Still grilled you about it

Aizawa is ever so slightly more protective and stricter on you than other students. He worries all the time so he is a little harsher on you but you know that he just wants to push you a little more

You’re currently studying both flame and medical alchemy. You tend to study with recovery girl and help her out whenever you get the chance

During All Might’s hero vs villain training you were paired with Momo (Mineta didn’t get into the hero course) against Jirou and Kaminari. You won by creating a sleeping gas and put them to sleep whilst you and Momo wore gas masks she made

Bakugou refuses to admit your strength but has a secret respect for you since you beat him by altering his sweat’s molecules so it wasn’t explosive

Izuku has so many notes on you and has asked to draw your tattoos and you even began to teach him basic alchemy, although he sucks at it

When questioning you, you told Izuku that you were quirkless which he accidentally let it slip to his friends who then let the class know

After that you explained to the class that alchemy can be performed by anyone, it just take years of study and practice to perform and understand the basic rules and applications

Some didn’t believe you so you removed your shoe to show them all your second joint in your pinky toe as proof

Some still have a hard time believing it but most of the class accepted it

Kirishima, Sero, Iida, Jirou and Uraraka think you’re (manly) incredible and ambitious for dedicating yourself to something and making yourself strong despite the odds

Ashido, Kaminari and Hagakure still don’t believe that you’re quirkless

Tokoyami and Shoji both admire your strength and perseverance in trying to become a hero despite lacking a power and having been ridiculed and criticized for your dreams

Ojiro and you train in martial arts often as a means to strengthen one another

Tsuyu and you get along just fine as you both are some of the more mature students in classs

You tend to hang out with the quiet kids like Shoji, Tokoyami and Koda

You and Momo both bond over and help each other study the molecular make up of certain items

During the USJ attack, you used your flame alchemy on the Nomu. You used your conductive gloves to create the flames and tried to roast the Nomu

You took Hatsume’s place on Midoriya’s team in the Calvary battle

You fought Iida in the first rounds and won by creating a rugged and difficult terrain to run in as a means to slow him down, then you used your alchemy to seal his engines and managed to hit him in a pressure point that immobilized him

Todoroki was amazed when you were able to beat him in the sports festival. You turned his ice into water and then changed the arrangement of the stage’s molecular structure to that of quicksand and used the ground to swallow him up, winning your match.

Bakugou was pissed off when you altered your body’s carbon to be on the outside creating a skin of diamond like armor that his explosions couldn’t beat

You got 1st place in the festival but All Might accidentally let it slip during the award ceremony that you were quirkless

You got the third most offers from pros for internships out of the class

You ended up going with Best Jeanist and had a rather good time compared to Bakugou

After the Internships were over, you had mastered your flame alchemy and used it against All Might in your practical exam

Bonus: Todoroki learned that you can’t use flame alchemy when it’s raining or if your wet and accidentally started the ‘useless when wet’ shtick.

Now Bakugou makes fun of you whenever you get your gloves wet and acts like you need protection and enjoys babying you.

[sushiyuzu]

a fake relationship

nanami kento x reader

a/n: interested to read more? click here to read the book!

the school bell rings, echoing through the hallways as students spill out of classrooms, chatting, laughing, and groaning over the latest assignments. you're in no particular rush, meandering through the crowded corridor on your way to your locker. most of your friends have already left, probably heading to the café nearby or the library. but you? you have a different kind of problem to face—one that's been plaguing you all semester: math.

you open your locker with a sigh, tossing in a textbook and pulling out your crumpled math test results. a large, angry red 48/100 glares back at you from the paper, and you wince. it's the third failed math test this month. no matter how hard you try, no matter how many formulas you attempt to memorize, numbers just don't seem to click in your brain. you stuff the paper into your bag, muttering under your breath.

"great. just great."

you're not dumb—far from it. you're a pretty solid student in most subjects, but math? math is your achilles' heel. and you can already picture the conversation with your parents at dinner tonight. they've been on your case about your grades, and if they find out about another flunked exam, well... that's a disaster you're not ready to deal with.

as you slam your locker shut with more force than necessary, you catch a glimpse of nanami kento. he's standing at his locker not far from yours, his face set in that calm, unreadable expression he always wears. neat, composed, a little too perfect, really. you've never spoken more than a few words to him in class, but he's hard not to notice. he's the kind of guy who seems like he has everything figured out—top of the class, disciplined, never flustered by anything.

you're about to turn away when a shrill voice rings through the hallway.

"nanami-kun!"

a group of girls is lingering nearby, one of them stepping forward with a bright, flirtatious smile. "are you free after school? maybe we could study together?"

the girl's voice is sweet, her smile almost rehearsed, like she's done this a hundred times before. it's no secret that nanami is one of the most sought-after guys in school, and girls are always trying to get his attention.

you pause, pretending to fix your bag as you watch out of the corner of your eye, already knowing how this will go.

without even looking up from his locker, nanami replies, "i'm busy."

his voice is polite but detached, and the girl's smile falters. she quickly tries to recover. "oh, well... maybe another time?"

nanami doesn't respond, continuing to organize his books like she's not even there.

the girl fidgets awkwardly before giving up, walking back to her friends with a disappointed shrug. you can hear them whispering and giggling as they retreat down the hall. you almost feel bad for her—but at the same time, it's no surprise. nanami has this way of effortlessly deflecting attention, and yet, that only seems to make people more interested in him.

you snap out of your thoughts, turning to leave, but as you sling your bag over your shoulder, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey."

the deep, calm voice startles you, and you turn to find nanami kento standing right next to you. your heart skips a beat. you're not used to him being this close, let alone speaking to you directly.

"uh, hey?" you reply, trying not to sound as confused as you feel. why is nanami kento talking to you of all people?

he glances around briefly, then lowers his voice, his expression serious. "i need to ask you for a favor."

your eyebrows shoot up. a favor? from nanami? you're intrigued, to say the least. "what kind of favor?"

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking back to the group of girls still lingering at the end of the hallway. then, with that same calm composure, he says, "i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

what?

for a second, you're sure you misheard him. "excuse me?"

"a fake relationship," he clarifies. "it'll be temporary."

you blink at him, completely thrown off. this was not the kind of favor you were expecting.

"okay..." you say slowly. "why would you need a fake girlfriend?"

nanami's eyes shift toward the group of girls again, the faintest hint of annoyance crossing his features. "lately, i've been getting a lot of unwanted attention," he explains, his voice low but steady. "it's distracting, and i don't have the time or interest to deal with it."

you take a second to process his words, your mind still trying to catch up. the most composed, serious guy in school needs a fake girlfriend to fend off admirers? it almost sounds ridiculous. but then again... you look at him—stoic, serious, perfectly put-together. you can see why people would constantly try to break down his walls.

"and you think this'll work?" you ask, crossing your arms skeptically.

nanami's expression doesn't change. "yes. people will lose interest once they see i'm already in a relationship."

you chew your lip, still unsure. "okay, but... why me?"

he turns his gaze to you, his eyes steady. "because you're not caught up in that drama. you're not the type to spread rumors, and you're not interested in unnecessary attention."

he has a point. you've always kept a low profile, and you don't really involve yourself in school gossip. but still...

"and what's in it for me?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

nanami doesn't hesitate. "i'll help you with whatever you need—homework, projects. you need help with math, don't you?"

your stomach flips at the mention of math. of course, nanami would know that. he's in your class, after all, and you've failed more than enough tests for it to be common knowledge by now. but still, hearing it from him—someone who probably never struggles with any subject—stings a little.

"how do you know that?" you mutter, crossing your arms defensively.

nanami raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "i've seen your test results. you're not bad in other subjects, but math is holding you back."

you're about to snap something back, but you stop yourself. he's right. you've been struggling in math all semester, and it's been dragging your grades down. if you fail one more test, your parents will lose it.

"and you're offering to tutor me?" you ask, the skepticism still clear in your voice.

nanami nods. "in exchange for this arrangement."

the offer is tempting—really tempting. it's not like you have any better ideas for improving your math grades, and having nanami, the top student, help you? that could actually save your skin. but at the same time, agreeing to a fake relationship with him? it's crazy.

you glance at nanami again. his expression is calm, composed, but there's something else in his eyes—something genuine. he's not asking for this because he wants attention or drama. he just wants peace.

after a long pause, you sigh. "fine. i'll do it."

for the first time, nanami's expression softens just a little—a flicker of relief, maybe. "thank you."

you smirk, a little more at ease now. "but if you flunk me in math, this deal is off."

nanami chuckles lightly—something you've never heard from him before. "you won't."

as you walk down the hallway together, the weight of the deal you've just made starts to sink in. you're about to dive into something completely unexpected, and who knows how this will all play out?

but one thing's for sure: your school year just got a whole lot more interesting.

[holyblonded]

purple string rings | birds of a feather

pairings: paige bueckers x black!oc

summary: paige and cecilia will be together forever and always even when paige randomly hard launches their relationship

warnings: fluff galore, mentions/illusions to death

notes: new series while I think of stuff for the other one😛

Paige has been married for eighteen of her twenty one years of life. Married to the love of her life at that.

Paige, ever the extrovert, sought out the shyest kid in her kindergarten class on the first day of school and declared they were best friends. By recess, Paige declared she and - were married.

"Cecilia, I love you," five year old Paige stated, holding Cecilia's hands in hers. The two stood under a tree secluded from the rest of their class. "Will you marry me?"

Cecilia who was still learning the English language and was quite shy, decided the best thing to do was to just nod. Paige smiled brightly and hugged Cecilia.

From that moment on, the two were stuck together like glue. Where ever Paige was Cecilia was and vice versa. Paige isn't at the basketball court? Oh, she must be down the soccer field watching Cecilia practice. Cecilia is at the field? She's obviously with in the stands watching Paige and Drew goof around.

Paige hated it when people said the two weren't wed.

"Paige, you can't exactly marry someone this young," Bob Bueckers tried to explain to his daughter.

Paige stomped her foot down and crossed her arms, "No, Dad! We are married! Cece is my wife." She even made Cecilia a ring out of purple yarn and strings, but she wore everyday until she couldn't anymore. Little Paige made sure everyone knew who her wife was.

Eventually, one day in eighth grade the paper ring became a real ring, something Paige saved all her allowance to buy. It was nothing extraordinary, but a simple gold band that Cecilia cherished with her whole heart.

At the end of their eighth grade year, Cecilia gifted Paige a ring. The same day Cecilia left to for Spain. Cecilia slipped the matching silver ring onto Paige's finger with a wobbly smile, "Now we both have something to prove our marriage."

"I love you, Cecilia."

"I love you too, Paige."

That ring was kept on both persons at all times. Paige opted to tie it with her shoe laces during her games and while Cecilia couldn't wear any jewelry during her games, she kisses her right ring finger before every game.

It didn’t take long for the media to notice Paige’s ring on her shoes as a freshman at UConn. After UConn upset Syracuse, an interviewer finally asked. “Paige many people have noticed the ring stringed in your shoe, would you like to offer an explanation?”

Nika and Aubrey sat at either sides of Paige and both laughed when the question was asked.

“It’s from my wife,” Paige bluntly said. The media room when quiet as they all absorbed the words.

“Excuse me?”

“My wife got it for me,” Paige held up her right hand that bore the ring. “Pretty neat, right? I’m really proud of her, she recently won the Golden Girl Award.”

“Uh, Paige,” a different interviewer asked, “is your… wife the young Barcelona star Cecilia Buscatells?”

“Yep.”

The room erupted with questions as Geno shut down the press conference, “That’s all for today, thank you.”

Paige, Nika, and Aubrey walked out in silence.

“Cece is going to kill you,” Nika said as they continued their journey to the locker room. Aubrey hummed in agreement.

“She is, isn’t she?”

[avianyuh]

Boring | Min Yoongi

Summary: For almost a year, you've worked for Min Yoongi's company. He gave off the impression of a cold businessman. No one ever saw him smile, laugh or discuss anything other than work. Everyone seemed to think he was a boring guy, who was too consumed with work. You'd assumed there was more to him, and often fantasized about him, but as far as you knew, he wasn't even aware of your existence. You didn't think he noticed you at all in meetings, or when he walked past your cublicle, but maybe you just weren't paying enough attention?

Word Count: 2.9k

chapters [1] ?

The worst thing about meetings is when they are scheduled at inconvenient times of the day. Like this you were currently sitting in. It was 3pm on the dot, on a Wednesday. Two more days left in the work week until you could sleep in until 11am. Two more dreary days of fake smiling at all of the coworkers you secretly couldn’t stand. Two more pathetic days of hearing the mindless office chit chat that you tried so hard to tune out. But one thing you would actually miss as you’d lay in bed until noon on Saturday was the sight standing right in front of you, giving the most boring presentation. Min Yoongi. Your boss, your superior, and your secret crush. Yes, it sounds like grade school to say you had a secret crush on him, but it’s the truth. You hadn’t mentioned it to your friends and definitely not the two women you were friendly acquaintances with at the office. It was an innocent infatuation. You couldn’t help yourself. He looked so attractive when he was dressed in his office attire. You had never seen a man look as good in a suit as Min Yoongi did. And when you happened to catch him adjusting his tie or recuffing his sleeves, it sort of sent you ‘over the edge’ and would become the highlight of the day. You loved to stare at him when he walked down the aisle past your cubicle. You held your breath if you were standing next to him in the elevator on the way up or down. And you fantasized about him while you sat through his boring presentations. You couldn’t fathom why a man so attractive could be perceived as so monotone and frankly, boring. You would see him walk around the office and interact with the other employees, but he always kept a straight face. Even when some of his clients would try to crack some jokes with him…nothing. You wondered why he kept so many walls up, well if that was even the case. Maybe he wasn’t guarded, maybe there simply wasn’t anything interesting about him? And that’s why you were more than okay with keeping your little crush a fantasy. You knew that you would probably be incompatible considering he seemed to have no soul. And honestly, you did like to tell a few jokes. You looked up from your notepad and stared at him, just as everyone else in the room was doing. Though you were basically invisible at this company, you still had to pretend like you were paying attention every once in a while.

“By tomorrow morning I need that file on my desk. It’s crucial that everything’s done and ready to go for the Smith account. Who was in charge of that?”, as the twelve other people in the room all turned their heads to look at me, I suddenly felt nauseous as my stomach started to twist into knots. As I darted my eyes from my coworkers, they landed on Yoongi, who was staring at me expectantly, waiting for his file. I cleared my throat and shuffled through my papers, pulling the manilla file out from under my notepad. I stood up from my chair as I walked over to him. His eyes followed me the whole time.

“Here it is Mr. Min.”, I said as I handed him the file. Your fingers briefly touched and you noticed just how calloused they were. You wondered why that was. He nodded at you and murmured a short Thank You, before he moved on to the next subject and you scurried back to your seat. By the time the meeting was over, I was back at my desk and watching the clock. 4:30. Only a half an hour left. You had finished all of your assignments and was just fiddling with the pencil in your hand when your office phone started ringing. “Hello?”, you answered, annoyed and wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant a call 30 minutes before you could leave.

“Mr. Min would like to see you in his office.”, the woman said before hanging up immediately. Shit, I thought. What could I have possibly done? He’s never wanted to see me in his office except for that one time when he gave a speech to everyone after we secured that big client. You had remembered to take note of his office since at the time you assumed it would be the only time you’d see it. He had photos lining his desk. Him at different sports games. Mainly basketball games. Pictures of him posing next to players, a picture of him on a boat, and a picture of a family. It looked like an older photo, so you assumed it was a childhood photo of his. But that’s all you could remember at the time since that night you had been knocking back quite a few drinks with your colleagues in celebration of the pay raise. But now here you were, approaching his secretary’s desk. “Y/N? Let me notify him before I send you in.”, His secretary looked down at the phone before pressing the button to ring him. “Mr.Min…yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll send her in.”, She glanced back up at you, “You can go in.”, she said blankly before staring back at her computer screen, you gave her a quick nod as you walked past her desk. You could hear the frantic sound of her typing on her keyboard. You knocked on the door once before peaking your head in.

“Mr.Min? You wanted to see me.”, your voice was timid. Mainly due to the fact you were wrecked with nerves on the inside. You had been raking your brain on the walk down to his office on why you’d been called in. Maybe you were getting fired? But, on the same day you have that interaction with him during the meeting? It was the first time you had properly spoken to him.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”, there it was again, that emotionless, monotone voice. It made it one hundred times harder for you to gauge what this conversation would be about. Was he angry? Was he calm? You had no idea. His face was stone cold. You really never saw him smile. And not to mention, his office was so dark, the blinds were almost completely drawn shut and now the door was closed. You found it concerning that he wanted the door closed. Last time someone went into his office and closed the door, they were walking out an hour later with two boxes filled with their belongings. You started to fidget with your fingers as you took a seat. You took a deep breath in as you watched him pull his hands out of his pockets and move from his standing position against his window and take a seat in his own chair across from you. “First of all”, he started, “You don’t have to worry, you’re not being fired, so you don’t have to play with your fingers.”, Immediately you placed your hands at your sides.

“Oh, um, didn’t realize anybody would pick up on that habit…”, you said, shocked at how observant he seemed to be.

“Well, I’ve seen you around the office and in my meetings for almost a year, and you do it at least one meeting per week.”, he shrugged before looking down at his desk and opening one of his filing cabinet drawers underneath. He pulled out a folder, specifically the manilla folder you had just given him during the meeting. He handed it over to you, and you furrowed your brows in response as you took it. “I skimmed through it, everything seemed fine. Problem is, I just got a call from Smith himself, and it turns out, his assistant faxed over all the wrong information. He’s still coming in tomorrow and expects the folder to be ready to go.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you assumed he was about to ask you to stay late and re-do everything, just because someone else made a mistake? Unbelievable. Before he could continue speaking, you intervened, “So what? Now I have to re-do everything? Do you understand that all that work in this folder took me a whole week. Rome wasn’t built in a day Sir.”, you snapped. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, seemingly challenging your opposition.

“So you’re telling me that you refuse to do it? I understand it’s asking a lot, but you would be paid for any overtime. I can’t force you but if you don’t stay, don’t expect any big projects in the near future. Maybe Jerry at the cubicle across from you would like your next project?” You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent attempt to say, screw you.

“Sir, all I’m saying is that I sort of feel like this was sprung on me a half an hour before work ends, and you’re telling me I have to do a week's worth of work on my own in one night. I just don’t see how that’s fair.”, you explained, trying to keep your voice from getting too loud. One wrong move or word and he could fire you on the spot for 'disrespect'.

“So you’re concerned about working alone? Fine, I’ll stay and work on it with you.” Yoongi said as he looked down at his wristwatch, most likely mentally rearranging his afterwork schedule.

“Seriously?”, you asked, surprised that he would even offer to stay and work on the file with you at all. He looked back up at you, nodding his head, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, get your computer, you can set it up in here. We have a lot to get through.” And boy, was he right. The next thing you knew, you were two hours deep into paperwork, calling as many people as you could reach to fact check considering the fact most people had left their offices for the day. By 7pm, you were getting a little irritated as you weren’t making much progress with the file. And not to mention the fact that you were getting hungry. You ran a hand through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing down your pen on your notepad. Yoongi looked up from his computer screen, his head resting on his hand, and he had his left arm resting on his desk. You could tell that even he was getting frustrated, and that in turn made you angry. And before you could stop yourself, you exploded.

“So, how exactly do you do business around here? You’re telling me that the whole week there was no communication with the other party until half an hour before closing today, the day before they were expected to come in for a meeting?”, he rolled his eyes at you as covered his face with his hand in frustration.

“You think I did this on purpose? You don’t think I also want to go home?” , he snapped. Now you were rolling your eyes at him, you felt like this whole file was never going to get done and your efforts were pointless.

“Can we at least order some food?”, you murmured. To that, you actually heard him let out a chortle as he reached into his drawer for a few takeout menus. It wasn’t necessarily a full on laugh, but it let you know that he did have a sense of humor. You couldn’t hide your surprise and Yoongi seemed to notice.

“What? Are you surprised that I eat food…”, he questioned as he handed you the menus, “Pick one, I don’t really have a preference. They’re all good.”, you grabbed them, again briefly brushing your fingers against his own like earlier in the meeting room. You decided on Chinese and another half hour later, after Yoongi went to collect the food from the delivery man, you were both sitting on the couch in his office, just silently eating. At first you assumed it’d be awkward, just sitting there, but it was actually kind of nice since it gave you a chance to get your mind off of the file and your impending deadline. But then, Yoongi cleared his throat as he put down his food. “Can I ask you a question?” You were intrigued to see what his version of small talk was, so you immediately replied with a Hm. “Do you find me boring during the staff meetings?”, he let out a chuckle as he asked.

“What!”, you giggled. You were surprised at his question, you never assumed that he would ask something like that. “How would you be able to tell?”, you were surprised at his change in attitude. An hour ago, he was so frustrated and now he’s…trying to be funny? He smiled at you before he started explaining.

“Everytime I look over at you, you’re either playing with your pen, or doing that finger fidget thing. I mean, I get it, it’s boring material we’re going over, but c’mon, everything I talk about is boring?”, he asked, still smiling which signaled to you that this was all just lighthearted banter.

“Well, I mean, you have to admit, spreadsheets and deadlines aren't the most interesting stuff to discuss after the first 10 minutes of the meeting. I just think the meetings don’t have to be over an hour each, that’s all.”, you threw your hands up defensively, returning his smile. He shook his head playfully.

“You do great work here, but every time I walk past your cubicle, you have the most miserable look on your face. “, he smirked, replaying the times he’s walk past your cubicle in his head.

“That is not true!”, you responded back teasingly, “I put in 100% But, it’s not my fault that I have resting bitch face…Also I highly doubt every time you’ve walked past my cubicle I look like that.” He raised his eyebrow, still smirking.

“Yeah, you’re right. The other half of the time I see you, you're always staring at me.” Upon hearing that, you covered your face with your hands and Yoongi started laughing at your reaction.

“Stop”, you pleaded, fully embarrassed now. You had no idea he caught on to that, you always thought you were being discreet. But to be fair, you had no idea he knew you even existed. He never seemed to concern himself with you until today. You had even interviewed with him when you got the job, it was with a supervisor. “I had no idea you even knew of me. I just assumed I was another faceless office worker or something. I mean, you’re always so busy and you keep to yourself…”, you tried to cover your tracks, but you were doing a really bad job of it. “That’s not true at all”, Yoongi said, giving his tone a serious edge. If I saw any of the people I employ out on the street, I would recognize them.” “But would you go up and talk to them?”, you questioned, bringing back your teasing tone. When he didn’t respond, you laughed and he let out a dramatic sigh. “What, are you shy or something?”, you asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m shy, but I’m a bit quiet, but I think you already know that. I guess you could call me an introvert.”, Yoongi said sincerely. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I’m the same way. I prefer my alone time. No wonder we were so bothered at having to stay so late.”, you joked. Yoongi agreed with you as picked the remainder of his food. You looked down at your container and did the same for a few minutes, assuming you were almost done with your conversation. At least now you felt more comfortable around him. And it was reassuring to know that he did in fact have a personality. A sort of perplexing one at that. Before you had the chance to stand up to throw away your containers, he started speaking again.

“You know, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while Y/N. I just never had a reason to talk to you, but I’ll admit, when Smith called, despite how pissed I was about the mix up, when I saw your name on the file, I was looking forward to this.” And with that, those familiar nervous knots in your stomach returned. You really wanted to tell him that you had also been interested in him, that you also despite your frustration, working with him all night had softened the blow of missing your after work routine for once. But you decided to play it safe, after all, he is your boss.

“Well, I don’t regret staying to work on this with you.”, you responded back. Your eyes met, and you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No one made a sound, and you weren’t sure of what to do. You studied his features. He had the most kissable lips, but you knew that would be a bad decision. One that you’d probably regret. His eyes seemed sad, and you weren’t sure of why you got that impression. You wondered if it was something you had said, but now that you were thinking about it, you always thought his eyes seemed like that. He was a mystery to you, one that you never thought you’d get the chance to uncover, but now, the window was slightly ajar into the man that is Min Yoongi and now you were really curious.

[A/N: So I guess my way of supporting Yoongi through this stupid scooter fiasco is writing a fanfic…Anyways, this is loosely based on a fanfic from years ago I had read on tumblr that I always went back to reread, until last week I noticed the story along with the account was deleted and deactivated :( To make matters worse, the story had never been finished, so in a way I never got to read how the story ended. So to make my teenage self happy, I’m making my own CEO Yoongi fanfic because I have to let my inner Yoongi freak fly. I anticipate that this will be a series, but I’m writing this author’s note before I even started writing the actual story so, we’ll see.]

[marypaol]

Flowers Upon Your Head

Draco x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader officially crowns the Slytherin Prince of Hogwarts, but what she doesn’t expect is to be crowned his princess. (Not real crowns, but made of flowers.)

Warnings: Talk about praising someone, like hailing them, self doubts in academic work, nothing else I know of.

Sorry if it’s too short; but it’s gotta be one of my favorites besides “Dear Draco”.

Dear Draco

Masterlist

Request Requirements (they’ve been updated!)

The sky was bright blue, sun rays shining bright across all the land of Hogwarts, showcasing the wondrous school that held many intelligent students; now either learning more knowledge or taking their assigned time off.

Two green robes were taking the second option to their best advantage: staying outside in the fresh air and catching up on work.

The both lay on the grass by the Black Lake, the boy leaning against the tree trunk and the girl sitting criss cross next to him.

The boy, platinum blonde hair and known as the bully of the school, had his Potions homework in front of him on his lap. His quill scribbled left and right as he wrote an essay.

The girl, known as the most innocent person in the world who wouldn’t hurt a fly, was previously done with her homework and is now fiddling (or, at least, that’s the word Draco would use to describe what she was doing) with flowers in her hand, tying the stems together to make something the boy didn’t know.

She was well concentrated until she heard a groan escape the boy, her eyes moving from the flower stems to him, raising an eyebrow questionably.

He didn’t look up as did she, instead he was having a glare contest with the paper as he tapped his quill quite frustratingly.

“What’s another word for fragile?”

She thought for a moment, going back to the plants in her hand once she discovered his groan was the reason of nothing serious.

“Delicate? Brittle?” She asked once figuring it out, fingers slightly burning from now finishing the tie of the stems, the nectar from the flowers getting on her fingertips as the stems were tightly wrapped around her hands.

He hummed. “Brittle is good.”

She smiled soft, glad she could help in some way. “Is the essay coming along nicely?”

He chuckled. “With the amount of skill I have in the writing spectrum and your vocabulary, I think it’s going quite well.”

She rolled her eyes this time, knowing he was being sarcastic with the statement he said about himself.

“Dray, don’t worry; I read it during lunch and it looked fine so far. That is if you didn’t ruin it with what you call last minute edits.”

Her teasing tone grabbed a smirk from him that she didn’t see.

She wasn’t mindful of the next occurrence because she was in fact focused on the finishing touches of her crown, but his ears turned from pale to a soft pink color at the nickname.

He scoffed instead to cover it up even though she didn’t see it. “Doubt it.”

She sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to convince him the work was good grade worthy.

He suddenly slapped the paper down in front of her on the grass. “How does this look?”

Despite the aggression he showed in his actions she could hear a little anxiousness in his voice. He was nervous for her reaction.

She still had the flowers in her hands so she didn’t touch the paper in fear of getting things on it, so instead of holding them in front of her she moved them so they were by her shoulder and she looked down at the paper.

Draco’s handwriting covered the paper, perfect cursive with soft swoops in the letters forming great work.

Her eyes scanned it as she read, taking in the information he provided.

She hummed in satisfaction. “Very nice, Dray. Very nice.”

She smiled at him as he took the paper back, this time noticing the pink tint on the tip of his ears.

“You okay?” She asked, oblivious to the reason for his flush.

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

She hummed again, turning her body fully to him. “Don’t worry! Snape will love it. I see it now,” she started, pretending to look of into the distance like she was dreaming. “An ‘Outstanding’!”

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Wouldn’t go that far with it but whatever.”

She scoffed at his negative mindset and, wiping her hands on the grassy ground to get rid of the nectar, grabbed the crown she just previously made. She then turned the scoff on her face to a soft reassuring smile.

“Well, whatever you may think, I think it was wonderful and the good grade I know you’ll get is well deserved.”

She ended her sentence with softly placing the crown on his platinum head, the soft white petals perfectly matching the mob of hair he held.

Draco’s eyes moved upward as if he would be able to see the flowers on his head. The girl laughed, then she smiled once again.

“All hail the Slytherin Prince.” She joked. She expected another eye roll but instead received a soft smirk coming from the corner of his lips, a small chuckle escaping him.

She then moved to sit next to him, their shoulders brushing and cheeks flushing.

His soft looking hands reached out and using his long fingers pulled flower after flower out of the tall grass, each stem producing a satisfying snap when they broke.

Although she kinda felt bad for the flowers, she knew that the roots were still planted into the ground, so that gave her reassurance knowing they’d grow back again.

Still she watched as his own hands messily tied the stems together almost just like she did. When he was finished, his arm reached up as he placed it on her head, the weight of it slightly flattening the top of her hair.

He then leaned in, brushing his nose on her cheek; her face turning a soft tone of red. His head turned so his lips touched her ear lightly. The touch was barely felt, but it was there.

“All hail the Slytherin Princess.”

He whispered it, making the meaning much more meaningful. A soft chill went through her, a warm sense of comfort and nervousness at the same time racing down her spine.

“How’d you know how to tie it?” She asked curiously to hide the nervous warmth flooding through her. She felt his cheeks spread into a smile.

“I watch you, loves; much more than you think.”

Her face flushed as his finger gently booped her nose.

He chuckled low right in her ear. “Aww, don’t get flustered loves; just giving my princess the praise and recognition she deserves.”

Wait.

‘My Princess’?

Thank you for reading! 📖

[motthe]

Congratulations on reaching 2k! Every bit deserved your writing and characterization is always so amazing 🫶🏼

For the event, Could I request a Drabble of rivals/ crushes snowed in with Ekko with a she/her reader? (Possible accidental confession perhaps?)

I need more ekko content in my life 🥹 Ekko presents tough but he’s such a sweet lover boy!

Thank you for this event! And thank you for blessing us with your writing 💖

tysm!! i’m always so happy to hear the characters sound like themselves 😭 i hope you enjoy the drabble!

warnings: spoilers for s2 despite this being a modern au, grieving, mentions of jayvik, fem!reader

Professor Heimerdinger had been a phenomenal professor. You were thankful to have made it in to every one of his lectures in your college career. He had always been a spontaneous character, treating his students like family.

After his funeral, you weren’t too surprised when Ekko appeared. You both had been gunning for the top grades in classes, the most genius designs, the greater anything. He was a worthy opponent, taking his defeats in a respectable manner. When he won, you’d have to suffer one of those insufferable smirks and a tick of his eyebrow but you had come to enjoy them.

You’re not sure when the jealousy of his mind had turned to attraction.

He was well dressed for the ceremony, all suit and tie and raw eyes. You wanted to hold him, but you settled for a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Left a letter to us,” he said, holding up an envelope.

“Heimerdinger did love dramatics,” you joked, stepping closer as paper unfolded. For this you let your head fall to his shoulder, feeling as much as ewing the shake in his hands. You helped steady it.

“Can you…”

“Of course,” you whispered, clearing your throat and reading it aloud. You were teary-eyed by the second sentence.

The letter detailed how proud he was of you and Ekko and that he was sorry to leave the world before he saw both of you graduate. He’d never married or had a family, but he considered the two of you his own. He also asked if one of you would care for his cat, Poro, until a proper home was found.

“I’ve been taking care of him,” Ekko said. “I don’t have the room in my apartment so I’ve been spending time at Heimerdinger’s place. Helped Jayce and Viktor clean some stuff out.”

Another generation of assistants and protégés. They were married, too.

“Could you take him for a bit? He’s a good cat,” Ekko promised.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll go grab him now.”

“I’ll go with you. I have some stuff I need to grab.”

That was exactly how you ended up snowed in at Heimerdinger’s residence with your rival and crush, Ekko, and Poro the cat skirting your feet.

“This feels like one of his schemes,” you chuckled as Ekko got the fireplace in the living room going. “Remember when he locked us in the lab until we stopped fighting?”

“He forgot about us until the next morning,” Ekko finished, smiling over his shoulder.

You giggled, reaching down to pull the cat into your arms. “I can still feel the crick in my neck from falling asleep at the desk.”

“It worked, though.” Ekko settled back on the carpet as the fire roared to life. “We got along a bit better after that.”

“We respected each other,” you chuckled. “I had to after you picked the lock.”

He shrugged. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Sitting down beside him, you both basked in the warm glow, shoulder to shoulder. The sound of the wind outside alongside the crackling wood calmed the nerves of being so close to him, well almost.

“He’s well behaved around girls,” Ekko said, looking to Poro in your lap. The car purred, raising his head as a strong hand ran over his back. “He hates Viktor. I think Heimerdinger mentioned something about a laser?”

“Like a toy laser?”

Ekko shrugged. “Either way he’s a lot more careful around guys, but he’s warmed up to me over the years.”

Yeah, you thought, who wouldn’t?

“I’d like to keep him,” you murmured, scratching under his whiskers. “Just have to figure some things out first. I’ll manage it.”

“I can help,” Ekko offered.

You shook your head. “You’ve already done so much. Let me.”

“I love the little troublemaker too.”

“Then you can visit him.”

“Yeah?” His eyes glinted as he looked at you.

“Yeah,” you agreed, heart thundering. His shoulder nudged yours, sending sparks down your shoulder and into your stomach.

“Only him?”

Your breath caught. For being the top of your class, you sure went brain dead by a simple question.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “I just…”

“No,” you said, “I mean, yes you can visit. Not just for the cat. Don’t apologize.”

“If you were uncomfortable—”

You shook your head, grabbing his arm. “I’m not. Just nervous, surprised…”

“Surprised?” he huffed, the start of a smile on his lips.

“What? I don’t know,” you scrambled, feeling too hot. Poro stretched before walking away, leaving you to die of your embarrassment.

“I’ve been crushing on you for a while,” he chuckled, “I thought you noticed.”

“I’m a genius in school, Ekko, not,” you gestured haphazardly between you, “this.”

He busted out laughing. You tumbled into it with him, the sound far too contagious.

“First the lab, now his house,” Ekko sighed later on, the two of you leaning against one another on the couch. “This does feel like Heimerdinger’s doing.”

It did. One day you’d have to thank him for bringing you together.

[permanentmess]

Can we pls get a Peter maximoff x reader fic where Peter is annoying the reader and ofc the reader is getting annoyed by him and then he explains how he only does it cuz he likes her attention? Pls and thank you :]

attention (peter maximoff x reader)

a/n: thank you so much for the request! you’re actually my first request ever!!! i thought this idea was so cute. fem!reader in mind but could be read as any gender easily. reader also has powers but it’s unspecified and unimportant to the plot.

word count: 754 (just a short and sweet thing. i can make a part two if you want more!)

warnings: none! just fluff, mentions of being tired (aren't we all), unestablished relationship but not entirely platonic

pt. 2!

GIF NOT MINE

~~~

You were dead exhausted. Like eyes blurry, body aching, could fall asleep standing up tired. 

You loved being a teacher at Xavier’s school, you really did. But between trying to grade exams and homework, training after classes with the other X-Men, and then lesson planning, it made it hard to not be exhausted. And on top of all of this, you still wanted to hang out with your friends. Storm often invited you out of the mansion, Logan offered for you to share some drinks and watch movies, and Peter, well, you didn’t care what you two did, you just wanted to spend time with him. 

But you needed a break from life. That is, of course, right after you finish grading the exams you’d been putting off all week. 

You’re rubbing your eyes with your hands, taking a quick break in between two exams when there’s an incessant knocking on your door. You have a suspicion on who it is, but regardless, you open the door with a scowl. 

“Hi,” Peter greets you with a grin. You can’t help but smile back a little bit. He’s infectious with his happiness. He looks insanely cozy in his sweatpants and plain white t-shirt, slippers hiding his feet. If he was officially yours, you’d hug him in an instant and fall asleep standing up.  

“Hey,” you reply, leaning against your door frame. 

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I come in or are you just going to leave me standing in the hall?” You give a short laugh and nod your head towards your bed for him to sit. 

“I’m warning you now, I have to finish grading these exams before I can hang out,” you tell him as you shut the door and go sit at your desk again. 

“That’s alright, I can wait” he says, swinging his feet back and forth off the side of your bed. “What’d you do today? What’s the exam on?” 

You take a moment to respond, but it’s not quick enough for Peter. In an instant, he has moved to your desk, making some papers fly away from the force of using his powers. You close your eyes, trying not to get annoyed. You know he’s just fast by nature, even in his mind, and you know you’re just exhausted. 

“Oh shit, sorry,” he quickly rounds up the papers and puts them back on your desk neatly.

“‘S alright. This one is for the life and health management class I teach,” you tell him, continuing to grade. 

“Oh nice,” he says, staring down at your papers, before moving to go look at the things on your shelf. He did this often when he came to your room, but you’re not sure why. “Where’d you get this from?”

You turn around after marking a question wrong, looking at the picture frame in his hand that held a picture of everyone in their suits. “Uhh, Jean gave that to me, for my birthday.” You turn back around, going back to mark the last question on the exam, writing the grade at the front and moving it off to the side. 

“It’s really pretty. What about this?” You sigh and turn around again. 

“Peterrrrr,” you whine. “I really gotta finish these exams, I told the kids I’d get them back by tomorrow.” 

He puts the object down. “Sorry, I know.” He walks over and puts a hand on your upper back, running over it softly. You relax a little at his touch. “How many more do you have left?” 

“Five.” 

“Okay so how about this: you hang out with me tonight and I can finish them tomorrow morning for you, before your class?” You look up at him, contemplating his offer. “I feel bad for annoying you, I just like having your attention. I thought that was obvious.” 

You grin. “Well, I mean, yeah.” You look back down at the papers. “Sorry for getting annoyed, I’m just exhausted lately.” 

“Then cmon, let’s watch a movie.” He moves to your bed and pats a spot next to him, grabbing your remote to turn on your TV. 

You’re hesitant, but oblige. There’s not much space on your bed, so you’re pressed up against his side. He’s put on a movie you two have seen a thousand times, so you decide to relax into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“You know, I like having your attention too.” You tell him quietly. He rests his head on top of yours. 

“I know.” 

[uzurimisery]

hi! i love your work for logan. would you be willing to write anymore smut for him? maybe when him and the reader were still together and teaching at the school?

oh boy can i!

Warnings: unprotected sex, used of girl, same timeline as 'bitter frost, honey I'm coming home'

He blamed it on the skirt you wore today. The way it clung to the curve of your ass. Couldn’t keep his fucking eyes off of your legs and how plush your thighs were, how the fabric rode up just a bit when you bent over. It wasn’t even that short; it stopped maybe an inch or two above your knees, which is a respectable length for a teacher. But those few inches made a world of difference to him. Your red v-neck sweat tucked into it showed off your collarbones, too. The slope of your neck, how your pule fluttered just beneath the skin. He just wanted to bite the soft, supple skin of your neck again. Leave a bruise so you’d have a piece of him everywhere you went.

Yeah, that was why he was so out of his mind today, slinking into your office right as you closed your door to grade some papers.  The lock clicked into place behind him.

“Heya doll,” he speaks while circling your desk. His boots thud on the wood floors as he walks. He goes past the two chairs you’ve got set up facing it and comes up right behind you.

Your chair isn’t one that’s got a particularly high back, so Logan leans over it and wraps his arms around your shoulders. Pulling you into the warmth of his chest. You go a little limp at the contact, the tension in your shoulders melting from his warmth. He can smell the salt of your skin mixing with your conditioner and lotion, and it’s going straight to his already half-hard cock straining against his zipper.

“Long day?” He speaks in a whispered breath that dances down your spine.

“Very,” you lean back in his embrace with a sigh, head falling to the side, and he’s got you right where he wants you—exposed, vulnerable, ripe for the goddamn picking.

He “Hmms” while kissing the exposed side of your neck, trailing down the sensitive hollow of your throat.

You squirm a little bit  as he does. Always been sensitive spot for you. Logan just has to push you a little bit more and get you a little bit further.

“Want me to make you feel better?” His right-hand finds the opening of your sweat and slides past it to cup your left breast. Fingertips tracing the lace of your bra. You’ve got one of those unlined ones on today, so he can feel your nipple get hard as he gropes at your breast. 

He pinches at it, pressing it flat, which makes you whimper, before rubbing it between his two fingers. Logan smells the change in the air, like sweet honey drizzle coating the back of the throat that makes his mouth water.

“You're wet, princess.” His teeth catch on your skin, teasing bites peppered over it.

Your moans like a reward for doing a good job, but he can hear just how many people are traversing the halls of school right now, and he does not want to be interrupted. He should carry you out to your noise-proofed quarters, courtesy of his night terrors. It made great for fucking you. Making you ride him till your throat was raw and your knees were weak from bouncing, then he’d flip you over on your front and keep fucking you. Pinning you down and lost in the rhythm of his hips. He’d keep going as your eyes glassed over with a fucked out expression on your face, and you’d look up at him like you owed him your life. You made the best fucking noises when he fucked you like that. Pitched whines and breathy moans as he slammed his hips against yours. Begging him, pleading with him. Telling him to go hard, you can take it, to knot you.

You shift in the chair, causing it to creak.

“Don’t bite.” 

Your tone sounds stern, like when you admonish one of the kids. Makes him want to push you further on it. Getcha mad at him and tell him off.

“Just can’t help myself,” he bites you again, and you turn and grab his jaw, red-lacquered nails catching in the light, digging into his skin. It should be painful, but it just turns him on more.

“Don’t bite.”

Oh, there’s that fire he loves so much. God, he loves you. 

You close the distance, meeting his lips in a messy, open-mouth kiss. Neither one of you bothers with sheepish pecks when you’re worked up. Your tongue works against his, fighting to come out dominant before you pull back, catching his bottom lip with your teeth and applying some pressure.

It only makes him smile, letting his lip slip free and crash against you. 

It’s rough the way you make out, your hand on his jaw and your nails digging in, his tongue pushing yours down. How he squeezes your breast and tweaks your nipple till you moan, and he’s able to spin your chair around and get down on his knees between your legs. He’s eye level with your pussy like this, and his hands slide up your skirt, bunching it at your hips to expose your damp panties. The scent of your arousal hangs heavy in the air. It’s like he can watch more of your arousal leak out and soak the fabric, watch how it spreads and darkens the fabric. 

His nostrils flare as he gets another whiff. Logan’s long come to terms with the fact he’s a dirty dog when it comes to you. 

You lift your hips from the seat and slide your panties down your thighs. When they reach your knees, he takes over, sliding them completely off and pockets them. Shimmying down the seat, nearly hanging off the edge of it, you throw your legs over his shoulders as he comes closer to your core. The office air is cool on your wet pussy

Logan has never understood men who didn’t eat pussy because he might go crazy if he never got to eat yours again. It’s an addiction for him, really, a craving that never goes away. He’s always gotta give his girl the princess treatment. The biggest problem was how hard it got him in his jeans, cock straining against the dark wash denim.

His right hand held your leg steady while his left spread your wet folds apart, revealing your swollen clit. Logan’s tongue flicked out as he leaned forward and made contact. He circles your clit with his tongue, pushing it along with the motion before he drags it down to your hole and laps up some of your juices.  

He’d quit drinking if they bottled it.

His nose bumps your clit as you do, making you arch your back and moan. God, he loved the way you responded to his touch. It made him feel like he won the lottery when he put his tongue on your clit and flicked it side, and your hands flew to his hair. Fisting the strands, pulling him closer by them.

He laps at your clit rhythmically, trying to get your gushing on his tongue as you as he can--fucking loves the taste of your pussy. It was almost sweet and heady when you came on his tongue. Logan takes his left middle finger and inserts it into you, a mix of salvia and your wetness, letting him slide in easily. He pumps it in and out a few times before adding a second finger. Making you cum is his favorite way to relieve stress. 

One of your hands flies to cover your mouth as he fingers you before adding a third to the mix. Your walls flutter around him like they’re thankful to have him inside. All the while, his tongue is flicking your clit back and forth. Your body trembles as he works you to a fever pitch, hips lifting off the chair. Pushing your pussy further in his face, you cum, toes curling in your flats, as he takes you over the edge, and you moan into your hand.

Logan growls as your taste explodes on his tongue. He pulls back, picks you up from your chair, and puts you face down on your desk, snaking his left hand around your front to lift your hips to angle you better. Quickly unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, he lets them fall to his midthigh as he pushes his boxer briefs down the free his leaking cock.

“Spread your legs for me,” he orders, voice low and commanding.

You obey, wiggling your hips a bit as you do, eager to have him inside you. He slides his dick through your folds. Not once. Not twice. But three times, he rakes himself over your slit. Each time the fat mushroom tip catches on your entrance, it makes anticipation settle in your belly before he finally lines himself up right and inserts himself.

It knocks the wind out of you when he goes from tip to base in a matter of seconds, not easing you into it. A low guttural moan escapes Logan's lips at the sensation of being inside you. It sends a rush of adrenaline through him. 

He sets his pace, and its rough, deep strokes slamming into you. It’s punishing and relentless. They make your whole body rock against your dark oak desk as he fucks you. The woods cold under you, your breasts squished, your nipples hard against the surface. It makes your body shudder with the force he's using. It makes you feel like a doll in his arms, made to relieve his stress, and the edges of your vision blur.

The smack of his hips meeting your echos in the room as a second orgasm quickly builds in you as Logan's balls slap your clit with each stroke. He feels you start to clench down around him and moves his left hand to play with your clit. There's so much pressure built low in your stomach.

“Fucking look at you,” Logan mutters, “Taking it like a champ princess. That's my perfect girl.” 

His words go straight to your pussy, your hips rocking back to meet his thrusts, and you nearly cum.

“Fuck,” he pulls out briefly to flip you on your back, resting his hand behind your head as he did so before grabbing your hips, and you wrap your legs around his waist. “Can’t cum unless I see that pretty face.”

“Such a romantic.” 

“Is that what they’re calling romantic these days?” 

Logan speaks as he plunges back into you, hands grasping at your waist, pushing your back further up the desk. You’ve gotten so warm the cool wood feels nice. He pulls up your sweater, going to see your breasts, and tugs down the cups of your bra so they sit just under them, pushing them up. 

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, bending down and catching a nipple in his mouth. Teasing it, his teeth scraping at it as he nips and sucks at it, his other hand coming to pinch and pull the other. The last thing he wants is any part of you feeling neglected now. The added stimulation sends you soaring, a deep pressure building up low in your stomach. Your body tenses, muscles lock in place, and your breathing stops.

With a loud pop, Logan releases your breast and places one hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down firmly while the other hand pinches your clit. It’s so overwhelming you feel like you might pass out as he thrusts into you wildly. 

You climax with a silent scream, head falling to the side as pure ecstasy washes over you and liquid gushes out of your pussy and all over Logan’s front. It is so intense it feels like it lasts forever as a regular orgasm follows right behind it as he furiously plays with your clit. Your body shakes and trembles as it fucks you through it, walls clenching down tight around him, but he continues to fuck you through it. The way he’s looking down at you now tells you he’s not done for the night either, that he wants you in bed all weekend till you get fawn legs when you try to walk. 

The lights in the room flicker as his thrusts grow more urgent and intense. Your nails dig into his arm, cutting the skin as he just keeps plowing into you. He still doesn’t slow down, driven just to keep going, chasing his own release. It doesn’t even feel like his knot has started to swell yet. You’re grateful by this time that the hallway outside is mostly empty of the slick wet slaps of skin and creaking of your desk, which would be heard by anyone passing by, as a sob escapes your lips from just how good he’s fucking you. 

His breath is hitched, eyes wild, focused in on where his cock stretches out your pussy and your orgasm that coats it. Your head feels fuzzy, and you aren't sure when the one orgasm ends and the other starts. It's oversensitive at this point, but your pleasure is so much that it's indistinguishable from the pain of the sensitivity.

Logan growls before he thrusts again, his muscles trembling as his orgasm approaches. Somehow, he thrusts deeper, harder, trying to scratch the itch. Hips slam against yours so roughly before he cums inside you with a groan, his fingers digging into your hips. His thrust slow, but they won't stop as how spurts of cums fill you. It spills out from you, unable to fit his spend and his cock inside you, but Logan wants to fuck as much of it as he can back up into your shaking body. Lazy, shallow thrusts follow until he’s completely spent.

Finally satisfied, he collapses on top of you, head buried in your chest. The air reeks of sex and sweat as the two of you catch your breath. Both of you lay there for a moment, enjoying the closeness. This week has been hectic at the school, and you haven’t seen much of each other. 

“Didn’t know you could squirt,” he laughs while pulling out of you and tucking himself back into his jeans. He takes your panties from earlier and uses them to wipe you up.

“Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

Sliding off the desk, you fix your skirt. Guess you’ll go commando since they were not covered in cum. 

“Shook like a leaf in the wind.”

“I will burn your retinas.” you bent down to slide back on your flats that come off during your quickie.

He smacks your ass.

“Only gonna grow back.”

©️ uzuzrimisery