#like second grade desk dance

[ellerywithablog]

ALSO !!! it was Annual Students-Paint-Hearts-On-My-Head-Day !!

[accio-boys]

lost in his dance | fiyero x reader

summary; you confronted Fiyero’s careless attitude, leaving him behind, wondering if he’d notice. btw here's the part 2 of the story.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The wind roared past the window, rattling the glass and filling Fiyero’s suite with a biting chill. Ozma Towers, with its grand halls and lavish rooms, felt colder than ever.

You sat at his desk, staring at the stack of neglected assignments and half-finished projects, the frustration boiling in your chest. You’d spent hours trying to pull him out of his downward spiral, but it always felt like trying to fill a broken jar—no matter how much you poured in, it leaked right back out.

“Fiyero, what do you mean you’re going to Ozdust again?” you called out sharply, hearing him rummage through his wardrobe behind you.

“You’ve been there every night this week with Galinda. Don’t you think it’s time to focus on your work? You’re failing half your classes.”

His laugh echoed from the other side of the room, light and careless.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, stepping into view with his shirt untucked.

“You’re always so tense. You really should learn to let go.” He leaned against the edge of the desk, his smirk infuriatingly lazy.

“I see I still haven’t corrupted you yet.”

“Corrupted me?” you snapped, turning to glare at him.

“Is that what you call this? Dragging everyone down with you? Your friends, your grades, your future? Do you even care about anything?”

His smirk deepened as he reached for his coat, moving with the same infuriating ease he always did.

“Of course, I care,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

“I care about enjoying life. About living in the moment. You should try it sometime.”

“Living in the moment?” you shot back, standing abruptly.

“You think ignoring your responsibilities is living? Pretending nothing matters isn’t freeing, Fiyero. It’s pathetic.”

His expression flickered for a moment—just a moment. Something raw and unguarded flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could name it.

“What’s so wrong with not caring?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than before.

“What if none of this matters? What if it’s all just… meaningless?”

You froze, the anger in your chest dimming for a second. “That’s why you do this, isn’t it?” you said, your voice quieter now.

“You act like nothing matters because you’re scared it doesn’t. But Fiyero, hiding behind parties and charm isn’t living—it’s running away.”

For a second, you thought you’d gotten through to him. He looked at you like he might say something real, something honest. But then, with a shrug, his mask slipped back into place.

“Maybe,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“But at least I know how to have fun. You? You’re so obsessed with trying to matter that you don’t even know how to enjoy yourself.”

You stared at him, your fists clenching at your sides.

“Do you think this is fun for me?” you snapped.

“Do you think I enjoy cleaning up your messes while you throw everything away? You’re selfish, Fiyero. And I’m done.”

His grin faltered. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice laced with something you couldn’t place—confusion, annoyance, maybe regret.

You grabbed your bag and stormed toward the door, your chest heaving with anger and disappointment.

Pausing for a moment, you turned back to him, your voice cold and cutting.

“Do your own work for once. Or don’t. I don’t care anymore. I’ll just be dancing through life, like you said.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with bitterness. You didn’t wait for a response.

The wind howled louder as you stepped into the hallway, slamming the door behind you. It cut through your coat, chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t stop walking.

Your mind raced, replaying his words over and over, the ache in your chest growing with every step.

You told yourself you were done. Done with his excuses, his charm, and his endless refusal to care. But as the cold wind whipped around you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even noticed you were gone—or if he’d just keep dancing through life without a second thought.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

should I do a part 2? should I also do requests? what do you guys think?

[bunny-1111]

One step ahead - TN, enemies to lovers + academic rivals

Description: You and Theodore hate each other. Amidst exam season, was the tension and the teasing because of your rivalry or something else?

Word count: 1.2k

Authors Note: I'm backkkkkkkk, sorry for not being as active been so flat out, but this story came into my head, and I just couldn't resist

...

You glared at Theodore across your charms class, his gaze already haunting you before you could find his eye line.

It was always a competition; who would break away first, but he always won.

Regardless of being in the same friendship group, it did not affect your rivalry.

Since children, you hated everything about each other.

You hated how he strutted. You hated how he'd be so sure he was right about everything. You hated the way he flirted with every girl in Hogwarts, you hated how he'd always find a way out of trouble, regardless of always breaking the rules, You hated the way he sounded so sophisticated, even, if not, especially when he cussed.

He hated the way you'd smile, and get your every which way bewitching anyone with that stupid perfect mouth of yours. He hated how guys would kneel down to you, he hated how you always managed to hold such composure even when you were slaughtered drunk, how you fluttered your eyes up, and more than anything, he hated how he couldn't get rid of you, you lived in his mind, you danced in his head like a memory he couldn't shake.

As he made his way towards your desk, his face didn't budge, his expression curious, like he had planned what he was going to say before he even got to you.

he leaned over and inspected your grade, his arm leading awfully close to your hand, "One point behind me" he almost laughed

Your brows threatening to furrow, his lips threatening to smirk.

"Well, next quiz, you'll be two points behind me" you insisted

"Shame that's not true", he shrugged, "I'll always be one point and step in front of you." he practically gritted through his teeth

With that, the bell rang, he turned and made his exit. Not that easily, you thought, shoving into his shoulder, overtaking his place in the corridor. You didn't look back, you didn't need to, you already knew his eyes were watching you, you felt them.

With exams coming up, the pressure was on, more than ever, to outdo each other's intelligence.

Sitting around a large round table at the table were Matteo, Enzo, Theo, Pansy, Draco and yourself, most eyes glued to books, except Theo's. His eyes found themselves studying your face instead of his charms book. When you caught him staring, you rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating back on your notes; you thought he's just trying to distract me. Do not let him win, you reminded yourself, fighting the urge to look back up.

When your exams finally finished, you dropped your pencil and followed everyone out of the hall, Theodore found himself beside you, "Stand still for a second, Nott" you say. He listened and waited for what you were about to say; you took one big step in front of him "see that, one step ahead" you smiled as you continued to walk backwards, he laughed, actually laughed, shaking his head. You couldn't help but smile yourself.

"Did you see that?" Pansy says, nudging into Draco's shoulder, "See what?" he questions. "I think they're... getting along... in their own fucked up way," she concluded, her head tilted to make sure what she was seeing wasn't in her own mind. "Maybe hell has frozen over", he said, watching, equally as shocked as Pansy.

Sitting patiently in your chair, waiting for you exam results.

When you flip your page over, you smile, confident you have beaten Theodore, "98" you mouth to him from across the room, his lips turn into an exaggerated frown lifting his paper up for you to see. 98.5 written at the top of his page.

You have to be fucking kidding me! You wanted to scream, point five, point motherfucking five, are you kidding me?!

Throwing your page back onto your desk, you were pissed, as Theodore had never been more pleased.

You didn't wait around for his snarky comments, you walk straight out of class, you were in no mood to be trifled with.

Spending the rest of the day in your room, not showing up for dinner, you had no appetite for food, or Theodore's reminders of beating you, just.

Just after 11pm, you couldn't sleep. Being a weekend with no curfew, you grabbed your packet and stormed outside, desperately fighting the wind, trying to light your cigarette.

"need a hand?" Theodore said covering your smoke from the wind, you said nothing back, instead leaning slightly on the wall behind you.

"What are you doing here?" you finally replied

"I could ask you the same question," he retorts

You couldn't look at him, so mad, you were scared you would cry or hit him, which would encrypt guilt or satisfaction?

"Look at me when I speak to you," he demanded. Had he been talking? We were so caught up in your thoughts that you couldn't hear anything he had said.

Clocking your head towards him, "Don't tell me what to do", you huff, exhaling. He snatched the smoke out of your lips, stomping on it

"Sorry?" He gritted, spineless

Rolling your eyes, he took hold of your face, more specifically, your chin, "Don't fucking roll your eyes at me again, understand?" he instructed "I always roll my eyes at you" You reply, eyes squinting in anger

"Not anymore," he said calmly

Now you were confused, "I don't un-" you start

"Understand, yeah, I know" he finishes

"But that's a lie, I do understand, and so do you, all too well" He continues as he stalks closer to you, to the point your back is now completely pressed against the wall

Your heart rate picked up, "You hate me. I hate you too," You had to say out loud, trying to remind each other about your feelings

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he says, pressing his chest onto you

"Don't do this" you begged. He didn't listen. He just kept getting impossibly closer.

You huffed out a deep and heavy sigh. "What's wrong" he practically whispers

"I'm frustrated because I hate you, you frustrate me" you hiss out

"No," he said, as his mouth rested at the top of your neck. "You're not frustrated because you hate me; you're frustrated because you want me." He breathed onto you without thinking you pulled his face upright, crashing your lips with his for what felt like too long.

"Theodore" you rushed, catching your breath

"Don't pull away from me" he pleaded, kissing you harder.

Finally, leaning off him, you turned away, "Why did we do that" you ask, were you asking him or yourself?

"We can't help it" He soothes, turning you back over to face him again

"I have a bad habit of breaking everything I touch, y'know," he admits, his hand gripping the back of your neck, the other firm on your waist.

"go on then," you say above a whisper, hands linking behind his neck.

"Break me. Touch me." You purr.

[halfbloodfics]

The way I RAN to the ask button after reading the other requests 😭🙏🏽 this is gonna be a wild 18+ request if you are okay with it. Snape x fem reader who’s also a professor at Hogwarts trying cockwarming for the first time, snape has no idea what it is so the reader sits on his lap and shows him while he’s trying to mark assignments late at night in his classroom to see how long he lasts 🥴🤭

that is disgus-GIVE IT TO ME NOW

minors dni >:(

warnings: explicit smut, kinda sub snape, kinda dom reader, light begging

~

Shadows danced across the stone walls of Snapes office, the candlelight casting a faint, warm glow upon the room. Sitting in an arm chair in the corner of the room, you looked up from your grading to look at Severus.

Your partner had the odd tendency to get as close to the paper as humanly possible while grading. As if the students calling him a "dungeon bat" wasn't accurate enough, it didn't help that the man could not see what was right below his eyes for the life of him. No matter how often you urged him to get reading glasses, he would always respond with a scoff.

And so now, you watched, half amused, half annoyed, at the sight of Severus leaning over his papers, quill in hand, eyes inches from the parchment, brows furrowed.

"Severus." You said, putting down your own grading on the coffee table beside you.

He glanced up only for a second before continuing to focus on his work, responding with a questioning grunt.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache."

Severus ignored you, his only response the gentle scratching of his quill upon the parchment.

Sighing, you stood up from the chair and walked over to his desk. Resting your chin on his shoulder, you peered down at the papers he was grading.

In the candle light, you could make out his thin, cramped handwriting written in the blank space between students, his feedback blunt and harsh.

"Severus you can't call an eleven year old a..." you squinted, "dim-witted imbecile."

Severus smirked, setting the quill down and turning his head to the right to look at you.

"If you had to read these assignments, you would call them the same thing." He said.

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped your lips. You silenced it by placing small, playful kisses on his neck just below his jaw, relishing in the feeling of him relaxing under your touch.

"Take a break, love." You whispered in between kisses, "We've been grading all night."

Severus sighed, tapping his quill against the desk. "I'm almost done, I have two left."

Your arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, head still buried in his neck. "Maybe I could help you, focus..." You murmered.

You didn't need to see his face to know his brow was raised. The sound of his quill tapping against the desk stopped, replaced by an anticipatory silence.

His rough hand reached up to touch your cheek, callosed fingers softly tracing your skin. "I can't leave this chair."

An idea weaved itself through the silence and into your mind. You hummed slightly, the sound muffled in his neck.

"You won't have to." You murmered in between kisses before pulling away to look at him.

"Severus... Do you want to.. try something?" You asked.

He looked at you, brow still raised. "Go on." He said, lowly.

"What if.. I sit on your lap while you grade?"

Severus smirked. "Because that worked so well for you last time?"

You playfully hit his chest, moving now so that you were infront of him, between him and the desk. "Not like that! I mean in a different way."

His dark eyes flicked between yours. "Show me."

Your hands felt their way down his chest to his trousers, unbuttoning them, unzipping. You paused, looking up at him. His facial expression was blank, but the slight tint of his cheeks and subtle depth of the rise and fall of his chest showed his anticipation.

You pulled your hands away, only to reach up under your dress and pull your underwear down, tossing it to the floor beside his chair. Severus' gaze flicked to it, before looking back up at you, pupils dilating.

Straddling him, your hands rested on his thighs, eyes looking into his. "May I?"

His gaze softened, but his breathing quickened as he nodded, hands reaching up to grip your waists as you pulled him out and positoned yourself on top of him. After a teasingly long second, you sank down slowly, hissing as you took in his length, until your thighs rested comfortably on his.

Severus exhaled shakily, looking down at the sight of your hips flush together, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. Through gritted teeth he spoke at last: "I hardly see how this is going to help me focus."

You leaned in, bringing your lips to his ear and biting gently. "Go back to grading." You whispered.

His caressing of your hips and thighs stopped, hands paused. "Keep grading? With you on me like... this?"

You bit his ear again, lips trailing down his jaw and neck, placing tender, gentle kisses. "Keep grading."

Severus hesitated for a moment, before pulling a hand away from your waist and reaching for the quill again. A hiss escaped his lips at the movement, the slightest sensation echoing through him as he adjusted the paper before him.

"Darling..." He murmered, his voice low. "Are you...."

Your right hand trailed up his back, fingers weaving between strands of his black hair, pulling his head in closer. "I'm not moving until you're finished grading."

An almost shaky exhale left his lips, his grip on your waist tightening as you heard the faint sound of quill on paper resume.

His breathing was deep, but shaky as he wrote, the sound quite slower than it was minutes ago.

"That's it." You murmered in between kisses, fingers now gently pulling his hair as you grinded down slightly, in one simple, teasing movement. "Keep going, love."

Severus hissed, his left hand gripping your hip tighter as his other hand began to write faster, scribbling his notes down with an increased motivation.

Inhaling, you allowed your fingers to continue playing with his hair as you took in his herbal, smokey scent.

For another minute there was only the sound of his laboured breathing and desperate writing, accompanied by the soft murmers and sounds of your kissing on his neck.

His breathing was getting increasingly louder, his grip on your hip tighter.

"Almost done, my love?" You whispered, placing another kiss on the sweet spot just below his ear. In another teasing movement, you rose slightly, only to sink back down on him and cease your movements once again, a soft moan leaving your mouth at the temporary satisfaction.

Severus inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your waist almost painfully. "Y/N." He hissed.

Continuing to leave kisses on his neck, you asked: "What?"

The sound that left his lips was more or less a groan as his free hand flipped the roll of parchment and the sound of quill on paper filled the tiny office once again.

"Move.." He murmered quietly, shyly. "Please."

Your fingers once again tugged gently on his hair, eliciting a small, sharp inhale from him. "Not until you finish grading."

He sighed through gritted teeth as tried his hardest to focus his attention back on the task at hand. But it was difficult to focus on anything else, with the feeling of you warm around him, your hands in his hair, mouth on his neck.... If only you would just.... move...

"However..." You whispered. "I would find it quite entertaining to keep you like this, even after you finish your grading..."

He grit his teeth.

"I wonder how long you'd last... How long it would take before you beg for me to move.. Or to let you fuck me properly.."

He stayed inhaled shakily, hand gripping you somehow even tighter as he continued to grade. "You wouldn't..." He murmered, the sound strained.

You responded immediately, your steady voice almost cutting him off: "Oh, but I would."

He twitched inside you, eliciting a small, breathy laugh from your lips. He only clenched his jaw in response, his hands trembling slightly as he marked with an increased desperation, quill working furiously over the paper.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity, he dropped the quill, both hands now on your waist, pulling you away from his neck so he could look you in the eyes.

The look in his eyes was something you'd never seen before. In the dim candlelight, his darkened gaze was intense, pupils completely dialeted, eyes flicking between yours in a silent plea. His hands gripped your waist, almost trembling.

"It's done." He said lowly.

"Is it?" You asked, moving slightly to look behind you at the now single stack of parchments and the quill lazily abandoned on the table. Black ink was spilling from the quill onto the wood of his desk. You turned back to face him, relishing in the clench of his jaw at the friction of your slightest movements.

His black hair hung across the soft flush of his cheeks as his lips parted, eyes into yours. "Please..." He murmered, the sound so low you could barely hear it.

You smirked, pulling off of him slightly only to sink back down at an agonizingly slow pace. He groaned, dark eyes fluttering shut as his hips involuntarily jerked up to greet yours.

"Please what?" You said.

His eyes remained close, cheeks flushing deeper as his voice came out barely a whisper. "Please... Darling.. Move..."

You weren't sure if it was the desperate look on his face, or your own need growing within you, but you gave in without asking him to beg any longer. Your hands resting themselves on his shoulders as you began to rise and sink back down on him, riding him slowly at first.

He let his head fall back against the chair, a soft moan escaping his mouth as his lips parted. "Yes..." He groaned. "Like that... Please..."

You moaned softly at the feeling of him, moving slowly but deliberately. Your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders as you watched every micro expression on his pleasure striken face, the slight twitch of his mouth, the furrow of his brow... All arousing you even more. Knowing that you were the one who made him feel this way.... That he had begged for you... That he needed you...

His breathing quickened, eyes opening, lids heavy as he looked at you. "Love.. I'm not going to... Last long like this..." He whispered.

You moaned softly as you continued to grind down on him, moving at the same slow, passionate pace you had set.

"I know.." You moaned, "Take what you need."

That was all the permission he needed. Without pulling out of you, his hands held your thighs as he lifted you up, placing you on his desk and holding you body flush against his chest as he began to fuck you at the pace he needed for his release.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, nails clawing at his clothed back, legs wrapping around his waist. You moaned into his chest, listening to the sound of his quiet grunts.

His hands roamed over your body desperately, as if he was searching for a part of you to cling to, his grip finally settling on the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him as he continued to move faster.

"Love.." He moaned, the sound echoing off the stone walls, his rhythm faltering. "Please... I.. Can't...."

"I know." You said, the sound coming out a quick gasp. "It's okay. It's okay."

His grip on the back of your neck tightened, his other hand grasping at your waist as his hips began to stutter, shaky breathes escaping his lips.

He came with a sound that was akin to a whimper, his hips shaking, holding you tight against him as he rode out his high. He clung to you, panting for several moments as he recovered, before gently pulling your head away to look you in the eyes.

His raven hair was a mess, cheeks pink, eyes darkened as he looked down at you, expression a mix of pure relief and love. He reached down, his lips finding yours as he kissed you passionately, gently, his hands still roaming your body.

When he finally did pull his lips away, he did so only to murmer lowly against your lips: "Show me... How I can make that up to you..."

~

yall i hope to god this was okay. i love sub snape and tbh he probably is a sub more than a dom in a lot of instances but i feel like i just didnt do this justice for some reason but i tried so i hope its okay :((

thank u for the request <3

[silenttrxxs]

-professor! choi san x reader

Exam season the hardest time for anyone, the days melding into one as you desperately try to pass your degree, even at the lowest grade it would be something. But you had a problem. A huge handsome problem staring you in the face every single day.

Your professor. Everyone was oogling… who could blame them really it wasn’t everyday a uni would employ such a fresh face, every other professor looking like they walked out a retirement home.

This one though, god he was something else, you’d just lost the previous professor something to do with being caught with drugs or something in the uni which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The day he walked into the lecture hall it seemed the world just stopped. The entire lecture feeling like it was going on forever and it was a welcome change to the usual mundane clock watching during the previous lectures.

A snap of his fingers in your face snapped you out of your days. Forgetting where you was for a moment lost in thought… well that’s what you told everyone but really you was trying your hardest not to drool. Watching his every single move. His voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine even if he was speaking about how plants soak up the sun and some other biological nonsense that you already knew.

“Y/N attention up here please, you’re day dreaming again… dont make me have to write you up. You’re already dropping below half the students here…” he spoke your face reddening as you looked up, trying to avoid his gaze, the white shirt and glasses not helping you one tiny bit. You crossed your legs and sat up more promising to pay more attention to the lecture.

He scoffed and watched the reaction slyly and smirked to himself walking back to his desk and leaning against it, concluding the lecture for the day and dismissing everyone.

“Y/N a word please” he spoke before you could reach the door.

turning around and looking up at him.

“Yeah what’s up?” You said gripping onto you backpack and trying to will away the heat spreading across your cheeks.

“What’s going on, why is someone as smart as you failing this course, you know im not just a professor i am also human and i believe its only fair to offer help when needed” san says, smiling softly and looking at you.

You shrug unable to explain yourself.

“Im disappointed in you y/n i thought you’d be better than this… dont play coy, i know I’ve got everyone oogling but i only have eyes for one person right now” he walks over his gaze falling down travelling over your face.

Your breath hitches at the closeness, you can feel the heat radiating from your body and his. Before you could utter a word you feel your body being moved, you knees against the cold oak desk.

“Sir what are you doing” you manage to whine out a little your excitement and arousal already dripping from you. The short dress you chose to wear leaving nothing to the imagination.

Your back arches as a hand is caressing your scalp, fingers dancing along before tugging harshly. “Just take this as a private lesson, maybe after this you might focus a little better..” san says his voice low and husky, his breath hot against your ear.

“S-sir, f-fuck” you moan out as you feel a hand dropping between you both, your dress lifted up, and panties now slide to the side, his fingers dancing over your now soaked core.

“F-fuck you’re dripping darling, is this what you day dream about huh? My fingers deep inside you, bringing you closer and closer by the second” he says, his fingers pressing into you, your body clenching around him with every word.

A whine leaves your throat before you could catch it, your body falling against the table, knuckles white as you grip onto the desk, trying so hard to ground yourself as the white hot heat envelopes you.

“S-sir p-please” you moan out, not sure what you’re exactly begging for but the way his fingers are curling inside you, and the grip on your hip driving you insane.

“Good girl, you’re learning… now I want you to ride me, I want to see how much of a good listener you are” he says his cock throbbing in the right restraints of his trousers. He fumbles with the zipper freeing his aching cock and sitting in his chair. Legs spread slightly, accommodating the way his cock was stiff, aching and red, leaking with precum.

You let your mouth hang open, drool forming as you take in the sight before you. Obeying his command you find yourself discarding your bag, your legs straddling him and your tight heat enveloping his cock. The sight is unbelievably hot. You throw your head back as you feel him throbbing inside you with every clench until you bottom out.

“F-fuck o-oh my god s-sir” you moan as you feel his hands on your hips again, his nails digging deliciously into your flesh. You movements being guided, a steady rhythm being created between you both. Before it’s cut short, a hand comes to your jaw, pulling you gaze to his face, his glasses slightly down his face… his eyes filled with pure primal lust as you feel him fuck into you, hips snapping as your skin slaps together, you’re dripping now you’re sure he’s coated in your arousal. “F-fuck d-don’t stop p-please oh… oh fuck” you moan out your climax approaching before it’s cut dead. Movements halted.

“Show me. Show me if you’ve learnt anything gorgeous.. I can’t do everything for you… you got to work for it” San says his body falling back resting against the chair, his gaze falling over your body, drinking you in with pure lust.

A scream leaves your body as you move almost instantly, your hips moving and bouncing on his cock. You feel him deep inside you, his cock throbbing inside you. Your hands on his shoulders, your gaze locked with his with every single movement. The room is filled with almost pornographic noises.

“G-good girl, finally… you’ve learnt well.. now… l-let me teach you something new” San says before lifting you off him, positioning himself behind you, your body bent over the desk before pounding into you again, his hips thrusting into you with so much force the pot of pens that were sitting there now discarded on the floor. You feel him lifting your leg up to rest on the table, the new position allowing him to fuck into you harder and deeper.

You let out a scream as a wave hits you, your climax approaching so fast you see white. The growl behind you signalling another wave to course through you. “F-fuck s-sir” you moan out as he continues his pace. Flipping you over and fucking into you harder his hand coming to wrap around your throat as he watches the way you come undone. Completely and utterly wrecked by his body.

“What have we learnt baby” he says thrusting into you with each word.

You’re done your mind completely blank of all thoughts, his got you under his control. Submitted fully to him.

“O-oh my god” is all you can manage to say. Your eyes rolling back as he squeezes your throat cutting your air supply a little, his hips snapping into you with even more force.

“Oh sweetness… your fucked dumb now aren’t you… not a single thought in that pretty little head” San says his tone condescending but my god is it sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your gripping onto him, tugging at his shirt.

“P-please I’ll be a good girl… please I’m gonna come again” you moan out your eyes looking into his, you’re voice laced with longing.

“S-sir please” you moan again as you feel him throbbing inside you, signalling he is also close.

His movements halt to a stop. A strangled whine leaves your body at the feeling. You look up. His eyes are half lidded with primal fury as he grips your hair pulling you and guiding you onto your knees.

“Only good girls get to come baby…” San says before standing over you. Stroking himself in front of you and releasing over your face.

“Now answer me darling… are you going to do better” he says. Looking down at you and smirking before fumbling with his trousers and sitting down on his chair.

[finkinthisfrew]

TEACHER'S PET (Pt.5)

cw: 18+, teacher/student, teasing, taunting, daddy, praise kink, other stuff, v inappropriate :)

You follow Professor Healy up to his office, hands shaking in anticipation, unsure of what to expect next.

“Sit,” he commands as he steps through the door. You enter the room, obediently walking over to the chair facing his desk. 

“No,” he says authoritatively as you move to sit, causing you to freeze where you stand. “Edge of the desk. Facing the window.”

Confused, but too anxious to question him, you step behind his desk, hopping up on its edge as you hear the door close shut behind you. Another click- the lock. You sit quietly, heart pounding, eyes glued to your Professors chair, oblivious to the wall of colorful leaves behind it, branches dancing in powerful fall winds as you listen to the sound of his footsteps approaching.

“Miss Thompson,” he starts quietly, though the authority in his voice is unwavering as he continues. “You seem to think indecency on an Ivy League campus is not only appropriate, but worth flaunting,” he says as he steps into your view, eyes looking down at his busied hands. His fingers work at the cuffs of his dress shirt, then he rolls his sleeves up meticulously, exposing his veiny tattooed forearms one at a time. You raise your eyebrows at him, tilting your nose up snootily as you open your mouth to protest.

“”Well maybe if y-“ you start hotly, but he cuts you off immediately, disinterested in whatever you have to say.

“That wasn’t a question- it was a statement. And if you could spend more than two seconds listening to me instead of thinking about my cock all day long then maybe you would realize that, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Thompson?” He asks, towering over you with eyes so dark they look nearly black as he steps towards you.

“W-well, I,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, but he continues like you haven’t spoken as he bends down towards you, placing his hands on either side of you on the desk.

“You spend class after class sitting there in your absurdly tiny skirts, biting your little lip until it’s raw and squeezing your thighs together like I won’t notice, desperate to appease me when called upon in class… yet the moment class is done, you become a tyrant. A good student should always be good- not just when she chooses to be…” he says, his tone displeased as his eyes bear down on you. You desperately want to please him, reaching your hand out to take his tie, dangling before you like bait.

“I want to be good for you,” you say quietly, gripping his tie with both hands and pulling on it gently- pleading as you look up into his dark eyes. “Let me be good for you.” You tug, tilting your lips up towards his, searching for approval. 

He looks down at you thoughtfully, mulling something over in his mind as his eyes wander your face. Abruptly, he brushes your hands off his tie, turns, and sits down in his chair, crossing his arms as his eyes travel slowly, greedily up your body, finally piercing through your soul once more before speaking.

“Show me your homework,” he commands.

“What?” You ask, caught off guard.

“You heard me,” he says, his voice low, thick like molasses. “I’d like to grade your work,” he says darkly, face dripping with lust as his eyes wander down your chest to your skirt, making you squeeze your legs together without realizing. 

“Spread.”

You spread your already slick legs automatically, the sight of your Professor sitting back in his chair lazily as he watches you spread your legs only exciting you more.

“Ah-ah-“ he tuts, lifting his chin as he watches. “Wider… That’s it,” he says approvingly as you spread your legs as far as you can, exposing yourself entirely to him. “Good girl,” he says, mouth remaining slightly open, slack as he watches your juices drip onto his desk where he was to grade papers later that night.

A moan slips from your lips, his praise sending a shiver of pleasure through your core. 

“How do you already look so fucked out?” He says quietly to himself in disbelief. “I’m not even touching you and you’re already moaning,” he says, a smug smile teasing his lips. You nod innocently at him as you run your fingers up the inside of your thigh.

“I like pleasing you,” you said softly as your fingers meet your wetness. You slowly drag them up your dripping slit, making your stomach quake with pleasure. Your finger finds your clit and you begin to rub tight circles into it, moaning a bit louder this time as he watches your fingers intently, eyes flitting back up to yours periodically as you work.

“A little slower- there you go,” he directs you. You slow your speed, whimpering as you scan his face, the memory of his lip in your mouth screaming at you, demanding to be relived once more. But you want to be obedient- you want nothing more than to please him. Heat builds inside you as you watch the corner of your Professors mouth twitch up a your whimpers. The coil inside you tightens more than usual, much deeper than it has before, but it’s still not enough, so you pout in frustration. 

He stands up slowly, his eyes penetrating yours as he cocks his head to one side, taking a step towards you as he slips his hands in his pockets.

“Does it feel like it’s not enough?” He taunts with a small smile. You nod your head rapidly as you watch him approach you.

“It’s never enough,” you whisper, your eyebrows creasing in pained frustration.

“How many times have you tried? Enough?” He asks, his tone dripping with lust as he takes another step. He’s now standing between your open legs, looking down at your hand, then back up into your eyes, his pupils dilated with desire. You nod your head, pushing your lower lip out even further as your frustration builds.

He shakes his still cocked head faintly in disappointment as he slips one hand from his pocket, reaching it up to your face

“Words, Miss Thompson,” he breathes as he looks down at you, taking your chin delicately in his hand. His thumb caresses your bottom lip and you whine at his touch, watching the corners of his mouth turn into a greedy smile through your hazy eyes.

“Too many,” you pant quietly, but your answer isn’t enough for Professor Healy, who gives you another warning look as his hand sharply tips your head up to him. “Every day after class. Every night before bed. Every morning when I wake up. Sometimes even between classes,” you list between moans, panting as you speak.

“And what do you think about?” He asks, dropping his hand from your face to your lap, trailing a single finger down the top of your thigh towards your knee. The rough finger against your hyper-sensitive skin sends a wave of electricity through you, causing another breathy whine to escape your lips.

“You,” you breathe as you close your eyes and slip two fingers inside yourself. You groan at the feeling, a new pleasure blooming within you. But the sensation is too dull- your fingers too small, too gentle to satisfy your need for fullness. It’s not enough. You push them in anyways, fumbling somewhat rhythmically- desperate to relieve that burning need for release.

“Well, naturally,” your Professor agrees in a pleased tone. “And you’ve been doing this every day, multiple times a day, and you’re still not satisfied?” He asks in both curiosity and awe. You open your eyes halfway as you press the heel of your palm into your clit.

“No, it never feels right,” you groan in frustration at the feeling. “I need your help,” you whine. “I need you, Professor.”

“Ahhh,” he says in understanding, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches his hand up to your breast, cupping it just barely as he swipes your hardened nipple through the thin material of your shirt with his thumb, making you gasp at the shock of pleasure. He cocks his head to one side, enthralled by your physical reaction to his touch. You look up at him with renewed fire in your eyes, and he lowers his other hand to your thigh, trailing it slowly back up your bare skin as his eyes pierce through you. “You need some tutoring,” he breathes darkly as he pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own. You gasp at his touch, missing the shudder of pleasure that rolls through your Professor’s body at your erotic moans.

His fingers find your clit first and you groan- loudly- gripping the table with fingers like vices. His calloused thumb rubs wave after wave of pleasure into your clit as you mewl, watching his expert thumb work. His fingers are much longer, much thicker, and much rougher than yours. You want them inside you now.

“Fuck,” you whine, chest heaving as he picks up his speed on your clit.

“Are you taking notes?” He rasps, his own breath growing ragged as his other hand slips up the hem of your shirt, his weathered skin leaving tingles in its wake as it travels back up to your breast, cupping the warm, soft mound of skin.

“More,” you complain in a low whine. “I need you- to fill me,” you say as you bite back another moan. You reach your hand out to his buckle, pulling him closer to you and begin to fumble at the clasp. Suddenly his hand leaves your clit, gently gripping your wrist as he tuts once more. You whimper.

“I’m not done, yet, darling,” he coos as he leans into your ear. “I have to check your work first.” You groan as you feel his hand between your legs once more, his fingers toying lightly at your entrance, teasing you as your hips reach out desperately for more. You feel his other hand trail lightly round your neck, his thumb lingering on your throat for a moments before reaching around, taking a handful of your hair in his grip. He pulls, tilting your head back as he dips a single finger into you, no more than an inch. You groan and whine as you try to push your hips forward, but he keeps his finger just out of reach. 

“Look at you, writhing around all desperate for me,” he says, voice gravelly in your ear. “So eager… Do you want more, baby?”

“Yesss,” you plead, turning your head in his grasp to place your lips on the closest part of him to you- reaching desperately for his jaw, thirsting for a taste of him. 

“Of course you do,” he says as he lets you nip at his jaw, smiling as he withdraws his finger, slowly replacing it with two as he pushes them in a bit further, stretching you wide. You throw your hands around his neck, anchoring yourself in the sea of pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing around you as you dig your nails into your Professors skin. 

“My best student,” he praises, placing a gentle kiss on your temple as you whine loudly in his ear. He pushes his fingers in the rest of the way, all the way up to his knuckles. His two fingers are thicker than three of yours, their roughness only adding to the whirlwind of pleasure building within you as he begins to pump his fingers at an agonizingly slow pace, every stroke against your G-spot earning a moan from you.

“Is this what you needed? To be filled up a bit?” He taunts you sweetly. “All those performances and tantrums you threw for me, and all you needed was for me to fill you a little?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe, the word slipping from you naturally before you can catch yourself. Your heart stops as you feel his fingers pause.

“Ohhh, I see,” he says with a smile, lifting his face to look down on you. His fingers resume fucking you, picking up speed, just barely, making you mewl frantically. “Had I known every time you said Professor you meant daddy…” his voice trails off as he looks down at his fingers. You watch him lick his lip, then bite it slightly as he watches in devilish fascination as your hips buck uncontrollably against his hand. “Very good girl,” he says, almost to himself. You groan in pleasure, his praise like its own toy, sending a shiver of satisfaction up your spine, escaping your lips with a shudder.

“Do you want my cock, baby? Is that what you need? Not full enough?” He coos sweetly.

“Yes- fuck, yes,” you reply exasperatedly.

“Yes, what?” He says, raising his eyebrows at you expectantly. You groan through clenched teeth, his mutual need for the word sexier than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper as he smiles, pumping his fingers even faster inside of you, a burning ball of pleasure building steadily in your core. “I need you to,” you add in a choke as you watch the vein in his forearm strain against his skin as his fingers curl, every stroke pushing you closer.

“Well I have some unfortunate news for you,” he whispers in your ear. “You see, you’ve been very bad,” he growls, lips grazing the skin of your neck, teasing you with their touch. “Traipsing around campus in this little getup, flaunting your ass to everyone like it doesn’t belong to me.”

You can’t help but groan at his possessive words- all you’ve wanted was to be his.

“Trying to tease me- trying to tempt me,” he continues, pressing his thumb harder into your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Hazel… And bad girls don’t get the privilege of being filled and fucked till they scream,” he taunts as you whimper in frustration. “They don’t get to be pounded till they can’t walk anymore- till they can’t think anymore,” he says, nipping your burning skin at the base of your neck between his words. “You haven’t earned that privilege, Miss Thompson,” he said, his mouth finally planting itself above your collarbone, warm tongue swirling against your skin before harshly sucking on it, making you moan loudly in euphoria. 

“How do I earn it?” You beg desperately through panting breath.

“Ohoho, my darling…” you hear him chuckle below you, his face lifting up to look at you with a devilish smile. His mouth hovers above yours as he looks up at you with wide blackened eyes in pity, warm breath taunting you as it washes over your tender lips- bitten raw from countless bitten back screams. “Did you fuck yourself one too many times for me this weekend?” He asks in a mocking tone as he pouts. “You’ve already forgotten what I said? Too cock-drunk for daddy to remember what he told you?” He pushes you down to your elbows, then grinds his hips into yours, his fingers pulsing rapidly within you. He presses his forehead into yours, nostrils flaring, pupils blown-out as he growls into you, “You’re not going to touch my cock- you’re not going to feel my cock- you’re not even going to so much as see my cock for the next four years. I hope that little grab you tried earlier in my trousers will be enough to tide you over until graduation, because you’re going to spend the rest of your Masters Degree replaying it- replaying this- the time you came so close to getting fucked by your Professor- night after night all alone in your bed, until you it drives you mad. I’ll be surprised if you don’t start touching yourself in classes after this… you’ll spend the next four years crawling at the thought of getting to feel my cock inside of you. That’s a decent enough punishment, don’t you agree?” He says menacingly, your clit burning with pleasure under his thumb as he coaxes your orgasm closer.

You shake your head furiously, your need to be fucked by him clouding your mind in such a thick haze of lust you can’t seem to think straight as you ride the high of pleasure.

“No? You don’t agree?” He asks threateningly. Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you whimpering, shaking against him, the overwhelming emptiness leaving you feeling deranged. You nod desperately- anything to get his fingers back inside you.

“That’s my smart girl,” he coos sweetly. You feel his fingers pushing back inside you, the relief almost sending tears to your eyes as your elbows give out. Your Professor catches you with his other hand, holding you up as he pumps his fingers faster. “That’s my smart girl. Yes baby, you’re right,” he says as he kisses your forehead tenderly. “You earned your punishment and you’re taking it so well for daddy.”

He places slow gentle kisses on your face, your voice emitting an endless stream of moans and whining, teetering so closely to the edge of your climax, you don’t think you could remember your name if he asked you.

“Shhh, you don’t need to worry about that now. Right now you need to come for daddy. Can you do that for me baby girl? That’s it, you sound so beautiful when you scream, my angel. Moan for me just like that, there you go,” he says as you buck your hips uncontrollably against his relentless fingers, unravelling in his grasp. “Do you need daddy to fuck you a little harder with his fingers? Is that it? Such a needy girl…” he taunts with a smile, your climax only seconds away as the pleasure begins to overflow inside of you. “Are you ready to cum for daddy? Yes? Yes, I think so too, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me. All over my fingers. Ah- that’s it. Good girl, just like that. Perfect… My perfect girl…” he mutters the last few words into your skin as your orgasm bursts through your core, spreading through your body to your fingertips and toes, electric waves of pleasure splintering you from within as you scream. You shudder in his grip, legs shaking against his hips as your eyes roll back into your head. Pleasure explodes and pulses within you as his fingers slow with the settling of your body, leaving you limp in the strong grasp of his arm. The pleasure envelops you, slowly bringing you back to consciousness as you catch your breath from the release, relief flooding your body after weeks of aching. You eventually open your eyes only to find your Professor looking down at his hand, still between your legs.

“Look at this pretty little mess you made for me,” he says, tilting his head as admires the juices coating his dripping hand. He moves his fingers around inside you curiously, pulling them in and out as he plays with your wetness, periodically looking up to watch you as you jerk and jolt at his movements, too sensitive to be played with after such a strong climax, but too drained to stop him. 

“Feel that? Do you feel my fingers inside you?” He asks you softly. You shiver as he cradles you closer to him, his fingers still toying with you, then manage to nod your head twice. “Memorize that. Because you’re not going to feel them for a very. Long. Time.”

You can’t help the whimpers that escape your lips as he withdraws his fingers. He looks down at you with an indecipherable look as his eyes travel over your face. Then, he leans down, placing a single gentle kiss on your lips, his mouth moving carefully and purposefully as a new kind of flutter awakens in your core. When your lips finally part, you watch as he steps away, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the juices from his hand.

“You’re forgiven for your behavior,” he starts quietly, wiping each finger meticulously. “But if you try to tempt me like that again, I promise the next punishment won’t be nearly as pleasant for you,” he says without looking at you. “You’re dismissed.”

You stand up in a daze, furrowing your brow in confusion as you walk towards the door obediently, too fucked-out to do much more than simply follow his command. You open the door, glancing back at your teacher once more, his back now facing you as he looks out the window of his office before you leave, closing the door behind you. You lean against it, the click of the lock a minute later causing you to flinch. You rest your head back against the glass window of the door, catching your breath as you play through what just happened, the wet mess between your legs becoming more noticeable outside the steamy haze of the office.

It didn’t make sense. Why didn’t he fuck you? Did he not want to? That wouldn’t make sense. He didn’t have to touch you, and yet he went out of his way to make you cum anyways? Eagerly cooing every sweet nothing you could have possibly wanted into your ear when he could have just sent you home…  That only made the mystery of him not fucking you even more confusing. He had every opportunity to fuck you just now, and yet he didn’t even so much as stroke himself. Maybe your sexual desire wasn’t as mutual as you’d thought it was… 

A sudden sound shakes you from your spiral. You scan the empty hall, waiting for the sound to repeat itself in the hopes of identifying it. You stand there quietly, ears perked. You hear it again, realizing the sound was coming from behind you.

A whimper.

You turn, then reach as high as you can on your tiptoes to the tiny sliver of glass that hadn’t been covered in newspaper.

Just barely, you see him. The two fingers that had just been inside you, the same one’s he’d just cleaned in front of you now in his mouth, his eyes closed as he sucks on them. You can’t see his other hand, hidden behind the desk, but you slowly piece together what he’s doing, the rapid rhythmic movement in his lap paired with his soft whimpers finally clicking in your mind. You catch yourself as your hand drifts back down between your legs, clenching it into a tight fist before you could do anything crazy. You can’t get caught out here- another teacher could walk by at any moment and see you straining on your toes to spy on your teacher in his private quarters. No, this you’d have to enjoy later. You let yourself watch him pump himself a another minute longer, taking extra care to memorize every whimper before promptly running down the hall, desperate to get home so you could replay the look on his face when he caught his bottom lip with his teeth and chewed it, hair bouncing with the speed of his hand before looking down with a pained expression at the small crumpled pile of black lace on his desk…

[m00nsbaby]

Helping you with homework.

Moon system x reader. - Headcanons.

Steven.

God bless Steven Grant's heart.

Although you didn't enjoy asking for help with things like this, you knew your boyfriend was the right person for your history assignment.

Unfortunately, remembering dates was your kryptonite.

"I'll explain it to you, okay?" He put on his glasses, and you sighed.

How were you supposed to concentrate when he looked like that?

You watched him go to his room and return with at least six different books in his arms.

And you pushed your chair so close that your shoulders touched.

It started well; you were understanding the timeline from prehistory to the Middle Ages.

However, you didn't take into account that once Steven started talking about his hyperfixations, he didn't stop.

By the second hour, you weren't sure if you were still retaining anything, so you did what your instinct dictated.

You hugged his arm, the one he wasn't using to underline sentences in his book, and your cheek rested against his shoulder.

Steven's heart raced, as it always did when you touched him spontaneously.

"Am I boring you already, love?" He kissed your hair, and shortly after, you felt the weight of his cheek against your head.

"Never," you simply said as the letters began to dance in front of your eyes.

The truth was that his voice relaxed you. Steven had a tendency to speak quickly, his accent resonating in your ears and warming you to your core, but when things got intimate, his voice seemed deeper.

He spoke slowly to make sure you didn't get lost in his words.

You yawned, and he noticed but didn't say anything. In fact, he kept talking.

And talking.

And talking.

Until your eyelids grew heavy.

"And with that, we conclude the topic of feudalism." You had fallen asleep about 10 minutes ago, hugging Steven's arm and feeling his slow breath against your body.

He chuckled, a sound you didn't even register.

Steven didn't feel bad about it; he knew school was taking its toll on you, and that day you hadn't taken your usual daily nap.

He knew better than anyone that you needed rest.

And because he had once read that people feel sleepy when they're comfortable with someone.

He didn't mind having to continue your assignment by himself, doing everything possible not to move you from his shoulder.

And taking breaks now and then to place a hand on your forehead to keep you from falling forward when you nodded off.

The next day, you woke up in your bed, and Steven had already gone to work.

Under a note with a happy face drawn on it were the seven pages of your handwritten essay.

You ended the day with the highest grade in your group, several congratulations, and many embarrassed smiles that screamed, "I didn't even lift the pen off the desk all night."

Marc.

"I beg you." "No."

"Marc?" "No."

"Please?" "I said no."

You had been following him around the house for about 5 hours. Usually, you had no trouble completing your responsibilities from start to finish, but on days like today, you didn't even have the energy to turn on your laptop.

And Marc, of course, had already decided that there was no way he would help you with something like this.

In his school days, he didn't even do his own homework.

"Please, please, please." "I said no."

After begging for the 46th time, you finally gave up. The rest of the day passed just as boringly until dinner when you took the last sip of coffee from your cup.

"I'm not going to do it." After a week of constant sleep deprivation, you decided that you could afford to sleep for 8 hours just this once.

Marc looked at you in silence for a few seconds before nodding his head.

"Then let's go to sleep."

You obeyed, and you both went hand in hand to bed. Like every night, you felt him press you against his body with both arms.

The exhaustion in your body made you give in in less than 10 minutes.

But Marc couldn't sleep.

At 12:27 in the morning, he quietly got out of bed.

And at 01:53, you woke up. The fear of not feeling your daily companion almost made you cry like a little kid.

You got up to look for him, and it wasn't difficult at all. The light from your laptop illuminated the entire dining room.

And the sound of the keys echoed through the house.

"Marc?" "No," he replied again. Admitting such gestures was not his strong suit.

Still, he pushed the chair back to give you space, and you dragged your feet to sit on his lap.

You sat sideways, your head resting on his shoulder as the warmth of his body relaxed you from head to toe.

He kept typing.

You don't know how long you slept there, but a while later, you felt him carry you to bed.

And just a few hours later, your alarm went off, with Marc's arms crushing you against his chest, and your laptop patiently waiting in the dining room.

Jake.

Spanish was never your strong suit.

And you knew very well that Jake was the one who could help you, but once you asked him, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you.

He, on the other hand, was an expert in both things: speaking fluent Spanish and teasing you.

"Jake?" "Yes, honey?" "Can I ask you something?"

And as you suspected, he didn't leave you alone all day.

"Could you pour me a glass of water?" "¿Perdón? No te escuché." (Sorry? I didn't hear you.)

You looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"¿Y bien?" (Well?)

"Un… vaso de… agua." (A glass of water.) "¿Por qué?" (Why?) "Por favor." (Please.)

You rolled your eyes for the 17th time that day.

And he kissed you for the 23rd time.

"¿Amor?" You looked up from your phone. "¿Cómo se llama esto?" (What's this called?) You watched him point to his fork.

You were 12 seconds away from murdering him with your own hands.

"Tú puedes." (You can do it.) He sounded like the host of a children's program. "Te…"

"Te…" You stared at him, waiting for more clues. "Neeee." "Dor."

Kiss number 27.

You won't deny that you didn't hit him multiple times and gave him full-body shoves since you needed all your strength to at least get him to move.

And he mocked you every time.

"I hate you." "No-oh. Intenta de nuevo." (Try again.) "¡Te odio!"

At least this time he made you laugh.

It turns out that all day you didn't get around to doing the study session you had planned for the day.

And you probably learned more than if you had done it.

Still, you cursed when you felt your boyfriend's hands on your shoulders as he approached you from behind.

You looked up, and he leaned down to your height, with that mischievous smile that seemed permanently etched on his face.

"What?" "Te amo." (I love you.)

You blushed.

"Te amo." you said back as you received a chaste kiss on your lips.

You had lost count.

"Eres el amor de mi vida." (You're the love of my life.) Another kiss. "Espero algún día encontrar las palabras para hacerte saber cuanto te amo." (I hope to someday find the words to let you know how much I love you.)

You stopped paying attention once his lips started brushing against yours as he spoke.

"Te amo." he repeated, placing another kiss on your lips.

And when you thought the day was over, he didn't miss the opportunity to test your patience once more.

"Goodnight, babe." "No te entendí." (I didn't understand you.)

In the darkness, you heard the thump you gave his chest.

"Buenas noches." You kissed his shoulder.

And yes, the next day, you let him enjoy his multiple "I told you so" moments when you passed the exam.

[the-kr8tor]

Autumn of '88

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, Reader and Hobie are 13/14 in this, Puppy love, TTN! Reader and Hobie, set in the TTN universe, best friends to lovers (prequel to TTN), CW food mentions, Fluff.

A/N: This is the last of the 1k celebration fics! Thank you all so much ❤️❤️❤️

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Head on your palm, heavy eyes slowly closing with every dreary words that your biology teacher says, you fight a yawn from escaping since the last time someone yawned in front of Mrs. Weathers they got kicked out of class. But with the boring subject about symbiotic relationships in the wild, that you most definitely already know since you did the advanced reading, you're tempted to yawn loudly and widely just so you could escape from this biology hell.

The air is crisp, October air breezing through you from the open window to your left. Clad in your cardigan and yellow corduroy pants, the cold still seeps into the thick fabrics. It's a comfortable cold but with you sitting still for more than an hour without stretching your limbs has you freezing in your seat.

You risk getting called out by Mrs. Weathers if she notices you looking out of the window for even a second. But you are so bored out of your mind that you'd rather stare at the oak tree outside than continue to listen to her yapping about symbiosis. Having the brilliant idea to hide your wandering eyes from the teacher with your hand slightly covering your profile, now safe from her piercing gaze, you watch as the orange leaves dance with the breeze.

There's a pile of dead leaves at the bottom of its trunk, and you wish you could jump inside and never have to study biology ever again. It must be so warm and cozy inside, with the orange and yellow leaves as your sky and walls, you'll live like a tiny mouse queen ruling over your land. You think of all the stuff you'll bring inside your little leaf kingdom, your sketchbook is definitely a yes, and also your big pack of colorful markers and pencils is an absolute need. You'll need some snacks of course, some eggos and cheese balls would suffice. As for sleeping, you guess you'll never need to sleep when you have so much time to do anything you want in your leaf kingdom.

Yet, you think you'll be lonely inside. Sure you can bring your gameboy or your care bears, but they can't exactly talk and have the most riveting banter with you. With a smile, you plan to bring your best friend with you to your autumn kingdom. Hobie can be your bard or your right hand man. It's perfect, you think, a perfect place where it's just you and Hobie where there's no more school to attend, no more grades to keep up, just you and him having fun in the pile of leaves.

With a sigh, you blink slowly as your eyes get heavier and heavier with every daydream. Fighting the sandman from having his sandy grip on you, you pinch your cheek subtly. Opening your eyes, a familiar silhouette appears right next to the oak tree. Long arms waving in your direction, legs jumping to get your attention. Blinking rapidly, it's none other than Hobie who has the widest grin on his face when he notices that he finally has your attention.

He motions for you to go outside, beckoning you over dramatically. Miming that he'll cry if you don't go outside. You think otherwise, quietly giggling at his antics.

After the realization, you straighten in your seat, wondering why and how he got outside when he's supposed to be in maths.

A loud thwack slams against your desk, jumping awake, Mrs. Weathers shakes her head, tongue clicking in agitation.

“If you're not prepared to listen in class it's best that you should leave, miss L/N.” She says, gritting her fake teeth.

“Okay,” you stand up to collect your things, shoving your notebook and books inside your already full backpack. Your reply has Mrs. Weathers confused, since you are her best student.

“Wait—” you've never seen her flabbergasted, your classmates snicker silently in their seats, some even clap and cheer you on.

Giving them all a shrug, you exit the classroom before she grabs you back inside. With the door shutting close, you sprint towards the exit. Trainers squeaking on the linoleum, backpack heavy, you push the double doors open with your shoulder. Hobie greets you outside just as the fresh air whips at your cheeks.

He claps slowly but surely, face proud with a smug smile. “I've got to hand it to you, Pingu, I did not expect that. I have successfully made a rebel out of you.”

Hobie stands on the grass like he owns the entire school, hands tucked inside his jeans, thumbs tapping on his metal belts that clinks against each other when he moves. For once, he's dressed for the weather, the old worn leather jacket now fits him better than last year, it was bigger on his shoulders back then. Puberty works in mysterious ways, you think. A denim vest lays on top of the leather, handmade pins of his favourite things are all tacked securely on the denim. Its edges are frayed, but you know it was intentional since you're the one who helped him do it. The thrifted ‘Queen’ shirt you gave him on his birthday is the perfect size, but you know that he'll only be able to wear it for a couple of years at the rate he's growing.

No one would think you two are best friends judging by how different your styles are, or how different you are to him. Personality wise, likes, dislikes, it's all different, sometimes you wonder how you two get along. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

“How'd you get out of maths?”

“Climbed out of the window before Mr. Keery came in.”

You doubt his story. “Yeah, right, your classroom is on the third floor, Hobie.”

He feigns hurt, “my own best mate doubts my abilities?” You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks says otherwise. “‘m great at climbing, I could climb down from that height.” You stay silent, looking at him with a raised brow and unblinking eyes. “...fine, I faked sleepin' by snorin’ loudly, happy?”

You touch his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Hobie, you don't have to fake snore because you snore like an elephant giving birth.”

“You're very funny,” he takes your wrist to push your hands away. You now notice the new nail polish on his nails. “That doesn't even make bloody sense.”

You ignore him, mouth agape and shocked at his painted nails. “You finally coloured your nails?” You take his hand that has nail polish sloppily painted on. The paint even reaches to the edge of his nails, painting his skin with shadowy black. “You could've asked me for help, y’know.”

“It's part of the style” He shrugs, taking his hand away before you can feel his pulse pick up.

“Sure, even the bubbles are in style.” You tease with a playful smile. “So why'd you call me over here?”

“Got bored, then thought you're also bored so I went to your window so we could skip the rest of the day.” He purposely skips the part that he knows exactly where you always sit.

You gasp. “Wait, I thought we were just skipping class, not skipping the rest of the day!” Hands on your hips, you shake your head. “And here I thought there's like a really cool… stick or something.”

“A stick?” He chortles.

“Yeah, like the one you found a few days ago that actually looked like a sword.”

“Nah, I wanted to—” A high pitched whistle echoes out, startling you both. Finding the source of the sound, the school guard is currently running towards you. The hundreds of keys on his belt jingles, cheeks red from all the whistle blowing.

“Oi!” The yells, pointing accusingly at you two.

With wide eyes, Hobie takes your hand before sprinting away. He practically drags you along with him, bigger strides than you, he looks over his shoulder to check on you. Unsurprisingly enough, he has a huge grin on his lips, as if he planned all of it.

You follow his lead, dead leaves crunching under your shoes, backpack weighing you down. Yet, he doesn't leave you even though you're slowing him down. You appreciate him for not letting your hand go, but you don't like how your heart hammers against your chest when you look at your intertwined hands.

Finally reaching the metal fence, Hobie chucks his backpack over it. It's not that tall for him, he could easily jump over it with no problem, but with you still waiting on your growth spurt, it'll be a challenge for you. He knows it too, without asking he grabs your bag off your shoulders, he then quickly throws it over the other side before crouching down with his hands on top of the other.

“C’mon, Pingu, up you go!” Hobie flicks his eyes over to the guard, he's glad that the guard isn't exactly a track star. The whistling gets louder as the uniformed man gets closer. “Hurry—!”

Before he could finish saying the word, you shakily put your foot on his palm. With one strong push, and a jump from you, Hobie hoists you over the fence. You miraculously make it over, landing on your side with a groan. Hobie follows a second later, climbing like his life depended on it. Immediately grabbing each of your backpacks, then putting both on one arm, he lifts you up from the pavement with one hand just before the guard could even reach the fence; you two race off across the street, huffing and aching from the daring escape.

Going around a corner, Hobie leads you towards an alley. He skids off to a stop, heavy bags falling off his arms.

Hands on your knees, lungs burning, and face sweaty from the run, you check behind the corner if the guard is still after you.

“He won't follow us anymore. We're out!” Hobie exclaims, exhilarated, and grinning widely. He leans on the wall opposite of you, chest heaving, laughter echoing around the empty alleyway.

Copying his stance, cracking a smile, you laugh together with him. “You're a bad influence, Hobie Brown.”

“And you're a great influence, Y/N L/N.” His smile and his shining eyes says it all: we balance each other out. “Too bloody nice, that's what you are.”

You shake your head, chin resting on your clavicle to hide your lopsided smile. Heat on your cheeks, you seem to find yourself having the same expression lately whenever you're around him.

“Where to?” He asks once he caught his breath.

“My choice?” You ask, smile permanently etched on your lips.

“‘course,” Hobie says it like it's the most obvious thing. He was supposed to add to his sentence but he shuts his mouth before he could let the word escape.

You excitedly perk up. “The mall?”

He makes a face. “I'd rather stay in maths.”

“Arcade then?”

“They'd kick us out,” you knit your eyebrows in question. “Because we're skippin’ class, they put up that fuckin' sign a few weeks ago.”

“Oh right, I forgot. How about the record shop? Mike's cool, he might let us stay until classes are over.”

Hobie pushes himself off the wall, strutting over to you, your heart quickens for some reason. He pats shoulder with a smirk. “Your best idea yet,” taking both bags off the grimey floor, he puts them both on each shoulder. It's your turn to smirk at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say in a sing-song tone.

He clicks his tongue, avoiding your eyes. “C’mon then, before someone sees us here and thinks we're skippin' class.”

“Hobie, we are skipping class.”

“Not if we act like we're not.”

“...what?” You chuckle, blinking in confusion. “What would you do?”

“Nothin’, let's go.” He walks away from you.

“Oh come on, what will you do? Will you put on your best acting skills like how you faked being sick in front of the nurse? Because she was definitely convinced that you had chicken pox!” You giggle, following him, matching his longer strides.

“It worked, didn't it?” Hobie turns his head away from your playful glance.

“Yeah, because you had an actual fever. But sure, your drawn on chicken pox was very convincing.”

“I'm an artiste, Y/N.” He says, trying to do a french accent.

You snort, “sure, and I'm the queen of England.”

“Alright, your majesty.” He stops, “carry your own luggage,” your bag thuds on the pavement. “I don't want to help some parasite.” Smugly walking away, you feign hurt with your loud gasp.

“You…you doodoo head!” You yank your bag, wearing it properly on your back. Running after Hobie, he has a mischievous smile, one you're all too familiar with.

“Doodoo head? That the best you can come up with?” He says before bolting off, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey!” Running, you follow him with a laugh. “Asshole!”

—

Finally reaching the vinyl shop, the bells jingle as you two enter. The smell of plastic and cheap air freshener lingers in the air, the ancient shaggy carpet is soft under your trainers. Shelves upon shelves of records greet you as you roam your eyes around the different album covers. It's a slow day so the store is empty except for Mike the cashier who has headphones on.

Hobie sniffs dramatically, “home sweet home!”

Mike cracks an eye open, with a groan after seeing you and Hobie standing by the door, he chucks his headphones on the counter, looking disgruntled. The denim jacket with hundreds of patches and bottle cap pins is large on his lanky frame.

“Oh great, Hobie's here.” He says sarcastically, long straight hair flipped over his shoulder with one move from his head. “And he brought his little girlfriend. Hi, Y/N, you still hang out with this arse?” He points at Hobie who doesn't bother correcting him anymore. “Seriously, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“D’you finally have it, mate?” Hobie acts like he's the same age as Mike, even though the teenage cashier could be his older brother. Ignoring Mike's jab, he waits for his reply.

Wanting to quit his job is clearly seen on his face. Then he considers the fact that he needs to save for college. With a sigh, he points towards the end of the store, where you think ‘it’ is there.

Hobie punches the table with a thump, then he excitedly bounds over to where the cashier pointed. “Thanks, bruv.”

“Cyndi Lauper?” You ask, all wide eyed and shy. “It's not at the front anymore.”

“Over to the right, just across where your boyfriend is.”

“He's not my—nevermind, thanks.” Walking past all the display, Hobie guffaws when he finds what he was looking for. You smile at how happy he is.

He's so happy that he grabs you by your elbow, pointing at the new ‘Ramones’ album. The words “Ramones Mania” are printed in bright red.

“Finally! Look!”

“I see it, Hobs.” You chuckle, “didn't this release months ago though?”

“It did,” he sighs like he's recalling a bad memory. “But this place isn't making a lot of money from records like this, so Mike here!” He yells the last part to annoy the man. “Delayed ordering it. I had to come ‘ere every day just to remind him.”

You see Mike pressing the volume up on his walkman. Making sure that Hobie sees that he's not listening to him.

“You didn't tell me that.” You say, sounding a bit too hurt.

“Thought you wouldn't care.” Hobie shrugs, “‘sides, you don't listen to stuff like this.” He points at the album.

“I could listen to it, Hobs. I make you listen to my records and you seem to like it.”

Hobie's eyes soften. “You wanna listen to it together then? You might not like it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “If I don't end up liking it then at least I gave it a try, right? If I do like it we have something new to talk about.”

He could only manage a smile and a curt nod. Taking the record to the listening booth that sits at the corner of the store, he leaves his bag outside whilst he opens the door for you. Placing your bag down more gently than he did, you enter the cramped booth.

Mike yells after you two, “you lot better not snog in there!” You and Hobie scrunch your faces at the man.

“We're fourteen, mate!” Hobie yells back, not agitated, just weirded out by Mike's comment.

“You're fourteen? How would I know? You look fuckin' sixteen, bruv! Tall motherfucker.” He whispers the last part, Hobie didn't hear it but you surely did.

“I thought he was cool.” You admit, shutting the booth door behind you.

“He's a wanker, just actin’ like he is. Thought you fancy him?”

“Ew.” He beams at your reaction.

You giggle, the sound bouncing off the padded walls of the booth. It's just a regular rectangular box with a shelf for the record player and a bench to sit on. It's quieter inside, the cars outside are muffled, the only clear thing you can hear is how your heartbeat gets faster and faster the longer you stay squished inside the booth with him. Sitting down, you leave enough space for him. Hands on top of the other, you roam your eyes around the cracking paint on the walls, mind making shapes from how the navy blue paint crumbles.

Hobie carefully takes the record out then places it on the record player. Sitting next to you, you can practically feel his excitement reverberating. He takes the headphones from its rack, turning each around so you and him could listen at the same time.

“Ready to shit your trousers?” He asks, eyes glinting from the single light bulb. He's so close to you that you can see yourself in the reflection in his eyes. And you can see every single strand of eyelashes that's perfectly blending in with his eyeliner.

“I don't want to poop on my trousers, I like this pair.” You joke, and you pat yourself on the back for making him laugh. “This is corduroy, Hobie.”

“Alright quiet time now.” He presses play as you hide your amused smile.

—

You bask in the sunset, eyes closed, you let the autumn air kiss your cheeks, your hands are behind you, propping you up. Despite the dusty pavement, and the looming problem of getting found out that you skipped school, you're perfectly content where you are right now. It would be perfect but you're missing something, or someone for that matter.

Cold air suddenly blows right behind you, the convenience doors close with a hiss and that's your cue to look up. Hobie appears upside down in your vision just like you thought, he tilts his head, you can see the cogs in his head turn. Placing the cup on your forehead, he laughs at your crossed eyes. Condensation rolls off from the plastic cup and into your skin.

Hobie takes it away before you could catch a cold. Sitting next to you, he hands you your bright slurpee. There's a mix of colours, red and blue melting into the orange and purple.

“They didn't have the brown one.” He says as he rips open a pack of Doritos. “There's no puddin’ pops either.”

“Aw,” you say slightly disappointed, but the sight of the box of nerds inside the plastic bag helps remedy your disappointment. “Ooh nerds!”

“Where?” As he says it, you see a grin slowly spreading on his face. “I only see one right here!” Chortling, grin wide, the orange hues of the sky paints him with its watercolour glow. You'd take this sight more than a day alone at the arcade.

“Ha ha.” You say flatly, sipping your drink too quickly, you wince loudly. Hobie guffaws into the barren space, save for the 711 behind you and the woods sitting quietly in front of you. His laugh echoes, even with his amusement, he still has the time to pat your back affectionately.

“Ow.” You rub your temple.

“What’d I tell you before? Drink it slowly, love.” The title slips out of his tongue. The second he realizes it, he hides behind his own cup, sipping wordlessly as he stares off into the woods.

Love, the simple freudian slip has you blinking at him slowly. He has never called you that before, he has, however, called you a bunch of nicknames that are either sweet or to purposely annoy you. But love? You've only heard older teenagers call each other that, and they usually have their hand inside their girlfriend’s or boyfriend’s back pockets when they do. You have no idea if Hobie has mistaken, because you're clearly not love, you're pingu, you're cheese, you're pebbles, hell, you're even lad, or his best mate. Never love, because that's reserved for someone you actually like, someone you truly care for.

Is he mistaken? Mimicking something he has heard around school?

“I should've told you about the album.” His voice wakes you to the present.

Do you care for him? Of course you do.

“What?” You breathlessly ask.

He's your best mate after Danny left, he was the only one who filled that lonely lonely gap he left. You think he's stuck with you forever, and he thinks you're stuck with him forever. Strangely enough, you both think it's perfect.

“Me pestering the shit out of Mike.” You knit your eyebrows at his words. He looks down at his boots, a small puddle at his feet reflects his own confused face. Is he apologizing? Why is he apologizing for? Weirdly enough, you both ask the same question.

You'd annoy Mike for him. You'd call the shop endlessly just so they would order his record. Even if you get in trouble for the telephone bill.

“You would've helped.” Hobie continues, eyes now looking into your own.

Care, it's a simple word, but you think it's not enough to describe how you feel about him, how you really feel about your best friend. It's much more than that.

“Yeah, I would've annoyed him too.” You softly smile at him.

“I know, love.” Because he knows you, and you know him too. Hobie utters the title more confidently, the word rolling off his tongue like butter. He makes it sound like he has been calling you that in his head for a long time. Maybe he has. “I know you would.”

He had the answer the whole time, it's not just you caring for him. It's love, it's love in its earliest state, it's love at its most innocent.

You love him, that revelation scares you, but it's better not knowing how you truly feel whenever he smiles at you and your heart skips a beat. Now you know, you'll tell him one day, one day when that feeling gnaws at your chest. But for now, you'll settle with drinking slurpees with him, you'll settle for skipping class so you could listen to records with him. For now you'll settle with loving him as his best mate, and for now, you're content just by being at his side.

[evabby]

POLAR OPPOSITES.

chapter i < chapter ii > chapter iii || series masterlist.

SUMMARY : you and abby anderson go to the same college, and are in the same english class — you’re polar opposites who clash at every turn. abby is carefree and confident, whereas you’re more focused and disciplined. when you’re forced to partner up on a project, your rivalry deepens, but an unexpected connection does too. as abby pushes you to loosen up, your dynamic shifts from competitive to something far more complicated.

AUTHOR NOTE : thankyou so much for the likes on chapter one omgomg !!! <33

WARNINGS : intoxication , kissing , partying

CHAPTER II : BLURRED LINES

7:40pm.

you stood in front of your closet, staring at the array of clothes hanging neatly in front of you.

every shirt, skirt, and dress was in its rightful place, colours coordinated, not a single imperfection. perfectly organised.

but tonight, that organisation felt like a trap.

you had always prided herself on having your life in order — your grades, your schedule, your appearance — all of it was planned.

but a party?

with drinking and dancing and people?

you felt like an imposter just thinking about it.

it wasn’t your scene, it never had been.

you didn’t want to feel like everyone was staring at you, judging you.

like you were somehow failing at being normal.

you sigh, flipping through the dresses, your brow furrowing

each one felt too flashy, too loud.

the idea of letting go, of dancing, of having fun, sounded both freeing and terrifying.

you had always been the quiet one, the one who sat in the back of the lecture hall, the one who ate lunch alone or with a small group of people she could trust.

the girl who never partied, never drank, and certainly never stepped out of line.

you never lived.

your fingers stopped on a simple, black dress — elegant but understated.

it was a gift from your grandmother.

it had a low neckline and a figure-flattering cut, with just enough subtlety to make you feel somewhat controlled.

but tonight? you weren't supposed to be controlled.

you were supposed to let go.

you were supposed to be fun.

but all you could think about was how out of place you would feel when you stepped into that crowded room full of people. what would abby think of you? would you look like a robot, standing stiffly on the sidelines while everyone else danced and laughed? would you be judged for not being fun?

your phone buzzed on the desk.

abby

ready yet? leaving in 15 mins

you stared at the message for a long moment, your fingers gripping the edge of the dress.

you should have just said no, you should’ve stayed in your lane, stayed in control.

but no.

you had said yes. it was too late to back out now,

if you did, it would be like admitting you couldn’t be that person, couldn’t be like abby. you couldn’t be carefree. you couldn’t let go. you had to do this.

your eyes flicked back to the dress.

you hesitated, then slid it off the hanger.

a few minutes later, you stood in front of her full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric of the dress over your hips. the reflection staring back at you looked... fine. you looked like you always did —composed. but something about the way the dress hugged your body made you feel exposed. like everyone would look at you and see how out of place you really were.

your hair was down for once, and your makeup was minimal. just a hint of mascara and lip liner. nothing flashy. nothing that would make you stand out.

you reached for her phone and typed a quick message to abby.

on my way

give me a second

taking one last look in the mirror, you stepped out of your dorm room, gripping your purse tightly in your hand as if it might offer some sort of comfort.

the bass from the music thudded through your chest before you even reached the front steps of the crowded house. the air was crisp and sharp, but you could still feel the faint warmth of your flushed cheeks — half from the cold, half from the nerves twisting in your stomach.

before you could knock on the door, or, more likely, turn back and go home, the door swung open.

abby stood in the frame, drink in hand, her shirt slightly untucked and sleeves rolled up. her eyes lit up when she saw you.

abby smiled, her grin lazy and wide. she leaned against the doorframe, the picture of relaxed confidence.

“look at you, all dolled up and ready to have fun. didn't think you’d actually show.”

you rolled her eyes but stepped inside, brushing past abby.

“don’t make a big deal out of it,” you muttered, though your pulse quickened at the sound of abby's teasing tone.

abby closed the door behind you and leaned in closer.

“i wouldn’t dare,” she said, though her smirk betrayed her. she glanced at your outfit, her sharp gaze lingering just a moment too long.

“you trying to impress someone or is this all just for me?”

“don’t start,” you said, your voice tight, though you could feel the blush creeping up your neck.

the house was packed, bodies moving to the beat of the music, laughter and shouting competing with the bass. abby took you by your arm, guiding her through the crowd with ease.

“come on,” abby said, raising her voice over the noise. “first stop: drinks. you're not getting out of this sober.”

you hesitated.

“abby, i don’t really—”

abby turned back to you with a playful grin. “relax, angel. it's just one drink. i'll even pour it myself, so you know it’s safe.”

you reluctantly followed, weaving through the throng of people until you reached a makeshift bar in the kitchen. abby grabbed two red cups and filled them with a mix of soda and something stronger from one of the many bottles scattered across the counter.

“here,” abby said, handing one to you. “we can both loosen up tonight.”

you took the cup, eyeing it warily.

“you’re way too excited about this.”

abby laughed, clinking her cup against yours before taking a long sip.

“what can I say? i’ve been dying to see you let loose.”

you took a hesitant sip, the alcohol burning slightly as it went down.

before long, your cup was empty, replaced by another, and then another.

the party blurred into a haze of laughter, music, and drinks. you felt her usual nerves slipping away, replaced by a lightness you hadn’t felt in years. you leaned against the wall near the kitchen, your fourth drink in hand, giggling at a story abby was telling—though you'd lost the thread of it somewhere in the middle.

“and then — then he tried to explain the difference between a latte and a cappuccino to me,” abby said, her words slightly slurred, her grin wide. “like i haven’t been making coffee since high school. i swear, angel, the guy didn’t even know what foam was.”

you laughed harder than you meant to, your cheeks aching from smiling. “that's… that’s ridiculous,” you managed, your voice unsteady. “i can’t believe you didn’t just walk away.”

“oh, i almost did,” abby said, leaning closer. her breath was warm against your cheek. “but then I thought, what would you do? and i decided to stay and win the argument.”

you rolled your eyes, though your smile didn’t falter. “i don’t argue with people for fun,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

“you argue with me all the time,” abby countered, her grin turning playful. “admit it — you love it.”

you felt her face heat up again, though you blamed the alcohol this time.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, taking another sip of your drink.

“impossible and amazing,” abby said, leaning even closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. “admit it, baby. you’d be bored without me.”

you opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. you looked at abby, your breath hitching slightly. abby's grin softened, her gaze lingering on your face.

“hey,” abby said, her voice quieter now.

“you doing okay? you’re not gonna bail on me, are you?”

you shook your head, your hair falling into your face. “i'm fine,” you said, though your voice wavered.

“just… not used to this.”

abby tilted her head, her expression turning thoughtful. she brushed the strands of hair covering your face and tucked them behind your ear.

“do you want to go outside?”

you nodded. abby grabbed your hand, leading you through the crowd and out the back door into the cool night air.

the backyard was quieter, the music muffled through the walls.

a string of fairy lights hung between the trees, casting a soft glow over the space. you sat on the edge of a wooden bench, your drink forgotten beside you. abby sat down next to you, her knee bumping against yours.

“see? way better,” abby said, tipping her head back to look at the sky. “no people, no noise. Just us.”

you smiled faintly, your shoulders relaxing. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the breeze.

abby turned to you, a lopsided grin on her face. “you're welcome. i’m good at this whole ‘being a great friend’ thing.”

you snorted. “friend?” you teased, your voice tinged with sarcasm. “that’s a new one.”

abby laughed, nudging you with her shoulder. “okay, fine. best project partner-slash-drinking buddy. better?”

you hum in agreement, your smile widening.

you both sat in companionable silence for a moment, the distant hum of the party fading into the background.

you kicked your legs back and forth to the beat of the faint music playing from inside the house.

abby sat next to you, watching you, like she was watching a puzzle she was determined to solve. the alcohol made the air between you heavier, the space too small, and yet, neither of you wanted to move away.

“you’re cute when you’re drunk,” abby said with a grin. her tone was playful, teasing. she nudged you with her shoulder.

you shot her a half-hearted glare, feeling your cheeks heat up, your pulse suddenly racing. “i’m not drunk,” you protested, even though the world around you was beginning to tilt just slightly.

abby laughed, the sound light and infectious. “sure you’re not, angel,” she teased, moving just a little closer. “but you’re definitely loosening up. i like it.”

you opened your mouth to respond but found herself lost for words. abby's closeness, her eyes gazing at you, the way her hand brushed against yours as you rested your hand next to you on the bench — it was all becoming too much. your heart thudded harder in your chest, and you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or something else entirely.

“you always do this,” you mumbled, “you always make things.. confusing.”

abby tilted her head, her smile softening.

“i don’t mean to make it complicated,” she said, her voice quieter now. she reached out, lightly brushing a stray lock of hair from your face again, her fingers grazing your skin. “i just..” she sighed. “i think i like you,”

your breath caught in your throat at the simplicity of abby's words, a shift in the air around them. the alcohol buzzed through your veins, but it was the look in abby's eyes that made you falter. there was something raw in them now, something vulnerable that you hadn’t expected.

“you're drunk,” you said quietly, though the words didn’t come out as sharply as you intended. you couldn’t pull her gaze away from abby, even if you wanted to. it felt like the whole world was narrowing down to just the two of you both in that moment.

abby's smile faded slightly, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned in, her breath warm against your skin.

“so are you,” she murmured, her voice a little rougher than usual.

“but that doesn’t change anything.”

your heart skipped. you felt dizzy, both from the alcohol and the way abby was looking at you, as though she could see right through you. it was terrifying, and yet, you found yourself wanting to give in.

“i don’t know what you want from me,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, feeling small in the silence that surrounded you.

abby's gaze softened, and for a moment, everything went still. “i want you to stop pretending,” she said quietly. “stop pretending like there’s nothing between us.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy and fragile. you swallowed hard, your heart thumping louder in her ears.

“i’m not pretending,” you murmured, but your voice faltered.

“’m just.. scared.”

abby’s eyes never left yours, even when your gaze fell to your lap.

“of me?”

you shook her head, the tension in your body finally giving way.

“of me,” you whispered, barely audible.

you weren't sure why, but the truth felt easier to say now, even if it scared you.

“of feeling something i don’t know how to handle.”

abby’s smile returned, slow and warm.

“it’s okay to be scared, angel,” she said softly.

“but you don’t have to handle it alone.”

before you could respond, abby reached up, cupping your cheek gently, her thumb brushing over your skin. her touch was so soft, so careful, it made your breath hitch in your throat. abby's eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, as though she was silently asking for permission.

your mind was racing. your heart was pounding, your thoughts tangled, but you couldn’t ignore the pull. you couldn’t ignore the way abby was looking at you, the way her touch seemed to calm the whirlwind inside you.

abby leaned in just a little, closing the space between you two.

abby's lips met yours gently at first, almost as if testing the waters. you froze for just a second, feeling the warmth of abby's kiss, the softness, the uncertainty. then, something inside you snapped, and you kissed abby back, a little more eagerly now. the kiss was slow, hesitant, but it felt like everything you both hadn’t said was pouring into it — everything that had been building between you for weeks, in the space between your conversations and teasing glances.

abby's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to abby's cheeks. it was messy and a little clumsy, your bodies still unsteady from the alcohol, but the sensation was electrifying — raw and real and everything you hadn’t known you wanted.

the kiss felt like everything at once — an explosion and a quiet whisper, the culmination of all the moments you'd shared up to this point. but then, as quickly as it had started, you pulled away, your breath coming in sharp gasps. your chest was tight, her face flushed, her heart still racing.

abby looked at you, her eyes wide and filled with something — hope? desire? you couldn’t tell. “angel,” abby whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “are you okay?”

you swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to piece together what had just happened. you didn’t know what to say. you weren't sure what this meant. you weren't even sure what you were supposed to do now.

“i—” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat.

abby leaned back, her eyes searching your face. she smiled faintly, though there was something vulnerable in her expression.

“it’s okay,” abby said softly. “you don’t have to say anything.”

the silence between you two stretched, thick and heavy, as the world around you continued without pause. you looked at abby, your heart still beating wildly in your chest. you both hadn’t confessed anything. you hadn’t figured anything out.

but for now, you simply sat there, unsure of what to say or do. abby's presence felt like a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve, and maybe — just maybe, — that was okay.

chapter i < chapter ii > chapter iii || series masterlist.

@s-summerstar

[gingerteawrites]

"I wanna be yours" - Gojo Satoru

A/N: Fellas, I have returned! Been wanting to post more often, so I'll try actually making a schedule for myself. Anyways, enjoy :)

Content: JJK sorcerer!reader, kind of canon, Gojo x reader, mostly fluff, teeny weeny angst

Gojo Satoru had always gotten everything he wanted in life. Many called him spoiled, but being a prodigy came with its perks. No one ever dared to stand in the way. And those who did never stood for long anyway.

So from the moment you were transferred to Jujutsu High and his crystal eyes laid on you, he knew he wanted you. He marveled at the way you treated your students and fellow staff members. The sweetness of your smile haunted his dreams. He had made up his mind, and nothing could get in the way.

Except you. You got in the way.

"Hey, sweetheart? Wanna grab desserts after classes are done today?" He asks, leaning against your desk as you finish grading your students' tests.

"Sorry Gojo," you look up from your paperwork, adjusting your frames on your nose. "I've got to finish up some lesson plans."

He sulked openly, lips pursed as he lifted his blindfold. Frustration gnawed at his insides. He'd been trying to go out with you one-on-one for months now. But you always found a way to turn him down.

"Can't spare me a little time?" He drew closer. You could feel the cursed energy radiate off of him. Even when he wasn't trying, the Strongest's aura was something that could not be ignored.

"Next time, okay?" Your eyes returned to your papers, and he sighed in defeat.

There was never a "next time".

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

The Kyoto sister-school exchange event had just concluded. Cursed energy flowed through you while you worked on healing the injured students. "Thank you ___-san." Itadori beamed at you, the worn out skin around his knuckles slowly repairing.

"You're welcome Yuuji-kun." You returned the smile, standing up to move towards Shoko who had just finished patching up Maki.

The students, fully healed started to part ways. You made sure everyone was set and after a small debrief with Yaga on the special grades' attacks, you walked outside the main building.

"Is Gojo still meeting with the higher-ups? I can't believe they managed to attack us here." You mused, sitting on one of the benches outside the classrooms with Shoko.

She took a long draw from her cigarette and lazily turned towards you.

"I promise you he would appear right this second if he could." Her smoky voice danced in the afternoon breeze. "Couldn't resist you being here." She spoke as if it was fact.

You shook your head to yourself, looking down at your lap with a chuckle. "Pfft, he's just flirty Ieiri. I don't think too much of it." The idea of having Satoru's attention was not unpleasant. His presence always made your heart beat a little faster, after all. But you would never give yourself false hopes. He could have anyone he wanted, and the prospect was more than enough to make you want to keep your distance.

Shoko just shook her head, the cloud of smoke hanging around her parting when she stood. "If thinking that is what helps you sleep at night," she waved with a turn "I'll see you."

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

Too many things had happened. Getting attacked by multiple special grades, half of the school destroyed, the kids hurt. The balance of the Jujutsu society felt like a wreck and you knew that October 31st spelt even more trouble.

You sat in one of your empty classrooms, head on the desk with your eyes fixed outside the window. You had to prepare for Shibuya. A deep sense of anxiety gnawed at your insides, causing you to close your eyes in hope of some respite.

However, the sound of doors sliding open prompted them open, turning your head to identify the intruder. There stood Gojo with his blindfold off, a rare occurrence.

"Hello, sweetheart." He approached your desk, pulling a chair to sit beside you.

"Hi, Gojo." You replied, tired voice barely carrying through the room. His azure eyes traced your features.

His hand slowly coming up to brush against your cheek. And you didn't pull away. The soothing touch was oh so welcome. It drew you out of the anxious hole your mind was digging.

"Before we go out there." He paused, voice uncharacteristically soft. Smooth. Not putting on a show, but deeply honest. "Before the fighting starts... I need to be sure."

"Sure of what?" You couldn't help but lean into his touch. He chuckled, almost humorlessly.

"I've been trying. In not so subtle ways." He spoke quietly. "I just want to hear you say it. That you truly don't want me."

Your eyes widened, body stilling. The wind blew in through the window, the chill of the outside filling the room.

"Satoru... I..." Your mouth gaped, in a desperate search for words.

"I wanna be yours." He assured, thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Even if it's the last thing I do." He took in a deep breath, drawing closer so that there were only a few inches left between you. "Will you let me?"

Your thoughts melded together into a hazy mush, breath taken away by his words. By his closeness. You weren't sure you could formulate the correct words. To express how much you wanted it too. How much you wanted to be his. How much you reveled in his closeness, despite the parts of your mind that screamed that it was hopeless. That he was too good for you. That this could end too soon for either of you.

So you pushed all thoughts away and acted on instinct. You closed the gap, plush lips meeting his in a tender embrace. Your hand rested along his jaw, pulling him closer and he responded to your invitation, gently slipping a hand around your neck. Your lips moved in a soft tango, rhythm dictated by your frantic hearts. Kissing until your lips were tinted red with passion.

You finally parted and rested your foreheads against each other, and Gojo let out a chuckle, a quiet thing, teeming with joy.

"That was the first time you've called me Satoru."

You smiled. "I want to be yours too, Satoru," he pressed a tender kiss on your cheek, his lips pulled into a wide smile.

The future had never seemed more uncertain, and the balance of the jujutsu world barely hung on by a thread. But in that moment all Gojo could feel was unbridled joy.

"Thank you, my love."

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, my love!

I, unfortunately, missed your requests being open (six pages of a thesis is kicking my ass right now) but when they’re open again, is there a chance you could write another Dad!Price fic?

Since the last one felt so personal to me, would it be possible to have Price helping his daughter through Uni stress? Maybe she asks him to help her on her thesis? Lord knows I could use some inspo/assistance on mine!

Of course, if this is too late then feel free to delete it! I just wanted to pop in and drop a request off before I either, A: forgot about it, or B: missed your requests being open the next time :(

Sending so much love and hugs <3

Late Night Cookies

PAIRING: John Price x Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Stressed and still awake, you go to grab food from the kitchen before you get right back into your work. Your father talks some sense into you over a nostalgic recipe.

WORDCOUNT: 1.5k

WARNINGS: Stress around school, grades, papers, etc. but 90% fluff and comfort

A/N: I'm so glad you sent something in, Love! So good to hear from you again!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your eyes were blurry and your hands were shaking, the table light shining too brightly in the stillness of your bedroom as a cold breeze wafts through the cracked window. 

The words swirled on your computer screen, sitting in front of you as your head slipped forward. Letters bleed into nonsense sentences that even a genius couldn’t make sense out of. There were weights on your fingers—keeping them stuck to the keys. 

“And, thus,” your garbled speech slips out, reading the line you’d just written; eyes squinting as your headache flares. “A-and…thus…” 

Shaking your head, you pull back and press your palms into your eyesockets, your spine flopping back with an audible crack as it straightens from hours of hunched torture. A groan slips out of your lips. 

“Shit,” you growl, sighing harshly. 

University, while necessary, was really your worst enemy right now—you’re constantly stressed and getting little sleep; when was the last time you’d eaten? Pages upon pages of typed research seer your eyes while closed. Only in this tight silence of your room were you able to hear the small sounds of the TV on in the house as it wafts in from under the line of your door. 

Your hands slip down your face as you stare blankly at your ceiling, eyes burning with fatigue. The muffled shouts from football games play in your ears. 

Humming, you push back from your desk and stand, stumbling for a second as your numb legs get prickles of electricity shooting through them. You needed food, water, even. Then you can get back into it. On the way out you snatch a blanket from the frame of your bed, wrapping it over your shoulders to preserve heat. 

Like a snail, you shuffle over the hardwood before finally pushing out into the hallway with only a small bump into the door frame. Hissing, the darkness of the house was good, and before long you’d grumbled past the large form laying on the living room couch in need of any form of sustenance. So brain-fried, you end up completely missing the small questioning ask of your name as Liverpool fights off another rival on-screen. Slashing colors dance across the darkness. 

The hand on your shoulder, though, you can’t miss.

“Sweetheart?” Your father’s voice brings you back from blankly nodding off into his chest as he turns you around. You jerk back with a rapid fluttering of your eyelashes. 

“Yeah?” Your voice slurs, croaky, and you rub again at your cheeks with the corner of your blanket. “What’s up?”

Blue eyes blink down at you in shock at your state, small noise made in the back of the large man’s throat. “Hell’s this, then? Thought you were sleeping already.”

“Sleeping?” The tone is incredulous, a bit of sanity leaking back into your speech. You look up into your dad’s face and his tight beard; his eyebrows are curled in. “I’m not even close to being done. I can’t sleep yet.” 

John blinks slowly, gaze darting from the sizable bags under your eyes to the redness of your sclera—the veins that reach for your irises like infectious fingers. His grip on you tightens. 

“When’s the last time you took a break, Love?” He asks slowly, taking you by the shoulders and bending down a little. He looks concerned. “It’s bloody dark out.”

You stare and huff a sheepish, tired, smile while your dad’s expression tightens with exasperation. He blinks in disbelief at your non-answer, answer. 

“Fuckin’ hell…c’mon, Sunshine, off to bed.” Your head is already shaking.

“I’m hungry.” John sighs, and the air ruffles your hair. But he relents and before you know it there’s a hand on the back of your shoulders corralling you into the kitchen. You lean heavily into your father’s side, and his fingers curl over your opposite arm. 

A soft kiss is pressed to your head. 

“How long have you been up, eh?” You yawn and lick your lips. Flinching when John flicks the kitchen light on. Burrowing down into your blanket, you seep in his heat like a greedy lizard. “Sweetheart?”

“Dunno,” you’re guided over to the island and plopped down into a chair. “I need to finish my work.” 

He chuckles and you slouch over to fold your arms, resting your chin on them. “Well, I suppose you plan on finishing it half-asleep?” 

John opens the fridge, looking over the small remnants of supper. He frowns and turns to look at you as your face lays sideways on your limbs. You blink slowly at him.

“...Maybe,” you grumble, face hot. 

Your father grunts and closes the fridge, turning back around and crossing his arms. 

“No more of this, eh?” He begins, glaring and infecting his words with that infectious authority. “After we get you fed, you’re off to bed. That’s that.” 

You’re about to protest before your dad interrupts with a stern growl of your name. You grit your teeth and shamefully dip your head. There’s a moment of silence where the outside sounds of wind and creaking can be heard—the entire world asleep beside the father and daughter in the dim kitchen.  

John tilts his head and softens his face; feet carrying him over. Stopping beside you, he places his hand on your scalp and pats you gently, rubbing his thumb into your hair. Lashes flutter, and your body sags into the counter even more. Your father kisses your head and whispers, “You need your sleep, Sweetheart. This’ll do you no good. Pace yourself, you’ll get it done—I promise, yeah?”

“How do you know?” Your voice mutters, hesitation finally showing itself. Eyes stare at the table, red and dry. 

Your father chuckles and you glance back. He’s smiling in his own way, wrinkles showing and eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You’ve gotten this far. My girl’s not one to give it up. And even if you do,” he stands and pats your shoulder before he heads to the pantry. Your expression leaks slight confusion as he opens the door. “We can figure it out together. It’s not the bloody end of the world. It’ll pass.” 

Your internal anxiety eases at your parent's reassurance, his casual surety more of a blanket than the one you already swaddle yourself with. The subtle anxious shaking of your fingers stills after a moment of cognition. Stuffing down another yawn, you feel a warmth burn in your heart at the words and you smile. 

“When did you get all wise?” You tease, seeing John take out various ingredients as you watch. He scoffs.

“The second I got the call I was needed in hospital and had a damn daughter.” You laugh. 

“Alright, then,” your sarcastic reply slips out, and John chuckles lowly. After a moment you can’t stop your curiosity, no matter how much your limbs stay heavy. “What are you doing?”

A large bowl had been placed on the counter with a dull thunk. Blue eyes darted at you before measuring cups were spawned next to the previous object. 

“What’s it look like, then?” John’s finger casually points to a recipe that had been set up on the wall, a thin and damaged piece of paper with chicken scratch; stains, and crumpled corners. You blink at it in recognition.

“...Cookies?”

“You want chips or cinnamon?” 

Watching with wide eyes, you clear your throat and utter, “Uh, c-chips, I guess?” John grunts and focuses with a calm face. The recipe had been a sort of inside joke between the two of you. 

When your dad was off on assignment for long periods, you’d always make him a batch when he was set to leave and when he came back—a kind of soothing gesture to ease the uncertainty. To let him know you’d be alright without him here. 

He made them for you when you were sick or feeling bad. You blink quickly to dispel the sudden wetness of your eyes. 

“You helping?” John asks, not turning to you, as he dumps flour into the bowl. “Won’t taste right if you don’t.” A cheeky tone hits your ears. 

Standing, you shuffle over and grab at the chocolate bag, digging inside and stealing a few before your dad can stop you. He gives you a fake glare, huffing under his breath before smirking to himself.

Your body leans into his side and you giggle as he rubs his beard into your head. 

—

Hours later, you rest limply against your dad’s shoulder on the living room couch, empty plate on the coffee table and the TV low. You breathe softly and get the sleep you both deserve and need—of course, the work would start back up tomorrow, but it always would. Having your dad in your corner was the thing to keep you upright; your rock. 

John looks down and watches you with a deep well of affection and ease. He kisses your head before his arms reach around you, lifting with no problem. 

He carries his little girl, because that was what you would always be, off to bed and tucks you in. Snapping off your desk lamp with a small sigh of contentment and a low hum.

TAGS:

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[hmar177]

DALLAS WINSTON ONE SHOT <3

******SMUTTTTTTTYYYYY******

I'm not sure when I stopped loving Jack, but I know it crept out of the subconscious of my mind the second I saw that damn photo. I know I shouldn't feel this way, Jack is perfect. He comes from a good family, he's sweet and charming, he gets along with my friends and brings my mom flowers everytime he comes over. He was everything I could have dreamed for myself. He is who I should want. But that damn picture of Dallas Winston.

I wish he had just stayed on his side like he was supposed to.

My predicament started a few months ago when I was walking home from school. I had to stay late after my final class to run over a few plans with the committee for the dance coming up. It was my first dance that I was fully running myself and I was over the moon about it. I loved planning big events like this. My brain worked meticulously over every detail and it was so satisfying watching it all come together.

After I had finished my meeting with Sally and Davis, I found myself taking my normal walk home. It was a beautiful day out. The sun was just low enough in the sky to cast a gentle, warm glow on my face, the leaves left a quiet hum in my ears, and I found myself inhaling the glorious scent of the freshly landscaped houses as if the scent would live forever in my lungs if I breathed deep enough.

As I rounded the last corner before my street, I heard loud screeching coming from behind me. A car full of what seemed to be 4 or 5 rowdy boys came barreling down the street. Blasting loud rock music and howling like a pack of wolves, the boys came up fast. I stopped in place and watched as they came closer. They slowed up ever so slightly as they passed me, giving me a good chance to glance into the vehicle. I didn't recognize them, but I did recognize the driver. Dallas Winston.

With his sunglasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose and a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth, he held my eyes as he cruised by. I can't tell if I imagined it or not, but I thought I caught a hint of a smirk on his face before he punched the accelerator once more and took off before I could even register the entire exchange. It almost felt like I had just hallucinated that whole sequence.

What were a bunch of greasers doing over here on the west side? Not that I ever had anything against them, I just figured they would want to stay clear of a bunch of privileged, snotty folks who are constantly after their demise.

I had never met Dallas before, but I knew bits and pieces about him. Grew up with a rough homelife, dropped out of school, and even wound up in prison for a while. Everyone in this town saw Dallas and all the greasers as less than. I saw them as kids who just had shit luck when it came to the parents department.

I knew some greasers. There were quite a few in my grade, like Sodapop Curtis. He was one of the sweetest kids I ever met. Had a heart of gold, and a boatload of love for some girl Sandy he always seemed to mention. Soda dropped out a few months ago though after his parents both died tragically in a car accident. Another example of kids with shit luck and no ones around this town to sympathize for them.

Later that night, I found myself sitting at my desk trying to work on my short story. I was assigned by my English teacher to write a short story loosely based on a truly exciting and invigorating time in my life that made me feel alive. The only problem was I have never had an experience in my life that could remotely be described as such.

Everyday, I wake up, go to school, go to event committee meetings, or to my internship at the local newspaper, The Tulsa Chronicles. After all that, I either come home and do homework, or just hangout at the drive in with my friends and my boyfriend Jack. Nothing about my routine is special or interesting. It never changes and I don't see it altering anytime soon. In a town with so little to do, it is quite the tall order to ask us to find something interesting to write about.

I want to be a writer some day, so when I can't complete a simple short story for school, it horrifies me that I may be chasing after a hopeless dream. I intern at the Tulsa Chronicles in hope of it being a good addition to my college applications, but for now I am just helping with the printing and shipping of the papers. One of the editors told me if I had a writing piece that I was proud of, I could pass it along to them and they could give it a read and see if there were any opportunities for me to write something for the paper soon. I was hoping this short story could be that piece that I was proud of, but that is looking like a pipe dream now.

After staring at my blank paper for what feels like hours, I decide tonight is not the night that I am going to find any inspiration, so I turn out the lights and climb into bed. Maybe my dreams will inspire me. Maybe I'll dream of those greasers, flying through neighborhoods and screaming, sounding like they are high on the freedom that life has to offer. I want a taste of what they are having.

The next day is the same as all the other ones, not to anyone's surprise. I woke up, went to school, and made my way over to the Tulsa Chronicles. When I walked in, the newsroom was buzzing much more than normal. In a town as boring as Tulsa, there is not a ton of news to report, so when the newsroom was like this, something major must have happened.

“Rose, get to the printer stat. We need to start loading up these boxes now!” my boss Susan yelled from across the room.

“On it!” I let her know.

As I made my way to the printer, pages were flying out faster than I have ever seen before. This must be a big story if they have the printers working this hard.

Page after page, I watched them stack into a nice pile until the cover page finally flew out.

It read, “Delinquent youths turn heroes after daring fire rescue”

Right next to the title, I saw their faces, Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Caid, and Dallas Winston.

Pony and Johnny's pictures didn't shock me. Cherry Valance told me a few days ago how sweet and kind they had been to her at the drive in and they always seemed like kind approachable kids. But cherry had also mentioned that Pony and Johnny had protected her from, Dallas Winston

Dallas had always seemed so cold and foreboding. Even his smirk from yesterday's drive by left a chill down my spine. It wasnt that I was afraid of him, but Dallas Winston wasn't someone you just assumed you could become fast friends with. You had to earn his loyalty to be seen with him. His picture being tagged alongside this story seemed extremely out of character. Dallas had his family of greasers and he had himself. There wasn't much else he was looking after. Especially not strangers in some random church fire.

I picked up the front page and looked at it very closely. Part of me didn't want to assume like the rest of this town that this was a mistake, but a bigger part of me couldn't help but think this wasn't true. Dallas Winston saving children he didn't know? Dallas didn't walk by a child in the street without trying to terrify them in some way. Something isn't adding up. Were we all utterly wrong about him? I couldn't help but just stare at his picture, trying to see him run into that burning church. Coming out covered in ash, carrying a couple kids in his arms and placing them down gently before rushing back inside to save more. I felt a twinge in my chest. Something I haven't felt before.

“Rose! Quit daydreaming and pack up those papers. The delivery service will be here in 20 to take those boxes out. They better be filled!” Susan yelled.

“Yes of course.” I replied, suddenly taken out of my temporary, and odd trance.

As I loaded each paper into the boxes, my eyes lingered a little too long on Dallas’s face as each paper piled onto the next. After what must have been hundreds of papers, I “accidentally” misplaced one in my bag sitting next to me. I don't know why I took it. I would surely be getting one of these papers delivered to my house within the next day or so, but part of me wanted to just have this for me. I also didn't want to explain to my dad why I needed his morning paper, the one I had helped package and ship out and have had access to for over a day.

After loading the last box and as a sudden calmness came over the newsroom, it was finally time to head home. I grabbed my bag, making sure the paper was tucked in enough so that it wouldn't be seen, said goodnight to the staff, and made my way out.

As I walked out of the building, I looked up to see Jack leaned up against his shiny new sports car that his parents just bought him as a good job for making the basketball team present. It sounds ridiculous and it is ridiculous. When you come from money like Jack's family, there are very few occasions that don't involve an illustrious gift such as the sports car he now leans against.

I say all this with complete understanding that I come from a family very similar to Jacks. I am privileged and I know that, but I don't see that as a reason to act any differently towards others. Why should the number that's on my fathers paychecks determine whether I am a better person than others? It doesn't. But people like Jack feel that it does. But Jack makes me smile, and my mother hasn't shut up about those lilies he brought her this past weekend when he was over for dinner. Who could hate Jack, right?

“Hey there honey. How was the journalism world today?” Jack says with a smile as he opens the passenger side door for me to get in. Jack picks me up whenever he's in the area and he knows I'm here. It's very sweet of him. Another reason to love him, right?

“Busy. There was a big story today so there were a lot more papers to print and ship.” I told him.

“Really! What was the story?” He asked.

I hesitated for a second.

“Oh I don't remember. I didn't really get a chance to read it. Too busy getting them into boxes.” I explained. I don't know why I lied. I think a part of me felt guilty about the things I felt and thought as I looked at Dallas’s picture the past few hours and another part of me wanted to keep Dallas to myself for a bit longer because by morning everyone would be talking about him. More people would be picturing him as this grand hero, and I still wanted to be the only one who saw him that way.

The rest of the ride, we sat in comfortable silence. That was the best way to describe me and Jack's relationship. Comfortable. Our parents set us up freshman year of highschool and we fell into the narrative with ease. He was cute and popular. It made sense why I should want him, so I convinced myself I did. And it worked for a while. A long while now. But as we come towards the midway point of Junior year, I'm not too sure how much longer I can convince myself that Jack is what I want. But what would be my reason for leaving him? He was too nice to my parents? He made one too many jokes that made all my friends laugh? He was too popular? Too athletic? On paper he was perfect. Trying to tell anyone that my time with Jack was coming to an end would make me sound like the biggest fool. So I just stayed. There was no reason to leave, even though I wanted there to be so badly.

We pulled up to the front of my house and he came around and opened my door. I thanked him and looked up to my house. The big, beautiful white home sat on top of the hill at the top of my street with a huge porch that wrapped around the whole house, and perfectly painted blue shutters. It was truly out of a magazine and I was eternally grateful for being able to be raised in a home as beautiful as this one. The dining room light shined bright and I knew my parents were in there waiting for me to arrive so we could have dinner as a family. Jack took my hand and walked me to the door. My mother opened it as we took the final step onto the porch.

“Jack!’ My mother said, “How kind of you to bring Rose home. Won't you come in and join us for dinner.”

A pit immediately formed in my stomach.

“I'd love-” Jack started before I cut him off.

“I'm actually not feeling very well so I think I am just gonna go to bed.” I quickly sputtered out. Facing Jack I said, “Maybe another night.”

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing up the stairs and straight into my room before anyone else could say anything. That was definitely rude of me, but the thought of having to sit next to Jack for the next hour, knowing I smuggled home a paper with the only intention of staring at the man on the cover made me extremely nauseous. I may not feel for Jack the way I used to, but I wouldn't be disrespectful, and if I was gonna be disrespectful, I wasn't gonna allow him to eat dinner with me and my family as if everything was fine and dandy.

I sat down on my bed and immediately removed the paper from my bag. It wasn't often that I had strange outbursts such as the one I just had downstairs, so I knew my parents would leave me be for a while. I took the paper, and got comfortable. Reading the entire article front and back and learning that what the title states was indeed true, I took the cover and discarded the rest of the pages. Holding Dallas’s picture up, I thought about the words in the article and how they described the man I was looking at. Bold. Courageous. Brave. Not words I would initially think of when I heard the name Dallas Winston.

His face held hard lines in his jaw and forehead. He had strong dark features and striking eyes. He was beautiful in a rugged and tired way. A way that you never see here in the west side neighborhoods. I was mesmerized by his stern stare. I wanted to know everything about him and I wanted to know it now. I wanted to spend a day with him and learn what it took to earn his trust. To earn a glance from those haunting eyes. The way he looked at me as he rode past me in his car yesterday felt like a shot of espresso. It jolted something awake inside of me. I needed another hit. I craved it.

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, my body was up and at my desk. I was opening my drawer and pulling out a pair of scissors. I slowly and carefully cut around his face making sure not to accidentally trim anything important off, because truthfully it was all important. He was important and I needed to know why.

I held the small picture of Dallas Winston between my fingers, holding as close to the edge as possible, with fear I might smudge it, and I grabbed a piece of tape. Walking over to my bed, I taped the picture on my wall right next to where my head lays when I sleep. I could hide it during the day behind my pillows when I made my bed. It was just for me. He was my new interest. He was my excitement that I had been looking for, I just had to find a way to make these little daydreams something real. As I crawled into bed with the image of dark raven eyes flashing through my mind, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, Jack, my parents, and Tulsa all feeling like a distant memory rather than my reality.

It could have been 3 hours or 3 minutes, but before I knew it, I was woken up by the sound of my desk lamp falling to the ground and a soft breeze coming from my window that I was sure was closed when I got into bed. I shot up like an arrow and reached for the lamp on my bedside table, flicking it on as fast as I could. As the light flooded the room, I was immediately met with the eyes I saw as I lulled myself to sleep. I had to be imagining him right? Dallas Winston stood right there in the middle of my bedroom, standing at least 6 foot 2, drowning in his leather jacket, with his signature blue jeans, and a black eye that was shining through even in the dim lighting.

“Dallas?” I began before he ran over to my bed and clasped his hand around my mouth and the other one slid behind my head keeping me quiet and still.

Slowly he shook his head as if to tell me, now is not a time for talking. I assumed he was scared my parents would hear him, which I am now realizing never even crossed my mind. My parents would lose their minds if they strolled into my room right now to find a greaser, Dallas Winston worst of all, standing in my bedroom at, I flashed my eyes to my clock, 2am. But my parents never even entered my head, nothing really entered my head. Not fear, not my parents, not jack. All I could think about was that incredible shot of adrenaline I felt when I saw him, and coming up with a plan to make him stay as long as possible so I didn't have to stop this feeling.

All of a sudden I heard sirens, and red and blue lights flash past the house at a high speed. I looked up at Dallas who was looking out the window to make sure the coast was clear. His hands were still firmly placed around my head. I studied his face while he wasn't paying attention to me, just as I was doing last night. But this was ten times better. The picture didn't do him justice. He was gorgeous. A light sheen of sweat coated his forehead from running I assumed, and his hair drooped gently in front of his eyes, giving him a rugged elvis look. I could stare at him for hours and not get bored for a second.

Once he saw that he was in the clear, he slowly brought his attention back to me. He studied my face for a second, a small shimmer of something in his eyes but I don't know what it was. After a moment he brought his eyes around my room, studying the pictures and posters on my walls that I'm sure I'll be embarrassed about later, to the books on my nightstand, and with another flick of his gaze, he was locked in on something behind me. He stared long and hard and I couldn't think of what it could be. He slowly came inclose, his lips right next to my ear.

“Well I'll be damned. Looks like I have a fan.” He whispered, his warm breath hitting my neck.

My eyes widened, the picture. Dallas WInston was looking at the picture of him I cut out and taped next to my bed.

“Now tell me darling, if I remove my hands, can you stay quiet and not let anyone know I am here? Because I do have a few questions about this I'd like to ask.” He said quietly with a shit eating grin on his face, so good, that it could seduce the Queen of England.

I slowly nod. Why am I not terrified right now? A known felon is standing in my room right now in the middle of the night. He snuck in my window in an attempt to run from the cops. I am harboring a criminal right now as we speak and all I can think about is how I can end things with Jack so that this lasts forever.

“Good Girl.” He says softly, then slowly takes his hands off my mouth, immediately missing the feel of his touch. God I was so fucked.

He pulled over my desk chair and took a seat right in front of me, our knees almost touching. He held the picture between his fingers looking at it, then up to me.

“So tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing hanging up pictures of bad Dallas Winston on her pretty pink bedroom walls?” He asks.

I think I stopped breathing. What was I supposed to say? There was no real explanation for why I hung up the picture other than I was chasing a feeling I couldn't even name. I stared blankly trying to say anything, trying to think of something to say that would make him as interested in me as I was in him.

“Well?” He pushed after I sat there stunned for I don't even know how long.

“Uhh, I, Uh….. I think I want to feel what you feel.” I said. Shit. That didn't even make any sense. He for sure thought I was crazy. He looked at me puzzled.

“Honey, the last thing you want is to feel what I feel.” He gave a small laugh that created small needles in the back of my throat and moved to get up.

“I want to feel alive. I want to be reckless and have fun. You have fun, don't you?” I said quickly, anything coming out of my mouth was just a hidden plea for him to stay.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked back over to me. The moon casting a soft glow on his hard features. The shimmer in his eyes came back for a second. He slowly sat back down.

“Oh, I have fun. But the kind of fun I have would give a soc like you nightmares.” He said with venom on his tongue. I couldn't tell if he was threatening me or daring me to push him more.

“Show me.” I whispered. Dally smirked at me pondering my dare for a split second, before he slid his switchblade knife out of his pocket and softly dragged the blade from my fingertips, up my arm, and across my collar bone. Every hair on my body stood straight up. My breath hitched ever so slightly and he moved the blade to my neck and held it there.

Part of me was truly scared, and another part of me felt that there was something a bit performative too. Dallas Winston wasn't going to hurt me. I knew that for a fact. He leaned in close, taking a strand of my hair in his other hand, and brought his lips to my ear.

“Are you having fun yet?” He said. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the smirk in his words.

I backed away so I could meet his eyes. A fire raged behind them. I would give anything to look inside his brain, even for just a moment. I smiled at him and I could see the excitement grow. I don't know why, but I liked what was happening. I liked the uncertainty of what he was going to say and do, and I liked that I trusted him for no reason at all.

“I think I like you more than I should.” I say. I don't know why I said that. I wasn't even embarrassed that I did. It was like being close to him unlocked a new version of myself that I didn't know existed. A version of myself that had confidence and a desire to push the limits. I felt alive.

“Do you like me more than your boyfriend?” He grinned.

“Do you want me to?” I challenged. He grinned and his gaze flicked down to my lips for a moment before it returned to my eyes. The knife at my throat is all but forgotten.

“Let's make a deal. If I can kiss better than a soc, you have to go out with me.” He said.

“And if you can't?” I said, barely a whisper.

“Oh honey, there are very few things I can't do.” He said leaning in and attaching his lips to mine. I felt the knife hit the bed next to me as I melted into his kiss and his hands wrapping around my face.

It was soft and slow for all but a moment, before I knew it he was laying me down on the bed and forcing his tongue into my mouth. I guess it wasn't forcing it, more like me waiting for it and craving it.

My hands roamed his body, feeling his toned muscles through his thin black tee shirt. I slid his leather jacket off, as his hands found their way under my shirt. He planted his hand on my stomach and pushed me down to the mattress keeping me in place. A breeze gently floated in from the window, and it made me hyper aware of the slickness that was now coating my thighs.

His mouth moved to my cheek and then to my neck. I clasp one of my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. He placed his thigh between my legs allowing me to move my hips to get some relief.

God what was I doing? How did it come to me grinding on Dallas Winston in my bed at 2 in the morning. I couldn't bring myself to stop though. It was all too much. Too good.

“How am I doing sweetheart?” He said in my ear before he brought his face back up to look me in the eyes. “I think the tears in your eyes are telling me that I'm gonna see you tomorrow night.”

I moaned into his shoulder, as I felt his hand trail down my abdomen and underneath my waistband. He teased there for a moment, smirking down at me waiting for me to stop him, but there was no way in hell I wanted this to ever end. I gave him a quick nod before he cupped me over my underwear. He quickly covered my mouth with his own as he knew I was about to moan. He chuckled softly into the kiss.

“My God Dallas. Oh my god” I moaned into his mouth.

“I am a God, aren't I?” He growled before sliding his fingers underneath my underwear and inside of me. The pleasure was so overwhelming, that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out. He groaned from the pain, but I knew he liked it.

As his fingers pumped in and out of me, he slowly started to grind himself into my hip. He was hard. I felt him poking through his tight jeans, begging to be let out.

“Dallas. I want you.” I begged. I need more of him. I need him closer.

He removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty. I looked up at him and he immediately placed his fingers into his mouth, sucking me off of them. I let out a moan. He was trailing kisses down my chest, then my stomach, never taking his eyes off of me.

“I know baby, I know. Not yet though.” He assured me. “I just need a little taste first.”

He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and my underwear and slowly pulled them down, never stopping his trail of kisses that now led down my leg.

“So beautiful.” He whispered to himself as he was now eye level with my core. “Spread your legs for me baby.” I do what I'm told. “That's it. Good Girl. Now lay back and let me worship you.”

Dallas wastes absolutely no time diving right in and taking all of me into his mouth. He licks from top to bottom and back again before taking my clit into his mouth and sucking. “So sweet.” He moans into me.

I have to grab the pillow on my bed and cover my face because the scream I almost let out would have surely woken up the entire neighborhood. Dallas’s name on the tip of my tongue. The name about to escape with every moan that shoots through me, which would not only let the town know I was in the middle of the most erotic moment of my life, but also it was Dallas Winston that was buried between my legs.

I feel one of Dallas’s hands remove from my thigh and I look down to see what he was doing. I look down to see Dallas’s mouth still attached to my clit, but his eyes boring into mine with the most seductive look I have ever seen in my life. Without ever looking away from me, Dallas removes his mouth, now just an inch away from me, and takes a little gold foil packet out of his pocket and takes it straight to his mouth. He rips the foil open with his teeth and slides the condom out.

He stands up. His 6 foot 2, god-like stance, looming over me, made me feel so small and helpless on my bed. God, I wish I could be a fly on the wall right now, wanting to see what I might look like. My shirt pushed up, shorts and underwear thrown about the room somewhere, My hair probably a mess, and tears staining my face as Dallas Winston stands over me, slowly unbuckling his belt.

He smirks down at me and he pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his erection and my god it was big. I honestly didn't know if it was gonna fit inside of me. Right on cue, as if he could read my mind, Dallas says, “Don't be scared darling, you can handle it.”

He goes to put on the condom, but I sit up quickly, grabbing his hand, stopping him. “Can I do it?” I ask him. He looks down at me with hooded eyes and a smirk that could kill.

“Fuck yeah you can.” he says in a breathy tone as he hands me the condom. I take the condom out of his hand and hesitantly grab his dick. A low grumble comes from his throat as I give it a little pump before rolling on the condom.

The second it's on, he pushes me on my back, and comes down on top of me. He starts to position himself at my entrance and looks me in the eyes. “Baby, as much as I want this to last forever, I'm not gonna last very long.” He leans in kissing me hard and chuckles against my lips and I smile at his words. Yeah, me neither.

I take a deep breath and he thrusts inside of me. I clasp my arms around his neck and hug him as close to me as possible. He is big and it hurts so good. I bite into his shoulder again trying to distract myself from the pain, but also from the fact that my orgasm is seconds away and he just got inside of me.

He whimpers in my ear as I kiss his neck profusely. He finds a steady pace that has me borderline drooling. “God Dallas, don't stop. It feels so good.” I barely get out because I can barely catch my breath. I shoot one of my hands out and feel something sharp hit my finger. I look down to see Dallas’s knife still sitting next to us on the bed. It must have nicked my finger. Before I can register what's happened, Dallas takes my bloodied finger and sucks it into his mouth while holding my gaze. His eyes were hooded, and looking drunk off sex.

“Come for me baby. Come on. I know you're there. Show me how good I make you feel.” He begs me. Between his words, and my finger in his mouth, I'm there in a second. Burying my face into his neck, my orgasm rips through me harder than it ever has before. My nails digging into his bicep and a drip of sweat going down my forehead. Dallas still thrusts into me hard and fast for a moment more before he takes my lips into his and I feel his dick twitch as he spills into the condom.

He lays on top of me, breathing heavily in my ear for what feels like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. He slowly removed himself from me, then pushed up so he was hovering over me again. He smiled down at me as I grabbed his face with my hands, pulling him down to kiss me. His kiss was so gentle, the word love flew through my head, but it was only a fraction of a thought.

I brushed my finger over his cheek bone, before noticing my finger was still bleeding. I brought it to my face, inspecting the cut. It wasn't deep at all. Just a knick. Dallas took my finger to his lips and planted a soft kiss to the cut. Adab of blood coating his lip, only for a second before he licked it off.

“What time are you free tomorrow?” He asks as he nuzzles his face into my neck, no doubt leaving more hickeys.

“Maybe around 7?” I told him. “I just have to go break up with Jack, and then I'm all yours.” I giggled lightly. He came back up and looked at me with the most serious expression I saw all night.

“All mine.” He smiled.

***hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!!! DALLAS WINSTON I LOVE YOU***

[letstripdotcom]

cold- matt sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n: i’ve looked at my first fic so many times that i’m starting to hate it so i’m gonna try and change up my style a little bit!

summary- due to the freezing weather, the triplets have to stay with you until the weather lets up

warnings- smutttt🤷‍♀️ kinda longgg but i rly like a good build up so bare with me

i have known nick matt and chris for as long as i can remember. our parents were best friends all throughout highschool, so growing up we spent every second together. I have a single mother, who raised me and my twin brother nate, so she always said marylou was just another parent for us.

they were there for all my birthday parties, they were there when my parents fought, they were there when i broke my leg for the first time, my first crush, every first day of school, and so much more.

nick was my all time best friend, i told him every detail about my life. he knew every one of my secrets. he knew all of my crushes, all of my fears, he was there when i got my first period, i called him after i had sex for the first time, and he was there when i cried in his arms after getting my heart shattered for the first time.

nick was basically the male version of me, so it was no surprise to him when i told him i had a crush on his triplet brother, matt. “it was obvious when you asked him to teach you how to ride a bike instead of me” he said popping candy into his mouth “nick i was like 9” i laughed. “the truth always unfolds” he says in a singy-songy voice “plus you’re the only person who laughs at his stupid jokes”

nick was right, every time matt would tell a joke it was like everything in the world was so funny. it was always like that around matt. every time i saw him it was like i had no control over my actions. i was just as close with him as i was nick and chris, but it was just different.

i discovered i had feelings for matt the summer before 8th grade. we were all at that age where you’ve just hit puberty and everything changes. we were out by the pool hanging out like the 5 of us always did when matt suddenly came up behind me, picked me up, and jumped in the water. after i got back up he made sure i was okay before laughing at me, and i laughed with him. he looked me in the eyes and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. my heart fluttered

matt had always been so sweet to me, but this summer it was different. we spent so much time together. we were attached at the hip for the rest of the summer. that was until school started back, and we didn’t have any classes together so we never had time to talk

one day a new kid came into my class and he was super cute. the teacher sat him in the empty desk next to me and we immediately hit it off. “hey i’m derek” he spoke as he sat down. “y/n!” i replied flashing him a sweet smile. we sat by eachother for the rest of the semester. one day he needed help with the work, so i gave him my number to talk to me after school. that night we stayed up on the phone for hours.

he finally asked me out on valentine’s day. i knew that deep down i still had feelings for matt, but i had to put them aside and focus fully on derek. we dated all the way from eighth grade to the middle of sophomore year. he broke up with me after the homecoming dance, and for a while i thought my world was going to end.

i left the dance early with nate and the triplets, and cried with them by my side for hours. once they went to bed, nick stayed in my room with me and i cried in his arms for hours. the next morning when i went down stairs, there was a basket of all my favorite candies, a blanket, and a card that read “i’m super sorry about the breakup. i love you so big and hope you get better soon. love, matt” i called matt and thanked him for the basket.

fast forward through sophomore and junior year, and now it’s winter break of our senior year. nick and i are still best friends, but me and matt aren’t nearly as close as we used to be. and just to clarify, winter in boston is terrible. it never gets above 20 degrees, and it occasionally gets higher than 10. right now, we were currently in the middle of a snow storm, so we were trapped inside. my days consisted of watching my favorite movies while occasionally being bothered by nate.

it was getting late, so i decided to get in the shower. i grab my usual sleep wear, a small tank top and whatever pajama shorts i have in my drawer. i was home alone, but about 20 minutes into my shower i hear ringing at my doorbell. i hurry up and get dried off and dressed, when the doorbell rings again. “coming!” i yell as i hurry down the steps

i open the door as i’m greeted by a strong gust of cold air, and my 3 favorite faces. “hey guys come in!” i said as i stepped out of the way “our pipes are entirely frozen until the ground defrosts, nate said we could stay here for a bit” nick said explaining the sudden visit. just as matt walked through the door, he leaned down close to my ear and whispered “you must be so cold in that outfit.” i looked down at ny chest, my nipples clearly hard from the cold air. fuck. i quickly ran upstairs to cover myself before coming back downstairs.

“nice hoodie” is all i hear then i look up to see matt staring at me. i look down to see the hoodie i was wearing. it was one matt gave me last winter when i didn’t have anything to wear one night at their house. i smile back at him and say “yeah i got it from this really weird kid on the side of the road once” “he must have good taste” he said matching my energy.

that was the thing about matt. i could go forever without talking to him and still feel like it had only been a day. as the three got settled on the couch. i grabbed blankets from my basket and distributed them. “aww no way you still have that!” chis said referring to my blanket. i looked at it and noticed it was the blanket matt gave me after my breakup. i know it’s old, but it’s always been my favorite blanket. i used it on every occasion, and it’s seen many tears.

as the movie started i couldn’t help but stare at matt when he wasn’t looking. the way the screen lit his face so perfectly in the dark light of the living room. then he opened up his phone and began typing. i few minutes later, i hear my phone go off.

matt: you seemed so cold earlier i’m glad my hoodie and blanket can keep you warm.

me: i’m glad too 😛🥶

matt: i almost forgot how good you looked in my hoodies.

me: matt what?

matt: you know how i feel about you.

just because you changed in 8th grade doesn’t mean i forgot about us.

i put my phone down and ran to my room. all it took was one text from matt and now i’m all hot and bothered. i sat on my bed trying to catch my breath. once i my hands stopped shaking so dramatically, i started typing up a text for nick.

before i could hit send, i heard footsteps coming up my stairs. “nick?” i said my voice obviously trembling. “sorry it’s just me” matt said entering my room. “look y/n i didn’t mean to scare you i jus-“ i cut him off my smashing my lips on to his. after a second i pulled back and immediately felt regret

“matt i’m sorry” i said “don’t apologize” before i had time to speak again he was kissing me hard. eventually the kissing turned into a very heated makeout. he sat down on the bed and i straddled him on his lap. both of us were clearly very needy. our teeth clashed and we groaned into each other’s mouths. i had my hands running through matt’s hair tugging on his brown curls.

he squeezed my ass and pulled me closer to him causing me to moan. i grinded on his lap steadily as we kissed eachother making him groan several times. his hands gripped my waist as my hands trailed up is shirt. i then ran my nails down his sides which caused matt to wince a little.

in one swift motion he let go of my waist and tugged my his hoodie off of my body, leaving me in the tiny tank top and shorts i was in earlier. “you must be freezing” he teased then stuck his hands down my top and cupped my bare breasts causing me to moan. matt saw that as ammunition and continued to massage my boobs.

“fuck matt don’t stop” i begged. i sounded so needy but i didn’t even mind. i had always wanted this moment with matt. he stopped and removed my top leaving my chest exposed. he then attached his mouth to my nipple, swirling his tongue around, then he moved to the other nipple and repeated those motions.

when he got up i ripped his shirt off then he attacked my neck leaving wet sloppy kisses. i dug my nails deep into the skin on his back which made him let out a slight whimper. he moved his hands down my body then he grabbed the waistband of my shorts. he looked at me in the eyes asking my for my permission.

“please matt” i whined almost a little too loud. he pulled my shorts down leaving me in just my panties. he lowered his head down to my waistline, leaving kisses all over. “fuck matt don’t tease” i whined. “just be patient, i’ve had to wait all my life for this” he demanded, his hoarse voice turning me on even more.

i rubbed my legs together hoping for some kind of friction. he gripped my thighs holding them still. he began to massage them as the continued to kiss my waist. the then made his way to my thighs kissing up til he reached my underwear.

he took them off tauntingly slow. the second they were off, he stuck his head between my legs and immediately latched his mouth onto my clit. i bit my lip hard trying to silence my moans. he sucked and licked and nibbled so well sending me into a euphoric state.

he started to finger me with one finger while he ate me out. my back arched so high off the bed i thought i could snap. my stomach tightened and i moaned his name “matt i’m bouta cum don’t stop! pls don’t stop!” all he did was hum, sending vibrations all up my body causing me to release.

he sat up with a corny smile on his face and looked me in the eyes. he grabbed my waist and quickly flipped me onto my stomach causing me to gasp. he lifted me so my ass was in the air “how do you wanna go about this?” he asked.

“fuck me like you mean it” i demanded, needing him right then and there. with that being said he removed his pants and his boxers in a flash, exposing his inches. i winced at the size, but i didn’t let it get to me.

“if you need me to stop just say ‘pink’ okay? it’ll be our safe word” he said. i nodded my head frantically becoming impatient.

suddenly he rammed into me at full speed causing me to almost scream, disregarding the people downstairs. he shoved my head into the pillow muffling my noises as he rammed ruthlessly into me.

this was a completely different side of matt. normally he was so sweet and gentle, but right now he was tearing me apart. not that i’m complaining. he thrusted into me with so much power i swore i could feel him up in my chest.

i screamed into the pillow and arched my back upwards causing him to get a better angle, hitting my g spot repeatedly. “fuck y/n you feel so good” he moaned. my legs shook once again. i clenched around matt causing his jaw to fall open as we both came. he fucked me through our highs never losing pace.

“remeber if you wanna stop now the word is pink” he said signaling he wasn’t ready to stop, but i wasn’t either. no matter how overstimulated i was becoming, i just couldn’t get enough. “please don’t stop matt” i begged.

he flipped me on my back where he can look me into my eyes and fucked into me slowly this time taking in every detail of my face. i had tears running down my eyes, my hair was a mess, and i couldn’t control the muscles in my face. i was an absolute mess under him but i didn’t mind at all.

he thrusted into me slowly as he dropped his head in the crook of my neck. “fuckkk. just like that. oh my g-god you feel amazing. i could do this forever.” he whispered praises in my ear sending me over the edge. i bit down on my swollen lip, causing it to bleed just a little as i released.

matt smirked as he pulled out and released thick white strings of cum all over my chest. he then licked it completely clean and smiled at me. “god you’re so beautiful, i’ve wanted you to be all mine forever” he said looking in your eyes.

“god matt i’ve loved you since we were 14” i admitted. he smiled at me and kissed me sweetly “ i knew you would be mine the second i laid eyes on you” he said “matt we were infants.” i joked “that’s besides the point, y/n. be my girlfriend?” he asked. “of course dummy” i kissed him.

kissing matt was so addictive. i just couldn’t stop once i started. “okay now let’s get you cleaned up and get to bed i’m so tired” he said standing up. he then picked me up bridal style and carried me into the shower.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

AHHH THE ENDD I HOPE YALL LIKE BC I LOVED WRITING ITTTT

[luvkyu]

rivals ( lee donghyuck/haechan ) part one

maybe donghyuck's school rival isn't as bad as he thought?

content : 2k words, male reader, angstish/fluff at the end, high school!au, academic enemies to lovers trope, toxic parents ( reader's ), just a little crying ( reader ) but hyuck is a sweetheart about it so it's fine <333

part two | part three

"haechan."

"..haechan?"

"donghyuck!"

donghyuck snapped out of his trance, turning his head toward his deskmate.

"huh?"

"class is over," jaemin said with a small snicker. he exchanged glances with jeno, who now stood beside his desk while clutching his bag over his shoulder.

"staring daggers at y/n again?" jeno teased.

donghyuck clicked his tongue in disgust as he looked back at y/n.

"he's top of the class again. he's a menace."

"pfft," jaemin scoffed, "he's a menace? he literally just studies and basically never talks. he's the opposite of a menace. he's actually very nice."

donghyuck only gave his friend a side eye in response.

"he's nice?" jeno asked, genuine.

"mhm! he lended me some money for lunch last week. he hasn't talked to me since, or asked me to repay him."

"he's a menace," donghyuck insisted. "next test, i'll get top of the class for sure. and he'll be stuck with second."

"that's what you said last time.." jeno muttered.

"hey!-"

"guys!" renjun's voice suddenly infiltrated their classroom. "you're like, the last ones left in here. c'mon."

"tsk." donghyuck gently flicked jeno's head as he stood up and gathered his books. jaemin laughed again, the three of them finally leaving with renjun.

y/n still sat at his desk while slowly packing up his bag, actually the last student left. a small smile tugged at his lips as he thought about what he'd overheard.

"haechan is very loud for such a gentle looking person," he mumbled, before snickering.

"n/n!"

y/n looked up at the sound of his nickname. mark now stood in the doorway of his classroom, waiting for him.

"can i walk you home?" mark asked happily.

"you always walk me home."

mark smiled and nodded, "i know. but i still like asking."

y/n rolled his eyes. as his neighbor and best friend, mark was always very attentive to y/n. especially since all y/n ever did was sleep, eat, and study. mark always wished he'd be more social - he thought it'd do him some good to stop worrying about his grades so much. but y/n's parents would definitely disagree.

after walking for a while, the pair finally made it to their neighborhood. y/n seemed way too in his head today, and it made mark worry even more.

"are you coming to the dance showcase tonight? jisung and i have been practicing for weeks."

y/n sighed and shook his head.

"can't. i'm tutoring tonight. i'm sorry."

mark frowned at first, but quickly perked up.

"that's okay! i'll get someone to video it for you," he assured. "what about tomorrow? you can hang out since it's saturday right?"

"sure, that's fine. wanna see a movie or something?"

mark nodded eagerly, "love to!! we can go in the evening and you can stay the night at my place if you want."

y/n nodded and gave him a small smile.

"sounds good. good luck with your dance tonight, let me know how it goes."

"mm! see you tomorrow!" mark replied.

donghyuck walked into the local public library, a small prance in his step. he always enjoyed tutoring other students, as odd as that may sound.

he found a small table and began setting out his study materials while waiting for his tutee. the smile that had been resting on his face, however, did not last long. after looking up, he found that y/n was sitting at another table not far from his. he scowled under his breath.

"our teacher got the top students to tutor others, but we were supposed to find different places. tsk." he quickly stood from his chair and trudged over to y/n.

"..." donghyuck waited for y/n to look up from his book, but the male was stubborn. or maybe he just didn't care enough to spare donghyuck a glance.

"if you're going to speak, then speak. if not.." y/n spoke while making a shoo gesture with his hand. donghyuck's brows furrowed.

"why are you here?" he asked, not caring about the rude tone of his voice.

y/n finally looked up from his book. donghyuck was pretty, y/n would give him that, but that was about it.

"i'm tutoring chenle. and what about you? are you stalking me?"

donghyuck felt a surge of panic run through his body. "wha- no?! i'm supposed to be tutoring here. you go somewhere else!"

y/n simply gave the other a blank stare. "sure," he answered sarcastically. "i'll go somewhere else, stand up chenle, and he'll fail our next test. then it'll be your fault. you really wanna be the reason chenle fails? i thought you were better than that, lee donghyuck."

"you-.." donghyuck clenched his jaw.

"y/n..?" chenle's voice broke between the two. he gave a small, awkward bow as donghyuck moved aside.

"chenle! ready to get started?"

chenle nodded while looking nervously at donghyuck. he didn't like seeing him aggravated, nor did he wanna get in the middle of something between him and y/n.

"i can give you guys a minute if-"

"no," donghyuck stopped him, "we're done."

y/n sent donghyuck an insincere smile before watching him go back to his table to continue waiting for his own tutee.

their tutoring sessions lasted about two hours, and the whole time, donghyuck would steal disgusted glances at his rival. he kept wondering how jaemin could say he's actually nice.

"maybe he's not nice to you cause you always give him such a hard time," jaemin had once argued. donghyuck scoffed. no, that couldn't be it. y/n had to be the problem.

donghyuck looked up from the paper he was supposed to be reviewing. y/n had a kind smile on his face as he moved his pencil from question to question, explaining the answers to chenle.

"yeah, he's definitely the problem," he whispered in annoyance.

"huh?"

donghyuck perked up, remembering the pupil beside him.

"mm? oh, nothing! let's go over these."

his student nodded as donghyuck slid the worksheet over to him. donghyuck's eyes naturally drifted to y/n one more time before taking a big breath and beginning to review the paper.

rain.

it just had to be raining when y/n stepped out of the library to start his way home. he sighed and stopped under the last awning of the building.

"fucking great," he muttered.

taking his phone out, he scrolled down to his mother's contact which he had at first planned to call. but then, he thought, his parents were the last people he wanted to see or be driven home by. so with that, he began walking.

usually, walking home was no problem for y/n. it was around a twenty minute walk to his neighborhood from both school and the library, as the two were only a couple blocks away from each other. his walks gave him time to listen to music and enjoy the weather, or just to be on his phone without the prying eyes of his parents.

but today, y/n could already feel the rain starting to soak through his clothes. the water dripped down from his hair and onto his face, making him let out another sigh.

"maybe i'll get sick this weekend and have an excuse not to study," he hoped quietly. his small smile fell after thinking about it for a minute. "if i get sick, they'll blame me for walking in the rain, though."

crossing his arms, he walked faster and lowered his head. while watching his shoes slap the puddles on the ground, his mind kept wandering. he felt incredibly sad. he wished his parents could just be his parents, instead of borderline dictators. education didn't mean anything to him, and yet he tried so hard to be top of his class just to earn some kind of validation from them.

before he knew it, he was crying. not a heavy sob, just quiet tears that blended with the rain while the color of his eyes faded into a tint of red.

suddenly, the rain stopped hitting him. his brows furrowed. the drops were still hitting the ground around him, but he couldn't feel them.

"idiot. you'll get sick if you keep walking in this weather," donghyuck scolded. y/n looked up to see the male holding a black umbrella over themselves. as much as he hated donghyuck, he was freezing, so he took the offer and mumbled a quiet, "thank you."

donghyuck had never been this close to his rival. their shoulders were touching, and he thought he should've hated it, but instead there was a small, exciting spark running up his spine.

"why are you walking?" donghyuck asked. when y/n didn't answer, he leaned over to see the other better under their umbrella. his face dropped with the realization that y/n was crying.

"ah.." he stood back up straight, unsure of what to say now. he hated that he felt bad for someone he was supposed to despise. but y/n was, after all, just another person.

"are you okay?"

y/n scoffed as he wiped his tears. "if i said yes, i'd be lying."

donghyuck nodded and looked around a bit awkwardly. he never thought himself good at comforting people, but he'd definitely try.

"wanna talk about it?"

y/n suddenly stopped walking. he could feel the rain hit him again when donghyuck kept walking, taking the umbrella with him. he turned in surprise before hurrying back to y/n to shield him from the water.

"why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?" y/n asked.

donghyuck met his eyes, quiet. y/n's eyes looked tired and strained from his tears, but beautiful despite this. he almost felt entranced from his gaze.

"i dunno.." donghyuck mumbled, "you're just a person, right? regardless of whether i hate you or not. and i don't mind listening if you wanna talk."

y/n's lips thinned into a line as he thought about it. he looked down at his soaked shoes.

"i don't wanna go home," he muttered out.

donghyuck frowned. something was definitely wrong, but he'd feel wrong if he pried into y/n's home life.

an idea struck him as they arrived at a sheltered bus stop. he pulled y/n's arm and finally lowered the umbrella to sit him down on the dry bench. donghyuck could see that the male was beginning to shiver, his jacket turned to a darker drenched color.

"take that off," he said while tugging at the wet fabric of y/n's sleeve.

"what?"

"take it off. you'll definitely get sick if you keep that on. take mine," donghyuck said while holding his now discarded jacket out to his rival.

y/n's brows furrowed in concern. "but you won't have anything to wear.."

donghyuck shrugged, "i'm dry. and i like the cold. really, please take it."

y/n nodded and slowly took his jacket off. it felt gross to handle such a wet piece of clothing around his body, but the dry and heavy fabric of donghyuck's jacket quickly made up for it. he sat back and snuggled into it with a content smile.

"thank you."

donghyuck nodded and set the other jacket aside. he could tell y/n was trying to keep his smile at bay, but he decided not to pester him about it. what mattered was that he was safe and dry now.

"..why don't you want to go home?" he finally asked. y/n's smile faltered.

"my parents are home."

donghyuck didn't really understand, but he didn't plan on being any more nosy. he looked around and spotted a restaurant behind the bus stop, deciding to focus on that.

"have you eaten?"

y/n looked at him in slight confusion. "what?"

"have you had dinner yet? we can go eat together before you have to go home."

"where?" y/n realized right after he asked that it didn't really matter where. any place would be better than a house with his parents.

"maybe that place?" donghyuck answered.

y/n turned to see the restaurant donghyuck was pointing at. he'd actually been there a few times with mark, so he quickly nodded.

"yes please."

[always-andromeda]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 3268

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ I’ve loved this man literally since I was thirteen…so it’s inevitable that I’d be writing something absolutely fucking filthy for him in my twenties…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), gaps in age and power, mutual masturbation, little bit of panty sniffing, a singular use of Y/N (I'm sorry, I hate it too but it was necessary), usage of pet names (sweetheart), general manipulation, slight praise kink, obvious disclaimer: the dynamic in this fic is just that, fictional, and should not be practiced in real life!! let me know if any other warnings are needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

You’d rarely had luck receiving any sort of grace from your professors. Sure, there were a select few that only wanted to see you succeed. However, more often than not you seemed to encounter sadists who decided to take their kinks out on exhausted college students. But you were convinced that Professor Winchester wouldn’t be like that.

For starters, he’d always been challenging but never malicious. Despite the fact that you’d registered for his Norse Mythology course with the assumption that it would be easy college credits, you quickly learned that his assignments were difficult. Every week there seemed to be about a hundred pages worth of reading, frequent essays, and an emphasis on class discussion.

Oh, did he love those class discussions. While most were less than enthusiastic to contribute to lengthy examinations of Eddic poetry at eight in the morning, Professor Winchester seemed to be none the wiser of this.

He was always squinting over his thin wire framed glasses, surveying the class. He’d stand at his desk, brushing his long hair behind his ear while looking over papers. When he’d listen he’d purse his lips and tilt his head, expression rife with genuine interest. In all of these moments, he was the most gorgeous. But more than that, you were fascinated with his mind.

Professor Winchester knew this material like the back of his hand; was able to pull references and quotes from various pieces of literature at the drop of a hat. He was the only professor who could ever give notes that were actually helpful on essays and he’d always been generous with handing out extra credit assignments. Which is what you aimed to obtain on this visit to his office.

You looked through the glass of his office door and saw him inside, working diligently at a dark oak wood desk. Taking a deep breath, you turned the doorknob and entered.

The hinges squeezed but Winchester seemed so fixated on whatever was before him that he only raised a finger, indicating for you to wait. So you did. Awkwardly. You rocked slightly on your heels, your stomach starting to twist in time with the movement. God, he looked like a dream lit by the stained glass banker's lamp as he graded papers.

In another world you could see him coming home from a long day, his body warm behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Smelling like black coffee and pencil shavings, you'd adoringly close your eyes, taking in his scent and ask him how his day went. He'd hum in contentment when resting his chin on your head; you're his rock, his soulmate, the reason he stays sane despite dealing with probably hundreds of students and the frustrating dance of academic bureaucracy. 

It's a fantasy that broke the second Winchester glanced up and said with a hint of surprise, "Miss L/N! Come in, have a seat," he nodded towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

Relieved that he can pick you out among the sea of students from his classroom, you move forward until you reach the chair. You set your bag down on the floor and settle into the worn leather of the seat as Winchester eyes you expectantly.

"What can I do for you this afternoon?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Actually, I was hoping that you could help me out with something."

"Oh, what might that be?" he furrowed his brow.

"Um..." you started. "I'm sure you noticed that I didn't do too hot on the last exam."

"Ah, I did," he said simply.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, actually." Winchester opened up one of his desk drawers and sorted through some files before pulling out a packet you recognized as the exam you'd taken the week before. "You seem so engaged in class discussion and you've been doing well on everything else. This...this felt rushed. What happened?"

The soft expression of concern on his face only increased your shame. In all honesty, you'd wasted half the exam time away staring at him. He'd worn a red sweater over a cream colored button up that day. Then he'd rolled up the sleeves before handing out the exam papers. It felt stupid to admit that you'd been distracted by his goddamn forearms.

But you had been. You couldn't resist watching him as he'd circled the room, keeping an eye out for cheating. With his arms folded behind his back, you got the best look at the back of him. His long legs clad in khaki. Strong, tanned forearms corded with prominent veins. Shoulder blades pushed back confidently as he walked. Everything about his solid stature had your mind far, far away.

You'd been good at making sure your daydreams wouldn't get the better of you. But this time, before you knew it, Winchester was glancing down at his watch and announcing that you had fifteen minutes left for exam time. You had no choice but to rush through the rest of it, writing down answers that hardly even made sense just to fill in blanks.

Now those answers laid before you, condemning you to a low D– that dragged down your entire grade.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Professor. I thought I studied enough but I guess not."

Though you'd attempted to laugh off his concern, Winchester obviously wasn't budging. "But these are rookie mistakes. Number fifteen for example. Where do the gods live?"

"Easy. Asgard."

"Right, but here you marked down the answer for Valhalla," he slid the paper around so you could look at the question.

Sure enough, there it was, your frantic pencil marks filling in the bubble for the incorrect answer. Damn.

"And that's just on the multiple choice questions," Winchester continued, flipping through the pages. "You barely followed any of the directions for the long answer questions. Your response to the short essay portion was a paragraph too short. And it was too unfocused."

Unfocused is right, Professor Winchester.

"I hate to say it...but I was a little disappointed."

The sting of tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. So you cleared your throat and blinked them back quickly. Voice trembling, you answered quickly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I wasn't on my game and I thought I'd pay you a visit so I could plead my case. I'm willing to do any kind of extra credit assignment. I don't care how much work it is. I'll do anything to fix my grade because I really want to do well in your class and–"

Winchester raised a hand, urging you to stop. Then he spoke, "Listen, I can see how badly you want this. So I'm going to make sure you get it. Just...let me think."

With that, Winchester rose from his seat and began to gather the papers that littered the surface of his desk. He stacked them neatly before opening a different drawer and laying them inside. After he closed the drawer, he made his way around the desk. You tried not to look at him as he made his way around the room, especially not when you felt his hand brush against the back of your chair. But you couldn't not notice when he drew the shade on his door's window and closed the blinds to his window, leaving the room dim save for the yellow light of his desk lamp.

Once he'd made his round, he returned to his chair and rolled back, leaving a massive gap between himself and the edge of his desk.

Then he did something else you didn't expect.

He patted the wood and said, "Come. Sit on my desk. Let me look at you."

You almost wavered on the direction when he cleared his throat expectantly. That brought you to your feet and compelled you to settle waveringly before him.

With his lips in a tight line, Winchester studied you. He tilted his head every few seconds, letting his eye flicker from your uncertain expression to your body. You sat up a little straighter in an attempt to satisfy his observation of you.

You weren't quite sure what he was doing, but it made you nervous; made you vulnerable in a way you weren't used to.

"I may have one extra credit opportunity that I can offer. Special. Just for you."

"Yeah? What do you want me to do?"

"Well, you can start by spreading your legs."

Your eyes went wide. "Professor Winchester, you're not–"

He cut you off quickly, "First, after office hours, you may call me Sam. Second, I'm not going to touch you. I'm simply asking you to give me a– a presentation," he decided.

"What kind of presentation?" you asked.

Your feigned innocence made the man chuckle softly. "The kind of presentation I'm sure you give in your dormitory bedroom every night."

There wasn't an ounce of jesting on his face, but still you played dumb. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Sam." His name felt foreign yet familiar on your tongue. Probably because you'd whispered it many times before in the exact scenario he'd described.

"I'd hoped you'd tell me the truth about why you were so distracted during your exam. But since you haven't been forthcoming, I guess I have to spell it out for you, haven't I?"

You swallowed hard and blinked nervously.

"You thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" he chuckles again. "It's hard not to notice when one of your students, especially one so beautiful, is practically drooling all over their table."

The scraps of flattery were evidently working on you as Sam smiled when you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as your skin got all warm and tingly. So he kept going.

"Besides, you're too intelligent to do this terribly on something you should've aced. Maybe you wanted to fail it. You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to waste your time, I was just–"

"You weren't wasting my time. Wasting your time is continuing this pointless back and forth when you could instead be proving yourself."

"Proving myself?"

"Yes. Spread those legs...and earn your grade," he ordered.

Breathing in and out slowly, you did what you were asked. The knots in your stomach told you this was wrong. But the smile of approval that slowly grew on Sam's lips said that this was exactly what you both needed. 

You'd never been more embarrassed to be wearing a skirt. One the fabric pooled around your hips, it only framed the damp patch on your underwear. Perhaps part of you had wanted something like this to happen. Because your pussy was already pulsing after simply being observed behind the cotton curtain that soaked up her anticipation.

"Very good," Sam breathed out.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

"Just...play with her. Show me what you like to do to make her happy."

You nodded, then pursed your lips as you thought. If you were going to present to him...you might as well go all out. So you shifted each of your thighs around, pulling down your underwear until your bare ass was planted on the desk and the garment was caught on one of your ankles. You lifted your left and held it out gently, the panty hanging in the air a little below Sam's face.

"Take them," you said. "Visual aid."

He smirked lazily at the offering before pulling them over your shoe, being careful not to actually touch you. Sam balled them up before bringing them to his nose and slowly breathing in the scent. You could tell he enjoyed it thoroughly as he let out a deep sigh from within his chest.

"With how wet these are...it's good to know you were prepared even for a surprise presentation. I knew there was a reason you're my favorite."

His words went straight to your cunt as a few drops of slick leaked from your hole and landed on the dark wood beneath you.

"Go on," Sam urged, gaze flickering to the drops of you on his desk. "She's waiting. And so am I."

You began to treat yourself with the same level of care as you did when you were alone. One of your hands reached up your shirt and you cupped one of your tits. You kneaded the flesh for a few seconds before focusing on the nipple, pinching it until it pebbled and poked through your shirt. The action made your breathing turn ragged. 

You finally let your other hand travel south, bringing warmth to the soft skin of your thighs. Wanting better access to yourself, you pulled your leg up, resting a foot on the desk itself. Then you reclined back and let your fingers roam where they wanted.

Using two fingers, you spread your outer lips, only exposing yourself to Sam’s scrutiny even further. The cool air hitting your most vulnerable part, you shivered as goosebumps erupted across your skin. You looked up at him, gauging his approval of your performance.

“You’re doing so well already, keep going,” he encouraged, hardly concealing the arousal that clung thickly to his tone.

You took the praise with pride. It emboldened you enough to slip your two fingers between your folds to gather up some of the slick. You couldn’t help but feel mortified as you involuntarily gasped when your digits brushed slightly against your clit.

Sam let a quick puff of air out his nose. “Sensitive?”

“Mhmmm,” you whined.

“Bet you can’t even touch that pretty clit directly without crying, huh?”

You nodded.

“Then be gentle. I want you to last for me.”

You took that to mean that he didn’t want you touching yourself there yet. So instead you switched to focusing on your entrance. It wasn’t often that you went straight for penetration. Rarely did it bring the kind of relief you craved.

But you had the feeling that Sam would want to see it; to see your fingers filling yourself up and stretching you out.

With your fingers practically pruning already, you pushed one in ever so slowly. It took a second to adjust to the slight pressure, but still you began to carefully pump. The slick squelch only intensified when you slipped another one in and sped up your movements.

Though the pressure increased and built up tension in your belly, you could already tell it wasn’t going to go anywhere. You bucked your hips pathetically against your own hand, trying to get deep enough to hit your g-spot. But no matter how far you tried to probe, it was useless. Your fingers simply weren’t long enough.

Your eyes went wind, catching sight of something that most likely could reach that spot inside you. While you’d been fucking yourself, your professor had undone the button and the zipper on his pants and slipped himself out. There he sat, your panties in his hand and wrapped around the thick length of his cock. The angry red tip poked up and out of the fabric with each slow thrust. And you could already tell based on how long his strokes were that you’d most likely be able to feel him poking against your belly from inside you. The idea made you moan and throw your head back.

Sam swiftly reprimanded you, “Ah, remember your eye contact. I want you to look at me.”

Shame spread over your body. What the fuck was going on? Were you really fingering yourself on his desk right next to papers that he was surely going to return to students? Was Sam really fisting his own cock with your underwear? And were you actually enjoying this?

“Sweetheart,” Sam’s self control faltered slightly with the name. But it grabbed your attention nonetheless. “I need you to look at me. Let me look into your eyes when you make yourself come on my desk, alright?”

This was about more than fixing your grade. This was about pleasing him…by pleasing yourself. And as you returned his look, you were all in.

Under his watchful, half lidded, hazel eye you allowed yourself to focus on your aching clit which laid in wait like a pearl beneath the hood of skin covering it. Carefully, you pulled that hood back before lightly spreading some of your slick with a finger. You let the skin settle back in place over the sensitive nub before going straight to work.

You began to rub slow circles on the hood and finally properly moaned. It took only a few seconds for the muscle memory of your nightly ritual to kick in as the pleasure started to mount. Finally, all of that pressure in your core had some actual weight to it; a weight that was already beginning to roll in shallow waves over your whole being.

"There you go, sweetheart. Let me hear you loud and clear. Don't wanna miss a single sound from you," Sam groaned and you caught how the grip he had on himself tightened, how his pace quickened.

While rolling your hips against your hand, you pulled up a side of your shirt, exposing even more of yourself to him. Now he could easily see one of your tits rise and fall with your staggered breaths. He could see how the ball of fat dimpled under your fingertips as you squeezed and pulled at your hardened nipple.

Both sources of simulation had you whimpering breathlessly, "Sam, I-I'm so close– Let me come, please?"

Sam glared and asked through gritted teeth, "That's not my name. What do you call me in class?"

"Professor?"

Sam nodded darkly.

You took the cue quickly and begged helplessly, "Please, professor, please let me come–" you were cut off by the sound of your pleasure starting to push you over the edge. 

Sam left you teetering, staring right over the border of this boundary. That boundary being an ethical nightmare that you had no clue how you'd navigate. But you wanted to be good for him; you craved his approval.

And thankfully, Sam gave it as he groaned, "There you go, good girl. You can come, you've got permission."

With that, you arched off the desk and burst with glorious clarity. A thin stream of your arousal drooled from your entrance as you rubbed yourself through the enormous implosions and the small aftershocks that followed. Your head was heavy with the fog of pleasure and you wanted to hang it back, give it a break.

But still, you were determined to keep your eyes on him, even as you pulled your fingers away from your trembling cunt and stuck them in your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the wrinkled digits, soaking up every bit of yourself that you could.

Any sort of professionalism Sam had been trying to maintain up until that point shattered completely when he rolled his chair forwards. Closer to you now, you looked down into his soft eyes and watched how his normally objective stare went personal; emotional. He looked at you with the kind of admiration that made your heart flutter with pride.

He took his hand, placed it on your knee, and spread your legs further. His touch was so light, so soft that you could help feeling electricity dance along your spine.

"I thought you said you wouldn't touch me?" you whispered, only a hint of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

Choosing his words as carefully as ever, he explained, "That was before I decided that you needed some of my...guidance."

[archive245]

Random rinaverse hc

- Remi cried when he overheard the girls talking about star signs because he thought anni had cancer

- Niko wanted to be a power ranger growing up, gareth wanted to be spiderman, killian wanted to be superman, jeremy wanted to be batman

- Ronan the typa guy to be like “i got it, i got it, i don’t got it” while trying to catch a ball

- Moreover good thing this man plays soccer be hes horrible at catching things

- Kimberly has an upside down smile and Xander has an eye smile (like the ones where your whole closes yk??)

- Glyns favourite barbie movie was princess charm school and annikas was barbie and the 13 dancing princesses

- Gareth cannot do anything without airpods

- Glyndon doodles all over her homework and occasionally draws on kills arm with a pen while he focusing on something

- Kimberly says “well my dad said” atleast once a day

- Kirill and adrian like going to museums and art galleries, damien gets dragged along because if he doesn’t he gets all petty that they didn’t invite him even tho he complains the entire time their there

- Maya has a severe friendship jealousy issues when it comes to her friends having other friends (mood girl same)

- Reina loved going out to celebrate no matter how small the matter was killian got 100 on his spelling test? celebration, Asher won a court case? celebration, gareth got first place in track and field? celebration

- Ava always had her nails done with long acrylics and likes to just click them around to tell people she just got them done

- Once Xander and Ronan got arrested and they used their one free call on Cole and said your mom and hung up

- Nikolai sucks at spelling and texting example

- Killian drinks a whole pack of cola in a week

- I honestly think Jeremy was scared of girls as a child and when he first met Maya and Mia he was so scared of them he constantly hid from them but to them they just thought Jeremy was ignoring them bc hes a bitch

- Ronan is actually really smart but doesnt like showing it, so instead he acted like the dumb cluless one and people believe it

- Teal actually is a marvel nerd and forces ronan to binge watch the entire series with her

- Cecily started to wear glasses in grade 6, because 1 she thought they made her look like a nerd and 2 because she thought everyone viewed the world as blurry

- When ever Elsa would go on vacation she would buy small trinkets thats reminded her of them for everyone

- When ever anni sees a cat she ll take a picture of it and send it to creigh

- Nikolai consistently looses things, even things that were in his hand, looks away from one second BOOM missing

- Eli got tattoos to try and piss off Aiden little did he know Aiden also has tattoos so he was chill about it

- Creighton was scared if loud noises for a long time, and once Eli scared Creighton by like sneaking up behind him and he had a panic attack and since then Eli payed extra attention to his well being

- Xander is aggressive drunk loves fighting or arguing people, Coles definitely horny drunk disappears minutes after getting drunk, aiden doesnt get drunk, and ronans giggly drunk

- bonus knox is the type you would put on a lease drunk because he runs around and falls alot, definitely wakes up with bruises everywhere

- Teal turns soft and adorable when drunk so she doesnt drink infront of people, Kims also giggley drunk (ronan and kim can be seen just laughing and giggling with eachother on a sofa), elsa is sleepy drunk and silver is definitely the all in or none (she gets blackout drunk or sober no in between)

- Ava always plays a princess peach during mario kart and mia always plays as shyguy

- Gareth was the type ti start assignment weeks in advance, while nikolai started them the night before

-Lan was definitely a kid who needed to be on a leash because he would run around everywhere and get lost, “astrid or levi king please come to the front desk we have your son” was heard every time on the loud speakers every time they went out for a family gathering