#my teachers have no idea what they’re doing

[rena-lily]

Yall imagine an au where all the first years try to get Sebek to go to their dorm kind’ve like a trial period for like 3 days and then the dorm heads catch wind up this and then are also like hmmm that’d be interesting so they also try to convince Sebek. (They got permission from Crowley cause why not)Turns out Sebek fits very well in all of the dorms and he fits very well in a duo with each one of the first years in their dorms(trio in adeuce’s case ). Like Sebek is sometimes reprimanding Epel in Diasomnia but he’s with Epel on his distaste for the flavorless food(like be so fr atleast Lilia’s cooking has taste even if it’s bad…SHAME ON YOU) and they have a good time together(Vil firmly believes that Sebek should keep his hair down,he WILL rectify this atrocity AND ALSO WHERE WERE YOU SEBEK WHEN HE NEEDED A GOOD SINGER FOR VDC), let’s be honest Sebek is a rule followed through and through and he’s already acquainted with Riddle so he’d honestly do well in Heartslabyul especially as a trio with Adeuce as the braincell but still getting roped into their shenanigans(riddle is glad that atleast one of them knows the rules), Sebek is super athletic so Jack and him went on morning runs together a lot when he was at Savanaclaw and let’s be honest those two prob destroyed anyone that tried to challenge them together(Leona was lowkey impressed), and Ortho taught Sebek some new games while Idia occasionally showed Sebek new games(his favorite was animal crossing)(Idia guesses he doesn’t mind the freshman…BUT he’s very loud…) , surprisingly Sebek becomes friends with Floyd while in Octavinelle and manages to get out of their without getting into any contracts(Octa Trio liked him enough so they didn’t try to scam him..this is a one time thing tho!!!), and while he was in Scarabia, he got along well with Jamil(Sebek thinks he’s a cool human)(Now while Jamil doesn’t like extra work, he wouldn’t mind having an extra person to help him…and he GUESSES Sebek isn’t a bad person to hand out with)and he manages to keep Kalim out of trouble while Jamil was away but Kalim instead taught Sebek some dances(Kalim thinks Sebek is very fun).

Later on the Diasomnia trio find out and are like WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN???NO WAY(None of the housewardens informed Malleus😭) and then all of them end up fighting for Sebek and like Sebek just has like no fucking idea what’s going on. He’s just excited that so many people wanna hang out with him and he’s just like >:3. Kalim and Azul also gets in on it. Like Scarabia and Octavinelle also join in because "oh look new friend to party with" and "ah yes money" but the most important "I..I have a freshman now? *cri*"

I think a perfect ending for this is to see Sebek's skills in person. Because I believe the dorms (sans first years) are going to argue what skillset they can bring for Sebek not knowing that Sebek is absurdly and obliviously competent with most tasks. Like idk Sebek swordfighting with some random RSA prince charming and actually won something for NRC is a flex.

Cue Crowley and the other teachers fending off teachers from RSA to "STOP RECRUITING MY STUDENT" "BUT HE HAS POTENTIAL IN RSA-"

A green thunderbolt quickly shuts the mouth of the RSA professor. and now the Diasomnia trio is like “OMGGG NOT ONLY DO WE HAVE TO FIGHT THE FIRSTIES FOR SEBEK BUT NOW ALSO THE HOUSEWARDENS TF” and then they’re just fighting for Sebek’s attention . ALSO IT WOULD BE SO COOL IF SEBEK ALSO IS AQQUAINTED WITH SOMEONE IN RSA LIKE YOU AFTER THE SWORDFIGHTING THING AND THEYRE LIKE “you knowwww Sebek you should totes come to RSA” (he somehow befriended the RSA student he beat and now they have weekly hangouts)(first years are not happy about this)and then now everyone is fighting for Sebek so now the staff are trying to fend off RSA staff and students but everyone is also trying to get Sebek to join their dorms.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

God that midterm was a clusterfuck

[romainlettusdinnerparty]

byler quarantine au where theyre on zoom for school and the one class mike and will have with each other they pin the other to stare at them while they do the lesson but they both start realizing that they look very smitten while theyre supposed to be learning until theyre both convinced the other is in love with their teacher,, thus ensues chaos, jealousy, and the moral quandary of your best friend being in love with a teacher

[leahwilliamson]

Applying to university is the most stressful thing I have ever done

[kavehater]

The blame is on me for being sappy to her and she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌

fandom: gravity falls

relationship: stanford pines x reader

summary: the moment Ford realized he liked you. 

contains: stan being stan, the uh-oh moment, and pining

Ford wasn’t the most social person, to put it plainly. Despite his popularity amongst his teachers at school and the odd handful of classmates, he normally preferred his own company, otherwise his family’s. It had been that way for a long time, and it seemed like it would remain so for the foreseeable future.

And so it did. That is, until he met you, which he did not see coming. 

You had this welcoming presence about you, that much was clear by the way you spoke to him for the first time in the seventh grade, remaining mostly unfazed by his sixth digit aside from the initial surprise. The first time he caught himself rambling about parapsychology and anomalistics, he found no judgment or disinterest in your expression. In fact, you were actually listening, setting down whatever you were doing just to give him your undivided attention. That was a first. It felt nice to have someone (who wasn’t his brother or mother) listen to him. 

And the energy was returned, as he indulged your interests too. Before he knew it, Ford would often seek out your company, whether his brother was available or not, and the two of you could usually be found bouncing ideas off of each other. The room seemed to brighten when you came into view, your presence made him feel comfortably warm inside. Whenever you two parted ways, it always felt too soon, just like it did now.

“Oh my gosh.”

Stan’s voice drew Ford’s attention away from you as you left.

“What?” he asked, mildly perturbed by the wily grin on his brother’s face. Stan just chuckled and nudged him, “You’ve got it so bad, it’s almost embarrassing.” he teased, to which Ford lightly shoved him away, beginning their route back home from the pier. 

“Stanley, come on. They’re my friend just as they are yours. They’re good company.” he said, glancing off to the side, as if that could conceal the rosy pink hue on his face, but Stan remained undeterred. “Sixer, face it. You’re whipped with a capital wh-pshh!” he said, smacking one hand with his other for emphasis. 

“I am not- look, [Name] is very kind and a good friend, I appreciate that. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about them.”

Several hours later, it was well past nightfall and everyone in the Pines household was fast asleep, save Ford. 

Up on the top bunk, he laid on his back, hands folded over his midriff as his chest heaved slowly and his heart thrummed steadily beneath its surface. That warmth was still present, especially around his face. His conversation with Stanley had been playing on loop all evening.

Of course Ford liked you, heck, he was crazy about you. You were so nice to him and fun to be around, your enthusiasm was so endearing, and you never treated his abnormalities as though they were defects.

And you weren’t bad to look at either, of course, like earlier that afternoon on the boardwalk when the sun’s light highlighted your features. He could stare at you for hours. The way you diminished his resolve just by looking his way and smiling at him was so positively-

Oh.

Oh. 

“Oh no.”

Ford could just faintly hear a sleepy chuckle from his brother in the bunk below him. 

if this gets enough notes I’ll write a part 2

[runawrites-blog]

Shipping (Charles Xavier x Reader)

Summary: You're a teacher at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters and you're quite close to Charles -- so close that a few of the students have started speculating whether or not you two are actually a couple. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,646 Warnings: Very Minor Suggestive Themes. Light Angst. No Y/N. Reader has a last name that goes with her powers but it's only mentioned once or twice. A/N: As mentioned, the reader has a last name that correlates with her powers/mutation. Her name is Brandt (inspired by the German word Brand for fire) since she has pyrokinetic powers. But it's only mentioned once or twice by the students.

“You two are being ridiculous.”

“We’re not being ridiculous!” Jubilee defended herself, leaning over the back of the couch to throw Jean a joking glare. “Look at how cute they’re being!”

Jean gave Jubilee one more annoyed look before turning to where the other girl was pointing, her eyes falling on you and Charles at the other side of the large sitting room. She took the two of you in for a second; how Charles was looking back at you periodically with a bright smile on his face and how you were leaning over the back of his chair, a hand firmly planted on his shoulder as you looked at the files he was currently going over. She turned turned back to Jubilee and Ororo.

“See?” Ororo grinned a little and leaned back in the armchair. “Miss Brandt and the Professor are totally banging.”

“Ororo!” Jubilee exclaimed in disgust. “I wanted to prove to Jean that Miss Brandt and Professor Xavier are in love, not that they are sleeping with each other. As a matter of fact, I don’t want to hear anything about that!”

That’s when Scott piped up, raising an eyebrow at Jubilee. “To be fair, if they were dating, don’t you think they’d be sleeping with each other?”

“You two don’t have to make this gross.”

Jean quickly nodded at that. “I agree with Jubilee.”

“Really?”

“Not about the dating, but about Scott and Ororo being gross.” Jean leaned back on the couch, closing her book in her lap. “Just because they’re friendly doesn’t mean they’re dating, Jubilee. They’re probably just good friends.”

That’s when Kurt spoke up, a smile on his lips. “I think the idea of them being a couple is sweet. They seem like they would make a nice couple.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“I’m not entirely sure, though!” He quickly defended himself. “I just said it would be cute if they were together.”

Scott nodded. “I agree with that. They’d be a good couple but I agree with Jean on this one, I think. Just because they’re nice to each other, doesn’t mean they’re a couple.”

Jean nodded quickly and picked her book back up. “Now can you let me do my reading for Miss Brandt’s class? I don’t want to mess up on the test.”

“What test?”

“The test we’re traking next week about the Napoleonic Wars.” Jean explained off-handedly. “I’m currently reading the chapter in my History book and I would love for all of you to let me study.”

Kurt nodded at that. “I read the chapter yesterday and trust me, you should all start soon, as well. It’s a pretty long chapter. I could help you study if you want me to.”

“Thanks. I can’t really start now because lunch break is almost over, but I’ll take you up on that offer another time.” Scott said to Kurt before rising to his feet. “What class do we have now? Literature or Physics?”

“Literature.” Jubilee commented and grabbed her bag from the couch. “With none other than Miss Brandt, so maybe we can get some clues on her relationship with the Professor now!”

“You just want to find it out to prove you’re right, don’t you?”

“Exactly!”

All of them stopped when the clock struck two and everyone started to slowly leave the sitting room to get to class. Jubilee grinned a little as she watched Charles turn to you with a soft smile before placing his hand on top of yours for a few seconds. He gave it a short squeeze before he wheeled himself out from behind the desk and toward the door. Most days, the desks were used by students but Hank had asked Charles to review a file he had typed up and the telepath had asked you to look over it with him during lunch break.

You gave him one last smile before slinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing the two boxes of books you were going to use for your class. Jean watched from the doors, waiting for her friends to get her belongings, as you struggled to carry both of the boxes. But before she could offer her help Charles called out your name, making you look up from the boxes to face him. He was looking back at you with his arms outstretched, smiling softly.

“Let me help you, Darling.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and handed one of the boxes to him, watching as he placed it on his lap before he made his way to the door. “We’re starting with a new book today.”

“I can see that.” Charles laughed and leaned his head back to look at you. “Didn’t you once mention that you loved Mary Shelley’s writing? What a lovely concidence that one of her books is on the curriculum, isn’t it?”

A smile appeared on your face as you stopped in your tracks. “Did you put it on there? You get to decide between three books for each new chapter of the curriculum, don’t you? I think you’ve mentioned that once.”

“I might have.”

“You’re the sweetest, Charles.”

“For you, always.”

Not wanting to intrude, Jean quickly followed her friends out the sitting room and to her class, though now she was actually contemplating on how much truth there was to Jubilee’s suspiciouns about your relationship with Charles.

---

As the days passed, Jean started to believe in Jubilee’s suspicions more and more as she watched how you and Charles interacted. She had never really paid much attention to it but now she was questioning how she’d never before noticed your gentle smiles, sweet nicknames, casual touches and quiet conversations. But what really got Jean hooked on the idea of finding out about whether or not the rumours were true, was what happened one rainy Friday evening.

It was late and some of the younger students were already asleep while Jean was studying with Jubilee and Ororo. There was a slight drizzle going outside as they hunched over their History books and notes from class. They were pretty engulfed in their studying when the earthquake started, making everything in the room rattle and shake. Jubilee nearly fell off the bed but Jean caught her and Ororo clung to the headboard.

But fortunately, the earthquake quickly stopped and the three of them got off the bed to venture to the hallway to see what had happened -- though Jean was pretty sure it was the new student with geokenesis that must have accidentally started the erathquake. Just as they stepped into the hallway, along with a few others students, you and Charles did the same. And the three girls froze when they realised that both of you had come from his room.

Jubilee turned to give Jean a grin but she wasn’t even looking at her, too caught up in watching you hurry after Charles, smoothing out your hair while you made your way to the young boy’s room. Before you could even knock he opened the door and upon seeing Charles, grabbed onto the armrests of his chair, beginning to apologise profusely. Charles reacted in his usual gentle and comforting manner, calming the boy down and checking whether or not he was injured.

It took a few minutes to calm him down but eventually Charles had convinced him that everyone was fine and there was no need for him to feel guilty. And after a few checkups on the other students, Charles proclaimed that they should all get back to their rooms. Jean ushered Ororo and Jubilee back into her room. But once inside Ororo stopped her from closing the door, pointing at you and Charles in the hallway. Jubilee and Jean looked at each other for a second before leaning over to see what their friend was talking about.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked once the last door had closed, giving you a worried once over and reaching out to take your hand into his. “I saw you hit your head on the nigthstand when you fell off my bed. Are you hurt, Darling?”

“I’m fine.” You gave him a reassuring smile before gently cradling his hand in both of yours. “Shall we get back to your room?”

Charles shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cup yours. “May I check? I promise you I will only check if you’re alright. I wouldn’t want to overlook a possible concussion. You did hit the nightstand pretty hard.”

With a relenting smile you nodded and gave his hand a small squeeze. “If it makes you feel better you can.”

While Charles placed his fingers on his temple and you held his hand tightly, Jubilee gave Jean one more triumpanth smirk. Ororo was still staring at you and Charles, completely amazed by the fact that her and Jubilee had apparently been right. And Jean crossed her arms over her chest, still not fully convinced.

“I mean, I worry about my friends, too.” The rehead reasoned softly. “That time you got hurt during dodgeball, I checked you for a concussion, too.”

“They’re literally holding hands.”

Ororo turned and placed a finger over her lips as you and Charles began to move down the hallway back to his room, now that he had confirmed you were uninjured. The three girls watched as you two arrived at Charles’ door and you glanced down the hallway once more, checking if everyone was in their rooms. Then Charles used the controls of his wheelchair to back into his room while grabbing your hand and pulling you along. You gave a surprised laugh at that and Charles smirked charmingly. And then the two of you were gone and the door to his room once more closed.

“How is that not obviously them going to do something nasty now? He literally pulled her into his room.”

“You really overuse that word.”

“What word?”

“’Literally’.” Jean answered. “Maybe they’re going over something from class.”

“You just don’t want to be in the wrong.” Ororo laughed quietly as she looked up at Jean. “They both came from the Professor’s room, looking disheveled and in their nightwear. Just now he said she’d been on his bed with him when the quake started. And she went back to his room.”

“You’re right. That kind of proves you two right.”

“Kind of?”

---

Now that Jean agreed with Ororo and Jubilee, the girls had made it their mission to find out whether or not they were right. Scott was still not convinced and Kurt kept telling them that while you and Charles would make a sweet couple it was invasive to talk about their teachers like that. His complaints did not stop his friends.

As the next few days days went on, they kept looking for clues. Jubilee kept going on about how much you and Charles were casually touching while Ororo’s main focus was the fact that he kept calling you petnames to which Scott shut her down by telling her that their professor called everyone petnames – they had to agree with him on that one.

Then Thanksgiving break rolled along and most of the students left to visit home. That year Jean, Jubilee, Ororo, Kurt and Scott had all decided to stay behind at the mansion along with a handful of other students. And due to this decreased amount of students at the school, most teachers were leaving over the holidays, as well – safe for Hank, Charles and you. It was really the perfect time for the friends to find out if they were right with their suspicions.

It was on a cold autumn day that Ororo had decided they needed to keep an eye on you and Charles, mostly because she had noticed that you were most definitely wearing one of his favourite cardigans to ward off the chill. That gave them enough incentive to use the rest of the day to try to decide which of them was right once and for all. Eventually, evening rolled along and you and Charles hadn’t acted any different around each other than usual, so the friends gave up and headed back to their rooms. That was until a storm rolled in only an hour later, bringing with it cold winds and chilly rain, prompting the friends to go to the sitting room and warm up by the fire.

“I can’t believe you still don’t believe us.” Jean commented as she walked down the hallway toward the stairs so they could go down to the sitting area. “And would you hurry up so we can warm up by the fire? It’s so cold today.”

Scott shrugged at that. “I can’t believe they managed to convince you.”

“You didn’t see the way they interacted after the earthquake.” Ororo scoffed as she hurried after them. “She was literally coming out of his room, looking dishevelled and he talked about how she’d been in his bed. And then he kept calling her ‘darling’ and fussing over her before literally pulling her back into his room.”

“You use the word ‘literally’ too much.”

Jean chuckled at Scott’s comment. “I told her that, too.”

Jubilee shrugged a little. “That doesn’t mean she’s not right. She’s been wearing his cardian all day.”

“It’s cold.”

Kurt perked up at that. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Miss Brandt has been wearing the Professor’s cardigans for the whole week now.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“As I said, I think they might make a sweet couple.” Kurt commented before frowning a little. “But should we really be this invasive?”

“We should if it proves us right.” Ororo smirked.

“I just worry that this much snooping around will make them angry at us.” Kurt mumbled before looking at his telekenetic friend. “Also, Jean, why are we going to the sitting room? I’m pretty sure the fire went out hours ago.”

“I can fire it back up.”

Scott was the first to start and decent the stairs. But as soon as he got halfay down – and with that in eyesight of the sitting room – he stopped dead in his tracks, making Ororo collide with his back. She reared up to confront him about stopping but Scott put a finger to his lips and pointed at the open doors. Kurt leaned past Scott and quieted down immediately while Jubilee smacked her hand in front of her mouth to keep from making any sounds. Jean leaned forward and her mouth fell open.

At the end of the sitting room, by the fireplace sat none other than you and Charles, cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket. And the two of you were kissing. He was cupping your face, his fingers gently and lovingly stroking your face while yours were buried in his hair, tenderly raking over his scalp. Ororo turned to Scott and pointed a victorious finger at him but he was too busy watching as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa and Charles followed quickly to deepen the kiss, not wanting to part from it just yet.

Eventually, the two of you parted and Charles leaned his forehead against yours, earning himself a small smile and a chaste peck on his lips as you looked back at him. Your hands wandered down to the side of his face where you began to stroke his skin, making a smile appear on his face. He leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Feeling a bit warmer now, my love?” Charles said softly, a bright smile appearing on his lips as you nodded in agreement. “I did promise to warm you up.”

“And you did a wonderful job at that, sweetheart.” You said in amusement, hand sliding down his neck to rest on his shoulder. “I feel very warm and very loved thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Charles whispered, his smile faltering a little. “I do hate to see you cold and anxious about your memories, my darling. I know you’ve told me about your past many times but the thought of you being left out in the snow in an attempt to cure your pyrokinesis still upsets me terribly and makes me angry.”

“Don’t be, please.” You replied, leaning your forhead against his. “I’m here now and I’m safe. You make me feel safe, Sweetheart. Safe and warm.”

“That’s good.”

“You’re not cold either, are you?” You inquired in concern. “I know that you get cold easily and I also want to help you stay warm, especially since I pretty much stole all your cardigans.”

Charles laughed softly, obviously touched by your concern before pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “I’m fine, my love. It’s very warm in here and besides, I have you next to me to warm me up.”

“We could go upstairs and I could properly warm you up.”

“Later.” Charles promised before sitting back and stretching out his arm in invitation. “Stay by the fire with me a little longer, would you?”

“I’d love nothing more than that.”

With that, you leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss again but this time Charles didn’t reciprocate, instead pulling back and furrowing his brows. That got you to look up at him in concern, the hand you had placed on his shoulder tightening as you frowned.

“What’s wrong, Charles? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, love.” Charles said softly before his voice took on an amused tone. “But we’re not alone anymore.”

With that, he turned toward the door and subsequently the staircase, making you follow his gaze. The students froze where they were standing. While Kurt worried about you two being angry, Jean flushed at being spotted and Ororo gave a small wave. Scott looked away awkwardly and a wide grin spread across Jubilee’s face. But regardless of their reactions, all of them slowly made their way into the sitting room. By the time they were close by, you and Charles were sitting up straight again, turned so you could properly face the students. Charles looked pretty amused and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the situation.

“Now, my dears, how long have you been watching us?”

“We haven’t been watching you!” Kurt defended himself but quickly faltered as he realised that that wasn’t entirely true. “I mean, we sort of did but only for a few minutes.”

“We wanted to come into the sitting room to warm up and you two were sort of smooching on the sofa.” Ororo explained, waving at you and Charles on the couch.

“Smooching.” Scott snorted before shaking his head. “But they’re right. We’ve only been standing there for a minute or two.”

You shook your head in amusement, unable to keep a small laugh from escaping you as she watched their concerned faces. “Don’t worry now. You’re not in any trouble if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s a relief.” Jean said with a small smile. “We worried about that.”

“You two are such a sweet couple, Miss Brandt!” Jubilee suddenly exclaimed, smiling brightly at you and Charles. “And you look really happy together. It’s so good you’re finally together.”

“We are happy.” Charles confirmed, reaching out to take your hand into his. “But we have been in a relationship for a long time. Honestly, I was under the impression that it was fairly obvious.”

“At least we haven’t been keeping it a secret.” You threw in before shrugging. “But then again, we aren’t overly affectionate in the presence of our students. That would hardly be professional.”

“So you’ve been dating for a while now?”

“Yes, we’ve kept it professional but we haven’t been trying to keep it a secret.” Charles explained before nodding toward the fire. “Now, if you still want to warm up, you can find yourself a place to sit. The fire is shrinking now but I’m sure my lovely darling can stoke the flames a bit.”

At his words, you stood from the couch before walking over to the huge fireplace and using your powers to stoke the flames. Then you returned to your place next to Charles and leaned back against his side.

“So tell me, what have you kids been up to all day? I barely saw any students out and about today.” You mused as you looked around. “Where you in town or in your rooms?”

“We were in our rooms.” Scott explained, pulling his legs up onto the armchair. “We thought of going into town but--”

“But we got distracted arguing about whether or not you two were dating.” Jubilee joked, looking up at you from her spot on the carpet. “We were about to start a betting pool at this point.”

“A betting pool?” Charles laughed and shook his head. “Were you really that interested in whether or not we were a couple?”

“A lot of the other students were speculating, too.” Jean defended herself but relaxed when she saw you and Charles laughing at the situation. “The pool was Jubilee’s idea.”

Jubilee nodded in agreement before her eyes widened and she laughed. “You’re like the school’s parents now. X-Mom and X-Dad.”

“Interesting superhero names, for sure.” You chuckled and looked at Charles. “You can bet I will call you X-Dad from now on whenever you act parental.”

“Thank you for that, Jubilee.” Charles said in amusement, his arm pulling you closer as he looked back at you. “But while I don’t think you were being too invasive, I’d like to ask you all to respect our privacy. We want to keep everything professional.”

“Of course.” Jean nodded. “I’m sorry that we were so nosy and invasive.”

“There is no harm done, Jean. Everything’s alright.”

“I can’t believe you were right.” Scott joked. “I guess I was just oblivious.”

Ororo nodded and looked at Jean. “And you called us ridiculous.”

“I guess I got proven wrong.”

[love4myg]

pottery date | myg

summary. you never expected to find pottery so difficult, so it's a good thing that your boyfriend is right there, ready to help guide you with his gentle hands.

────

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, fluff

word count: 1.1k

content: yoongi and oc goes on a pottery date / yoongi helps oc with pottery / yoongi realises how much he loves oc 🤧

warnings: they’re both very much in love, thats all 😭

a/n: this was inspired by a random tiktok. i have no idea how pottery works so i apologise if any of this is inaccurate. this ended up being shorter than my usual drabbles lol. feedback, likes, reblogs, comments and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i hope you enjoyy <33

main masterlist

────

Pottery is a lot harder than people make it out to be.

You were convinced you’d be a natural at this. After all, how hard could it be to mould some clay into a simple bowl or vase? But now, as you sit at the pottery wheel with a lopsided, uncooperative lump of clay before you, the task seems almost Herculean.

The pottery studio was a hidden gem, tucked away on a quiet street. It was a warm, relaxing place filled with the earthy smell of clay and the constant hum of pottery wheels. This place was Yoongi's idea, after revealing that he had been attending classes for the past month and had completely forgotten to tell you. You had been annoyed with him at first, but your mood instantly changed when he invited you to attend a couple’s class with him.

Now you understand why he had such a smug smile on his face when he suggested it.

You glance over at Yoongi, who sits beside your wheel. His eyes are focused, his long fingers carefully shaping the clay into a perfect cylinder. He wears a simple beige top and dark jeans under an apron tied loosely around his waist. His grown-out hair falls across his eyes in small waves, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How are you so good at this?” you ask. He looks up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m just lucky,” he says with a small shrug. "I've also attended more classes than you, so."

"Yeah, which is totally unfair."

Yoongi chuckles. “Want some help?”

You sigh, glancing down at your creation. “Please. This thing looks like it belongs in a horror movie.”

He chuckles, wiping his hands on a damp towel before approaching your wheel. “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”

He pulls his stool closer to you and wraps his arms around yours. Your fingers intertwine on the clay, and his breath fans across the side of your face. His touch is warm and reassuring, his presence somehow making the task seem less daunting. He shifts your fingers slightly, guiding your movements with gentle precision.

“Okay, press down a little more here,” he instructs, his voice low and soothing. “And use your other hand to steady it. See? It’s all about balance.”

You follow his guidance, feeling the clay start to yield under your touch, smoothing into a proper shape. The wheel hums softly beneath your feet as you find a rhythm, the clay cool and malleable against your palms.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. “You’ve got it.”

You relax into his embrace and Yoongi rests his chin on your shoulder. The pleasant, citrusy scent of his perfume overtakes your senses, and for a moment, everything else seems to fade away.

It’s just the two of you, your head resting against his shoulder as you let him control most of your moves. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and his calloused hands that gently move over yours as you mould the clay together.

“You make it look so easy,” you say, glancing sideways at him. His focus is intent, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips. You ignore the urge to place a peck on the mole that lies just beside his nose.

“It’s all about having the right teacher,” he replies, and you playfully roll your eyes.

Yoongi leans back slightly, letting you take control. You can feel his watchful eyes on you, his presence a comforting weight at your side. He remains close, offering guidance with small nudges or murmured suggestions when you falter.

Occasionally, he whispers words of praise and encouragement in that stupidly attractive voice of his and smirks to himself when he notices the flush on your skin.

As the minutes pass, you find yourself becoming more comfortable, the awkwardness melting away. The clay responds to your touch, smoothing into an even form that vaguely resembles a bowl. It’s far from perfect, of course, but it’s yours.

“Look at that,” Yoongi says, admiration in his voice. “You’re a natural.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But it’s better than what I started with, thanks to you.”

“We make a good team,” he says with a grin, that gummy smile lighting up his face.

────

Before leaving, you drag Yoongi along to the pale, wooden shelves that line the walls, displaying an array of colourful mugs and vases with unique shapes and intricate designs. You inspect them all in awe, marvelling at the ones you find pretty and keeping them in mind as inspiration for your next piece.

A small mug catches your eye. It’s coloured in a light shade of cream, with baby pink bows painted across the exterior.

“Would it be taking inspo if I just copy this design?”

Yoongi chuckles softly, stepping closer to you to take a closer look at the mug himself. “Mhm, probably.”

You let out a disappointed sigh. “It’s so pretty though.”

He watches you stare at the mug like it holds the answers to the universe, unable to help the smile that draws across his face. The butterflies in his stomach flutter around at the sight of you looking so fondly at something so mundane.

The urge to kiss you is suddenly overwhelming. He’s so close to you that he can see the few moles dotted across your face and neck, and the faint pigment of your favourite lip gloss shining on your parted lips. In fact, he’s so close that it would take little to no effort to press his mouth to yours.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes your hand for a few seconds—a secret message that you originally came up with after sensing his hesitance to PDA.

I love you.

The action pulls your gaze from the mug to Yoongi’s face, eyes slightly wide with surprise but clouded with affection, lips curling from a smile into a grin as you mimic the action.

It’s stupid how you still manage to make him feel like this after all these years of dating. He’s embarrassed by the faint warmth that envelops his cheeks, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

God, he just fell in love with you all over again.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (1 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, brief mention of pregnancy, canon-typical swearing, Simon is a girl dad

Word Count: 890

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Filling out a parent questionnaire leads to Simon having to answer a hard question.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad

“Daddy.”

 A small fist curls around the bottom of Simon’s shirt, tugging. He glances down, finding his daughter there holding out a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Simon takes it from her, his gaze shifting to the black ink.

“It’s for school.”

It’s a questionnaire. Simons scans over the questions quickly before returning his gaze to his daughter. “Give me a second, love.”

Simon packs up the files he brought home from work. Grabbing a pencil, he strolls out to the living room, his daughter on his heels. Simon takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, placing the paper and pencil on the coffee table. His daughter snags a pillow off the couch, dropping it on the floor next to his legs. Sitting, she stares at him expectantly.

Simon nods toward the paper. “You need to practice your letters.”

She groans. “But it’s about you!”

Simon slowly slides the paper and pencil over to her. She pouts but takes up the pencil, the graphite tip poised above the first line.

“Name,” she says, glancing up at him.

“You know my name.”

She squints at him and looks back at the paper, taking her time to write each letter. She holds it up and Simon smiles. It’s stilted and a bit sideways, but it’s there. She asks several more questions like favorite food and color. Simon doesn’t understand the point to it but they’re likely doing a project on a parent.

“Job,” she says, expectant.

Job. His occupation. That’s a fucking complicated question.

“Military,” he answers.

She frowns. “How do you spell that?”

“Sound it out.”

She does so slowly, elongating each letter as she writes.

Simon glances over her shoulder and chuckles. “That’s an ‘i,’ darling.” He points and she aggressively erases her mistake.

When she finishes, she looks up at him. “Explain.”

Explain. Explain.

Explain…what?

That he kills people? That he negotiates the release of hostages? That he faces violence every day he’s on the job? That he sees some of the worst in people?

How the bloody hell does he explain all that to a six-year-old girl? How does he summarize the violence into a watered-down version that’s digestible enough for her, her teacher, the other students, and her school.

Simon swallows. “I stop bad people from doing bad things.”

She blinks. “Do I have to write all that?”

Simon barks a laugh. “It’s one sentence.”

She silently mimics him, shaking her little body in annoyance as she begins to write. Simon has no idea where the attitude comes from, but it’s likely from Johnny.

“Next question,” prompts Simon once the sentence is written down.

She hesitates and then turns in his direction. “Can I be like you when I grow up?”

Could she? Yes. But the very idea of her in the line of danger frightens him. It twists his stomach, knowing all the things that could befall her if she were to follow in his footsteps. Simon’s gut-instinct is to tell her “No.”

“Why do you want to be like me?” he asks.

She shrugs. “You’re strong. I want to be strong like you.”

“You don’t need to do what I do to be strong.”

“Uh, no,” she says, matter-of-fact, peering at the next question.

Fucking hell, she’s going to be an absolute hellion when she hits puberty. Sighing, Simon rubs at his temple. For some reason, he glances away from his daughter, his gaze landing on you in the hallway. With your hand cradling your slightly swollen belly, you watch on with an amused expression.

Number two. Will this one be like her? Wanting to do what he does?

“Daddy.”

Simon turns back to his daughter. She points at the paper with the tip of her pencil, head tilted slightly to the side.

He leans forward. “What’s the next question?”

“What does your day look like?” She grins up at him, ready for his answer.

Simon hears your soft laugh from the hall, and then your footsteps across the carpet. Your hand reaches out to cradle the back of Simon’s neck. On instinct, he lifts his arm, resting his hand on the small of your back.

“Go on, Simon. Tell her,” you tease, knowing that he’s struggling to form an answer.

“Do you put your mask on first?” The question is innocent but Simon laughs anyway.

“No,” he chuckles, gently taking the paper and pencil from her. “I kiss your mother first.”

Simon drags you in for a kiss.

“Ugh. Gross.” She makes a face, tiny nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Still want my job?” Simon presents the paper and she snatches up in her little fist.

“No thanks,” she sing-songs, stuffing the paper in her backpack, crinkling it up.

You hide your grin in Simon’s shoulder, and Simon tugs you closer. “Good save,” you murmur.

Simon presses his lips to the top of your head. “She has one of my masks.”

“I know,” you giggle. “Found it under her pillow this morning. I put it in your bag.”

“Was it covered in your makeup this time?”

“Had to wash it.”

Simon shakes his head in exasperation. He’s not annoyed. Just perplexed. He doesn’t understand why his daughter wants to be just like him.

It’s because she doesn’t know.

No. She doesn’t know. But one day she will. She might even change her mind.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

[emphistic]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍’ 𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍’

𝐀/𝐍: here's what you've all been waiting for . . . more preschool!sukuna !! — as thanks for 1000+ followers — also, also, big thanks to @domainofmarie and @beyond-your-stars for the idea !

𝐖/𝐂: around 1.7k

When you first met Sukuna, you thought he was a strawberry incarnate. Maybe it was his hair — which you were shocked to find out was natural, maybe it was his eyes — that seemingly glowed maroon whenever he was even slightly vexed, or maybe, just maybe, it was the way his pale skin turned a cute shade of salmon whenever you looked his way. In any case, you stood by your decision. — Sukuna was a strawberry.

And, if you thought hard enough, you would remember the times where you used to try and eat Sukuna. Yes, you read that right. Sometimes you would go up to your friend, grab one of his cheeks in your hands, and chomp!

Unfortunately, you did get in trouble one or two times, not because Sukuna told on you — he would never even think of doing such a thing, — but because Sukuna walked around all day with a bite mark engraved on his cheek.

You actually haven’t stopped this deed of yours. It’s become a habit, or an addiction, as Sukuna called it. But he didn’t mind. He never did. Not if it was about you.

But what he did mind, was, when people would try to take your attention off of him.

For instance, right now. You were seated beside Sukuna on the bus, and in the midst of trying to take a bite of your strawberry, whilst said strawberry was just staring out the window, letting you give your best efforts. [No, he did not give you the window seat.] Out of the blue, another one of your classmates approaches your row.

“Hey, guys! Can I sit next to you—?”

“This seat is taken.” Sukuna swiftly turns to face the boy and gestures towards the empty spot on your left. Albeit it was obviously not occupied, Sukuna didn’t even try to make up a better excuse.

“Umm, it’s actually—”

“Taken. It’s actually taken.”

Due to Sukuna’s unwavering glare, and clearly irked expression on his face, the boy clumsily shuffled away.

“‘Kuna,” you started, in that soft tone of yours — which never failed to lift his spirits, “he just wanted to sit down with us. And—and, no one’s sitting there anyway. Lying’s bad.”

“Yeah, well,” he huffed. “Next time I won’t lie, then. I’ll tell him he can’t sit next to you.”

“You mean ‘us’?”

“I mean what I said.”

“You’re the most confusing strawberry ever.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, the strawberry did not get less confusing once you two arrived at your destination . . . the zoo!

Your teachers had originally planned to separate the class into two groups — in order to avoid chaos — but, when they noticed you and Sukuna already holding hands, they refrained from their decision of splitting you two up. They knew it would always end up being a battle they couldn’t win, no matter how hard they tried. Sukuna would never let go. And you, being you, wouldn’t let go either.

“Hey, Sukuna! Can you hold my hand? Those animals are scaring me.” A girl asked, once your group had reached the lion enclosure. You turned your head and saw the girl stick out her tongue at you. You frowned.

“Out of my way,” Sukuna elbowed her, sending her stumbling, “we—she wants to see the pandas.” Sukuna managed to successfully drag you a few feet away from your classmates before your teachers spotted the little attempt at “escape” and reprimanded you two, leading you guys back to the rest of the group.

Sukuna frowned, yet his grip on your hand never ceased. However, the frown soon flipped upside down, when your teacher guided the group over to the pandas. Sukuna noticed a growing smile on your lips, and hid his own, turning slightly away.

You pointed at the pandas behind the glass wall, “‘Kuna, look! They’re so cute! Aww, I want one as a pet.”

“Yeah? Then you’d have to clean up all their poop. Look at how big they are, and just imagine the size of their poop. It must be equal in ratio, y’know.”

You stifled a giggle behind your free hand, “Okay. Then . . . I would just make you clean up the poop and take care of the hard stuff. And I’ll do everything else.”

“Sure.”

You jumped up and down fervently, continuing to grasp his hand all the while. “Really? Yay!”

“Whatever.” Sukuna turned away from you, again, and worked hard to contain his laughter. You just looked so . . .

“Over here, everyone! Come this way,” your teacher yelled, making you guys continue on your way. “I meant everyone, Sukuna. Don’t stop your friend from listening to the teacher, didn’t I tell you? Wouldn’t want to leave you guys behind.”

Sukuna sighed, yet obeying nonetheless.

As your class left the animals encased behind glass walls, you passed by another enclosure on your way out. — A group of turtles.

You let go of Sukuna and ran up to the glass, pressing your face against it, not noticing the way your breath fogged up the glass. You gasped, loudly. “Woah! They’re all such pretty colors—ah!”

Sukuna pulled you back just as fast as the turtle came near the glass and banged on it with its flipper.

“What happened?” Your teacher asked, in a tone full of genuine concern.

“The sea turtle, it—it attacked me.” You pointed at said animal.

“No, it didn’t. You’re just being dramatic. It was behind the glass.”

Miss Wells’s eyes flickered between you two as you and Sukuna argued and bickered over what happened. When she realized nothing serious occured, she backed away. It was funny, she had to admit. The two of you were fighting while still holding hands.

“Hmph! It did attack me.”

“It didn’t even touch you.”

“Yes, it did.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Uh huh.”

Sukuna, this time, didn’t bother hiding his laugh when a gorilla beat its chest and you jolted in your position. But, he didn’t forget to squeeze your hand, assuring you nothing was going to hurt you. Not if he was there.

The rest of the day was spent seeing alligators, tigers, spiders, snakes, you name it. And, although you did get a little spooked a few times, you couldn’t deny you were totally bummed when your teacher announced the field trip was over. You didn’t even get to see your favorite animal yet.

As for Sukuna? He couldn’t deny he was totally bummed seeing you look so upset.

When your group rendezvoused with the other half of the class and loaded onto the bus, Sukuna helped you put on your coat, as the weather had decreased drastically.

You leaned your head on your strawberry’s shoulder. “‘Kuna,” you sighed, clearly exhausted after a whole day of fun.

“Hm?” He pushed a strand of hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear.

“Why are you still holding my hand?” Albeit you were tired, you were never too tired to giggle.

“. . .So you don’t get lost. Duh.” It took Sukuna quite a bit of time to think of a decent answer.

“But, we’re on a bus. How would I get lost?”

“You never know.”

“You’re such a dummy. It’s literally impossible.”

“You’re pretty good at doing impossible things.” — Like, making his heart race, running through his mind all day long, giving him a feeling other than anger. You were a master at doing impossible feats.

“Shut up.”

“Oh yeah? If I shut up, then, how would I be able to give you . . . this!” Sukuna pulled out a stuffed plushie of your favorite animal of all time from behind his back, as if he had been waiting for this moment all his life. And, maybe he was. You never know, right?

“Sukuna!” You gasped. Reaching out your hands in a ‘gimme, gimme’ manner.

“Not even a ‘please’? Not even a ‘thank you’?” Sukuna teased.

However, he didn’t have much to say once you leaned over and placed a wet kiss on his cheek, making a ‘mwah!’ sound as you did so. "Thank you, thank you! — So much!"

Sukuna touched his cheek with his hand, his face immediately reddening. All the while, you took your chance and snatched the plushie out of his arms, quickly cuddling it to your chest.

“When did you even get this?”

“. . .” He was broken, absolutely stupefied, and unable to speak.

“‘Kuna?”

“Oh, what? What did you say?”

“I said, ‘when did you get this’?” You repeated, still entirely focused on the animal in your arms.

“Right. . . I got it when you were in the bathroom. Spent all my money on it. I didn’t know gift shops were so expensive.” He scratched the back of his head.

“Of course it would be expensive, silly! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!"

He smiled. “I beg to differ.”

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura

[cusimmrbrightside]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cordeliawhohung]

the prowl - single dad! Price x teacher! stripper! Reader (fem) taglist

[4] spice

On Monday, Amelia arrives with a bouquet of flowers. 

Gentle steam wafts from your tea — which you had accidentally overheated in the teachers lounge — biting back the oddly cool summer day as rain taps against the windows. Your hands warm around the ceramic cup, making sure to keep an eye on your students as they roam in the play area before the day begins, sheltered from the unforgiving weather. 

When Amelia walks through the door, she brings an accord of something pale, sweet, and earthy with her. When you look up from your cup, you realize she’s holding roses. There’s a dozen of them in her arms at least. Bright, beautiful red petals in full bloom glisten with fresh rain water as tiny hands wrap around their stems. They’re held together by a fat, gold ribbon tied into a pristine bow.  

It isn’t until her blue eyes peek around the florist’s paper that you’re able to recognize the walking floral mess as John’s daughter. Her giggles cut through the chatter of the other students as she trots around your desk, mary jane shoes tapping on the tile floor. 

“Good morning, Miss Lolly,” she says, the grin evident in her voice, yet you have to peer over the bouquet in order to see it yourself. 

Forgetting your tea, you swivel in your chair to face her fully with an awkward smile. “You look like you got your hands full there,” you note. 

Nodding, Amelia carefully maneuvers the flowers so that they’re laying horizontally in her hands. She holds them out for you as if she’s bestowing some great duty upon you; the duty of accepting a gift that’s surely too luxurious for you. 

“They’re for you!” she announces proudly. 

She all but shoves the flowers into your hands where their redolent aroma washes over your nose. You hold them with care, as if they’ll disintegrate in your hands at any moment. Careful fingers brush over the full heads of the flowers. They’re still cold. Fresh out of refrigeration and perfectly crafted. Speechless, you look back at her just as she starts to slide her backpack off her shoulders. 

“Amelia, that’s so —”

“Hold on! I almost forgot!”

Dinosaur fabric morphs as her hand rummages through zippers and pockets. Eventually, she retrieves a cream colored envelope that has the name Miss Lolly written in sloppy, well meaning handwriting. She presents it with both hands, cheeks flushing a bright pink as she wiggles it around. 

“Is this all for me?” you ask, dumbfounded. 

Again, she nods. “It was daddy’s idea. We wanted to say thank you!” 

Resting the bouquet in your lap, you take the envelope from Amelia and quickly open it. It’s unsealed — excited to be read. It’s a decorative card with bright, 70’s flower themed drawings on the front with the words Thank You! written in fat, bubbly, groovy letters. On the inside, you see where an attempt was made at writing your real title, only to be crossed out and quickly replaced with Dear Miss Lolly in neat print handwriting. 

Dear Miss Lolly,

Amelia and I would like to express our gratitude for your work and care. Each day she comes home and tells me what a wonderful time she has in your class. She says she enjoys your pretty dresses and the silly voices you use during reading time. However, I can’t thank you enough for taking care of my little girl after her tumble on Friday. Please accept this as a token of our appreciation. 

Sincerely,

John and Amelia

John’s signature is strong. Demanding. Dark. It looks out of place next to Amelia’s attempt at cursive — which you haven’t quite gone to that section in English yet — but it makes you smile all the same. As you set both the flowers and the card aside, a hint of something catches your nose. A gentle sillage. It’s warm and spiced, but you quickly push it out of your mind as you give your full attention to Amelia. 

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you so, so much Amelia,” you say softly. 

“Do you like them?” she asks, eyes wide and glistening with joy as she attempts to fight back a grin. 

“I love them.” 

It’s not a lie. You do. They’re beautiful, picked with care; not a single bruise or thorn to be seen, but every time you see them, you think of him. How a blessing and a curse can co-exist in the same object baffles you. Lush red catches your attention as you lecture and play games with your students, and you’re reminded of Amelia’s grin and giggles. At the same time, it makes you think of her father: it makes you think of John. 

He’s all you’ve been able to think about since Friday. The image of him sitting on that couch, legs spread wide and powerful as he sips on whiskey like it’s water burns into your mind. Butterflies harass your stomach as you think of that night, curled against his side, losing yourself to the scent of him as you chatted away, just how he told you to. That night, he tipped you enough to cover most of your rent, and a shameful fire burns your heart every time you think about it. 

John’s too kind, and so… lonely. 

You can’t help but feel as if you had taken advantage of him that night. A hidden identity. A fake name. A different mask. Would he have done all those things had he known who you truly were? Would he feel disgusted if he ever found out? You, his precious daughter’s teacher, rubbing up against strange men in your free time? 

That feeling of discomfort only gets worse at the end of the school day when he comes to pick Amelia up. 

A sleek black coat protects him from the incessant rain that’s plagued the city the entire day, but it does nothing to shield his hair. Ebony locks clump together with the troublesome precipitation, weighing them down along his forehead. It irritates him even as he enters your classroom, thick fingers attempting to get the strands to cooperate. Your pulse pounds erratically in your throat, throbbing and unforgiving, dancing just under your skin where it’s ready to burst. 

Swallowing, you look away from him as you continue to sort through papers and hope that he didn’t see you staring. Maybe if you look busy waiting around for parents to grab their children he’ll leave without talking to you. So you crunch. Eyes hyperfocusing on the work in front of you as if it’ll make everything else around you irrelevant. Grading young primary students' projects is always easy. Highly assisted, simple tasks means you’re putting stickers in the corner along with a kind note scrawled in red ink. 

You always save the dinosaur stickers for Amelia. 

“Miss Lolly?” 

Your eyes flutter shut as cologne wafts towards you, and for a moment you’re somewhere else. Bare skin against leather. Against cloth. Pressed against a chest. Arm wrapped around you. That reality doesn’t exist — shouldn’t exist — and it’s fleeting. The moment you open your eyes, it dissolves and morphs into the man in front of you. John Price, with a smile on his face, and his daughter’s hand in his. 

“I see you got our gift,” he notes, nodding to the flowers on your right. 

Trying to keep your eyes off of him as much as possible, you turn to look at the roses. Beautiful haematic flowers sit proudly in a spare vase you were able to scrounge up from the art teacher. It’s handmade — expertly blown glass that casts a blue shadow on the top of your desk as if the room had been submerged in an oceanic wonderland. 

“Amelia was very ecstatic to deliver them this morning,” you chuckle. Your pen clicks in even, consecutive strikes — like heels on marble flooring. 

“I helped pick them out! Oh, and the card, too,” she quickly announces before sheepishly sticking herself to her father’s side. 

“They’re beautiful,” you reiterate to her before anxiously looking up at John. “And… thank you. They do liven up the room a bit.” 

John waves his hand almost dismissively. “It’s nothing. Only fitting considering you took care of my girl.” 

Your legs press together as he speaks, baritone washing over you just like it did on Friday. It’s not as strong. Weaker. Not nearly as vibrant as it was when you were enveloped by him. Shame and desire fight tooth and nail inside of you, wreaking havoc on your gut, splitting apart offals as they fight for dominance. Despite the battle, you smile through it all — pretty and perfect, just the way Miss Lolly should be. 

“Always happy to help,” you chirp. 

As John and Amelia say their farewells, fauve blue eyes inspect you meticulously. You smile through the scrutiny, wave at little Amelia, and share your excitement to see her tomorrow, but you’re wary of his gaze. Is there recognition? Fraying at the edges of your disguise? Or can he see the way his fingerprints still linger on your skin? Maybe your guilty conscience is just eating you alive.

John doesn’t seem to find whatever he was looking for — if anything at all — and both him and Amelia leave with waves and smiles as they venture out into the pouring rain. Their absence doesn’t do anything to ease the feeling in your gut. It’s trepidation on steroids — a raging alarum that sickens you. You’re nothing but a charlatan; a silly pretender who gets off on thoughts of her student’s father. 

Silence settles over the classroom as the last parent comes to retrieve their child, and just like everyone else you send them off with a smile. That facade breaks the moment the door closes behind them, and you’re left solitary in a colorful room with a bouquet of flowers. 

The thought of throwing them into the bin crosses your mind. You’ve become so obsessed with boundaries that you’re terrified of them blurring. A card becomes flowers, which become friendship, which becomes more. As if it already isn’t there. As if you didn’t spend the evening in his arms just to help make rent for the month. 

Shaking your head, you remind yourself that Miss Lolly has no recollection of Friday night. No, she was at home, doing things an upstanding citizen would do. So, you treat the flowers as such — just flowers. A simple token of appreciation you will adoringly keep on the corner of your desk until they wilt and die, lest little Amelia’s heart shatter. As for the card, you have a corkboard for a reason. Adorned with cute art projects, sweet notes, and other trinkets. You reach for it, fingers bracing as if you expect it to burn, and as it rises from the desk, you freeze. 

Gentle sillage. Warm and spiced. For a moment, you think you’ve gone insane. Smelling things that have long since vanished as if you’re chasing ghosts. Jittery eyes glance around your empty classroom as if someone’s waiting for you to slip up. Some judge and executioner hidden in the corner waiting to make you pay for your transgressions.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, you raise the card up until it’s just under your nose and you inhale slow and deep. Synapses fry, nerves and neurons sparking until the electricity melts your brain — you were right. It’s him. Molecules of cologne soaked into cardstock so faintly you almost didn’t notice it, but the card smells like him. Your mind spins as you push it away, but the scent is so intoxicating your body longs for it. 

John Price is going to be the death of you and he doesn’t even know it. 

It’s then that you decide that you can’t hang the card with the others. That aroma will haunt you if you do. Instead, you open some forgotten drawer in your desk, full of dust and old pencil shavings, and you lock it in the dark. Sealed tight where the scent has no chance of fighting to escape. Your mind wants to wander. Question if this was done on purpose, or if it was some lingering mistake the card gathered off the pocket of his coat. 

You refuse to entertain it. John has no reason to terrorize a simple school teacher.

Miss Lolly has had a very long Monday, and she plans on going home. Home, and well away from any place where John Price might be lurking in the corner, waiting to haunt her. If you’re lucky, the petrichor soaking the pavement outside will have you forget all about him and that stupid card.

[chiscaralight]

warnings: afab!reader x fratboy!zhongli except he doesn’t behave like one, drunk sex, lotsss of pussy eating, face riding,(as usual), dom!zhongli, he uses pet names here and there, 69, funny number hehe, probably missed a few tags but enjoy i tried my best

word count: 1.7k

zhongli. you’ve heard that name so many times around campus. Whether it was gushing over how attractive he was or trying to wiggle their way into the frat house for their latest party, the name was sure to come up in many conversations. granted, he is the leader of the fraternity so everything would have to pass through him first. but plagues your thoughts for … a different reason.

you'll never forget that day in class. your teacher was running late for whatever reason, and your eyes, much like the result of the class were glued on zhongli and one of the other frat members; scara.

your eyes were trained on the brown-haired man's profile before the words of some girl behind you grabbed your attention.

“-know right? i heard they made him head of the frat because he loves gettin' his dick sucked!”

the gasps and giggles that left her group of friends slowly dimmed out of your mind as your face flushed and your thighs began to press together. you suck your lower lip between your teeth as you close your eyes and imagine how good fucking him would feel. the slamming of the lecture hall doors is what draws you out of your shameful daydream as the lecturer walks in. Another student is trailing behind, carrying something presumably for the teacher. you move your eyes back towards him and you’re so sure you see his eyes lock onto yours. you’re even more taken aback when you catch the corners of his lips turning up into a polite smile before he faces the front of the class once again.

now here you are, stumbling towards the frat house with two of your friends on either side of you. pregaming in your apartment didn’t sound like a bad idea at first, mixing drinks and dancing as you got ready. now you’re starting to regret it as you can barely walk a straight line in your kitten heels, heat from the alcohol in your system barely helping you to keep warm from the cold breeze that blew against your exposed arms.

you sigh in relief as you hear the loud music coming from the house, motioning to your friends to go in first. the heat from the packed, sweaty bodies dancing around the living room hitting you once. you can’t decide whether you’re in the mood to dance or not, so you tap your friend and point to the kitchen, silently explaining you want another drink. she nods and turns back to your other friend to continue dancing.

the kitchen is less populated. you breathe out a sigh of relief and make your way toward the cooler filled with what you presume to be a party mix. you say a quick prayer before scooping the concoction into a clean cup and taking a sip. it doesn't taste half as bad as you would expect it to, but the flavor of the spirits still finds its way through and makes you wince.

you lean against the kitchen island and sip from your cup occasionally. your mind is everywhere but the party, and a deep, smooth voice draws you out of your haze.

“you really seem to like that drink.” you whip your head around fast and begin to cough quite violently as you register his voice. zhongli's large, hand pats your back firmly. it’s not the soothing action that stops the coughing though, it’s the way your name drips from his lips after he asks if you’re okay.

“you…you know my name?”

“of course i do. we’re in the same major.”

what a shit excuse.

“there’s a lot of people in your poli sci. if someone drags up three randoms on the street and tells you they’re in our class you’d probably agree with them,”

he pauses for a moment. “well that’s beside the point. you’ve been here alone for a while so i was wondering if you wanted to take a walk out back? i want to get away from the noise and i have a feeling you’ll enjoy it a little more than standing in the kitchen till the party’s over.”

you huff and nod, so he’s scooping up another cup of the mix for himself before guiding you out towards the locked door. he pulls a key from his pocket and quickly unlocks it. once you step out, you realize the whole back of the house, albeit how big it is, is fenced off. you’re starting to feel the liquor kick once again, the familiar buzz has you feeling hot all over as you cling to the taller man for balance. he glances down at you and you keep your eyes trained on the floor. it’s silent for a while, the two of you standing on the steps as the wind nips at your skin.

“hey,” he calls.

“hm?”

“i have an idea.”

you imagined yourself doing quite a few things tonight, but making out half-naked in the pool with the man who had been the object of your affection since the semester started was far from the top of the list. he’s pushing you against the wall, body pressing into yours to keep you from sliding down.

you’re pulling away to catch your breath and he’s chasing your lips again in a hungry kiss.

“please zhongli i-“

you’re gasping as he moves to kiss the skin of your neck.

“i need you. need you so bad.”

Your underwear is still pretty soaked for multiple reasons under your dress but it’s the least of your concerns as zhongli is pushing you into his room. the party is still going raging downstairs, bass reverbing through the walls as he’s yanking the dress off you again.

“you know why they made me the head of the frat?”

you nod. he pulls the strap of your panties, letting them snap back. you yelp.

“tell me.”

“because you like..getting head?”

you don't sound confident as he’s sliding them off.

“are you sure?”

“that’s just what i heard-”

“no.” he’s dragging you closer to the end of the bed.

“it’s because i love..”

he’s getting down on his knees in front of you.

“giving it.”

you can barely hear the blaring music anymore over your loud moans and the sinister sounds coming from between your legs. the back of your thighs are firmly pressed against his strong shoulders with his hands as he hungrily laps at your dripping cunt. you’re clenching around his tongue as it prods into you so violently and you can feel your orgasm starting to build fast. he only hums against you in response and the vibrations coax it out of you painfully slow. freezing up against him, your vision turns white, and your body trembles. you’re coming down, but he only gives you a minute before he’s back onto you again.

he’s pushing your back flat and shifting you higher into the bed, pressing quick kisses all over your belly. your breath is erratic, but he pays no mind to that as his lips find your clit. he’s sucking and nibbling on the sensitive bud and sliding a thick finger into your warmth. the new sensation causes you to cry out, back arching off the bed. he uses his free hand to push you back down, and you can barely get the words out of your mouth to tell him how good it feels. it’s almost understandable through your incoherent babbling. you can feel the ghost of a smirk grace his lips as he adds another finger in. he’s scissoring his long fingers into you and you’re rolling your hips as you can feel another orgasm approaching.

you can’t even tell how long it’s been before you open your eyes again. you look down to warn him, but he’s already looking at you through hooded eyes. his cheeks are flushed and his hair is pushed back, still wet from the pool. a certain curl of his fingers has you breaking away from his gaze first, eyes rolling back as the pleasure washes over you once again. you’re shaking this time, gasping for air as he pulls away from your cunt. you can barely hear his voice as he tells you how good you’re doing for him while he caresses your face.

you’re finally able to breathe calmly before his words cause your eyes to widen in disbelief.

"you think you can give me one more, beautiful?"

hands splayed across his chest, you’re trying your best to hold your body weight up to prevent suffocating him. obviously, he didn’t care about his oxygen flow as much as you so because he's dragging you down onto his tongue. you’re insanely overstimulated, but the way he’s rubbing against your slit with that mouth of his just hurt so good. you’re grinding against his face when you notice how hard he’s straining against the fabric of his boxers. you grip the band of his undergarments and he lifts his hips for you to drag them down and your mouth hangs agape at how big he is. his tip is blush red and leaking precum, so you waste no time in gathering spit in your mouth before lowering your mouth onto him.

the way he moans into your pussy is so vile as you slowly work your way up and down his length. you’re sporadic in the way you bob your head up and down, the vibrations from his throat sending shocks up your spine. you can barely keep still, but his arms and you’re sheer determination to cum for him one more time keep you grounded-well, seated on his face. you can feel him start to stutter against your clit. the heat from his breath sends you reeling as his cum starts to fill your mouth. you pull off of him to let out one final cry before you’re released onto him. it’s all too much for you, and the black spots in your vision begin to grow until you’re fading out of consciousness.

when you come back to, a wave of fatigue washes over your body. you stir under the thick blanket as you try to regain feeling in your legs. a warm hand draws up your side from behind you and the warmth from the kiss pressed to the back side of your neck has you relaxing back into the sheets.

“are you awake?”

you violently shake your head no, drawing a laugh from the man beside you. his arm draws you back into him and you lean into his body as he mumbles a quick goodnight to you.

a/n: took me a couple of days to write omg😭 he’s deffo a crazy pussy eater and this was kinda self indulgent! i’m for sure gna write a part 2 of this where he absolutely massacres readers cunt lol but thanks for reading :D likes, reblogs, comments and follows are reallyyyy appreciated

[wwilsonbarness]

my girl

pairings:  bucky barnes x female!reader 

summary: based on the request below!

Warnings: smut 18+ only - established relationship, quick mention of reader being a teacher, minorrrr angst (like not at all), mentions of anxiety, fluff fluff fluff, smut (unprotected sex, public sex, creampie, nipple play, spit kink), use of pet names (sweet girl, baby) - let me know if i missed any please :) 

word count: 2842

a/n: not beta read or really edited lol. Also my first time writing in months so this is kinda shit. 

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform. Do not read or interact if you are a minor.

masterlist

“How do I look?” You ask Bucky as you walk into the kitchen, twirling slightly to show off your outfit. 

“Beautiful as always doll.” He walks towards you and brushes his lips against your forehead. “Don’t be nervous, they’re gonna love you.” 

Bucky always knew how you were feeling, even when you were trying to hide it. 

You take a deep sigh before replying, “I just want to make a good first impression, I know they’re important to you.” 

“Not as important as you are doll.” You feel his smirk against your forehead as he brings himself closer for another kiss. 

“Forever the charmer Buck, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the door, “come on, we don’t wanna be late.” 

You try to stop in front of the mirror to check how you look once more but he stops you, “Stop worrying baby, you look perfect.” 

“I just want them to like me.”

“And they will, I promise” 

Everything about your relationship with Bucky had been amazing so far but the idea of meeting his friends, the people who had been there for him since he became himself again, before you even knew each other, was terrifying. If they didn’t like you, what would that mean? Sure Bucky says you’re the most important person in his life but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t convince yourself that if his friends didn’t like you then Bucky would dump you. 

“Baby, you have got to stop worrying. They’re gonna love you.”

“You don’t know that Bucky.”

“But I do..” He trails off his words to show you how confident he is about this. Your lips come together in a little pout, which Bucky finds adorable. 

It was only a 15 minute drive to the tower where the rest of the Avengers lived, you were secretly hoping there would be some traffic to hold you up but the roads were nowhere near as busy as they usually were. Bucky could feel the anxiety radiating off you, he wished he could take it away from you, there was really 0 chance that his friends wouldn’t love you, but you were naturally an anxious person and he knew that so he did what he knew comforted you and rubbed circles over your hand on the drive there. You appreciated him for trying to comfort you but your anxiety would not ease up. You’d never felt this nervous before, you must’ve completely zoned out for the rest of the car ride because what felt like only a minute later had actually been 15 and you were pulling up to the tower. 

Bucky had a quick chat with the gate attendant before driving through the gates and parking in his designated spot. 

“You ready doll?” He asks, turning himself towards you with a soft smile on his face.

“Mhmm, let’s go.” You were not ready but you didn’t want to ruin Bucky’s night, it’d been a while since he’d seen everyone with all the missions everyone had recently been on and you knew he was excited. 

He quickly climbed out the car and made his way to your side, always insisting on opening your door for you. When you get out he holds his hand out for you and you immediately grab hold of it. He pulls you closer towards you and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before whispering to you. “I promise baby, it’s gonna be fine.” You shoot him a quick, almost forced smile, and nod, showing you were ready to go in. 

It only takes a few minutes to get up to the living quarters side of the tower, and now a quick elevator ride was the only thing between you and people Bucky loves. As the elevator started to slow you took a deep breath and readied to walk out. As soon as the doors open you can hear a loud laugh boom through the room followed by a quiet chuckle beside you. It had only been a couple seconds and Bucky was already so happy to be back here. 

As you turned the corner your eyes quickly scanned the room trying to put names to faces of everyone Bucky had told you about. Obviously you knew everyone's superhero names, but to Bucky they were his friends, his family, not superheroes. Suddenly everyone had turned your way and you realise Bucky had made both your presences known. You felt like all eyes were on you and Bucky could tell your nerves had shot up, so he lightly gave your hands a squeeze.”Hey guys.”

“Hey Bucky!” Sam shouted over and began walking towards you. “You must be Y/N? Bucky’s told me a lot about you.” 

You nod towards, who you knew to be Sam, as much as Bucky told you they weren’t best friends, you knew that they were. You smile and hold your hand out to shake his. “That’s me, nice to meet yo-” Before you could finish, Sam pulled you in for a hug. 

“We’re all about hugs here. You’re part of the family now.” You can’t help but laugh and hug him back. You really appreciated him being so welcoming, he was the one person you were most worried about not liking you. From what Bucky told you, he was very protective over the people he cares about. 

“Alright Wilson, don’t scare my girl away.” Sam pulls away and moves to Bucky to give him a hug as well. 

You look at Bucky and smirk, "Your girl, hm?” He looked confused for a split second before the tips of his ears started to turn bright red and his usual smug smirk disappeared when he realised what he’d said. 

“Sorry doll.” You weren’t sure why he was apologising or why he was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to sa- sorry.” You’d never seen someone's skin turn so red as fast as his had in this moment. 

“Don’t be, I liked it.” You whisper right next to him, hoping no one else heard. Before he could respond to you, more voices filled the space around you. 

“You could’ve just asked for a hug too Bucky, besides if you haven’t scared her off already, I don’t think much will” Sam teases.

“So your girl? Must be serious. I’ll expect my wedding invite any day now. Bucky’s face was only growing redder and he couldn’t look anyone in the eye, forcing his gaze to the floor. His hand was rubbing the back of his neck, something you knew he did when he was embarrassed. You took a small step closer to him and rubbed your hand on his arm, showing you really didn’t mind the nickname, in fact you loved it. A small smile was starting to form on his face but before you could see it grow any more a voice pulled you away.

“Alright Wilson, stop hogging them. The rest of us want to introduce ourselves as well.” You instantly recognise the face as Clint, someone who Bucky truly owed a lot to. He had let Bucky live with him and his family for a bit when he needed some time away from the city. The memories of Steve leaving and his past life got too much to handle and he already felt like he had imposed too much on Sam and his family. He would forever be grateful for Clint and Laura taking him in, he really felt a part of their family, so much so that their kids had started calling him Uncle Bucky. 

Clint put his hand towards yours and introduced himself, “Hi Y/N, I’m Clint. Sorry about him, I promise we’re not all as crazy as him.” You laughed at his joke and shook his hand. It’s lovely to finally meet you Clint, Bucky’s spoken a lot about you.” 

“It’s all lies.” He jokes before moving onto Bucky and giving him a side hug. 

“Laura and the kids here too clint?”

Clint shook his head before moving to stand in front of you both. “Sorry Buck, they had some school things on, but they made me promise to ask you to visit soon, and to bring your girl!” Clint replies with a wink which makes you laugh. Bucky couldn’t stop his huge smirk from reappearing as Clint called you his girl. 

As they continued talking more people made their way over to you and introduced themselves. First there was Joaquin and then Sarah and her boys. The boys completely skipped saying hello to you and ran over to their uncle Bucky before Sarah called them back to apologise. They came back and introduced themselves and with a little nudge from Sarah apologised for rushing past you. “That’s okay, I know you're excited. It was very nice to meet you both boys.” They shook your hand and ran over again to Bucky.

“Sorry about them, I swear they love Bucky more than they love me sometimes.” Sarah smiled at seeing how nicely you fit into the group and gave you a hug, just like how Sam had to show you that you were welcomed. Once all the introductions were done you all sat down in the living room. You were the main topic of the conversation, everyone was interested in knowing how one person had completely changed Bucky’s life. 

“So Y/N,” Wanda started, “Bucky said you’re a teacher?” 

“Yeah that’s right.” You slightly laughed aftwards, not because it was funny but you were slightly panicking being the centre of attention around all these people. Especially since some of them were literal superheroes. “I know it’s not as exciting as you guys but I enjoy it.”

Everyone quickly spoke up and defended you against yourself. Especially Sarah and Clint, with having kids they knew how important teachers were. It felt good knowing that they thought that of you, even though you were still feeling anxious, everyone had been so welcoming to you and you weren't sure why you were so nervous.You didn’t notice but Bucky was looking at you as you spoke, his eyes were a tell tale sign that he was so proud of you. He knew how hard you worked and loved when you got the recognition you deserve. 

“What age do you teach?” Joaquin asked next.

“Oh erm, at the moment I teach second grade but I’m hoping to move up soon.” 

“It must be hard, kids are annoying little creatures.” Sam says, looking at Cass and AJ for their reactions, they both shout “Hey!” before Sam tickles them. 

Another voice starts, you’re not sure who but doesn't get far before Bucky interrupts. “Alright alright, stop grilling my girl.” His girl. “I haven’t seen most of you guys in months, what’s been happening? 

You look at Bucky and smirk when he calls you his girl again and it only takes a few seconds for him to realise what he’s said again and he can’t help but smirk, knowing that you like it. 

The rest of the night went well, you felt like they all really liked you. Before you knew it, it was around midnight and you were working in the morning so had to get home. 

“Again, it was really lovely to meet all of you! Thank you for a great night.” You say as you head for the elevator, Bucky following close behind. 

“Make sure to tell the boy’s I said bye, Sarah!” Bucky shouts, “Clint, let’s plan a trip soon. See you all later!” Bucky shouts through, the elevator doors just cutting him off.

As soon as the doors shut you lead your head against his shoulder. “You okay sweet girl?” 

“I’m good, just tired.”

“You have a good night?”

You nodded against him, “I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.” 

“Hey,” He moved slightly and held your head in his hands, bending over slightly to be eye level as he spoke. “We stayed plenty, I know you have work tomorrow, and plus..” He moved closer to your ear to whisper. “.. I couldn’t do this in there.” He lowered one of his hands to your ass and squeezed before pressing you both against the elevator wall. He moved his lips against yours and kissed you, it was a desperate kiss.  “You like being my girl huh?”

You can’t help but giggle when he calls you his girl again. You bite your lip before answering. “I do..” He lowers his hand to the hem of your dress and traces his fingers over your inner thigh 

“Fuck baby, I nee-” The ding of the elevator doors opening interrupts you both. “Fuck!” Bucky curses everything stopping him from touching you right now. He presses the button to close the doors and immediately after presses the alarm button. The elevator makes a clank noise before it goes silent again, the only sound being you trying to catch your breath after that kiss. Bucky goes back to kissing you but starts on your neck and starts going lower and lower. When his teeth graze over your nipple through your dress you push him back slightly.

“Bucky we can’t here..” You whisper, knowing he can hear your heart beating, you needed him just as bad as he needed you. 

“Baby.. I’ll fuck my girl anywhere I want to.” He says before returning to your tits. You bite back a moan which Bucky notices. Your sex life from bucky wasn’t boring by any means but it had never felt as intense as this. The thrill of being in public was sending chills through you. 

“Oh shit.. Bucky please. 

He lifts your dress up and pulls your panties to the side, using his other hand he unties his jeans and pulls them down enough for his already hard cock to fall out. He rubs his hand over it a couple times and looks at you. “Spit on it for me.” His words send flutters through your stomach and down to your pussy, and you do as he says. 

“You ready?” 

You nod as you answer, “Pleasee.”

He lifts you up and rubs the tip of his cock against your pussy, gathering your slick before he pushes in. “Fuck, my girls got such a tight pussy.” He keeps pushing until he’s fully in, hitting that spot that makes you grab onto his shoulders, your nails digging into him, which he likes. “You feel so good baby.”

“Fuck.. Bucky please..” He feels so good but his thrusts are slow and you need more.

“What do you need?” He smirks at you, knowing exactly what you need but waiting until you ask for it. 

“Fuck me..” Your head falls back, Bucky’s hand cups it to stop it hitting the wall. “Please.”

He chuckles at the desperation in your voice, “Anything for you my sweet girl.” His thrusts fasten and you feel yourself racing towards your high. You use your hands to steady yourself as he fucks into you. You bite your lip to stifle your moan but Bucky doesn’t like that. “Don’t do that baby.. Don’t hide your pretty little noises. I wanna hear you. Want the whole tower to hear how you sound when I fuck you.” 

“Fuck.. Bucky you feel so good. I think I’m gonn-”

“I know baby, it’s okay. Let go for me.” He moves his hand from behind your head and wraps it around your neck. The cold from his touch and him speeding up was enough to send you over the edge.

“Fuckkkk.. Bucky I’m cum- I’m cumming.” 

“Oh Fuck.. I’m there too, baby.” He groans, almost whimpers in your ear. “Feel s’good baby.” He slows his thrusts down as you both come down from your highs.

When you don’t respond he looks at you. “You okay?” 

You can’t speak but you nod your head. 

“You all cockdrunk?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Such a good girl for me.” He strokes the side of your face and plants a soft kiss on your lips. “Let’s get you home, sweet girl.” 

He slowly inches out of you and sets you down. You stumble a little and grab onto his shoulder to steady yourself. 

“Thank you Buck.” 

“You don’t need to thank me, come on let’s get you home.” He puts his arm around your waist before reaching over and pressing the alarm button again. 

The doors of the elevator open and Sam is standing there, his eyes bulge open before he laughs. You immediately stand up straight and try make yourself look like you haven’t just been fucked moments before but it was obvious. 

You feel your skin warm at being caught but Bucky just laughs beside you like it was no big deal. “I should’ve known it was you two lovebirds causing trouble. Now I know no ones really stuck, I’ll see you guys later” 

“Bye Sam.” You manage to mumble before Bucky pulls you closer, you look at each other and have to hold in your laughter.  

“See ya Wilson.”

“I love you sweet girl.”

“I love you more.” 

[hysteria-things]

hello again !! i know you just posted my last request but i have another idea !

• SMUTTY PLSZ

• matt/chris x teacher!reader

So basically, chris/matt are in senior year or any year in college and he has a teacher(reader) who's quite young and closer to their age but is still older and knowing men, she's already very popular in their school y'know y'know?

ALSO if you're gonna make the other students be a big part of the story too or add more plot, pls don't make the girls of the school hate her. it just feels unrealistic since in our school, it's mostly the girls that simp for the hot female teacher lmao

This idea was based on their video "truth or eat" i think(i forget everything) where he was asked if he's ever had a crush on a teacher and he answered yes w no hesitation and also the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez but switched genders.

i just think the male being the teacher and the female being the student felt overused/overdone(?)

Only if you're comfortable w this idea tho !!

TEACHER'S PET (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x teacher!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt asks for extra help after class (even though he knows exactly what he’s doing)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), degradation, cheating (cheat on tests, not people), hair pulling, spanking, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,236

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: shoutout any of you in college i dropped out after a month i give you guys so much credit that shit’s hard😔

for @skadltmf :)

matt and his college friends sit at the round table in the food court. they’re at the home stretch of senior year with the spring semester starting tomorrow.

“i got that hot professor for one of my morning classes.” one of his friends brags. “she’s so fine.”

“who?” matt asks, and the two sitting with him stare at him like he should know this.

“professor l/n.” the other one starts. “literally everybody is obsessed with her. she’s only twenty-five; three years older than us.”

“there’s no way she doesn’t let students fuck her to get a good grade.” they both laugh, but matt stays quiet. his friends are in their conversation about you while matt thinks to himself.

he has you for a class too but at 6 PM.

you stand at the front of the class, teaching like a normal teacher should. half of the class never pays attention, anyway, but you still have to do your job.

they may not know, but you listen. you listen to what they say about you, and to be honest it boosts your ego.

one student in particular actually pays attention and takes notes, like what he’s doing right now. you couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time, and he’ll already be staring at you when you do.

you’re grading papers on your desk as your students work independently for the last fifteen minutes of class. you feel a presence, and you look up to see him there, fiddling with his worksheet.

you smile at him. “hello, matt. do you need help with something?”

“kind of. will i be able to stay after class?”

your phone lights up, and he glances at the lock screen. it’s a photo of you, your husband, and your son. “of course you can.”

he nods, going back to his seat.

the last fifteen minutes went by in a breeze, and all of the students left. except for one, of course.

you stand up and go over to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker just in case you need to explain something. “so, matt. what is it that you needed help with?”

“this question,” he says, stepping closer to you and pointing at the paper. you look at it confused because he already answered it. flawlessly.

“matt.” you chuckle. “you’ve got the problem right and showed your work perfectly. are you sure that’s the right one?”

his cheeks flush as he grabs your face, kissing you passionately. you pull away from his hold, weirdly sad that you did.

this is a first. you know the rumors that go around saying that you fuck students for an A+ but it’s not true. hell, you’ll lose your job.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, and you stare back. what you did next was a completely new person.

you go back in, his tongue inserting your mouth and swirling inside. this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so… right?

whining into the kiss, you move your hands down to his belt to unbuckle it. he chuckles, pulling away and pushing your head so you get on your knees.

he takes off his undergarments, revealing his—

your eyes widen. oh, god.

his red tip slides against your lips before you open, pushing himself into your wet mouth. “fuck.” he whispers.

grabbing onto your hair, he guides your head up and down his cock. he groans, leaning over and rutting his hips further into your mouth. your gagging fills the empty classroom, and spit starts to spill from your mouth.

it clicks in your head what you’re doing. you have a husband and child at home, for christ’s sake. you place your hands on his thighs and try to push your head back, but his grip is far too strong.

he slowly pulls out to watch his dick move past your lips, and slams back in. “take it, sweetheart. just like that.”

you keep gagging around him, your eyes becoming glassy as your mascara starts to smudge.

your lashes flutter each time he thrusts to the back of your throat before he stops. “s-shit.” he whimpers, but he doesn’t want to cum just yet. he closes his eyes to ignore the throbbing, pulling out of your sweet mouth. you cough, your lips swollen.

“bend over for me, yeah?” he smirks when you scramble to your feet. he grabs your waist, pushing your back so your stomach lays flat on your desk.

he lifts your skirt, moving your soaked underwear to the side. he wraps a finger around them and lets go, the elastic snapping against your core. you yelp at the sudden pain.

“such a slut.” he groans, inserting his tip into your folds but staying still. “letting one of your students shove his dick down your throat.”

he moves his tip out, but then puts it back in, thrusting it in and out teasingly. “bet you were thinking about this the whole lecture. i saw the way you were looking at me.”

you pathetically whine and nod. then, he grabs your hair so the upper half of your body is lifted from the wood. your hips dig into the edge of the desk as he starts entering you.

the stretch hurts, but it feels too good. your eyes flutter back, but a hand landing on your ass gets you out of your trance. he chuckles, taking the hand that’s not on your head and covering your mouth with it. “don’t be too loud, baby. don’t want the people outside that door knowing what a whore you are for me.”

he slides in deeper, a moan leaving your lips that’s muffled by his hand. he starts rutting his hips, going faster when you fit around him. “m-matt.” you gasp.

“so fucking tight around my cock.” he breathes out. your pleasurable cries and squelching of your pussy fill the room, along with his thighs slapping against your ass.

he removes his hand from your mouth, honestly forgetting that there are probably people around. all he’s focused on is pounding the daylights out of you. his teacher, mind you.

you grip the desk for support, moaning louder than any other time when his tip starts brushing against your cervix. “holy— shit.” you hoarsely scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

he lets go of your hair, your head immediately falling between your shoulders. “i’m gonna cum!” you warn, whimpering when he moves more mercilessly. both your thoughts and guts are getting scrambled at once.

“i wonder how disappointed your husband will be if he saw you like this.” he grunts and thrusts a few more times before continuing. “clenching around my dick, so badly wanting my cum inside you.”

you moan at his words. he feels so fucking good. you hate to admit it, but this is the best sex you’ve had in years.

“want me to fuck my baby inside you, you filthy whore?”

“y-yes, please,” you whine, repeating yourself over and over again.

you cum around him at the same time he stops deep, spreading your legs wider to finish inside. you moan one last time before becoming a rag doll, the bruises forming on your hips from them banging against the desk.

he moves your underwear back over your freshly bred pussy, kissing your shoulder and neck before whispering into your ear. “i’ll let you know when i need help again, professor l/n.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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