#out loud in front of the professor and God and everyone

[sixeyesonathiel]

HEAR ME OUT. TELL ME Y'ALL SEE THE VISION AND I WILL COOK SMTH IMMEDIATELY.

i heard y'all loud and clear now, now i need y'all's help in deciding what type of satoru will be in the fic, help me here! <3

POSTED!

satoru gojo is the guy everyone in your major knows—ridiculously smart, annoyingly hot, borderline unapproachable unless you’re part of his stupid little circle. he’s got freelance gigs pouring in, edits promo reels for actual brands, and once got a professor to extend a deadline just by smiling.

you worked together once—on a boring group project no one else cared about. but he edited your presentation slides into a cinematic masterpiece and you’ve never forgotten it.

so months later, when your fashion content finally starts gaining traction, and you’re drowning in vlog footage with no time to cut it down—you text him.

hey. remember when u edited our project? can u help me trim some vids pls… i suck at this lol”

you say it’s just a favor. just cutting out the boring parts.

but the videos you send him? yeah, they’re anything but boring.

you talk to the camera like it’s a boyfriend.

you laugh too loud.

you try on heels in front of full-body mirrors.

and every time you drop a necklace or lean over to pick up a perfume bottle? you look straight into the lens.

no jump cuts. no edits. just intent.

and fine, maybe he spends way too long on the lingerie try-on segment. maybe he pauses every time you bend over, frame-by-frame, like he’s adjusting color grading—but really he’s just watching the way your thighs press together. maybe he syncs your audio and loops your giggle four, five, six times, rewinding the way you say “oops” like it’s a fucking song.

maybe he exports that three-second timestamp—just the part where your fingers hook into the band of your panties and you whisper “should i keep this one?”—into a separate folder buried deep in his hard drive.

it’s not even named professionally. not “asset_ref3” or “raw_pull_b.”

nah.

it’s named "fuckmepls.mp4"

and it lives in a folder called "NOT work (unless)"

he tells himself it’s research. he tells himself every editor does this. but his dick’s in his hand more than it’s on his mouse these days, and you’re to blame. you with your lazy drawl and shiny lip gloss and the way you talk to the camera like it’s his mouth you’re feeding lines to.

but then, one day, a file comes in titled:

"march haul (raw).mp4"

he clicks play.

it’s you. in your bedroom. in new lingerie. in front of the mirror. saying things like—

“god, i hope this one fits…”

“oops, sorry—too much cleavage?”

"i bet you’d pause right here, wouldn’t you?"

it ends mid-sentence.

five minutes later, another file drops into the folder:

"march haul (real).mp4"

you text:

oops. wrong send lol. this is the real one!

you don’t even delete nor unsent the wrongfully sent file.

he doesn’t ask you to.

that night, he doesn’t even pretend. he edits the video with his cock in hand, moaning your name while you test lip colors like you’re daring him to fuck up a timestamp.

now every time you ask for “another quick edit,” he’s sweating. because you’ll drop something again. you'll bite your lip again. you’ll look into the camera like you know exactly what he’s doing with that footage.

and you’re still calling it a favor.

[shelovesosa]

Spoiled Rotten, Loved to Death

PAIRING: Delinquent!Sukuna X Meangirl!Reader

CW: brief mention of grooming. NOT from sukuna or reader.

SUMMARY!! Spoiled. Beautiful. The bratty queen of the student body, backed by your father—the mayor himself. You wore privilege like a second skin, sharp heels clicking over broken hearts, every boy a plaything, every girl your competition. Then came Ryomen Sukuna. The school’s tattooed delinquent.

(Mean girls collection masterlist here!)

a/n: omg I haven’t slept at all.

You were late. Again. But it didn’t matter. You didn’t rush. You never had to.

The hallway was yours. People parted like the Red Sea as you walked through, your heels loud, your scent unforgettable—floral, sweet, expensive. You twirled your iced coffee in one hand, your phone in the other, barely acknowledging the classmates who looked at you like they were waiting for permission to breathe.

You were Y/N L/N. Daughter of Mayor L/N.
The girl who ran Jujutsu Metropolitan University without even trying.

You were rich, bored, and mean enough to make it interesting.

Stepping into the lecture hall fifteen minutes into the political science seminar, you didn’t bother looking apologetic. Your sunglasses stayed on. Your lips stayed glossed. The professor didn’t even bother calling you out anymore—he just sighed and kept writing on the board.

You chose your seat in the front row, naturally. Unbothered by the whispers behind you. There was only one voice that didn’t whisper.

That voice came from the back row. Always.

“Wow. Queen B finally arrived. What’s the damage today? Canceled another charity drive for your Botox appointment?”

Your eyes rolled without even turning.

Him. Again. Sukuna Ryomen. Leather jacket, crimson tattoos that crept up his forearms like warnings, lip ring that glinted every time he smirked. And that voice—lazily deep, always laced with sarcasm and cigarette smoke.

He was the kind of boy your father wanted arrested on sight. A walking red flag.
A delinquent who had no business being at a university like this.

And yet, there he was. Back row. Feet up. Grinning like the world owed him a favor.

You turned your head, just slightly. “Tell me, Sukuna, do you ever say anything useful, or do you just rattle your empty skull for attention?”

The girls around you snorted with laughter.
He didn’t flinch.

“Nah, I save the useful stuff for people with IQs over 80. Sorry, princess—you don’t make the cut.”

Your gaze narrowed. He winked. God, you hated him.

He was the only one who didn’t worship the ground you walked on. The only one who didn’t flinch when you snapped. He called you out, challenged you, didn’t care about your last name. And worse?

He saw right through you. That was the part you couldn’t stand.

You weren’t expecting him to follow you.
You were storming toward the quad, seething, texting your assistant to cancel your afternoon appointment—when a voice called out from behind.

“You know,” Sukuna said, striding up beside you like he had every right, “for someone who thinks she’s untouchable, you really get mad when someone talks back.”

You scoffed. “And for someone who failed the last three quizzes, you sure have a lot of free time to run your mouth.”

He laughed. A real, full laugh that grated against your ego.

“You keep tabs on me, sweetheart?” he asked, cocking his head. “I’m flattered.”

You turned, slow and venomous. “I wouldn’t waste my time if you were the last pair of legs on campus.”

His eyes flicked down to yours, then back up—unapologetically slow.

“You’re thinking about my legs now? That’s progress.”

You hated the way your skin heated. The way he made your pulse rise—not out of attraction (definitely not)—but rage. Pure, uncut irritation.

You stepped into his space, too close, chin lifted.

“You’re trash. Everyone knows it. The only reason you’re here is because the university’s trying to seem inclusive.”

His smile didn’t falter. But his eyes turned sharp.

“You think being rich makes you better than everyone. But money doesn’t make you interesting, princess. It just makes you boring with a higher credit limit.”

You blinked. Just once. And then turned on your heel, heels clicking, heart pounding.

That night, You didn’t sleep. Not well. Not because of him. Not because of what he said.

You tossed in silk sheets, replaying that damn smirk in your head. That voice. That look in his eyes like he knew exactly what buttons to push.

You told yourself it was nothing. You hated him. You should hate him.

But the heat in your chest said something else. Like maybe—just maybe—you hated that someone like Sukuna Ryomen could rattle you at all.

You hated group projects. Not because you didn’t like people—okay, maybe that was part of it—but mostly because no one ever did the work right. You always ended up redoing everything. Slapping your name in bold font across the final slide and praying the professor noticed that the brilliance wasn’t collective.

But this time? This time the universe was really out for blood.

“Alright,” Professor Yamamoto said, sliding a list onto the projector screen, “groups are random and non-negotiable. I expect weekly collaboration, progress reports, and equal participation.”

Your name appeared second on the list. Next to his. Sukuna Ryomen.

You stared in silent disbelief. The room buzzed. Someone gasped. A girl in the corner whispered, “God help him,” and you weren’t sure if she meant you or Sukuna.

He laughed. From the back row. Loud and low and smug. Your jaw tightened.

After Class You didn’t wait. You stormed up to his desk, flinging your oversized tote bag onto the table with enough force to rattle it.

“No,” you snapped, glossed lips tight. “We’re not doing this.”

Sukuna was leaned back in his chair, arms folded, his fingers laced behind his head like he was on vacation. “I’m not exactly thrilled either, sweetheart.”

“I’m going to tell the professor it’s a conflict of interest.”

“Because you can’t handle working with someone who doesn’t kiss your overpriced heels?”

You blinked slowly, trying not to scream. “Because I don’t work with people who treat school like a rehab hobby.”

He grinned. “Cute. You practicing for our presentation? I love the fire. You’ll carry the team perfectly.”

“I will burn the team down, Sukuna.”

“You’re not supposed to say the quiet part out loud, princess.”

You showed up. Only because you refused to let him be the reason your GPA dropped.

He was already there, stretched across the library armchair like he belonged to it. Black hoodie, ripped jeans, headphones hanging off his neck.

He looked like he hadn’t opened a textbook in a year.

“You’re late,” he said, flipping through a dog-eared notebook with a pen held lazily between his teeth.

“You’re lucky I even came.”

“Oh, I know. I brought snacks to celebrate.”

You ignored him. Sat across from him, already pulling out your laptop, phone, highlighters, even a mini whiteboard. The girl behind the desk gave you both a weird look—probably because you were practically glowing in Chanel while your partner looked like he’d just crawled out of an alleyway.

Sukuna leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“So tell me something, Y/N,” he said, voice too calm. “Do you ever get tired?”

You didn’t look up. “Of what?”

“Of pretending to have it all figured out.”

That made your fingers pause on the trackpad. Your eyes flicked up, and there it was again—that too-serious glint behind the teasing. Like he was watching you. Peeling layers back.

“Don’t act like you know me.”

“I don’t,” he said simply. “But I see you. And you look exhausted.”

That... caught you off guard.

So you did what you always did.

You lashed out.

“Spare me the edgy street-poet act, Sukuna. You’re not deep. You’re not tragic. You’re just a guy who peaked in high school and thinks being rude is a personality trait.”

His mouth twitched. But this time, he didn’t bite back. He stood up.

“For the record,” he said quietly, gathering his things, “I didn’t want this partnership either. But I showed up. And maybe—just maybe—you’re the one making it worse.”

Then he walked out. You sat there for a full thirty seconds. Quiet. Heart hammering louder than any insult he’d ever thrown.

And you hated that it bothered you.

Apparently, arguing in a library counted as “disruptive behavior.”

Your professor wasn’t amused. “Maybe some silence will do you both good,” he said, handing you detention slips like they were party invitations.

You ended up in a tiny classroom with stained floors and dusty windows.

You took the desk by the window.
Sukuna leaned against the chalkboard, arms folded.

Silence. Fifteen full minutes of it. Then he spoke.

“You really think I peaked in high school?”

You side-eyed him. “You’re still dressing like you never left.”

He let out a low laugh. “Cute.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a compliment.”

“It is. You’re cute when you’re pissed.”

You turned fully now, folding your arms. “What’s your deal, anyway? You don’t act like someone who wants to be here. So why are you?”

He was quiet. For once. Then: “I made a deal. With someone I owed. I screw this up, I’m out.”

“Out of school?”

He nodded. “Out of Tokyo.”

And for the first time... you didn’t have something mean to say back.

Just a small, quiet, "Oh."

The air between you shifted. Not softer. Just heavier.

When detention ended, you walked out first.

He didn’t follow.

But he was waiting for you the next day, at the edge of the quad, hands in his pockets, looking like he might have something to say.

And you? You slowed your walk—just a little.

The text came at 3:13 p.m.
You stared at your phone longer than you meant to.

Sukuna: Prof wants progress update by tomorrow. Meet me at mine after 6.
Sukuna: Don’t wear heels. My building has stairs.

You nearly threw your phone.

First of all, how dare he.
Second of all, you hadn’t even agreed yet.
Third... why did you type "OK" before you even finished the thought?

6:42 p.m. You stood outside an old apartment complex on the edge of Shinjuku, arms crossed, staring up at the chipped stairwell that led to the third floor. His place wasn’t what you expected.

Not dangerous—just worn. Real.

You climbed the stairs, regretting the kitten heels you wore anyway. Because of course you didn’t listen. Of course you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

His door was slightly open.

And the first thing you noticed when you walked in?

It smelled like cedar and cloves. And him.

Dim lighting. Scattered books. A cracked coffee table. A wall covered in band posters and drawings that looked like he sketched them himself. There was a punching bag hung from a ceiling beam. An old electric guitar in the corner. A single desk with a flickering laptop and half a bag of chips next to it.

You blinked, lips parting just slightly.

“…This is where you live?”

He looked up from the desk, chewing on a matchstick like it was gum. His hair was tied up. Shirt sleeveless. Tattoos more visible than you’d ever seen.

“Expecting a trap house?”

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I thought you slept in abandoned parking lots.”

He smirked. “That’s cute coming from someone who uses Evian to water her orchids.”

You tossed your bag down and stepped into the room carefully, like it might bite.

“Nice place,” you muttered.
He turned slightly. “Didn’t catch that.”
“I said, it’s... not awful.”

That made him grin. And somehow, that grin felt... less infuriating than usual.

7:23 p.m.

You were arguing again. Of course you were.

“I told you this topic is too complicated for a basic policy brief. We’re going to over-complicate it and miss the deadline—”

“I know how to write a brief, Sukuna, unlike you, who probably thinks MLA is a type of drug—”

“And you probably think 'street-level crime' means forgetting to tip your barista—”

Somewhere between you yelling about his formatting and him throwing a pencil at you (which you caught midair), something shifted.

You were standing close. Too close.

You were both out of breath. Over nothing. Over everything.

And for a moment, the apartment was quiet.

“I don’t get you,” he said suddenly, his voice low, different.

You tilted your head. “Good. I’m not here to be ‘gotten.’”

“No,” he said, not blinking, “I mean I don’t get why you care so much. About grades. About appearances. About what anyone thinks.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

And for once, you told the truth.

“Because if I don’t,” you said, eyes sharp but soft around the edges, “I’m nothing.”

Silence.

He stared at you like he hadn’t expected you to say that. Like he’d never imagined you'd admit something so small and raw. You looked down quickly, digging through your folder, your defenses snapping back into place.

But then, he said it. Quiet. Careful.

“I think you’d still be something.”

You froze. And so did he. Because the second it was out, it hung there in the room, heavy and dangerous.

“I mean,” he backtracked quickly, “something annoying. Something loud. Something that never shuts up—”

You let out a soft laugh, more breath than sound.

He caught it. His lips parted just slightly.

You didn’t kiss. Not yet. But you thought about it. For the first time, you wanted to.

9:00. He walked you to the stairwell.
Didn’t offer to walk you home. Didn’t pretend to be anything other than what he was.

But just as you turned to go, he said:

“You should wear sneakers next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want there to be a next time?”

He shrugged. “Let’s not make it weird, princess.”

But you smiled. Just a little. And so did he.

It started with a stare. You weren’t even looking at him when it happened. You were laughing at something Naoya said—one of those dumb frat boys with teeth too white and a trust fund that did all his talking for him. You hated him most of the time, but today you let him walk with you across the quad.

And that was when you felt it. That burn. That stare.

From the steps of the Philosophy building, Sukuna was sitting with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, not even lit. His head tilted just slightly. Watching.

You didn’t look at him. Not directly. But your spine straightened. Your voice got just a little louder. You touched your hair like you weren’t doing it for him.

Naoya leaned in to whisper something at your neck. And Sukuna stood up.

20 Minutes Later, “Are you seriously trying to piss me off?”

You turned at the sound of his voice behind you, near the vending machines outside the student lounge. He looked pissed. Not like the smirking, taunting kind of pissed. No—this was something quieter. Stormier.

“Are you seriously acting like you get to be pissed about anything I do?” you said, lifting your iced matcha with a tilt of your head. “Did I miss the part where we started dating?”

“You don’t like that guy.”

“I don’t need to like him. He looks good standing next to me and he opens doors.”

“You don’t even let guys open doors for you.”

You took a slow sip. “You notice a lot, huh?”

His jaw clenched. You liked that more than you should.

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning like he was done.

But then you said it.

“Why does it bother you?”

That stopped him cold.

He didn’t answer. Not out loud. But his hand found the vending machine next to you. Pressed flat against it. Caging you in—not fully. Just enough to make the air shift. The hallway shrink.

“Do you want it to bother me?” he asked, voice a low rasp.

You looked at him, dead in the eyes. “Maybe.”

And for a second—just a breath—you thought he’d kiss you. But someone’s footsteps echoed nearby. The moment snapped.

He backed off like nothing had happened. Like it hadn’t meant anything.

You hated how your chest felt empty after.

1:14 a.m. Your phone lit up in the dark.
No name. Just a number you had memorized anyway.

Sukuna: You up.
Sukuna: Don't make that dirty. I'm not in the mood.

You: Liar.

It took thirty seconds before he called.

You answered without thinking. Your voice still soft from sleep.

“What,” you murmured, “is the delinquent doing awake at one a.m.? Can’t sleep with all your bad decisions?”

There was a pause. Then his voice came through. Rough. Quiet.

“I heard you laughed today.”

You blinked, heart skipping.

“What?”

“Earlier. In the quad. With that guy. You laughed.”

You swallowed. “So?”

“I didn’t know what your real laugh sounded like.”

Silence. Something inside you cracked open—just slightly.

“Sukuna…” you said, unsure where the sentence was going.

He cut in. “You should laugh more. Just... not around him.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your throat tightened with something unnamed. Unexpected.

You shifted on your silk pillow, voice barely a whisper.

“Then make me.”

And the line went quiet. Dead silent. Until you heard his voice again—barely audible, low and stunned.

“…Careful, princess. You keep saying shit like that and I will.”

The party was at someone’s rooftop loft in Roppongi. One of those “exclusive” things that didn’t mean much when your last name could open every door.

You arrived in silver heels, silk slip, hair twisted into a perfect wave. You looked dangerous. And you knew it.

Sukuna wasn’t supposed to be there.

You were already two drinks in—half-laughing, half-bored—when he showed up in a leather jacket and a bad mood. You didn’t see him at first. But he saw you.

Sitting on some guy’s lap. Not touching. Just talking. But it didn’t matter.

He walked in like a warning, red eyes scanning the room once—then landing square on you.

And you… smiled at him. Slow. Sharp. Let him see it.

Because if he was going to haunt your thoughts every damn night, you’d at least make it mutual.

You never played party games. Too childish. Too vulnerable. But someone pulled you into a circle and poured another drink in your hand and Naoya said something about you being “too pretty to pout all night.”

That’s when Sukuna finally sat down—right across from you. Legs spread, arm slung over the back of a cheap velvet couch, jaw locked tight. He looked like he wanted to break the bottle they were spinning.

It twirled and stopped. Laughter. A dare. Someone kissed someone else. Then it spun again. And again. And then—

It landed on you.

The girl next to you grinned, too drunk to know better. “Y/N has to pick—truth or dare.”

You lifted your chin. “Dare.”

She clapped. “Okay. Okay. I dare you to kiss someone you hate.”

Your breath caught. And just like that—every head turned. You didn’t look at Sukuna.
But you felt him watching.

Silence stretched. You tilted your head. Took a slow sip. And then, like the brat everyone thought you were—you stood.

Walked past the guy who flirted with you all night. Stopped directly in front of Sukuna. His eyes narrowed. Jaw clenched.

You bent down, just a little. Close enough to kiss him. But didn’t.

Instead, you whispered—

“You think I’m really gonna give them that satisfaction?”

And then you turned.

But his hand shot out. Grabbed your wrist. Not hard. Just… firm.

“Coward,” he muttered.

You froze. Looked down at him.

“You started this,” he said. “So finish it.”

You scoffed. “Why? So you can brag about it later?”

His gaze darkened. “If I kiss you, I’m not doing it for them.”

The room faded. Everything dulled—except him. The heat. The sound of your heart. The way his fingers lingered just behind your knee like they belonged there.

You should’ve walked away. You didn’t. You kissed him. Quick. Sharp. Like biting into a flame.

His hand slid up your thigh before you pulled away. His lips chased yours a second longer than you meant. Just enough to show it wasn’t a joke to him.

You stepped back. The room exploded. Whistles. Screams. Applause. Someone threw a napkin.

You didn’t even look at him as you walked away, straight out the sliding glass doors onto the quiet rooftop balcony.

But your hands were shaking.

He found you there.

Back to the city. Head tilted to the stars. Wrapping your arms around yourself like you were trying to hold the pieces in.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” you muttered without turning.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me like that.”

“You wanted it.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, rough, real. “But I didn’t want it like that. Not as a dare.”

You finally turned.

“What do you want, Sukuna? Huh? To be the one guy who sees through me? The asshole who gets to say I’m not as heartless as I look?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared.

“You think just because I kissed you that I like you?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I think you kissed me because you’re lonely.”

You flinched.

“And I think you hate that I see it.”

Silence. And then—something cracked.

“I do hate it,” you whispered.

Another step. His hand reached out. Skimmed your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

But when he leaned in, slower this time—soft, patient—you stopped him. A breath away.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “If I fall for you, I’ll drown.”

His mouth curved. Not cruel. Not smug. Just sad.

“Then maybe,” he said, “we drown together.”

It only took nine hours for the photo to go viral.

A classmate had caught it. Not the kiss itself—just the moment after. You leaning back, Sukuna’s hand on your thigh, the smirk on his face, your lipstick smeared slightly, your eyes wide.

The caption?

“Mayor’s Princess meets the Devil in Leather.”

By the time you got to campus, it had already been reposted three hundred times. Your phone was blowing up. DMs from strangers. Fake concern from classmates you hated. Naoya sent three laughing emojis, and one text that read:

“Hope he was worth the body count, babe.”

You stalked toward your lecture hall with your sunglasses on and your jaw locked.

People parted for you. They always did. But today it wasn’t respect—it was curiosity. Whispered scandal. Some were impressed. Some were disgusted.

And some? Some looked like they finally saw you bleed. You hated it.

You were halfway down the hall when you saw him. Sukuna. Leaning against the lockers. Hoodie up. Air cocky, dangerous, and smug. Like he couldn’t care less what anyone said. You almost walked past him.

Almost.

But he reached out, caught your wrist again—gently—and tugged you into the empty stairwell.

“You good?” he asked.

Your laugh came sharp. “You asking if I’m good?”

He tilted his head. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“You dared me to feel something.”

Silence. Your breathing slowed. You looked up at him. The echo of his touch still warm behind your knee.

“…You don’t care what they’re saying?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not the one they expect to be perfect.”

You swallowed. And then your phone rang. Dad.

You stared at the screen. Sukuna watched your face change. He didn’t need to ask.

Your father stood in his office in front of the glass windows, arms crossed, tie loose, stress in every crease of his face.

“You were seen kissing him,” he said. No preamble. No sugarcoat.

You leaned on the desk. “So?”

“He’s been arrested. Multiple times.”

“He’s not a criminal.”

“He’s a problem, Y/N. He’s a walking bad headline. You’re the face of my re-election campaign—”

“I didn’t ask to be.”

That stopped him. Just a second. A flicker of something behind his eyes.

“You think this is a game?” he said, voice lower now. “They already have the headlines. You. My daughter. The spoiled, pretty, scandal-prone brat… falling for the most dangerous kid in Tokyo U.”

“…I’m not falling,” you said.

But you were lying. And he knew it. So did you.

He got called into the Dean’s office.

They didn’t say “stay away from her,” but they didn’t have to. They talked about “reputations,” “media sensitivity,” and “volatile pairings.”

Sukuna walked out with his jaw tense, his fists clenched.

And the first thing he did? He called you. But you didn’t answer.

Not until 9:30 p.m. You stood on the bridge that crossed the river behind the old gym. Wind in your hair. Phone in your hand.

When you picked up, he didn’t say anything right away.

“…I’m not sorry,” he finally muttered.

“Me neither.”

“They think I’m using you.”

“They think I’m rebelling.”

You were quiet for a long time.

Then:
“Tell me I’m not just a game to you,” you said, voice barely above the breeze.

You didn’t expect him to answer. But he did.

“I hate the way you make me feel,” he said. “Like I’m not poison.”

Your heart cracked wide open. And in that moment, you knew: You were falling. Fast.

It didn’t take long for the school to make its move.

You were called into a meeting with the Dean and a PR representative from your father’s office. They spoke gently, like they weren’t telling you to shut it down. Like they were offering you a choice.

But there wasn’t one. Not really.

“This isn’t a punishment,” they said. “It’s protection.”

You wanted to laugh. Instead, you nodded. Stared at the pristine leather chair across the desk like it might bite you.

The terms were clear:

* Publicly distance yourself.

* Stay out of the headlines.

* “Refocus” on your coursework.

And one more thing:
No more contact with Sukuna Ryomen.

You met him in the park. Neutral ground. The sky was pink with summer heat and your heart felt like a blister.

He leaned against the bench when he saw you.

“Let me guess,” he said. “Mayor Daddy made the call?”

You didn’t answer. You just looked at him.
And said:

“We should stop. It was stupid anyway.”

The words tasted like glass. He blinked. Just once.

“That’s the story we’re telling now?”

You shrugged. “I don’t want to be another tabloid trainwreck.”

“No,” he said, “you just want to be alone. Where it’s safe.”

You hated how well he knew you.

“Sukuna,” you snapped. “This isn’t about feelings.”

“So there are feelings?”

Silence. Your eyes stung.

He stepped closer. Slow. Controlled.

“You don’t have to protect me,” he said. “I’ve been thrown away before.”

“That’s not—”


“I can take it.”

“No, you can’t!” Your voice cracked. You looked at him, tears burning. “You pretend you don’t care, but you do. And if they ruin you because of me—I couldn’t live with that.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But the look in his eyes… It shattered you.

He stepped back like the wind had punched him. And then—quietly—

“…Fine.”

Just that.

And then he turned and walked away. You stood there long after he was gone.

A week later you saw him. In the quad. Outside the cafe. Across the library floor.

But he never looked at you again. Not once. And every time you passed him, it felt like drowning. Like you were wearing a version of yourself that didn’t fit anymore.

The school was quiet now. The gossip faded. Your image was restored. But you hated every second of it.

Friday, 11:47 p.m. It happened in your room. Lights off. Phone in hand. Sukuna’s number still saved.

You hovered over it for five minutes. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. Finally, you sent:

“I miss you.”

It didn’t say enough. It said too much.

No response. But five minutes later—
You heard a knock at your dorm window.

You gasped. Opened it. And there he was. Standing on the emergency stairwell like a ghost, hoodie up, eyes tired. Angry. Alive.

You whispered, “You’re not supposed to—”

“I don’t care.”

You didn’t speak. He climbed through. Didn’t touch you. Just stood there.

Finally: “Say it again.”

You blinked. “What?”

He stepped closer. “Say you miss me.”

You were already crying.

“I miss you,” you whispered.

Then he kissed you. Not like the dare. But like someone desperate to be real.

Like someone who didn’t know where the pain ended and the wanting began. It was a crash—his mouth on yours, hot and hungry, like he’d spent the whole week pretending he didn’t need you and finally snapped. His hands came up—one cupping your jaw, the other sliding to the back of your neck, fingers curling in your hair to keep you there, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

Your breath hitched. You kissed him back harder, needier. Like you were pouring every moment of silence and pain and wanting into the space between your lips.

He pressed you gently against the wall. Not to trap you—but to steady himself.

Your fingers tangled in the strings of his hoodie, yanking him closer. You pulled like you hated him for making you feel this way, and he kissed you like he hated how much he loved it.

When his tongue brushed yours, it was slow at first—then deep, claiming, desperate.

And God, you let him.

The way he kissed—it wasn't like anyone else ever had. It wasn’t about showing off. It wasn’t about revenge or image or proving something. It was about you. Every piece of you he wasn’t supposed to want, and couldn’t stop himself from craving.

You gasped into his mouth. He kissed you through it. When you finally broke apart, your lips were swollen, your eyes glassy.

But he didn’t pull away. Forehead to forehead. Breathing heavy. His thumb grazed your lower lip. Gently.

Like he couldn’t believe you let him kiss you like that. Like he knew it wasn’t the last time.

“You make me feel like I’m not just the mayor’s daughter,” you whispered.

His voice was gravel and flame.

“You make me feel like I’m worth something.”

You didn’t say anything else. Because right then, wrapped up in him, you knew— There was no going back.

The next week, you wore cherry lip gloss. Not for anyone. Just because you knew he’d notice. And he did.

From the other side of the hallway, Sukuna’s gaze dropped to your mouth the second he saw you. But he didn’t move. Didn’t wave. Just watched—like he had every right to.

Which, lately, he kinda did. Not that anyone else could know. You strutted past him without a word, hips swaying, sunglasses on indoors.

“Try not to look too heartbroken,” you muttered as you passed.

He smirked. “Try not to look too desperate.”

You stopped.

Glanced over your shoulder. “You liked desperate last night.”

His smile slipped. Because yeah, he had.

11:42 a.m. — Secret Meeting No. 1 (Storage Closet, Engineering Wing)

“Stop pacing,” he whispered. “You’re gonna give us away.”

“I’m not pacing,” you hissed, spinning around. “I’m thinking.”

“In four-inch heels?”

“Try six. And don’t act like you weren’t staring.”

You were backed against metal shelves, Sukuna standing in front of you like he’d rather be anywhere else—which was a complete lie. His hoodie was half unzipped, jaw clenched, that red scar on his cheek catching the light.

“You can’t keep texting me in the middle of the day,” you snapped.

He shrugged. “You left your scarf in my bed.”

Your face flushed.

“That doesn’t mean I want to see you.”

“Sure,” he said, stepping in. “That’s why you wore my cologne.”

Your jaw dropped. “I—what?”

He leaned in, sniffed near your neck.

“Yeah,” he whispered, lips brushing your skin. “That’s mine.”

You pushed him back—lightly. “You’re the worst.”

He grinned. “Still tasted like heaven last night.”

You threw a marker at him.

3:05 p.m. — Secret Meeting No. 2 (Library Stacks)

He found you in the back aisle of the library.

You didn’t say anything when he slid behind you. You just leaned back.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck. You tilted your head for him without thinking.

“You’re gonna get me expelled,” you breathed.

“You’re gonna get me arrested.”

You giggled, biting your lip. “Worth it.”

He nipped your ear. “Say that again when your dad’s threatening to ‘put me in a cage.’”

You turned, grabbed his hoodie, yanked him down to kiss you hard. Books shook on the shelf. You didn’t care.

“You started this,” you said when you broke apart.

He smirked. “And I’m not ending it.”

You were walking out of class, phone in hand, texting him when— Naoya cornered you.

“Cute lipstick,” he said. “Does it taste like bad decisions?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jealousy’s so unattractive on you.”

“Jealous? Of what—your little prison pet? He gonna write you poetry from a jail cell?”

You were about to respond when— Sukuna appeared beside you. Casual. Deadly. One glance from him and Naoya’s smirk dropped.

“Problem?” Sukuna asked.

“Nope,” Naoya muttered, walking off.

You turned to Sukuna. “Subtle.”

“Could’ve been worse,” he said. “I was two seconds from shoving his teeth into the grass.”

“You’re so romantic,” you said dryly.

“Tell me you didn’t like it.”

You didn’t. But you kinda did.

11:58 p.m. — Secret Meeting No. 3 (Your Dorm, Window Again)

He was late. You were pissed. You were halfway into a tirade when he finally climbed through your window and pulled you into a kiss before you could speak.

Rough. Hot. Apologetic.

“Got stopped by security,” he said, voice breathless. “Said I looked ‘shady.’”

You snorted. “They’re not wrong.”

“You missed me,” he teased.

“Did not.”

He kissed you again.

“You’re such a brat,” he murmured.

You tangled your fingers in his hair. “You like brats.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled you onto his lap, and you let him. Because no matter how secret this was… It was the only thing that felt real.

You knew something was off the second you walked into the quad.

There was a crowd—not the usual kind. Not gossiping girls or fawning underclassmen or even frat boys laughing over spilled coffee. No. This was different.

They weren’t looking at you for once. They were looking at her.

Long legs. Blood-red heels. Blazer like armor. She looked like she walked out of a crime drama and lit a cigarette with the ashes of someone’s trust fund. Too polished for this campus. Too confident. Too aware of the eyes she drew.

And standing beside her, stiff and silent— Sukuna. He didn’t speak. Didn’t touch her.

But the way her hand grazed his chest when she laughed too loud? The way she whispered in his ear with a grin? Your stomach twisted.

“Who the Hell Was She?”

You asked Gojo. He whistled low, looking across the courtyard.

“That’s Hitomi Yashiro. Former model. Ex-professor. Current psycho.”

You blinked. “She taught here?”

“Briefly,” he said. “Until she ‘resigned.’ Rumor was she was sleeping with a student. Some punk with a temper and tattoos and a motorcycle.”

You froze. He looked at you. “Oh. You didn’t know.”

You found him leaning on the railing outside the science building.

He looked exhausted. Jaw tight. Shoulders tense.

“What the hell is she doing here?” you said.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, finally:
“She’s in town. She… found me.”

“She found you?” Your voice cracked with disbelief. “You make it sound like a stray dog came home.”

“She’s nothing to me now.”

“That’s not what it looked like.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Frustrated. Sad. Angry.

“She was my mistake,” he said. “Back when I thought being used meant I was wanted.”

Your chest caved in. Because you understood that feeling too well.

“…Do you still want her?”

“No,” he said, instantly. “But she wants me.”

And you believed him. That scared you more than if he’d lied.

She cornered you in the bathroom of a student bar that night.

You weren’t drunk. Not yet. She smelled like jasmine and danger.

“You’re pretty,” she said. “In a predictable sort of way.”

You stared at her through the mirror. “What do you want?”

“To warn you.”

You turned. “About what?”

She smiled, slow and mean.

“Sukuna has always belonged to me.”

You didn’t flinch. Not yet. Not until she leaned in close and whispered:

“Little girls like you… always fall the hardest before you realize he was never yours.”

Then she left. You gripped the sink with white knuckles, chest heaving.

You waited for him at your dorm window. He didn’t come. You texted. Called. Nothing.

You stared out at the stairwell where he usually appeared. Instead— You got a photo sent to your phone. Him. In her car.

His face blank. Her hand on his thigh.

The caption:
“Looks like you weren’t the only one who missed him, sweetheart.”

Your phone slipped from your hand.

But the tears didn’t fall. Not yet.nBecause anger burned hotter than heartbreak.

And you weren’t going down without a fight.

The photo kept flashing in your mind. Her hand on his thigh. His face frozen. No smile. No rejection.

He didn’t look like your Sukuna.
But he also didn’t look like he was fighting her off.

You weren’t the type to cry over boys. But you weren’t crying over a boy. You were crying over the version of yourself you only ever let him see.

And now she’d touched it. Infected it.

You curled up under your silk sheets and sobbed so hard your throat went raw.

He waited for you outside class. Leaned against the building like he had any right.

You strutted past him like you didn’t even see him. Like your heart wasn’t breaking inside your custom blazer.

“Hey—” he called.

You didn’t stop.

He grabbed your wrist, and you spun, fury snapping out of you like a whip.

“Don’t touch me.”

His voice was low. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, is that right?” you said with a bitter smile. “So she accidentally groped you in her car?”

“I didn’t know she took the picture.”

“And that makes it better?!”

He stepped back. And for a second, you thought—maybe—he looked like the scared version of himself. The one who had once told you he was used to being disposable.

But you didn’t let yourself soften.

Because if you did, you’d break again.

“You made me feel like I was more than some rich girl stereotype,” you said. “And then you made me look like a fool.”

He opened his mouth. You walked away first.

You found Hitomi on campus. She was waiting for you. Of course she was.

Her lips curled when she saw you.

“Did you finally figure it out?” she purred. “You can’t compete with history.”

You stepped close.

“I’m not trying to compete. I’m trying to erase it.”

Before she could answer, your palm slapped across her face. Hard.

She gasped. Then laughed—low and cruel.
“Oh, sweetheart. You think he won’t come crawling back to me the second he remembers what I taught him?”

Your hand was still tingling. You didn’t reply. Because Sukuna walked up behind you.

“…He won’t,” he said.

Hitomi turned, eyes darkening.

“Sukuna—”

“I should’ve ended this a long time ago,” he said. “Whatever the hell we had—whatever I thought I owed you—it’s over. She’s not you. Thank God.”

You didn’t breathe.

He looked at you. “She’s better.”

Your heart clenched. But not because of what he said. Because for the first time— You believed it.

Hitomi stared at him. Then at you. Then left. Without another word.

You didn’t say anything when he found you again, sitting behind the gym, knees pulled to your chest.

You didn’t look up. He crouched beside you. Silent. Finally—

“I panicked,” he said. “When she showed up. It was like being eighteen again. Like I owed her my fear.”

“I don’t want you to be scared of her,” you whispered.

“I’m not,” he said. “Not anymore.”

You looked at him. Red eyes. Bruised mouth. Worn expression.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I didn’t think I deserved you.”

Silence. Then:

“Say it again.”

He looked up. “What?”

“Say you didn’t think you deserved me.”

He did. You kissed him anyway. This one was soft. Slow.

Your mouth on his like you had all the time in the world. Like forgiving someone didn’t have to be loud.

His hands shook against your waist. He kissed you like he didn’t believe it was real. Like he thought you’d vanish if he opened his eyes.

When you pulled back, he was crying. Just a little. You wiped it away with your thumb.

“I don’t care if the whole campus knows,” you said. “I don’t care if my father sends the army.”

He laughed, broken and stunned.

“You’re a mess,” he said.

You smirked.

You smirked. “I’m your mess.”

He leaned in.

“And I’m done running from it.”

It was supposed to be just another dumb campus party.

You weren’t even going to go.
But Sukuna texted you one word: “Come.”

So you showed up. You wore red. Not the classy kind. The kind that screamed, I dare you to look away. And the second you walked in, every head turned.

Especially when Sukuna crossed the room, grabbed you by the waist, and kissed you in front of everyone.

Mouth on yours. Tongue. Teeth. Claiming. The whole campus saw. Phones out. Flashes. And just like that— You were exposed.

Your father wasn’t yelling. He was seething.

“A thug?” he said. “A dropout with a criminal record and a history of violence?”

You stood silent, staring him down.

“You’re throwing away your entire future over what? A cheap thrill?”

Sukuna, beside you, clenched his jaw.

“I’m not a thrill,” he said quietly. “And I never touched her until she wanted me to.”

Your father glared. “You think that makes you noble?”

You stepped forward.

“I think,” you said, “it makes him better than half the men you shake hands with every day.”

That shut him up. Sukuna took your hand. Your father looked at you like you weren’t his daughter anymore. Maybe you weren’t. You were finally just you.

He kissed you goodbye that night and didn’t come back. No texts. No calls. Three days passed. Gojo found him first. Drunk. Bleeding knuckles. Sitting outside his apartment with an open bottle and a shattered rearview mirror beside him.

“She deserves better,” Sukuna told him.

“She deserves you,” Gojo snapped. “If you don’t want to lose her, fight like it.” So he did.

11:59p.m, one last knock came from your window. You opened it.

He looked ruined. Exhausted. His hoodie stained, bruises under his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You didn’t speak.

“I got scared. Thought if I pushed you away first, it’d hurt less.”

“Did it?”

He shook his head.

“I thought you were too good for me,” he said.

You smiled, eyes glassy. “Maybe I am.”

He blinked. You stepped closer.

“But I still want you.”

His hands shook when they touched your face.

“I love you,” he said like it hurt.

You kissed him like it healed.

A month later. You sat on the back of his bike, wind tearing through your hair.

No more secrets. No more shadows. Your father didn’t approve. But you stopped living for approval a long time ago.

He held your hand now like he’d never let go. You teased him like you always had, bratty and smug. He called you annoying, called you beautiful, called you his.

And when you leaned in to kiss him at the red light, you tasted everything— The pain. The longing. The past. The future. And every ounce of the fight it took to make it here.

[girliism]

math professor!art donaldson x reader

art donaldson who has been teaching for years and prided himself on staying professional even with all the many pretty girls that took his class. never once did he cross line between teacher and student.

but then one year you took his class, you who was sweet and a little naive. he was drawn to you like people are drawn to stray kittens they see on the street, a desperate urge to help them. so when you came to him with such a defeated look on your face asking for his help he couldn’t say no.

another F. was written in the corner of you math exam from last week. you wanted to cry, all the studying you did essentially being useless. you waited until the end of class until everyone had walked out so it was just you and art in the room.

“um, mr.dondalson. can i talk with you?” art looked up at you through his glasses, you stood in front of his desk your hands fiddling with the failed exam paper. “of course.” he removed his glasses placing them on his desk. art knew what if was you wanted to talk about and he’s a little surprised it took you this long to ask for help. “i don’t think i’m understanding much of the coursework and i need your help.” you pouted, your voice was small and you were a little embarrassed. art got up from his chair walking to stand in front of you. “what else am i here for than to help.” he smiled at you.

an hour. one hour has passed and you had only made it to the third question. “i-i don’t know.” you dropped the pencil in your hand and placed your head on the table. art was asking you what the answer to the question was but your mind was spent. art sighed, it was only the beginning of the semester he hadn’t even brought out the hard stuff yet.

“we just went over this.” he said. you lifted your head up off the table. “i forgot it.” you whined. art looked down at you, you had that signature pout on your face and your wet eyes were making his pants tighter.

art walked back to sit behind his desk. you sat there your nose a little red he could see how drained you were from just doing those two questions. art motioned from you to come sit in his lap. it didn’t even cross your mind how unprofessional it was you just got up from your seat settling down on art’s lap, your back resting against his chest with your thighs on display from how your skirt rode up.

“i’m sorry, if i wasted your time mr.donaldson.” you huffed. “it’s just all so confusing.” art hummed, dragging his fingers up and down your inner thigh watching as they started to open. “too much for your brain to comprehend, wasn’t it?” he asked, the pads of his finger pressing down on your clothed clit. you nodded, soft breaths falling from your lips your legs now fully open resting on either side of art’s thighs. “why don’t we take a break and relax, ok.” his words echoed in your mind. “o-ok.” you melted back into him.

art pulled your soaked panties to the side. “so wet down here.” art slide his fingers from your opening to your tiny bundle of nerves rubbing slow circles. you let out a loud moan when art slipped two of his fingers in with ease. “o-oh my god.” your head dropped back on his shoulder, eyes squeezing close from the stretch. art groaned from the feeling of your warm gummy walls tightening around his fingers. “so fucking tight.” he mumbled, leaving kisses behind your ear and down your neck.

“feels so good mr.donaldson.” you slur. your hand gripping his wrist that was moving in and out of you. squelching noises and your loud whimpering moans filled the room. “oh fuck!” art curled his fingers upward pressing them against that soft spot causing you to let out a particularly loud noise. art’s eyes darted to the classroom door to see if anyone was walking by.

“gone so dumb on just my fingers can’t even keep quiet. what if someone walked in and saw us?” he scolded you but didn’t slow down his movements only speeding them up. you stuttered out a pathetic apology in between your whines. “all spread out for me like a slut.” he hissed in your ear. his words were only making you wetter, your arousal dripping past his fingers making a mess on his pants.

the closer you were to more you legs threatened to close, art had to hook his other arm up under your knee pulling your leg up to his chest. “s-so close, mr.donaldson. gonna cum.” you whimpered. your nails dug into art’s wrists. art let go of your leg, sneaking his hand up to your throat pulling your head back so he could slot his mouth against yours.

“let it go, baby.” art muttered right into your mouth.

art’s thumb flicked back and forth on your clit and his fingers punched in and out of you. your eyes crossed and you let out a choked moan as you came all over his fingers.

after many more sessions with art your grades had finally started to improve.

[sortagaysortahigh]

Operation Exemies to Lovers | Cregan Stark

A/N: Now yall know i have not written and finished a fic in a hot minute so sorry if this reads a bit wonky. Yk I'm an enemies to lovers and exes to lovers girl, so why not combine them both into a modern!cregan stark fic? Also, this is dialogue heavy as that's kind of my thing, if it's not yours, welpt keep scrolling boo I aint mad!. I also fixed the inc*st family tree so you'll see that in this as well (i'll prob keep it for future modern AUs). Anyways lmk what you think and enjoy! Also, I suck at summaries so I pull quotes from my fics, sorry not sorry pookies

Summary: “So y’know those sappy novels Hel’s always reading, anyways I asked her about them and she had one where the two main characters were like totally at ends with each other but their friends were like ‘nah they should be smashing’ so we think, based on our research and our scholarly source-Helaena, we should force them to be around each other until they finally talk it out! Or well, y’know-f*ck it out”

Warnings: cussing, spelling and grammar errors (sue me!), kissing, mentions of smut/allusions to smut but no smut, arguing, Alyssane Blackwood slander (sorry girl), somewhat mean!reader, this is an AU where Aegon's not a bad guy!!!! just a clown <3, mentions of an ill parent, Baela be hitting Aegon (he earned it!), Aemond is still missing an eye sorry to the Aemond girls

Word Count: 6.4k (period I stuck to keeping it short and sweet)

Modern!Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

“He’s staring at you again” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, doing your best to focus on highlighting the passages about the few Westerosi Civil Wars that had happened centuries ago. It was already difficult enough to focus in the crowded library, midterms were killing everyone. 

It wasn’t a shock for the once quiet and almost empty library to be packed, especially with student athletes who were desperately catching up on their studies in attempts to pass all of their midterms, write endless essays, and practically beg their professors for extra credit via email. 

You should’ve been able to focus on the task at hand, studying with your best friends Baela and Rhaena for your upcoming history midterm, the exam itself would focus heavily on the several majors wars that shaped westerosi society as a whole, and would even include the transition from government leadership as a monarchy into a democracy. 

Hell you’d even have to describe what was once known as the ‘Iron Throne’ and its historical significance. Truthfully the large metal hunk of junk was now sitting in the King’s Landing Red Keep Memorial Museum.

Usually the library was the easiest place for the three of you to study, it wasn’t as loud as your fourth floor flat in one of the student apartment buildings off campus, it was usually pretty clean and well kept, plus every resource you could possibly need was somewhere within the large building. 

However today, your usually comfortable red leather-lined chair felt stiff and was making you hot, not to mention the lack of air flow and increased temperature due to the amount of body heat on each floor, then the lights were either too bright or too dim, and all you wanted to do was slam the books shut, grab your laptop and leave.

“Let him stare.” you muttered as you tried to keep your gaze on the text in front of you, however it was getting increasingly difficult as a very specific pair of eyes were practically burning a hole into your side. 

Gods, he was so obnoxious.

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to hold onto the grudge against him, of course he totally earned it! I’m not downplaying your emotions but anytime he’s around you stiffen up like a virgin afraid of dick” your jaw dropped at Baela’s words, now staring at her, brows furrowed in shock.

“Baela! You can’t say things like that” Rhaena almost immediately swatted at her sister’s arm, shaking her head before tucking one of her loose locks behind her ear. “You really take after father sometimes.” 

Baela simply shrugged, glancing back at the two tables that were usually empty, now they were filled with six of the school’s hockey players, all spread apart with a plethora of books, laptops, pens, and notepads covering the tables. That’s also not counting all of their bags laying on the floor besides their chairs. 

“I get that you two broke up on not so good terms, but you should be showing him that you don’t care about him! Not that he makes you so angry you’re about to explode like a bomb in Mario Party”.

With that Baela turned her gaze back to her laptop, however at the sound of several texts chiming in at once to both Baela and Rhaena’s phones, you knew that their cousins had texted them once again. It made sense that they’d all shared a group chat, especially considering how close in age they were, and how large the Targaryen/Hightower/Velaryon family was. 

Of course the first time Baela had broken down their family tree you were incredibly confused. Her mother Laena Velaryon was married to Daemon Targaryen, who happened to be the uncle to her cousins Jace, Luke, and Joffrey’s mother Rhaenyra. 

Now, Rhaenyra was married to Dr. Strong (or just Harwin as he’d asked you to call him once at a family gathering you’d been invited to, to which you quickly declined as he was your Literature professor), but based on the Targaryen’s political status within Westeros, their sons took their mother’s last name, not their father. 

Then comes Aegon and Aemond, now truthfully you’d met Aegon your second week of classes a few years ago when he’d caught you off guard, asked for your number, then got mad when you’d ghosted him after finding out he had a girlfriend! (Shame on him, truly). But you actually ended up being pretty good friends with the goof. 

Anyways, Aegon and Aemond were the children of Rhaenyra’s best friend, and now sister-in-law Alicent Hightower who married Rhaenyra’s only brother Baelon Targaryen. 

It’s also important to remember that throughout this entire family tree, which was in fact drawn out on construction paper for you, Alicent and Baelon also had two other children, Daeron and Halaena, both of them attending Sunspear University together. Then of course Rhaenyra and Dr.Strong (Harwin), have two much smaller sons, Aegon and Viserys, which was even more confusing considering you’d already met an Aegon.

Rhaena and Baela shared a look, and it was a look that worried you, so of course instead of being rational and brushing it off, you clenched your jaw as you slowly turned around, making eye contact with none other than your ex-boyfriend who’d been leaning his head against his hand and staring at you with what could only be described as a mournful lovesick expression.

You rolled your eyes, quickly turning back around before anyone else would look at you and do something that would probably piss you off. 

It also didn’t help that the cousins texting Baela and Rhaena were also seated at the table with your ex boyfriend. 

“Jace said that Cregan wants to talk to you but you blocked him, I don’t think you want to know what Aegon said, but it involved an eggplant emoji and a bed” you rolled your eyes, letting out a deep sigh while sitting up straight and shaking your head.

“He’s apologized a million times and has yet to tell me why he decided to go out of his way to not only break things off with me and tell me he still loved me in the same damn sentence, then go out the same night and end up on Aegon-Aegon of all people’s instagram story sucking face with that Blackwood bitch while she was on his lap.” 

You let out a cynical laugh of sorts, rolling your eyes once again. 

“Tell Cregan Stark that I’d rather fuck Aegon after one of his alley-way vomit sprees than ever talk to him again” however, before you could focus back on your studies, an amused laugh came from behind you before the chair next to you was pulled out, only for you to meet the gaze of Aegon Targaryen himself, a lopsided smile on his face with his brows wiggling in a playful suggestive manner.

“Well if I knew the easiest way to get you into my bed was to go drinking until I’m sick then I would’ve invited you out sooner baby” with that he leaned closer while making kissing noises, only to be met with your hand shoving his face away.

“Aeg, for the last time, she doesn’t want you like that” he feigned hurt at Rhaena, sliding back into the chair with his hand over his heart. 

“You wound me dear cousin! You wound me!” then he sat up straight, now looking back at you “so I was sent over here as a trusted messenger. My boy back there, you know him quite well, if y’know what I mean-” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down again, then you shoved him “-anyways, Cregan has been like all sulky and heartbroken and he really misses you. And he doesn’t want anything to do with Alysanne! She came onto him!, so can you give him another shot?”

With that you simply shook your head, quickly packing your things up while scoffing. 

“Tell your “boy back there”-” you spoke with air quotations “-that if he really gave a fuck about me, he shouldn’t have dumped me after two years for no god damn reason, then fucked that Blackwood bitch-who by the way is a fucking whore!” 

Your outburst was met with the looks of many, Rhaena quickly clearing her throat watching as you packed your things away. “What she means to say is, she doesn’t want to talk to him. I think it’s too fresh still”

Aegon scoffed “it’s been four months people! Four months! The summer ended, it’s a new semester, I think she can talk to him now” he glanced around the table, eyes widening as he watched Baela grasp quite the hefty textbook while glaring at him.

“Baela don’t hit me! I’m just saying! Listen-” but before he could finish you’d already gotten up and mumbled that you’d see them at home while you walked away.

Aegon paused, watching as you walked away, blatantly checking you out for a few moments, then you’d disappeared. He then turned around and motioned for someone to come to the table, this is what led both Jace and Luke to walk across the room and now sit where you were sitting and in the last empty seat of the table.

“Listen, we’re all tired of being caught in the middle of this awkward divorce alright. So we came up with a plan!” Baela shook her head while Rhaena sighed slightly.

“No offense Aeg, but your plans are always horrible, need I remind you of Aemond’s missing eyeball?” Luke winced slightly, remembering the day he’d accidentally hit Aemond in the eye with a firewood poker when swinging it behind him.

Truthfully, Luke had no idea Aemond had entered the room when he and Aegon were ‘dueling’ one another, however he’d felt his poker hit something, and he heard Aemond’s loud scream of pain. 

They’d all been kids when that happened, and to make it worse it occurred on their grandfather’s birthday when everyone had traveled to King’s Landing for a large birthday dinner/family holiday.

“She’s got a point there Aegon, but-guys-we all came up with the idea together!” Luke placed his hands on the shoulder of his cousin and his brother, smiling widely while Baela and Rhaena both shook their heads in disappointment.

“Okay, you win, but if the idea is bad, Baela’s going to smack Aegon with that textbook, so pray it’s not bad” they all nodded, Aegon scooting back slightly.

“So y’know those sappy novels Hel’s always reading, anyways I asked her about them and she had one where the two main characters were like totally at ends with each other but their friends were like ‘nah they should be smashing’ so we think, based on our research and our scholarly source-Helaena, we should force them to be around each other until they finally talk it out! Or well, y’know-fuck it out”

He paused to take a quick breath “But we can’t let them in on the plan, otherwise Cregan’s gonna be all like ‘oh my god no she hates me, the love of my life hates me I can’t torture her, blah blah blah, I’m so nice and honorable, blah blah’ and she’s gonna be like ‘fuck that, I’ll kill him for fucking that Blackwood bitch and dumping me for no god damn reason’. Also I don’t think he ever fucked Alysanne-but I did-niether here nor there though!” 

Jace and Luke looked at Baela and Rhaena as if they were waiting to be yelled at by their mother, meanwhile Aegon smiled and nodded after his long winded explanation.

Rhaena spoke first “y’know honestly, your impression of her is pretty spot on.” Baela nodded her head in agreement before adding in “but if this doesn’t work, and she finds out, she’ll want to kill all of you and Cregan. I’m sure you all have realized being on her shit list isn’t exactly the best”

Jace nodded, glancing back at Cregan who was finally focusing on his statistics work with a stoic expression on his face. “Listen, if it doesn’t work and she kicks our asses that’s fine, but we at least have to try! I mean come on Rhae you told me that she cries over him still! And he’s no better. There might not be tears but he’s so long winded and mopey”

He then sighed, patting Luke on the back “I think this is our best shot. I mean c’mon they’re some of your guys' closest friends, and Winterfell over there’s my best friend that I’m not related to-oddly enough they’re pretty rare these days. They used to be so happy together! Now look at them both”

Baela sighed, nodding her head as she finally set the books in her hands down “she’s definitely not really herself anymore. Maybe if it doesn’t work, then at least they’ll both get closure from their relationship”.

Aegon smiled, nodding rapidly again “see! You guys get it!. Also don’t tell Aemond either, y’know he’s too ‘I’ve got a stick up my ass’ sometimes. We can call it operation-uh what’s the book trope that Helaena called it again-one second everyone!” he paused, grabbing his phone from his pocket before quickly calling his sister.

“Hey Hel, yeah yeah I’m good, what did you call that book again! The one where they were like forced to be around eachother then fuck it out and get married and shit?” 

Several hundred miles away, Helaena was grasping her nose bridge as she let out a deep sigh, her brother truly was a character.

“Oh-okay! Got it-thanks so much Hel, love you too! Give Daeron my love and remind him to wrap it up with those Dornish baddies!” with that he hung up the phone before meeting Baela’s disgusted glare.

“You’re so gross, Aeg. And stop saying the word baddies-you sound so cringey!” he simply shrugged at her.

“Anyways, now that we’re done being rude and judgemental to our baddie eldest cousin who’s super smart, funny, and beautiful, we’ll call it operation enemies to lovers!” 

Rhaena raised a brow “wouldn’t it actually be exes to lovers? Since they’re exes? I guess they might also be enemies based on the way she wants to wring his neck-and not how she used to-” with that her eyes widened as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Jace sighed “don’t worry Rhae, we already know about the shit he let her do to him. Young love, what can I say” 

Aegon nodded his head, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively once again, then he slightly elbowed Luke, who met his gaze with a laugh before they both spoke in unison “kinky innit”.

“Anyways-are we doing this or not? I’ve got a history midterm to study for and you three are interrupting it, and it’s bad enough that Aegon already made the smartest person we know leave” It was clear that Baela was losing her patience.

“Oh come on Bales! Y’know if you’re still interested I can set you up with ol Benji over there, heard he’s a freak in the she-” there it was, the book smacking him in the face “-ow Baela! Jesus! You’re just like your dad! Mean and ever so beautiful to look at” he winked.

“Gross man, she’s our cousin!” he shrugged “didn’t stop our ancestors, okay fine-fine! I didn’t mean it okay! Shit. you all are so violent. The blood of the dragon I guess”.

-

Three days have passed and the TarVelTower group chat had been in constant communication about ‘operation exemies to lovers’ with the additional confused replies from those that were not present in the library that day.

They were planning a game night, it was something they’d all done in the past, inviting their other friends to come along as well for drinks and a night of utter tomfoolery. Baela and Rhaena had done everything but swear on the Old Gods themselves that Cregan wouldn’t be there, meanwhile Jace, Luke, and Aegon had to practically beg Cregan to come to Jace’s for the game night.

It was also a plus that most of them lived in the same building. Dragonstone University wasn’t that large, not compared to other schools such as Sunspear, Driftmark, or even Harrenhall-although it was rumored that Harrenhal U was in fact haunted, that’s probably what brought so many to the school in the first place.

Baela and Rhaena had to drag you out of your bed after your post-class nap and usher you into the shower, stating that you ‘stunk of outside’, which was rather rude considering your only classes today were virtual. 

They’d mentioned the game night several times, and each time you asked if Cregan would be there, they’d said no, which you found a bit odd considering Jace was literally his best friend and probably closest confidant. Maybe his father had come down from Winterfell again, but you were thankful that he wouldn’t be present to ruin your mood.

All you had to do was take the elevator up two floors, so all you did was shower and throw on a pair of sweats and one of Aegon’s many discarded team sweatshirts. It had his number on it and even after washing it what felt like a million times, it still smelled like his overly strong cologne that he claimed ‘the ladies love’.

He’d also told you that maybe you were an ogre for not loving it, which of course even further solidified your friendship with the moron (lovingly).

You took time to braid your hair, knowing that you’d probably wake up hungover without a want or a need to brush it, so this was just easier. Then you’d foregone makeup, knowing you truly didn’t care how people saw you, especially not your friends. 

Of course the one thing you’d always contemplated wearing sat on your desk, the thin gold chain adorned with a small charm in the shape of a howling wolf. It was as if it sat mocking you because almost everyday you’d stare at it while getting ready.

You’d worn it everyday for a year after Cregan gifted it to you. He randomly showed up at your door one day, slightly out of breath, a wide smile on his face with his disheveled hair pulled back. One hand rubbed against his short beard, while the other held a small black gift bag. He looked as if he’d run here, then was contemplating the decision to run in the first place.

Then he’d kissed you gently, a smile you rarely wore now, adorned your face then.

When you invited him in, he was quick to follow, shutting and locking your door behind him while you made your way to the small kitchen, grabbing him something to drink as he caught his breath.

Then as you spun around to hand him the drink, he held the bag out for you, practically forcing you to open it (it wasn’t forceful at all, rather when you declined opening it immediately, he didn’t hesitate to place the strings of the bag between his teeth before picking you up, then plopping you down onto the couch, soft giggles leaving your lips when he climbed right on top of you.).

You remembered him watching as you opened it, he held himself up overtop you, while you easily pulled the small jewelry box out of the packaging, then when you opened it he looked almost nervous, as if you wouldn’t like it.

But you’d kissed him, pulling him down into your lips, thanking him between rushed kisses. 

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it before grasping the necklace and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. Out of sight, out of mind, you’d tell yourself-until you’d go looking for a pen and see it again.

Rhaena’s voice knocked you out of your thoughts completely, she stood in your doorframe, her posture a little too straight, which would’ve normally thrown you off, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when you were trying to shake off the feeling of heartbreak.

“You ready? I’ve got the snacks already packed to bring up, you’ve just got to grab our blankets. Baela’s already there helping set up. Aeg said he’d give her twenty bucks if she’d actually arrive earlier than him for once” you laughed at that, shaking your head slightly.

It was no secret that Aegon and Baela were incredibly competitive, and as cousins, they had what could only be described as a sibling rivalry, always trying to one up one another when they could, and making stupid bets over random things.

You actually liked that they were all so close, when you’d befriended Rhaena, you never thought that she and her sister would come with a large family that would welcome you in with open arms.

“Yeah, just, let me-um-get my shoes, yeah my shoes. Sorry” you were mumbling and stuttering as you walked to the shoe rack beside your door, slipping your feet into your fuzzy slippers before following Rhaena to the living room, grasping the small pile of throw blankets before the both of you left your apartment. She was quick to lock the door, then you both headed upstairs.

You were still technically early when you arrived, and as you entered the apartment Aegon was handing Baela a $20 bill, while she smirked. Luke was laying on one of the couches on his phone, Jace was putting drinks in the fridge with the help of Benji who honestly looked happy to be there. Meanwhile Aemond sat reading whatever random philosophical book he’d chosen for the week, and to your surprise, Helaena was pulling what smelled like cookies out of the oven.

“Hel! You’re here!” she smiled when she saw you, placing the tray down before meeting your embrace. “Yea, I actually was visiting my parents and Aegon picked me up earlier.” you smiled at that, you enjoyed her company, even if it was a rare occurrence. 

By the time everyone was settled in, around forty-five minutes had passed, and everything was nice. For the first time in a while you weren’t on edge, which was definitely noticeable, and you’d actually managed to relax into the large bean bag below you. Even if it did remind you of a certain someone.

Then, it was as if you’d summoned the asshole himself.

Jace was quick to shoot up and walk to the door, glancing at his phone nervously. Then he opened the door, nervously laughing for a few moments.

Then you spotted him. Not before Aegon, who was already tipsy, had managed to shoot up from his spot on the ground “Cregan! Glad you could make it man!”.

Baela and Rhaena watched as you let out a deep sigh, it was clear you didn’t want to ruin the night, so you simply turned to face away from the door, burying yourself further into the bean bag, covering yourself in the throw blanket as much as you could.

It’s important to mention that the bean bag happened to be big enough for two people, and for a long time, it’s where you would sit with Cregan, well technically, given his size, you’d be cuddled up together, and now, as his gaze found you ignoring him on that bean bag, the gloomy cloud that followed him around had resurfaced.’

After a few tense moments of silence, everyone commenced what they were doing.

Aegon, still standing, held up a deck of cards.

“For today’s game night we’re gonna need to partner up! Rhaena, you’re with me tonight! I need your smarticle particles!” you blinked slowly, Rhaena was usually your partner. Then you sat in silence as you watched everyone partner up.

Baela was shoved into Benji-literally shoved by Aegon. 

Aemond chose Luke as he stated their team needed “balance”, which actually made a lot of sense considering Aemond was always somewhat brooding, and Luke was a ray of sunshine.

Jace glanced between Helaena and Cregan, but when Baela shot him a pointed look-missed completely by you-he chose Helaena.

Which of course left you with the one person you wanted nothing to do with.

Rhaena tried breaking the ice, watching as Cregan awkwardly sat in the armchair beside the beanbag. “It looks like our old winning team is back together!” you were the first to scoff.

“Hey! They used to cheat!” you couldn’t stop yourself from responding to Aegon “actually he waited until we broke up for that”. As you spoke, everyone’s eyes widened, meanwhile you remained in your spot, staring at your phone, mindlessly scrolling through instagram.

However, as good of a guy that Cregan Stark is, you were the only person that was ever able to bring a different side out of him. You two rarely fought, but when you did, it was almost catastrophic and usually ended in very rough sex, or a heartwarming apology after ignoring one another for a few days. 

But you’d never broken up, you both took time to cool off in whatever way you needed.

Things are different now.

“For the last time, she came onto me! I’ve told you this thousands of times!” As he raised his voice, the frustration in his tone was evident, and his accent sounded thicker than usual-a key indicator that he was upset. So instead of backing down, you scoffed, now looking at him, fury evident on your features. 

“Yeah because a man your fucking size was so easily overpowered by her right! She just waltzed right up to you and beat you into submission or something?! Oh fuck you Cregan!” 

The two of you held eye contact, anger and frustration evident.

Aegon slowly sat down, leaning towards Jace and whispering “I think it’s working”, meanwhile Jace shook his head, having been witness to the few fights that you’d actually had with Cregan in the past.

“What would you have wanted me to do, I was shitfaced! Was I supposed to shove her to the ground and tell her to go fuck herself?!” you nodded your head at that, now sitting up, even closer to him than before. He stared down at you as you stared up at him.

“Yeah actually, that’s the best fucking idea I’d say you’ve ever had!” he scoffed.

“We weren’t even together and you hold that against me! Still!” That's what sent you over the edge.

“You fucking dumped me for no god damn reason, told me you loved me, and then went and fucked that Blackwood Bitch! The same fucking day! As if I meant nothing to you, we were together for two years Cregan! Two fucking years!” 

He heard the crack in your voice, everyone did. As you stared at him, he could see the way your eyes glossed over, he knew you too well. He knew the tears were coming.

“I tried to talk to you-you didn’t wanna hear anything!” you shrugged, gathering your things as fast as you possibly could, now looking anywhere but him.

“You don’t fucking deserve to talk to me you asshole”. Then you stood up and did what you always do in these situations, you ran away and left.

He was left there in shock, staring at the door, jaw clenched while he watched you leave. 

“Well that’s one way to start a game night” 

“Aegon shut up!” cue the smack “Ow! Baela! Stop hitting me! Go hit Benji, he likes that shit!-ow! Seriously?! Jace and Luke, get your cousin!”

Then in unison “she’s your cousin too!”

And finally, Benji piped up “is she talking about my cousin?” 

Instead of watching you waltz away, Cregan stood up, grabbing his things and mumbling his own apologies. Then he left, he knew exactly where you lived, so instead of taking the elevator, he rushed down the stairs, trying to cool off. 

When he stood in front of your door, it felt like a routine, something his body was so used to. As if this was muscle memory for him.

Then he knocked, once. No response. 

Twice. Nothing. 

Three times-maybe third times a charm. Nothing.

He stood there, his forehead leaned against the door. Cregan Stark was not a man of regrets, hell he prided himself on actually being a good guy, he was raised to be respectful, to be kind, to be strong, Stark men were not assholes. They weren’t childish, they weren’t selfish, they were supposed to be honorable in every way.

But here he is, leaning against his ex-girlfriend’s door, still in love with her, full of regret for ever breaking things off. He hadn’t even explained himself. He wanted to-he’d tried that day, but you stormed out, tears that he’d caused flowing down your cheeks. 

Then he felt the door shift, and you stood there, wrapped in the same blanket, eyes red as you stared up at him.

Gods, all he wanted to do was tell you he loved you, that he needed you, that you made him feel whole.

“I don’t have any fight left in me Cregan. It’s been months, why can’t you just leave me alone.” 

“Because I love you.” you sighed, shaking your head “no you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t have left me.” 

Sure you might’ve been being dramatic, but truthfully, you’d been heartbroken for months, following your breakup you’d lost ten pounds in two weeks. You’d never felt worse, and now, you were starting to feel alright, but it was no secret that there had been many nights full of tears, hugging a sweatshirt that you’d never washed, hoping to preserve the smell of his cologne.

“Can you just fucking listen to me for five minutes, please, I’ve been trying to talk to you for so long, just please-let me talk to you” you shrugged.

“Why?” he blinked a few times, taking a deep breath, running a hand through his hair-hair that you used to always touch, forcing him to sit between your thighs while you braid his hair, laughing when he’d complain, or when he’d do poses for you after you’d finished.

“I love you, I’ve never stopped loving you, I go to sleep at night and my dreams are filled with you, your smile, your laugh, even your fucking frowns. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. My heart fucking yearns for you. I can still feel the way you used to hold me, the way your breath felt against my neck, Gods, I think about you 24/7! I think about everything that I did, the way that I screwed up-I screwed us up. I love you! I’ll scream it from the fucking rooftops if that’s what you want!” 

You didn’t bother wiping away your tears, instead you stepped aside, leaving room for him to come in.

“You want to talk then talk.”

Then he walked inside, and shut the door the same way he used to. 

It truly was muscle memory, the way he walked to the couch and sat down in the same spot he was always in, then he waited for you.

He watched as you slowly sat next to him, still wrapped in a blanket like a sad burrito-Gods he spent too much time around Aegon. He didn’t hesitate to wipe the tears from under one of your eyes with his thumb, repeating the action on the other cheek.

“I didn’t want to break up with you. I never wanted to break up with you. My father’s-well he’s sick at home, I was going to leave, go back to Winterfell to take care of him, to take care of everyone. I just-I didn’t want you to be alone here, and I didn’t want to be your long distance boyfriend that you only ever see on fucking facetime. I just-I couldn’t do it.” 

You were silent, watching as he broke slightly, his voice cracking at the mention of his father, then at the mention of you being alone. 

It was no secret that Cregan and his father were close, you’d met Rickon Stark twice, and each time he’d embraced you with open arms and a warm heart. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he shrugged.

“Because, I’m supposed to be strong, I’m supposed to know my duty to my family, I’m supposed to be there for them, and it was hard-hard to say that I had to leave you for an unknown amount of time. I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to go a day without seeing you, you make me crazy in the best way, even now, whenever I see you on campus my heart practically flies out of my chest. Seeing you at my games, you’re like a ghost haunting me.” 

You slowly nodded, listening to him, watching the way he’d blink away his tears, the way his brows would furrow and jaw would clench slightly. 

“My dad’s the one who told me to stay. Told me not to throw my future away, that he’d be alright, y’know he’s a fighter-always has been. Told me to get my girl back-” he let out a small chuckle, the laugh laced in sadness “-but I think she doesn’t want me back. I went back up after we split up, just for a week, and he told me I was an idiot to leave it all behind. A full ride to Uni if I kept playing hockey? The girl of my dreams? Called me a bloke before he told me that he’s okay, he’s not letting go anytime soon” 

Cregan hadn’t been looking at you, he was focused on his hands, fists clenching slightly as he tried to swallow his own emotions. He hadn’t noticed the way that you’d been inching closer, not until your arms were wrapped around him, head leaning against his shoulder.

“You could’ve just told me from the beginning. I would’ve been your facetime girlfriend y’know? Would’ve figured out a way up there”

The familiarity of it all was what made him break, a small sob leaving his lips while you held him. It didn’t take long for you to shove him further into the couch and climb into his lap, the same way you used to when all you wanted to do was be as close to him as possible.

You held him, sat atop one of his thighs, arms wrapped around his shoulders while he cried into your shoulder. His arms gripping your waist, holding you against him. 

This is what should’ve happened all those months ago.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch” he laughed at that, and you felt his small smile. Meanwhile you ran a hand through his hair, fingers dancing through the dark locks before slowly running against his scalp. Your other hand traced small circles against his shoulder blade, you missed this.

You missed him.

“You weren’t a bitch-I probably deserved that.” you scoffed, moving back slightly, now holding eye contact with him as you brushed his tears away. “I was a bitch, I was the biggest bitch ever.”

He smiled, shaking his head “She really did come onto me. I did push her off-” you shushed him “I know. I believe you, I just-I dunno. I was hurt, then I saw that and it just stayed with me. I figured you dumped me for someone else, someone better-” he cut you off with a kiss.

It was so gentle, so soft, so sweet. Then he pulled away “there’s no one better than you for me. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. I just-I didn’t want to look weak and I didn’t want to leave you and-” you shushed him again, this time holding a hand against his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up Cregan Stark.” Your tone was light hearted as you shook your head “You’re not weak for having emotions, and you aren’t weak for wanting to care for those that you love. Don’t be stupid, we’ve both been stupid enough.” he nodded his head, then you slid her hand down, now caressing his face, your thumb lightly pulling on his bottom lip.

“I missed you” you smiled, a small giggle leaving your lips.

“Based on the way you stare, I could tell” he rolled his eyes “gotta commit your beauty to memory somehow” you slightly shoved his shoulder “you cornball!” 

“I missed you too loverboy”

Then you kissed him again, a slow, passionate kiss full of emotions, smiles, and even a few giggles. He then slid his hands under your sweatshirt, and you quickly pulled apart, letting him take it off, leaving you in just your bralette, then his lips were on yours again.

Before anything else could happen the front door swung open, startling you both, leading to Cregan’s grip against you tightening, meanwhile Aegon and Jace both hit the floor, while Luke stood there awkwardly, Rhaena shook her head, and Baela looked as if she was being held back by Benji. Meanwhile Helaena and Aemond were nowhere to be seen.

At least until they moved closer to the doorway, both of them shaking their heads and muttering “fucking Aegon” in unison.

“I told you guys it would work! Look at them! Kissing and close!” Aegon still spoke, even from the floor while Jace was on top of him. Then Jace slowly rolled off, letting out an ‘oof’. 

“Were you all eavesdropping?” Aegon blinked a few times at your question, glancing back at everyone else. Then you noticed the flush on Luke’s face and Rhaena’s awkward expression. Plus Jace was nodding his head. 

“Why did the Gods make him our brother?” Aemond shook his head “I truly do not know.” 

“So are you two back together now?” 

You sighed, standing up and grasping Cregan’s hand, pulling him towards your bedroom.

Cregan glanced back, still laughing at the scene “yes. Now please, fuck off mate”

With that you pulled him into your room and locked the door.

“They’re all the worst” he nodded his head at you, he’d expected you to pull him into your bed, however you walked towards your desk, rummaging through the different drawers until you found something. 

You glanced at him “can you help me with this”, while holding up the necklace.

“I’d be honored” you rolled your eyes, a bright smile on your face while he walked over, taking the necklace then as gently as possible, clasping it around your neck. Then he left a line of open mouthed kisses from below your right ear, to the edge of your shoulder. 

“I love you” his voice was soft, a whisper, almost as if it was a secret shared between the both of you.

You smiled, spinning around, one hand now on his face, the other on the back of his neck, fingers tracing circles through his hair. “I love you too”

-

Taglist:

Girl it dont exist LMAO

[snail-day]

TW: Older Professor Yandere x College Student Reader, Abuse of Power, Spanking, Fingering, Manipulation, Infidelity. MDNI

A/n: This could be awful, but the brain worms in my hungover little noggin were munching away at this idea. Also, I thought dead dove was a universal term last night, and I had to (mortifyingly) explain what it meant to my friends 👍 and I feel like I definitely overexplained it. Enjoy!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Thinking about controversial older yanderes... Like a professor in his 40s, married, with a couple of kids. You know the type. The kind who’s got everything—tenure, three published books, a whole career built on being the guy everyone respects. The guy who should really know better.

But then there’s you. Poor little nineteen-year-old you, sitting in the front row of his lecture hall, looking up at him with those big, wide, puppy-dog eyes. It’s barely the first day, and you’re already turning to the person next to you, asking if he’s going to go over the syllabus. He’s not. That’s something you should figure out on your own. But the way you looked so lost and helpless—God, it just did something to him.

He knows it’s wrong. He’s married. He has kids. A reputation to uphold. So why can’t he stop thinking about how you’d look with those pretty lips of yours wrapped around his cock? Why is he willing to risk everything he’s worked for just to have you?

It starts small. He tells himself it’s harmless. He watches you, admires the way you fumble through class. But it’s not enough. He’s always been a man who takes what he wants. So, when you turn in your first big paper, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

“AI-generated,” he says, shaking his head like it pains him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.”

You’re a mess, practically in tears, insisting you worked so hard on it. You did. Hours, maybe days of effort, all for him to dismiss it in one breath. But he just sits there, palms pressed together like he’s some kind of saint, telling you his hands are tied. “It’s academic integrity,” he says, like he’s not already imagining you on your knees.

You’re begging him for another chance. And, well, he’s a reasonable guy. Of course, he’ll help. “Why don’t you assist me with my research?” he offers. “It’s a great experience. We’ll get that grade sorted out.”

So, there you are. Alone with him in his lab most days, where his hands are always just a little too familiar. Brushing your hip as you reach for a chemical or guiding your hand over the keyboard when you ��mess up” the data entry. And when he loosens the cap on a reagent just enough for it to spill, you’re flustered, stripping out of your stained clothes while he promises he’s not looking.

Except, of course, he is. His phone is propped up on the desk, recording every second. For “security reasons,” he says, but the truth is obvious.

You just keep messing up, though. The numbers are wrong, the experiments fail, the code has errors. Every mistake adds up until he finally sighs, exasperated. “I really hate to do this,” he says, sitting you down like a child about to be scolded. “But I think we need to address this another way.”

Next thing you know, you’re over his lap, his rough hand spanking your ass while his fingers slide into your dripping cunt. “You don’t want an academic violation on your record, do you?” he murmurs, voice low, while you sob out apologies. “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

The slick sounds of your body betray you, loud and lewd as he works you to your first orgasm. His hand is soaked, his palm stinging from the impact of spanking you. And he can’t help but notice how tight you are, tighter than anything he’s felt since his wife’s virginity all those years ago.

By the time he lets you up, your legs are shaky, your thighs sticky with slick. He’s already thinking about what he’ll do next time—because there will be a next time. You’ll be in his office tomorrow, lips wrapped around his cock like he imagined on that very first day.

Maybe, if you’re good, he’ll bump your grade up to an A. Or maybe he’ll fail you, just to make sure you stick around next semester. After all, who are they going to believe? A beloved tenured professor—or a naive little college freshman who can’t stop crying?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Inspired by: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Aizawa, Erwin

[ruewritesoccasionally]

A Symphony of Sin | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Dark!Professor Terry Richmond x Dark! Black Reader

Warnings: extreme dark themes and smut (18+), stalking, obsessions, manipulation, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, power dynamics, oral (m receiving), rough sex, choking, spitting, light slapping, hair pulling, degradation kink, praise kink, use of names (princess, slut, sweetheart) } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: The final movement between her and Terry reveals who is really playing by the rules and who runs the game. The next moves are darker, more psychological, and with an even bigger power shift. By the end of it, she’ll know—this isn’t just her obsession anymore.

Word Count: 3.6K

a/n: this is a part 2 to 'Lessons in Obsession', one in which I initially had no intentions of writing because tbh sequels aren't my strength but @barnesnnobles comment inspired me to delve deeper so thank you bby. when i first started writing this, i didn't think it was going to be this dark but i think it's depraved in the best way 🤭...

The game had changed. She knew that. He had made sure of it.

Ever since that night—the night where her carefully constructed fantasy collided with his very real intentions—things had been different. She no longer watched from the shadows, no longer merely observed him like a scholar collecting data. No, now she felt him. Everywhere.

But the most dangerous thing?

She thought she had a handle on it.

Terry still carried himself with that same unbothered confidence, that slow, deliberate way he moved, as if every step, every glance, was calculated three moves ahead. In class, he was the same strict, enigmatic professor he had always been—sharp-minded, sharp-tongued, and completely unreadable.

And yet.

When she sat in his lecture hall, knees pressed together beneath the desk, hands folded as if she weren’t replaying the way those same hands had gripped her thighs, there were moments—fleeting, almost imperceptible—where she swore she saw something in his eyes. A flicker of amusement when she adjusted in her seat, when she bit her lip without realising, when she lingered a second too long after class.

She was under no illusions now. He was watching. He had always been watching.

And God, she loved it.

It started small.

Little things—things that no one else would think twice about, but she caught them.

“Some of you seem to be distracted today,” Terry remarked one afternoon, his voice even but laced with something dangerous. His gaze swept the lecture hall, pausing for a half-second too long when it landed on her. “If you’ve got something occupying your mind, I suggest you clear it before it gets in the way of your work.”

Her breath caught.

A warning.

He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew exactly what he meant.

The previous night was still seared into her skin—his mouth, his hands, the way he made her admit to everything. How she’d clung to him when he finally let her have what she’d been chasing for so long.

She shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together, pulse thrumming.

And Terry? He just continued lecturing, unbothered, as if he hadn’t just sent a shockwave straight to her core with a single sentence.

Then, he started testing her.

“Read the passage out loud,” he ordered one day, flipping through the textbook. “Slowly. Every word. Let’s see if you can follow simple instructions.”

Her stomach flipped.

She swallowed, gripping the page tighter, pulse pounding as she realised exactly what he was doing.

When she hesitated, Terry arched an eyebrow. “Having trouble, sweetheart?”

The term of endearment was so casual, so devoid of its usual weight, that no one else thought twice about it.

She knew better.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she parted her lips, voice coming out steady—too steady. She would not let him shake her. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

She read. Slowly.

And he watched.

The entire time.

She liked the game. The push and pull. So she pushed back.

One day, she lingered after class—not out of necessity, but out of something else.

“You’re staying late,” he remarked, not looking up from his notes.

She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just needed some clarification on the assignment.”

Terry hummed, unconvinced, flipping the page in front of him. “You’re a smart girl. I find it hard to believe you don’t already know the answer.”

Her stomach clenched. The way he said smart girl—like he was reminding her exactly who had the upper hand.

She exhaled through her nose, willing herself to keep her composure. “Can’t a student just want a little extra guidance?”

That made him look up.

Slowly.

She swore she saw it then—the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, the knowing glint in his eyes.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he said, his voice silky-smooth, as if they both didn’t know he was lying.

But then, she made a mistake.

She got too comfortable.

Too bold.

And she pushed too far.

It started as harmless flirting. A casual, easy smile to another professor in the hallway. A lingering laugh with a classmate in the library. Nothing that would have mattered before.

But now?

Now, everything mattered.

She should’ve noticed the way Terry’s eyes darkened when he caught the exchange. She should’ve registered the subtle shift in his body language when she walked into class the next day.

But she didn’t.

Not until he called on her, voice calm, smooth as glass.

“You. Come here.”

A command, not a request.

The air in the room changed. She felt it, like the drop in temperature before a storm.

She stood, swallowing hard as she walked to the front of the class, acutely aware of every pair of eyes watching her.

Terry gestured to the board. “Demonstrate the method we discussed last class.”

It wasn’t a difficult request. She knew the answer. But when she reached for the marker, her fingers trembled slightly.

She felt him behind her. Not close enough to be inappropriate, not close enough for anyone else to notice—

But she noticed.

Her heart pounded as she wrote, forcing herself to focus, to pretend she didn’t feel his presence like a second skin.

“Careful,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. “Your hands are shaking.”

She froze.

His voice was even, calm. But when she turned her head slightly—just enough to catch the edge of his expression—she saw it.

The warning.

The punishment brewing just beneath the surface.

She’d underestimated him.

She’d thought she had control.

But one look at Terry told her exactly what was about to happen:

She was about to learn—again—who really held the leash.

She expected him to crack. To seethe, to glower, to grip the desk and try to control himself in that careful, calculated way he always did. She wanted him to react, to burn hot, to show her that she wasn’t the only one consumed.

But when she risked a glance at Terry?

He looked... calm.

Unbothered.

Like he didn’t just watch her bat her lashes at another man. Like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

And that unsettled her more than if he had reacted.

A coil of unease settled in her stomach. She didn’t like this. The game was theirs and theirs alone, a perfectly balanced scale of control. But now?

Now it felt like she had miscalculated. Like she had poked something she shouldn’t have.

That evening, as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

No name. No explanation. Just a location, a time.

Nothing else.

Her stomach flipped, fingers tightening around her phone.

She shouldn’t go. She knew that. Knew it the way she knew that staring into the sun would burn, that running her tongue along the blade of a knife would slice.

But of course, she went.

Because no matter how much she wanted to believe she was the one obsessed—Terry had been keeping tabs on her too.

She just hadn’t noticed.

Not until now.

The address led her to a secluded townhouse. Upscale. Cold. The kind of place that felt too pristine to be truly lived in.

Her stomach tightened as she stepped inside. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of aged whiskey and something else, something undeniably him.

And there he was.

Sitting back in a leather chair, legs spread in that lazy yet controlled way of his. A glass of amber liquid in his hand.

Waiting.

Her throat went dry.

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing her fate.

Terry’s gaze dragged over her, slow, deliberate, like he was cataloguing every inch of her. He didn’t speak right away. Just watched. Let her squirm under the weight of his silence.

Then, finally—

“Sit.”

Her breath hitched.

“Don’t speak.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to move.

The moment she lowered herself into the chair across from him, he hummed, swirling the glass in his hand. “This rhetoric has become a habit, you know? Thinking that you’re clever, smarter than me, even.”

She opened her mouth—

He raised a hand. Don’t speak.

She clenched her fists in her lap.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You really thought that would work?” A small chuckle, rich and amused. “Thought you’d get a rise out of me? That I’d lose control?”

A pause. Then—

“Tell me, sweetheart—was it worth it?”

Her pulse pounded in her throat.

“I—”

He cut her off with a sharp look. “Don’t lie.”

She exhaled slowly. “I wanted your attention.”

“Mm. And now you have it.” He took a slow sip of his drink, letting the moment drag out. “The real question is... do you deserve it?”

A fresh wave of heat rolled through her, pooling low in her stomach.

She clenched her thighs together.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

Terry tilted his head, studying her. “You wanted to play, huh?” He set the glass down, leaning forward just enough to make the space between them feel smaller. “You wanted to make me jealous?”

Her breath caught.

He smirked. “Tell me, then. When you batted those pretty lashes at that boy, did it make you wet?”

Her thighs pressed tighter.

Terry’s eyes darkened.

He leaned back, stretching lazily. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.” His fingers tapped against the arm of the chair, contemplative. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”

She swallowed hard.

“You’re going to sit there and do nothing.”

Her brows knit together.

His smirk widened. “No touching. No begging. No moving.” He let the words settle, watched the way her breath quickened. “You’re just going to sit there and take it.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Terry reached for his drink, taking another slow sip.

Then, as if it was a passing thought, he murmured, “If you’re good, I might even let you come.”

Heat licked up her spine.

She clenched her hands in her lap, nails digging into her palms.

Terry smirked.

God, she wanted to wipe it off his face.

Or maybe she wanted him to ruin her.

Either way, she was fucked.

Terry’s eyes never left her as he rose from his seat, his movements slow, deliberate. It was almost like he was savouring the moment. He didn’t need to speak, not yet—his presence alone was suffocating. His hands undid the buttons of his shirt with a purpose, the sound of fabric pulling apart thickening the already heavy air between them. Each movement, each pull, every inch of skin exposed to her gaze was calculated, meant to drive her mad with want and frustration.

His chest was broad, his abs defined and tight. He was the perfect picture of control, yet there was something in the way his eyes darkened that spoke to an ache—a hunger that matched her own, though he’d never admit it. Not yet. He kept stripping, undressing with that same cold composure, his gaze trained on hers with intensity. Every inch of him being revealed, the heat radiating from his body, only made the ache in her chest worse. She clenched her thighs together, desperate to release the tension, but he hadn’t even touched her yet.

Terry tilted his head, watching her squirm, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "Look at you, all worked up. You thought you could control this, didn’t you?" His voice was smooth, mocking, but there was a bite under the words. "You thought you had it all figured out. Cute."

She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but he raised a finger, stilling her. "Ah, ah, ah, princess. No talking. I didn’t tell you to speak. Remember your place." His voice was low, a command now, one she was afraid to disobey.

Her body trembled under his gaze, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as the realisation hit: She wasn’t in control. She’d never been. Every part of her wanted to push back, wanted to break free, but there was something in him—something dark—that made her feel small, insignificant. His dominance was suffocating, and she couldn’t escape it.

Terry leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. Briefly, it almost felt like he was comforting her, his hand cupping her cheek in a tender gesture. But then he whispered, low enough that only she could hear, “It’s okay, princess. Let me show you how it’s done.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. They weren’t soft. They weren’t comforting. It was a promise. One she was scared to face.

The words hung in the air, heavy with promise, and something primal stirred within her. Before she could brace herself, Terry’s hands were in her hair, yanking her face up to meet his gaze. His kiss was brutal—demanding, possessive, a clash of teeth and tongues, each second a battle for control. He pulled away just enough for her to gasp for air, before descending on her neck with vicious intent, his lips and teeth leaving marks as though he was claiming her.

"Come on now, Princess. You’re better than this" he murmured against her skin. "You thought you could push me. Make me jealous? Make me lose control? You really didn’t know how to play this game, did you?"

She gasped again as he pulled her forward, his hands on her throat now, his fingers light but unyielding. "I’ll show you what happens when you make me mad, sweetheart."

He didn’t wait for permission. He was already on her, his dick shoved into her mouth before she could even process the movement. She choked, the thick length stretching her jaw, her mouth forced open in a way that hurt. But it was a good hurt. A reminder of her place, of his control.

He groaned as he thrust deep, his hand holding the back of her head, guiding her to take more of him. She couldn’t even think, couldn’t breathe without his length hitting the back of her throat. He lost control in his own way—moans, growls, and guttural sounds poured freely from his parted lips, his knees bent ever so slightly, sweat trailing down every part of him that she’d been forbidden to touch. He reached down to feel the bulge in her throat, his length lodged perfectly there. The sensation nearly made him cum on the spot.

“It’s hard to talk back with your mouth full, isn’t it?” he growled. “Ugh, I wish you could see what I see right now. A fallen, over-ambitious slut too dumb to know when she’s been done.”

Her breath was shallow, her body trembling as he fucked her mouth with brutal force. She gagged, struggling to keep her composure as he forced his dick deeper, the back of her throat tightening with every thrust. She could feel him press against her, the sensation of him hitting her throat sending shocks of unwanted pleasure coursing through her.

“Such a good little toy,” he mocked, his voice dripping with both praise and contempt. “You wanted this, didn’t you? All you had to say is that you wanted me to yourself.”

She couldn’t answer. Not with her mouth full. She just moaned in response, her hands gripping the chair, nails digging into the armrests as he continued to ravage her with his thrusts.

His movements grew harder, faster, each thrust forcing her to take more of him. The ache in her jaw was almost unbearable, but the pain was secondary now. She was losing herself in the brutal rhythm of it all, in the way he made her feel so small, so insignificant, her body betraying her with each muffled moan that escaped her.

Terry pulled away from her mouth suddenly, making her gasp for air, but the moment she exhaled, he was on her again. His hands were everywhere—gripping her, tearing her clothes off, exposing her skin to his hungry touch. He worshipped her body, trailing his fingers over every curve, every stretch mark, every dip and rise of her form like it was a work of art he couldn’t get enough of. Her lingerie, the way it hugged her body, the way her skin glowed beneath it—he wanted to consume it all.

The sex itself was equally as pleasureful as it was torturous, a reminder that the moment she pushed him, she hadn’t broken his resolve—she had played into his hands once more. His actions juxtaposed his words, his touch both cruel and reverent. Her body was a canvas to him, a fragile porcelain doll not to be broken—unlike her mind. He admired every detail she put into her looks, how her lingerie complemented her dark, rich skin tone, the swell of her breasts, the stretch marks that looked almost hand-painted as they adorned the curves he had claimed. He trailed down her body, inhaling her sweet, natural scent like it was something sacred. He would kill for even just a vial of it.

His fingers slid down, finding the slickness between her legs. A low, satisfied hum vibrated from his chest as he pushed into her, slow at first, drawing out her moans, savouring the way her body clenched around him. Then faster. Harder. He swallowed each gasp, each cry, consuming her whole. She was on the edge of something—something dangerous, something that would burn her alive. But she couldn’t stop it.

Terry’s hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Her pulse throbbed beneath his fingers, her body trapped between the firm press of his palm and the unrelenting pace he set. “Open your mouth,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something almost sinister—daring her to disobey. When her lips parted, his grip tightened just slightly before he let a slow stream of spit drip onto her waiting tongue.

“Swallow,” he ordered, watching intently as she obeyed, the heat in his gaze burning straight through her.

His fingers weaved into her hair again, the motion almost tender—until he yanked, sharp and sudden, pulling her back into the moment with a quick slap across her cheek. It wasn’t meant to hurt, not really. It was a reminder. A warning. A claim. The sting barely registered against the flood of pleasure overtaking her, her body betraying her, arching into him, silently pleading for more.

The kisses were a battle, all tongue and teeth, his dominance bleeding into every movement. He took everything she had, demanded more, never relenting—never letting her forget exactly who was in control.

He practically imprinted himself onto her, searing his every being into her flesh so he could never be mistaken for anyone else, and certainly not the lesser in this dynamic. They were equals in their obsession, but one always had the upper hand—to remind the other not to get too comfortable. Someone had to know what was lurking around the corner.

He held her down, fucking her hard, relentless, until she couldn’t think anymore. Until her moans became cries, until her body was trembling beneath his weight, her mind untethered from reality. His words blurred into a haze of pleasure and pain. She was floating in it, drowning in it, lost in the brutal rhythm he set. But it felt like freedom.

He was still in control. She was still his.

And as he came, shuddering against her, his body trembling with the force of it, he pulled her close, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a low, breathless whisper—

"You’ll never be the one in charge, sweetheart. Not now. Not ever."

Terry had barely left the room when her eyes landed on his briefcase, tucked neatly in the corner, the edge of a notebook peeking out. The sight of it sent a strange thrill through her, curiosity slithering up her spine. He had always been meticulous—calculated—but something about the way that notebook sat, slightly exposed, made it feel like an invitation.

She hesitated for a moment. Then, lightly stepping across the room, she reached for it.

The moment she flipped it open, her breath caught in her throat.

Pages and pages. Notes scrawled in sharp, precise handwriting. Her name repeated over and over. Every move she had made, every place she had been. Polaroids tucked between the pages—some she recognised, old photos she thought were buried in her past. Others… others she had never seen before. Shots of her walking home. Eating with friends. Sleeping.

Her hands trembled as she turned another page. More details. Names of her past lovers, their habits, their schedules. Addresses—previous and current. The make and model of her car, the exact date and time of her last oil change. A level of detail that made her own obsessive notes on him seem amateur, laughable.

She should have been horrified. And maybe, deep down, she was. But mostly? Mostly, she was impressed.

All this time, she thought she was the one keeping tabs, the one pulling strings, feeding her obsession in secret. But compared to this? Her work was nothing but a failed imitation of his masterpiece.

She was so enthralled, so absorbed in his twisted devotion, that she didn’t hear him return.

A quiet throat clearing made her snap the book shut, her heart hammering against her ribs. She turned, and there he was—standing in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. But there was no panic, no urgency. No fear.

Because why would he be afraid? He had intended for her to see this one day. He had wanted her to know.

Terry stepped forward, slow, deliberate. A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur, thick with satisfaction.

“As you can see, sweetheart,” he said, his fingers trailing along the cover of the notebook, “you were mine from the moment you stepped into my class.”

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @notapradagurl7 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @wildcardmelaninfreak

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[hanglimi]

opposite - yu jimin

jimin is sick and tired of the stupid, good for nothing student who keeps throwing parties in the dorm room above hers. but woah, she's the complete opposite of what jimin imagined, and really hot too.

TAGS - jimin x f! reader, fluff, college au

WORDCOUNT - 2100~

WARNINGS - substance use, swearing, suggestiveness,

A/N - this is really dialogue heavy, and i can't tell if that's a bad or good thing.

“oh my god, does this ever fucking stop?” ningning whined as she sat atop jimin’s bed, her feet crossed over each other, laptop thrown onto one of the multiple pillows.

jimin threw her friend a questioning look over her shoulder. the girl was acting crazy, and she had no time to engage if she wanted to finish the paper her professor had given her weeks before. the longer she left ning alone, the better chance of there being no continuation to the conversation.

“seriously, jimin! this is driving me insane.”

“what the hell do you mean, ning,” she groaned, laying her head down on her table.

“the dorm above you! i can genuinely feel the ceiling shaking with how loud the music is, and it’s been like this everyday this week!” ningning was practically hyperventilating at this point, and sure, while jimin thought she was being a tad bit dramatic, she also had a point.

but unfortunately, jimin had gotten so used to the girl above her, and her endless parties, that she barely noticed it anymore.

“here.” she reached down into her backpack by the base of her desk, grasping around in the pockets for what she was looking for. she finally felt it’s wire as she pulled it out of the bag and threw it over to her friend, glancing back down at her respective laptop.

“earbuds? really?”

jimin ignored her question, getting back to work. If she wanted to pass this class before the end of the semester, she had no time to idly chat with her friend, no matter how much she loved her.

“jimin!” ningning screamed again a couple seconds later, her head in her hands. “how the fuck do you live with this?” she curled into herself on the bed, as if that would help with the walls literally bouncing with each bass hit from upstairs.

“remind me to never come to your dorm again. from now on, we're studying in the library,”

jimin simply giggled at the comment, tuning out the bass boosted audio and her best friend’s whining.

“damn, jimin!” aeri said, snatching the girl’s phone from her, pausing her music so she could hear what was happening, “how loud do you need your music to be to actually hear it?”

jimin gave her a sneer, and reached back for her phone, but it was just so far across the table, and minjeong was faster than her, grabbing it, and pocketing it. aeri chuckled at her struggles before slapping a hand over her mouth, slowly turning her head towards the front of the library, hoping she wouldn’t get a third warning from the librarian just today.

“her eardrums are probably nonexistent because of the bitch above her,” ning noted as she scrolled on her phone, obviously distracted from what they actually came here for.

“you’re still on about that?” jimin drawled, dropping her head and leaning down in her seat, giving up on trying to retrieve her device. “and was i the only one still on task? it’s literally only been thirty minutes, guys.”

“on about what?” minjeong asked, leaning into the gossip, “who lives above jimin?”

“dude, if i knew what her name was i'd tell you.” ningning sat up, getting ready to entertain her. “all i know is that she throws a party like every other day, and plays overly obnoxious bass boosted music. and the RA of their floor just doesn't care.”

“jimin’s on the fourth floor, right?”

jimin nodded at aeri’s question. she just wanted to finish the discussion, and get back to studying, but her friends obviously felt otherwise.

“oh my god, jimin, i fucking know who that is! it’s that y/n chick,” aeri said, laughing, but her eyes widened as she heard the loud shush of the librarian.

“as i was saying, everyone on the fifth floor despises y/n, like genuinely hates,” she said.

jimin groaned as the three of them continued to talk about every single rumour y/n was involved in, and she pressed at her eyes with the palms of her hands until she started seeing dots.

“i’m literally the one who lives below her, and i don’t care this much,” jimin complained, adjusting her body so she was sat in the chair properly. “unlike you guys, i actually have things to do, so give me back my phone, minjeong”

they all groaned at her words, minjeong muttering as she handed the device to the girl’s outreached hand.

“you’re such a buzzkill, jimin,” aeri let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“yeah, fucking buzz killer,” ning followed up.

“buzz kill~.” minjeong sang, giggling a bit with the other two girls at the end.

“shut up!”

the librarian near the main entrance lowered her glasses down her nose at the outburst, glaring at their table. “you four girls over there! out!”

jimin made sure to flip her friends off as she snatched her things away from the table, walking back to her dreaded dorm, with a huge headache caused from the three.

it was never this bad.

like sure, jimin would often notice how loud y/n’s music was, but she never really got this mad about it. it was only a passing thought usually, but today, she couldn’t ignore it. and somehow, her body betrayed her, leading jimin out of her dorm, into the elevator, and facing the perpetrators door.

she knocked once, letting precious seconds pass as she stood in front of the dorm room, tapping her foot against the floor, slipping into the beat of the drums that was in the song playing from inside the room. no one answered, even though she could tell from the yelling that there were at least ten people in there. she let out a deep exhale through her nose, and raised her fist to knock, hitting the door again.

jimin waited there a little bit longer, still tapping her foot to the song as her mind wandered to how she would deal with the infamous y/n. she waited for what she thought was eternity before she got impatient, and raised her fist to knock again, but before she could make contact, the door swung open.

“who are you?” the girl who opened the door asked, while jimin strained to hear her over her overbearing chewing of gum. the stench of liquor infiltrated her nose from the open door, and there was a light fog covering the room, hazing up her vision of any furniture in the dorm. the loud music was piercing her brain now, closer than ever, and it was making her headache stronger.

“is y/n here?” she asked in response, but the girl only stared blankly at her, continuing to chew. jimin’s jaw clenched at the lack of reaction, but assumed y/n's friend couldn’t hear her over the music.

“is y/n here!” she repeated much louder, leaning closer to the girl’s ear, but the girl shoved her backwards immediately, and sneered at her.

“i’m not deaf yet, bitch. i was just trying to figure out if you were one of her exes,” the girl scolded, leaning an arm on the doorframe and turning her body to face the inside of the dorm.

“y/n! did you invite one of your flings to our party again?” the girl screamed into the fog while jimin scowled at the back of her head. apparently, y/n responded, because she turned back around to face her after a couple of seconds. “y/n will be here in a few,” and she shut the door.

jimin already hated the girl, and she didn’t even know her name.

the door reopened after a few moments to who jimin assumed was y/n, and her heart leapt out of her chest at the sight. the girl was the complete opposite of how jimin thought she would appear, and she couldn’t believe she fell for what aeri had said before. the clothes she wore leaned to the pink, feminine side–her tank top a cute combination of red, pink and yellow–and she wore a pearl necklace to accompany the soft vibe. the look was coupled with a pink cardigan over top, which was falling down to reveal one of her shoulders.

jimin was definitely gawking at her too long, because the girl cleared her throat in annoyance.

“what do you need?” the girl’s voice was also the complete opposite of her look, siding more with what jimin had thought y/n would be like originally. the deep, rough tones of it scratched her brain in a way she never imagined before, and she almost melted right there on the spot.

“oh yeah! i’m so sorry about that. my name is jimin, and i live on the floor below you, right under your room, which is actually pretty cool, huh.” jimin stuttered through her introduction, her face heating up at the intense staring contest y/n had her locked in.

she quickly averted her eyes, wanting to look anywhere else but the student's face, “anyways, it usually hasn’t been a problem but-”

the girl cut her off, rolling her eyes at the long winded explanation. “i get it, you want us to lower the volume of the music, right?” she drawled, and her tone grated against the headache jimin had, further enhancing it.

jimin nodded her head rapidly.

“well we can’t.” y/n started, lifting her hand up to take a look at her nails which were–once again a contrast to her voice–painted a mix of pink and yellow. “not that we can’t, just that we won’t.”

jimin cocked her head in confusion, “you… won’t?”

y/n stood there, still observing her fingers, “you heard me the first time, cutie,”

even though she was slightly infuriated, she felt her heart jump at the pet name, and warmth rushed up to her cheeks once again, but she quickly shook away the feeling, steeling her face in anger.

“what do you mean by ‘you won’t’” jimin said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“exactly what it means, babe. we’re having fun, and if it’s really bothering you that much, you can leave the complex for a couple hours.” y/n finally looked away from her nails to stare up at jimin, giving her a smile, as if she was trying to soften the words.

“uh, no the fuck not.”

the girl’s eyes flashed with something jimin couldn't recognise, and y/n stood up straighter, a smirk playing on her lips at the words.

“so you stand your ground, huh?” y/n noted aloud, eyeing jimin from head to toe. “how about you come in here, and we can party together?”

“fuck you.” jimin said.

“that’s what i’m asking for,” the girl replied in a dull tone, rolling her eyes.

the girl was annoying her, and the constant flirty jokes weren’t helping jimin’s case either. she couldn’t tell if she wanted to feel flustered, angry, or perhaps a mix of both.

“i’m gonna get the RA on you. you’ll be kicked out of the dorms, or probably even the school considering the amount of weed i smell off of you right now.”

“you wanna talk to the RA about me?” y/n laughed loudly at the statement, covering her mouth with her hand, as she turned around to face the fog.

“hey, chaewon! come here,” y/n screamed over the music that was still playing, and she stood aside after a bit, letting chaewon pop her head through the door.

“meet the fifth floor’s RA!” the annoying girl cackled, doubling over at the look on jimin’s face.

the girl was wasted–jimin could tell by the dazed look in her eyes, and how she had to lean against y/n to stabilise herself.

“don’t tell anyone i’m here.” chaewon slurred, and hiccupped, slowly raising her pointer finger to press it against jimin’s lips, but she missed, and ended up poking her in the eye. “or we’ll all end up in trouble.”

“shit!” jimin exclaimed, pressing a hand to her eye trying to soothe the pain.

y/n’s mouth curved into a smile, and jimin couldn’t tell if it was from her pain or chaewon’s actions. she lightly pushed chaewon back into the room while telling her to ease up on the drinks, and came back to face jimin straight on.

“see what I mean?” y/n said, shaking her head at jimin’s poor attempts, further belittling her.

jimin scrunched her forehead up in thought. she wasn’t going to accept defeat, and let this go–that wasn’t who she was–and she didn’t want to see y/n’s stupid hot smirk again anyways.

“if you lower the volume of your music, and keep it there” she gulped, “i’ll do anything that you want me to.”

“really?” y/n eyes widened, “if so-”

“nothing sexual, of course.” jimin cut her off before she had the chance.

y/n giggled in response, “well then.”

[astralis-ortus]

gummy bears

✱ college student!hj x gn!reader

— art school is hard—at least having a muse makes it a little easier.

w.count → 1.8k genre → fluff...? warning → mild cussing, as per usual♡ a.n → hi!! i'm back with a new face addition to the page! hahah honestly i thought it would be either minho or seungmin first but ngl hyunnie has been tugging on my hearstrings lately he's such a silly little mandu i love him sm :( hope you guys find the story as enjoyable as chris' side of the blog, and also if anyone is interested for a commission there are slots available still♡ ⋆ see masterlist

has it always been this… weird?

your attention should’ve been sealed at the projected slides once the professor started the countdown on his infamous ‘how-long-can-i-yap-before-my-students-fall-asleep’ course, but holy smokes—even breathing seemed like a major task when you could barely peel your thoughts off the boy sitting a few rows in front of you.

hyunjin has always been the main attention-grabber wherever he went—and that includes yours.

it’s not like you denying it either. he is gorgeous, and even the heavens know you couldn’t help but glance in his direction whenever he’s in the room. hell, even a few of your initial sketches for last semester’s projects were inspired by hyunjin. it’s as if he had slowly solidified his spot as your muse—but what is this odd feeling gently fluttering between the rows of your ribcage?

a buzz from the pocket of your pants startled you out of your trance, and while you thanked the gods for sending you down here with a habit of putting your phone on constant silent, you peeked at the notification patiently perched on the screen of your phone—one nearly causing you a minor heart attack on the spot.

hyunjin: spot next to me is empty, you know

right—you forgot your position from a mere classmate-slash-secret-admirer has been upgraded to an actual acquaintance-slash-almost-friend of hyunjin’s, all thanks to that one final project from art history 101 class last semester.

you: being at the back is peaceful, thanks hyunjin: says the one who rushed for a front spot for literally any other class lol hyunjin: cmon, saved the spot for you

lord—now you’re genuinely glad you decided to wear that crusty baseball cap of yours today, or literally everyone would’ve noticed the way your cheeks had burned up into a bright shade of crimson.

you: geez hyunjin: cmoooon hyunjin: or i’ll literally ask mr. kang to move you here

the way your head snapped to find hyunjin’s playful yet determined gaze headed straight at you was not something you would’ve ever thought to add to your bingo board.

ever.

you: no you won’t hyunjin: try me

your eyes nearly doubled in size when you returned your line of sight in hyunjin’s direction, only to see the slow, comical way the long-haired guy is raising his hand while keeping his eyes on you, lips tipped up into a masked grin.

“yes, mr. hwang?”

fuck.

you scrambled on your phone while mr. kang—as well as the rest of the attendees of the class, fixed their eyes on hyunjin, quietly wondering what would come out of those lips of his.

“oh, i’m just wondering if—"

you: FINE I’M MOVING you: JUST SHUT UP you: PLEASE

And you swore you could see the way his lips turned into a victorious grin through the back of his head.

“if?” mr. kang repeated, seemingly a little impatient at hyunjin’s antics. to be fair, you actually felt the same way.

“if you have any movie or documentaries related to the topics you will be teaching this semester,” hyunjin’s voice rang loud and clear—as if the question had been his initial motive all along, and you’re simply a victim of his little magic trick.

“personally i do learn better through those mediums, mr. kang,” hyunjin perfected his question, smile as innocent as a puppy, and as he looked around the hall, scanning the dozens of nodding heads to his statement,

hyunjin made sure to lock eyes with you for a second longer.

“and i think my friends agree with me.”

“you’re an ass,” you hissed as soon as you secured the seat next to hyunjin, shooting daggers out of your eyes while the latter chuckled. given, hyunjin’s question did made your move less suspicious since mr. kang actually took a liking to the idea and decided to substitute one of the assignments into this movie presentation group project, but still—you were so close to losing your dignity in front of dozens of your peers, on the first day of the new semester.

“would’ve been easier had you listened the first time,” he playfully retorted, remnants of victory still glimmered in his eyes, “and now you know i’m a man of my words. win-win situation for both of us.”

“as if,” you groaned in annoyance despite failing to even make a dent to hyunjin’s victorious grin. “you are the only one benefiting from this, mr. hwang. i’m merely a victim in this scheme of yours.”

“ouch—mr. hwang? really now?” hyunjin placed a hand over his heart, pretending as if he has been shot despite the wicked smile plastered across his face, “do you really want to hurt me like that?”

if you were to be honest, you do enjoy your playful bickers with hyunjin. it made him less of a muse and more of a… human. a regular college boy, who just so happened to be blessed by the goddess of beauty herself and sent here with an exceptional heart of gold.

like he’s just a boy.

“seemed fair enough,” instead, you replied with a mischievous grin while greeting a couple of hyunjin’s friends joining your little group.

“1-1, mr. hwang.”

the massive numbers displayed on your phone screen further validates the exhaustion you felt looming over your shoulders. it’s only the first week of the new semester and you’re already held up on campus way past your classes—how are you supposed to survive the rest of the school year?

to be fair, you really do love what you’re studying right now. it’s what you’ve always wanted to be since you were a child, and to be able to live out your inner child’s dream is one of your prides—but god, it did not make things easier to actually do.

just as you slipped your screen away, sparing yourself from a bunch of exhausting thoughts as your footsteps led you to your bus stop, a pack of gummy bear suddenly popped out of thin air in front of your eyes, causing you to stumble backwards onto the—

warm surface?

“i’m not a gummy sharing type of person, but i think you need this more than i do.”

pushing yourself off the other’s figure, you didn’t need to turn around to figure out the person’s identity—but you did anyway.

“gee, thanks mr. hwang,” you playfully snickered, snatching the bag of gummy and popped one unfortunate strawberry flavored bear in your mouth, “didn’t know you’re so kind.”

over the past week, you found out that you surprisingly have quite a lot of classes together with hyunjin and a few of his friends. you’re thankful he dropped the ‘i saved you a seat’ act by the third class you shared and let you actually sit amongst your friends, but in ways you don’t even understand, you somehow kept getting sorted in the same groups as hyunjin. well, at least now you no longer freeze up while hyunjin’s around.

“oh, can you drop that already,” hyunjin groaned, lips pursing into a subtle pout, “the others are starting to call me mr. hwang too thanks to you, you know.”

you couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past your lips to hyunjin’s protest, already with a picture in your head about the whining he would’ve done once his closest friends started to pick up hyunjin’s objection to the nickname and used the name against him. how adorable he would’ve—

wait.

adorable?

hyunjin’s supposed to be simply your muse—maybe a friend at best! you don’t call your friends adorable, do you?

“you started it!” shaking your head in an attempt to rid the word from the nooks and crannies of your brain, you instead defended yourself while offering hyunjin the pack of gummies at the same time.

“what do you mean i started it!” hyunjin groaned, still popping a gummy in his mouth in the process, “i was just simply requesting your presence at the spot I have reserved for you!”

“and threatened to embarrass me if i didn’t move!” you deflected, playfully glaring at the latter. “don’t you dare omit that part, you sneaky weasel! i thought I was going to have to drop the class due to embarrassment!”

the crease between hyunjin’s brows grew thicker when he realized he couldn’t counter your protest, resulting in another pout to form on his lips, now clearer than before. it made you feel a little guilty—did you go a little too far? was he offended by the—

“i just wanted to get closer to you.”

…wait.

wait—what?

“i know it’s a lame excuse,” hyunjin’s groans turn muffled as he hid his face behind the palms of his hands, “it’s just—i don’t know, i find you fun? i know we just started talking after that group project but i like talking about stuff with you and even after the group project ended i just kept finding myself wanting to talk to you? i just—”

“whoa whoa—slow down!” you instinctively grabbed hyunjin’s shoulders; not too hard to shake him off, just enough to gently ground him back from his rambles. “breathe, you don’t need to explain anything to me, hyunjin. just breathe.”

well, frankly you do need an explanation—just… not from this adorably frantic hyunjin.

no, scratch that—just frantic.

not adorably.

just frantic.

hyunjin’s face was nearly the shade of the gummy bear packet you still had on your hand, and as much as you didn’t want to embarrass him more than he’s already feeling, your lips seemed to have their own plans when they curled up into a grin.

“don’t even say anything,” he warned, fingers now pointing at the rapidly growing grin on your face. “just don’t.”

you would honestly love to comply to hyunjin’s wishes, really—after all, you’re the type to honor and respect your friend’s wishes…

but is he just a friend?

“I’m not!” you stated, but despite throwing your hands up in a sign of defeat, hyunjin knew better when he noticed the constant degree of smile etched across your face,

“I just never would have thought that the campus crush,” you emphasized, trails of laughter already slipping past your lips in harmony to hyunjin’s exasperated sigh, “the mr. hwang hyunjin himself, is quite clumsy at making new friends.”

hyunjin was genuinely dumbfounded at your accusation.

“no i’m not!” he protested, subconsciously following your footstep as you got ready to catch your nearing bus, “it’s not that i’m bad at making friends, i just—”

hyunjin’s explanation were cut short when your bus finally arrived, prompting another frown to appear on his face when you hopped on without sparing him another glance. dejected, hyunjin turned around and—

“hyunjin!”

the speed at how quickly hyunjin turned on his heels at your voice nearly made you giggle. from one of the opened windows from the back of the bus, you locked eyes with hyunjin and smiled.

“text me your excuses and we’ll see if you’re actually good at making friends!” you shouted as the bus began to drove away, only allowing you to witness a faint ‘okay!’ along with an excited wave before hyunjin disappeared behind the curve of the crossroad.

well, maybe hyunjin is adorable after all.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[radiohao]

yushi swears he has an “obvious” crush on you, but you're in major denial

pairings: tokuno yushi x f!reader

genre: fluff, crack, uni!au, soccerplayer!yushi, bulletpoint fic, oblivious!yn, ft. ive rei, sion, riku, friends-to-lovers

warnings: REDO OF THIS FIC, mentions of reader getting sick, one joke abt kidnapping, a mention of a broken wrist but it's not in detail, mentions of getting drunk, not proofread

wc: 2.7k

—

lately, you've been developing an unHEALTHY obsession with the new transfer student, tokuno yushi

he's in your econ class and came in from japan last semester

you still remember him walking in with a gray sweater, dark washed jeans, and soft, tousled raven black hair

and of course you remember you two locking eyes

u swore you were hearing wedding bells imMEdiately

you looked away so fast your neck probably cracked a little

thank god you sat in the back of the room because then you can just stare at this god-given sPECimen every day for an hour

well... nOw he sits right next to you...

it was... an interesting story, to say the least

— flashback —

you're barely awake and class only begun five minutes ago

wHY did you let rei convince you to play roblox obbies with her at 3AM?? half the world is ASLEEP at that time

and now you're suffering the consequences because your eyelids feel like they weigh 10 pounds

you got an americano since you assumed it'd wake you up, but it's so bitter you can't take another sip without scrunching your face in disgust

u should've gotten a frappe instead

your professor clears her voice before speaking

"good morning everyone! with the new semester starting, i thought it'd be nice if we all compress so it's easier to hear. as you may know, i recently got a surgery done in my throat, therefore i can't speak at loud volumes as it strains it-"

you roll your eyes and softly groan at the announcement

oh lord PLEASE you do not want to be sat with some gUy-

"y/n, may you please sit up here at the front next to yushi? thank you."

wHAT??? oh nonono well now u regret ever thinking that because yushi is not just some GUY!!

you mumble curses as you grab your things and make your way to where yushi is sitting

when you get there, his bag is on the seat next to him, which u assUME is your seat

he looks at you just standing there stupidly and his eyes widen before he takes his bag

"oh, sorry." you wave him off and sit next to him

your professor moves some more people to the front before starting her lecture

ykw this is perfect!! you're in the front so u hear her better and won't... fall.... asleeeeeppp.......

your eyes are drooping and your head jerks forward

crap nO not now

you need to take a sip out of your americano- ZZZzZzZzZzZz

—

so you blacked out.

goddAMNIT

you're woken up when someone lightly squeezes your shoulder

"wake up y/n, lecture is over."

"augpghgnm five more minutes plEAse.."

"okay." oh really? okay period!! that usually doesn't work but hey you'll take it! and whoever this is has a cotton candy-like voice that easily puts you back to sleep again

five minutes pass by and your shoulder is being squeezed again

you FORCE your eyes open before you get drowsy again and once u make eye contact with "cotton candy voice" you nearly fall off your chair

tokuno yushi is sitting next to you with his hand on your shoulder

"i'm sorry, did i startle you?" he says softly

you're like ??? what what what

"no, you're good! thanks for giving me a couple extra minutes to sleep," you say with a laugh

he chuckles and shakes his head, saying "don't worry about it. you seemed tired anyway. i'm gonna head out now- oh, also, make sure to check your notebook."

yushi slings his bag over his shoulder and you just nod as he talks (you're losing focus because of how good he looks rn)

"'m yushi, by the way. see you." he waves goodbye and leaves the room

you open your notebook and see that he wrote down notes for you during the lecture

ur eyes are glued to a little note he put in the corner saying "sorry my handwriting sucks lol" and your first coherent thought is I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN

but then you're also like why did he do that in the first place???

he was probably just being nice since you looked so pathetically tired

yeah that's it

— flashback over —

safe to say you would do anything for tokuno yushi

he tells you to do his homework for him? you'd do it. he says to throw out all your clothes? everything is in the dump already. he asks you to jump off a cliff? you're already falling off the ledge.

well now you and yushi are friends.. sort of

you talk every class and text each other

and when you found out he was on the soccer team he asked you to come to his games, and ever since then you've been going to each one

but it's just that sometimes he does things that make your heart jump and your cheeks warm up

like that one time he gave you his jacket after class because it was raining, saying he "didn't want you to catch a cold"

or that other time when he came to your dorm after his game with snacks beause you said you weren't feeling well

you feel like you should believe that he likes you but it just seems too good to be true!!

and if you're being honest there's so many other girls that line up at his door every day, so it wouldn't make sense for him to choose you!!

this man is making you go clinically insane

and rei keeps telling you HE DOES LIKE U GIRL but ur just like no... i don't tHINk so...

you're torn because there are signs that maybe he does feel the same but when you think about his popularity and how much of a wanted bachelor he is, you feel your confidence start to crumble

maybe you should just give up on your man because there is NO WAY he likes you

—

yushi is going to rip his hair out of his head

WHY is it so difficult to ask a girl out?????

truth is, he's liked you since the day he saw you

it was like wedding bells were ringing in his head and he was like YEP this is the mother of my kids right here

the first time he tried to make a move on you was when you were asked to sit next to him

he silently pumped his fist under the table like Y E S this is my chance

and he thought u looked so pretty while sleeping

yushi secretly moved some of your hair behind your ear because he could see it was bothering you, but he didn't tell you as to not sound creepy

and he's pretty proud of his status with you now, but he really wishes you'd just call him out for all the moves he's made on you because he's SHY

he tried to ask you out two (2) times already!!

the first time when you walked out of the lecture hall together and it started POURING

he lended you his hoodie and he was about to confess but it just so happened that rei called you

"y/n, i have something to tell you."

"what is it?" RRRRIIINGNGNG "oh, hold on. hello, rei? wHAt?! you broke your wrist??? oh my gOD- sorry, yushi i have to go.”

that's fine!!!! there's always next time!!!

the next time he tried asking you out was when you said you came down with a fever on the day of his game

horrible game by the way, he played so bad

(he never plays well when you're not there, yushi swears you're his good luck charm)

he bought all your favorite snacks and a plushie and went to your dorm after the game

you open the door wrapped in a blanket and he just wants to cuddle you-

who said that

"hi, ushi," you say with a croak to your voice, "what are you doing here?"

he smiles softly and holds up a bag

"i got you some snacks. thought you didn't eat yet."

you snicker, "how do you always know?"

"i just do."

you invite him inside and have a little chat

about an hour later, you and yushi are sat on opposite sides of the couch

yushi thinks it's now or never and takes a breath, "y/n, i have feelings for you."

hOOOOOOOnnKK SshhhOOOo

what the hell

he looks to the left and sees you snoring your ass off

and yes u look adorbs but REALLY?? he JUST mustered up the balls to confess and you're sleeping

he sighs.

yushi SWEARS his crush on you is obvious, i mean how is it not??? he lends you his stuff, listens to you talk for hours on end, talks to you more than he talks to his own teammates, and buys you small gifts all the time

LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS TOO

like the soccer team, the girls that like him, even his younger brother

he'll just have to give it another shot

third time's the charm, i guess

—

okay, yushi has officially devised a plan

well, technically it's his, riku, and sion's plan

basically what's going to happen is yushi invites you to the upcoming soccer game (to which you always go anyway), and when they win the game, he will offer a ride home to you and confess in the car with flowers and a plushie

sion suggested the car thing so there are no distractions and you can't run away ("that sounds like i'm going to kidnap her," yushi deadpans. "lovingly, of course!" sion exclaims)

riku suggested the flowers and plushie so it's less creepy

so actually this isn't yushi's plan at ALL but he will sAy it's his plan anyway because he's the one confessing!!!

alright, game time. (literally)

—

you walk into the lecture hall and sense bad juju

what's going on, you think. you don't like this!!

as you head to your seat, you notice yushi isn't there in the spot next to you

okay wow so you like him so much your body just knows when he's not there??? got it

but nOO :( he's not here!!!! who are u supposed to stare at now!??!?

you grumble a little as you sit down, but you spot a little post-it note on the chair.

huh, weird

taking it off, you read the writing scratched onto the note, with lettering you recognize all too well

'sorry, skipping class today to rest for tonight's game. it'd be great if u were there, like always. have rei drop u off bc i wanna eat out w/you after. c u :) - yewshee'

you laugh at the stupid spelling of his name

he wants to eat out after??? what do you WEAR????

—

it's almost time for the game and ur STRESSING

HWAT DO YOU WEAR OH MY GOD

you settled on a cute frilly blouse and some shorts

pretty but simple (like yushi, you think)

rei drops you off (her wrist is mostly healed) and you find a seat in the middle of the stands

SMACK in the middle to be more specific

it's not rlly what you wanted but you don't mind because the front stands are full of families cheering on their sons and girls in the back cheering on their bfs

u totally don't wish that was you on the top of the stands haha

oop game is starting

you see yushi warming up and your heart swells

he looks SO good in his uniform because you can see his calves and biceps flexing

amen for soccer uniforms

—

yushi feels like he's going to crap his pants

he's already got the usual pre-game jitters, but it's even worse because he can't SEE you in the stands

where the hell are u???????

he's squinting like an idiot and riku laughs at him

"you look dumb as hell," he says

yushi smacks his back and riku winces in pain

just then he sees you, looking around

wow, you look really pretty

"she can't hear you, by the way." sion laughs

what

OH CRAP DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD

he groans and rolls his eyes in embarrassment

their coach tells them that the game is going to start soon

at least yushi knows he'll win now, since you're there

—

they won

is yushi surprised? not at all

he KNEW it from the moment he saw your face

now it's time for the next part of the plan: get you in his car

okay that doesn't sound weird at all

um but it's kind of hard trying to get you when there's a swarm of people around him congratulating him

PLEASE he just needs to get to his (soon-to-be) girl

he practically shoves everyone out of the way and heads to the parking lot

thank god you're already there, leaning against the hood of his car

"sorry, i was held back a bit," he starts

you smile and omg yushi thinks he's gonna faint

"it's okay. but congrats!! you guys did so good, as always."

the two of you open the car and sit inside

"i'm excited! i didn't eat dinner yet since you said we'd be going out- hello why are you not starting the car" you say

"y/n, i have something to tell you." he says cautiously

your head tilts to the side and you gesture for him to continue

he pulls out the flowers and plushie from the backseat and you softly gasp

the bouquet is beautiful, full of your favorite flowers

yushi clears his throat and leans forward a bit

"i have feelings for you. i've liked you for around... 5 months now? but yeah, i thought i'd let you know. if you don't feel the same way, it's okay, we can just move past it. the last thing i want is for you to be uncomfortable, which is now making me realize that i probably shouldn't have done this in the car because it seems weird-"

he's basically rambling at this point but he doesn't cARE he just needs to get it all out before he bails out on himself

"you... like... me??" you question

yushi nods with a small smile on his face

"are you sure? i mean, like, why me?"

"i just feel so comfortable and safe around you. i love how independant, thoughtful and selfless you are, and how you always appreciate the small things in life. i love how genuine you are, because it never makes me feel like i'm being judged or lied to- it just feels real. you always think about others before yourself, and that makes me want to be the person to take care of you."

wow you did not expect that

yushi just kinda stares at u because he didn't expect to say that himself either

haha that's so sweet of him,,, oh god,,,,, this is a LOT to take in

why do you feel lightheaded and why is your vision going black

um what's happeni-

—

so you passed out

maybe it was the shock or the mental stress of the situation but you BLACKED OUT

you wake up to yushi fanning you with some random papers from his backpack that he hurriedly took out

he even has a hand on your wrist to check if you still have a pulse lmao

he freaked OUT when he saw all the color drain from your face

"hey- you okay?" he asks worriedly

you chuckle weakly and sit up, brushing the hair out of ur face

"yeah, sorry i just- i guess i was just surprised."

"did you want me to take you home? or to urgent care?"

"nO- i'm good, i swear, yushi. i just- it was a lot to take in. i didn't think someone like you would like someone like me, but i shouldn't have doubted you. i feel the same way. that was really sweet of you- this whole confession was, to be honest. i don't mind you being the one to take care of me. i want that, actually. i want that with you."

you two are just staring at each other like haha what do we do now

yushi leans forward even more and cups your cheek with his palm gently

"can i kiss you?"

GOD and he asks for consent, how perfect can he get??

"of course."

he presses his lips against yours and they mold together so perfectly it's like he was made to kiss you

when he pulls away you just look at each other fondly

"oh, and y/n?"

"hm?"

"please don't pass out on me like that again, i almost got a heart attack."

you laugh and rub the back of his hand softly

"no promises."

— bonus —

at the diner, you facetime rei and tell her the news

"GOD, FINALLY!!! i nEVer thought this day would come — thank you for having the balls to ask her out, yushi-" she's squealing so much on the other side of the phone she literally starts lagging

riku and sion just laugh at her reaction

"you know," sion starts, "yushi got drunk once and was ranting about you-"

"oh my GOD i remember that!! he was like 'y/n, i looooveeee youuuu...' i think i have a video, actually-" riku adds

"god, please don't." your bf says, massaging his temples

you laugh

he's so cute

—

author's note: hiii!! i loved this banner so much i thought it deserved a better fic to go with it haha so here we go :) have a good day/night everyone!

[ariascoven]

✹ ── WORK FOR IT.

PAIRING : professor!lilia calderu x reader

CONTENT + WARNINGS : female reader. legal age gap. power imbalance. annoyed lilia. pet names (darling, baby, angel, sweetheart & little one). smut. hair pulling. semi-public sex. oral and fingering (lilia receiving). praise and degradation kink. mommy kink, reader calls lilia mamma. marking, biting and hickeys. nursing kink, no lactation.

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : keep in mind i have no idea how university works. i didn't even finish high school lmao, don't expect much from me

AO3 | MASTERLIST

Shit, shit, shit. You fucked up. You fucked up terribly - and uncharacteristically - bad. With your busy schedule and scrambled brain, you ended up completely forgetting about the upcoming test with Ms. Calderu. Your heart clenched just from the mere thought of leaving the woman you admired so much disappointed, dreading the stern look you would receive from those brown eyes the moment you stepped into the classroom hours late, after her class had already ended.

Your hurried footsteps were the only sound echoing around the empty hallways, given everyone else was in their respective classrooms, but you knew Lilia’s was empty at the moment, the older woman being probably the only one. Your breath came in gasps as you quickened the speed of your pace, practically running like a crazed woman through the university building in hopes of reaching your destination in time — although the clock on your wrist told you that was an impossible thing to happen. Panting, you pushed the huge door open with a loud bang.

With wide eyes, you were immediately met with a familiar grey-haired woman sitting behind her desk, the fancy glasses framing her stern face stealing the breath from your lungs — a sight you would usually melt for. Instead, the cold gaze she shot up made your arms drop loosely by your sides in shame, head tipping down as the floor suddenly became incredibly interesting.

“Come closer.” She ordered, voice rough, the demanding tone she used inflicting unwanted feelings on your body. Slowly, you dragged your feet across the empty room and towards her. Lilia watched in complete silence, impatiently tapping her pen against the surface of her desk, covered with papers and an unfinished mug of black coffee. Her narrowed eyes scanned your body as you stopped in front of her desk, head downcast.

God, you couldn't even face the woman. She had showered you with praise and compliments when you told her you were the first student to arrive for the English test just a few days back, only for you to commit such a huge mistake when it came to hers — the test she said you would flawlessly get the highest grade of the class, as always. After being so late, you knew she wouldn’t allow you to take the test. You fought back the urge to cry.

“Three hours ago.” She spoke slowly in a tone lower than usual, dragging out each word as if to make her point as clear as day. “You have the audacity to walk into my classroom three hours late.” Her anger only grew at your avoidance, eyes locked onto your feet and stubbornly refusing to look at her. She crossed her arms over the desk, leaning forward and speaking louder.

“When I speak,” she began, the noise of her pen dropping onto the desk louder than it should be and making you wince. “I expect you to look at me and not at the floor, young lady.” She observed intently as you looked up, taking way too long and deepening her annoyance — first, it was your irresponsibility with the test, and then you move like you’re in slow motion while she just wants to get the damned conversation over with.

A shiver ran down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin when you met the older woman’s gaze. Your hands found their way to your chest, fingers entwined and fiddling with each other as you remained quiet, waiting for her to resume her scolding; a well deserved one.

“I don’t even have the words to describe what I’m feeling right now because disappointment doesn't even begin to grasp the concept of it.” The words slipping from your adored professor’s lips cut right through your heart like a sword aimed to kill, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes becoming harder to fight against as your lips trembled.

“You don’t need to be so mean.” You said quietly, barely above a whisper, voice trembling. Your stomach turned at the pure annoyance displayed on Lilia’s face, eyes narrowing further as she clicked her tongue. You noticed the way she gripped the edge of her desk — something she only did when her anger was getting the best of her, usually shown before she yelled at a student, which she rarely did. Fuck, you were screwed.

“Darling, you have no idea how mean I can get when someone I put my entire trust in fails me.” She almost growled, eyes darkening. “One hour, I could maybe forgive. But three? That’s just testing my patience.” She shook her head subtly. And she was right. Being on time was one of the rules she could never forgive a student for breaking, but for you, exceptions had always been made. But three hours would be stretching it, especially during exam season — especially when it was the most important test of the semester.

“Lilia—” you tried to speak, but were quickly cut off by the woman herself, sounding louder.

“It’s Ms. Calderu to you.” Your eyes widened. Neither you or her could remember how long you’d been on a first name basis. Calling her Lilia was never a problem, so hearing her snap at you because of that shocked you speechless, lips parted as you could only stare in disbelief.

The beat of silence that followed the exchange made you shift uncomfortably, the room heaving with tension and unspoken feelings. You had an idea to repair the situation, something that would make Lilia stop being mad at you and maybe, just maybe, could recover your lost grade. Deciding to give it a shot, you swallowed thickly.

“Ms. Calderu,” you breathed out, obeying and stepping closer to the desk. Your hands found their way to the wood surface, body leaning down just the slightest bit, all of that without breaking eye contact even for a split second. “I’m truly sorry. I acknowledge my irresponsibility and that I committed a huge mistake, and I am fully willing to repair it. Is there any chance you could allow me to take the test? I would do anything.”

The implication in your words was no secret, clear for anyone to hear. Lilia wasn’t dumb. She paused for a few moments, eyes raking over your body before meeting yours once more. She hummed in thought, leaning back against her chair and tilting her head to the side. “Anything, you say?” The words dripped from her lips in a purr, one that made you throb with need.

You hummed in agreement, eyes glimmering with shaky confidence as you tried to keep your cool. At the confirmation, she spread her legs fully and nodded down, a silent request — or rather, a silent order. The message was understood immediately, and you moved just as quickly. You found your way under her desk and between her legs, staring up with puppy eyes and caressing her thighs over the smooth fabric of her pants.

Her hand found its way to your head, gripping a fistful of hair with a grip so bruising it made you wince and whine in pain. She pulled your head back with a harsh tug. “If you want a good grade,” her free hand reached down to trace imaginary patterns on the exposed skin of your neck, making you shiver. “You need to work for it.”

She didn’t have to say anything more, those words being enough to have you desperately pulling the zipper of her pants down. She helps you pull the pants down to her ankles by lifting her hips, lust filled eyes studying your every movement. In all honesty, it wouldn't be the first time you’d done something like this with Lilia, nor the first time you’d done it inside the classroom, but she’d always close the door and lock it. This time, though, you knew the door was unlocked — you didn’t think about closing it, not expecting the scolding to turn into something more.

The possibility of getting caught made your heart thump rapidly against your chest as you pulled her underwear to the side. Although the professor’s favorite thing in the world was teasing you, she wasn’t one to be teased. She noticed your eagerness to please her and couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, the sound turning into a gasp when your tongue met her flesh.

You let out a pleased hum, eyes fluttering. God, you missed it — the sweetest thing your tongue ever had the pleasure to taste. Your tongue moved gently, sliding up and down in small kitten licks against her wet folds, relishing in the moans she let out whenever your nose brushed against her clit. She held onto your hair once more, pushing your face further into her pussy. Your scalp burned under the rough treatment, but nothing would possibly make you stop.

Lilia groaned in annoyance when the kitten licks stopped, but quickly melted when your pretty lips wrapped around her clit and sucked on it harshly. “Just like that, baby.” The next groan was a sound of pure pleasure, her head falling backwards and resting against the chair as her eyes closed. You always knew just what to do to make her feel good, and it was moments like this that reminded her just how much she needed you. No one could make her see stars the way that you did, ever.

“Good girl.” She praised, voice sounding breathless. She ran her fingers through your hair, hips bucking up against your face, seeking her pleasure. Her movements stuttered when she felt her climax approaching — way too quickly for her own liking. How was it possible? How did you make her cum so fast without fail, every single time she allowed you to touch her in secret? “Fuck, angel…” she moaned, the sound causing your own hips to buck against the floor, like nothing but a stupid and needy puppy in heat.

“Goodness… you’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” You moaned against her, the words only serving to make you embarrassingly wet, soaking through your underwear. “Eating your teacher out, and for what? To recover the grade you were incompetent enough to lose. You dumb baby…” Lust clouded your mind and turned forming coherent thoughts an impossible task to complete with the way her hips bucked against your face and the words leaving her lips — degrading, but that, for some reason, made you feel like the most special girl in the whole universe.

The noises slipping past her lips became louder, shameless, as your tongue began delving deeper, exploring every inch of her. Your gaze never faltered from her eyes as you kept tongue-fucking her, feeling dizzy with the way her scent filled your nostrils. Your own breathing became ragged, coming in small gasps, feeling her walls fluttering. It was an indicator that a final push was all she needed to cum on the spot. And you craved it; the taste of it, the smell of it, the warmth of it on your tongue and running down your throat as you lapped up everything she had to offer you.

“Fucking hell!” Her eyes widened, words coming out in an exclaim of surprise at the two fingers that plunged inside of her without previous warning, her walls clamping down, trying to accommodate them. Not very difficult to do so, with the way she was dripping, thighs glistening with her own wetness. What a sight to behold.

You focused on the movements of your hand, fingers thrusting in and out of Lilia at a steady, hard pace. Your lips latched onto the wet skin of her thighs, distributing licks and open-mouthed kisses. When you began planting hickeys all over her, leaving a trail of purple marks that definitely wouldn’t go away so soon, that was the breaking point, curse after curse falling from her lips.

Hickeys and love bites had always been one of her weaknesses, and you knew it damn well. The thought of marking someone drove her wild and made her possessive side flare up, hence why your poor skin was always left covered in bruises after your meetings behind closed doors. The fact you wanted to claim her as yours made her mind spin, fingers tightening their grip onto your hair and hips moving at a frantic pace.

“Does that feel good, mamma?” You questioned softly, the vibrations coming from your voice against Lilia’s skin eliciting a gasp from her. She looked down with heavy lidded eyes and nodded, humming as her teeth tugged at her bottom lip.

“You’re so good for mamma, sweetheart. Knows just how— ah!” She moaned, eyes shutting when your digits began hitting her g-spot over and over again. “Just how to make mamma melt for you.” Her hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, gripping it to keep you close.

Your cunt throbbed at the sight of Lilia cupping her own breast, hand sliding under the fabric of her shirt to fondle with the plump flesh. You wanted to taste her there too, to latch onto her nipple and never let go. Flashbacks of your first time with the woman replayed in the back of your mind, her words coming back to remind you of your place. “Always remember, little one. You can only have mamma’s tits after you make her cum.”

The echo inside your brain encouraged you to add a third finger inside her, moaning at the same time she did, completely obsessed with the way her eyes rolled back with the stretch. You curled your fingers with each thrust, palm deliciously hitting her clit with each movement. You started to give the bundle of nerves attention once more, sucking and flicking your tongue against it. Lilia’s pussy gripped your fingers like a vice, clenching and pulling them deeper inside her.

“God, what would I do without you?” She asked, more to herself than to you, in a broken whisper. Her free hand moved from holding onto the armrest of the chair to her mouth, and she bit down onto it to muffle the embarrassingly loud noises coming from the usually composed woman. With lips still wrapped around her clit, you smiled, that overwhelming sense of pride washing over you at the way you easily broke your professor. How many people had the honor to say they’ve had Lilia Calderu melting for them like that? You didn’t want to know the real answer, holding onto the only one you knew — you could.

“Mamma, please cum for me?” Sparkling puppy eyes stared up at the woman as you pleaded. “Need your tits in my mouth, mamma.” If there was one thing in the world Lilia was a hundred percent sure of, was that you would be the death of her. You were a tempting little thing, with your big adoring eyes; and she wouldn’t trade having you begging her to cum for anything else.

She let out a muffled groan and her body arched from the chair as she felt the familiar coil in her stomach snap, an exploding orgasm turning her vision white. She trembled, a chain of profanities falling from her lips like a sinful chant as she found her release, coating your hand. You lapped up every drop with hunger, letting out needy moans and soft hums, the desperate sounds making it clear you could remain the way for the rest of your existence, if there was a possibility.

A rough grunt was heard as she slumped back down onto the chair, head falling backwards. Removing your fingers, you brought them to your lips and sucked them clean, observing the way Lilia’s chest moved with her heavy breathing. Like the obedient thing you were, you stayed in your kneeling position between her legs, waiting for the woman to come down from her high patiently.

When she looked down, with dazed brown eyes and a thin layer of sweat covering her face, she offered you a lazy side grin. A hand patted her thigh, inviting you to take your favorite seat. Without a second thought, you obeyed, climbing onto her lap and immediately fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. She chuckled, shaking her head in amusement, hands finding your waist.

She sighed in contentment as you fred her breasts from the shirt and pulled her bra down, taking a nipple into your mouth. “You know, I could lose my job over this.” She spoke softly, fingers rubbing the skin under your shirt in a gentle caress, gazing lovingly at her little angel all curled up on her lap and getting drunk off her tits.

“Why do you even like this so much, hm? It’s not like there’s any milk, there.” She loved poking fun at you over your fondness of her breasts, being able to stay in that exact same position for hours, if given the chance. You only batted your lashes up at her, causing her to chuckle once more, incredulous. “You’re out of this world, little one.”

You closed your eyes, feeling at home — rather ironic, to say the least, that your definition of home was being on your university history professor’s lap, being held like a baby with her breast inside your mouth while you could still taste her cum on your tongue. Your eyes opened when you remembered the reason you got on your knees in the first place. You looked up, reluctantly pulling away from her tit to speak, but she cut off any words you wanted to say.

“You got the highest grade, by the way.”

dividers made by cafekitsune

images found on pinterest

[axelsagewrites]

Felix asking a shy girl out would include:

Felix x shy!reader

Word count: 546

Warnings: none

Masterlist here

Felix doesn’t even know the definition of the word shy

You were in one of his classes and always sat near the front and kept to yourself

He often found his gaze drifting from the lecture to you

When he did introduce himself at the end of the class your reaction stuck with him

“Hi I’m Felix. I don’t think we’ve met,”

He remembers the way your cheeks-tinged pink, and you began to stutter a greeting before making an excuse to leave

So, when the professor announced a group project was coming up Felix instantly offered to pair with you

You were relieved at not having to struggle to find a partner, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated

Felix was used to being loud, but he soon noticed how quiet you spoke and followed suit

Though he did love seeing you embarrassed

Not like embarrassed embarrassed

But he did love to compliment you to watch you squirm a little

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?”

“Is that a new top? It looks amazing on you,”

“How does a pretty girl like you still single?”

Felix tried to invite you to parties, but you never accepted

The project took about three weeks to complete, and you had to see him at least twice a week on top of classes

So, when you finally completed the project, you decided to take the plunge

“Do you want to maybe get lunch sometime? We don’t have to its only if you’d maybe wanna go- “

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Felix realised when he was getting ready for the date, he’d never been on a date date before

He’d went to parties, hooked up, went to fancy dinners but that was always with 20 other people

Now he was sat waiting for you in a coffee shop feeling oddly nervous

“Hi, hey, hello,” he greeted, standing up with an awkward handshake to hug to greet you

“Hi,” you breathed out, looking so much more relaxed now compared to when you first met

You stayed in the coffee shop for around two hours just chatting away

You only left because they were closing

Felix suggested walking the long way back

He did notice your blush return when he took your hand in his

God did he love when you got all shy

Especially when you got back to campus, and everyone was staring

You started looking at the ground all shy

But Felix just dropped your hand so he could drape his arm round your shoulder instead

“They’re only looking because of how good you look,”

Felix was desperate to kiss you when he got you to your dorm, but he didn’t want to push you too far

“I’ll text you yeah?”

“Yeah course,” you said

Felix stepped back, about to walk away when you suddenly grabbed his wrist

It took everything in you to tug him closer

But Felix quickly got the hint

The kiss was short and sweet

But it knocked all the air out his lungs

It was all he could think about as he walked back to his dorm and wondered how soon was too soon to text you

He only lasted till he got back in his room

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[playingdxngerous]

Relaxation Break

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings: smut, hand kink, unprotected p in v, oral m! and f! receiving, digital penetration f! receiving, some teasing, use of the word sir, some pet names, shared hotel room, cussing, spencer reid x reader, begging, probably some more small ones that i'm forgetting, me actually not proofreading whatsoever

first spencer reid fic, be nice to me guys

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Sharing hotels with the BAU team was something you easily got used to as the job went on. You usually like to bunk with another girl, not wanting to have an awkward experience with someone like Gideon, for example. However, tonight will be different. With Garcia coming along this time, you have no other choice but to share a room with one of the men. You decide to stay with Spencer, feeling as if it would maybe be less awkward than Hotch. Hopefully, at least...

He unlocks the door and lets you walk in first, observing the room with every step you take. Two beds. Thank God.

"Care if I take the bed next to the lamp?" Spencer asks from beside you as he double checks the locked door.

"No, I don't care," you smile, trying to spark some form of emotion rather than the blank, quiet stares you share.

"Okay great," he replies, immediately setting his stuff down. You walk into the bathroom and wash your face, getting ready for bed. You walk out in sweatpants and a tank top, surprised to see Spencer is also dressed in comfier clothes. You've never seen this side of him, nor did you know it even existed. He's sitting criss cross, staring intently at the files in front of him.

"I'm going to try to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow," you say in a yawn.

"Is it okay if I keep the lamp on for a bit?" He asks innocently with a rasp in his voice. You like it a little more than it should, and it really surprises you. You've always thought Spencer was cute, but you never saw it any more than just admiring from afar. You've never pictured any form of relationship, or even touch with him. Especially when it comes to the two of you sharing a room. This is foreign land to you, and for some reason you can't help but let your mind wander further into it. You look at the grip on his black pen, his veins popping out with each quick movement. Heat rises in you, yet you force yourself to keep it in control. Not tonight. You are not falling for Dr. Spencer Reid tonight.

"Yeah of course, do whatever you need to do Dr. Reid." Did you really just say that out loud? You force a slight chuckle, masking the flirty sarcasm in your voice.

"Oh, that's sir to you actually. Don't forget I'm a professor too." He smirks with his comment.

"Whatever smarty pants," you say to lower the mood of the conversation. Not tonight. You are not falling tonight.

"Mhm..." he mumbles before focusing his attention back to the folders in front of him.

"Night," you say, covering your face with the covers to block out the bright light.

"Night," you hear him say from outside of the sheets. The white blankets don't do much to hide the light from you, which slightly aggravates you. This is definitely not something to look forward to after a long day of profiling a killer. You toss and turn for what feels like forever until you're all tangled up in the sheets. With an abrupt movement you throw them off of you and blow the hair out of your face.

"Is something wrong? A nightmare?" He asks worriedly.

"No not that. I haven't slept yet. Do you mind to maybe turn the light off? I understand you probably have a lot to do but it's okay to take a break sometimes. You can't let this job take over every part of your life." You pause and loudly sigh. "It's kind of worrying. You deserve the same amount of rest as everyone else in the branch. You don't need all of this hard work placed on you."

"I don't mind. I chose this job because I knew I could handle it. I'll be okay."

"Spencer..." you whisper to almost nothing.

"Maybe I can do the work in the hallway or in the bathroom or something. I want you to be able to rest. I'm sorry, I didn't know I was bothering you or-" He rambles on before you cut him off.

"Spencer no," you say as you walk over to his bed. You gently place the files to the side in an organized manner so as to not mess up his work. He looks at you in silence, his puppy dog eyes becoming strangely hard to ignore. You grab his hand, and he slightly flinches.

"I'm sorry I forgot you probably don't like that." You apologize and quickly pull away.

"It's okay, I honestly didn't mind."

"Are you sure?" You bewilder. He nods.

"Look Spence...," you take a deep breath. "I know you have a ton of work, but you deserve to take a break for once in your life. Let that be tonight. Get some good sleep for once. Wake up energized to finish the files."

"No one calls me that." He smiles. "I think I like it, to be honest."

"What happened to sir?" You laugh and grab his hand again. This time he doesn't pull away.

"Oh, you know." He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess you're not one of my students so it's cool."

'I'll still call you sir if you like', your mind threatens to say. However, for right now at least, this thought must be kept to yourself.

"Well, that's beside the point. I just want you to know that it's okay to relax sometimes," you actually do say.

"I don't really know how." He responds, giving you trouble deciding what to say back. You run your thumb along his hand, admiring every little perfection about it. He looks down to see for himself, and his breath slightly hitches at the commotion. You squeeze his other hand with your free one, causing him to meet your gaze once more. This time way closer than the last. Inches lay between your faces. His warm breath blows onto you, proving the closeness between you. He seems to finally be catching on to you as his eyelids only remain halfway open. Afraid to make a move, the two of you sit in silence wondering if he feels the same as you.

"I can try to help you," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice almost a whimper. He has definitely caught on. For a man who rarely even shakes hands with other people, he seems to love the attention you are now giving him. You squeeze his hands harder, admiring the way they tower over yours in size. He mimics your thumb movement, slightly going back and forth. Definitely caught on. Thankfully.

"Yeah." You slightly lean in, lips parted ever so softly. He follows your movement, not yet making contact with you. After what feels like forever, you decide to take control and simply peck his lips to see how he reacts. Once again he follows you, pulling away right after you do.

"I-" he pushes out in a stutter, his eyes wide and his face red. You smile as he swallows anxiously.

"Everything okay Spence?" You smirk, eyes slightly closed still.

"Yeah." He clears his throat and licks his lips. Silence barges in once again, the room filled with blushes and clandestine stares. Out of nowhere, your starving lips collide with his quickly. He slides his tongue over your bottom lip, forcing him inside of you. His change in demeaner surprises you to your core. Never in your job have you seen Spencer Reid so full of life and action. He moves quicker than ever, desperate to be as close to you as possible. He grabs your jawline, your pussy wet at the thought of what his hands probably look like again your soft skin. He moves back to your neck, grabbing a handful of hair to push you closer. He tastes sweeter with each kiss, driving you absolutely rabid

"Jesus Christ, Spencer, you're so different right now."

"Is that a bad thing?" His swollen pink lips ask. You can't move your gaze away from them.

"Not at all." You say and hurriedly go back into the kiss. After a few moments you pull away and stare into his dilated pupils as your brain seems to stop functioning. Arousal takes over the both of you.

"Just to be clear, how far are you wanting to go?" He asks.

"Wherever you take me." You say weakly.

"Just tell me if you need to stop, okay?"

"Yes sir." You smirk. Found his weakness. He rolls his head back and licks his lips, his adams apple moving as he swallows gently.

"I've never done this before, I'm sorry if-" He begins before you shut him up with a short kiss.

"Spence, you don't know how long I've looked at you in awe, forcing away my thoughts of seeing you on top of me. Fucking me until I can't breathe. Worshipping you." You breathe out.

"I never thought I'd enjoy this as much as I am."

"Let's make it even better." You say as you climb on top of him, pushing him against the pillows parallel to the bedframe. Your lips meet his again, this time neater than the last. You bite his bottom lip as you pull away, dragging it with you. You crawl down to his waistband, teasingly putting your fingers underneath it.

"Can I?" You ask.

"Wait. You first." He lifts up your chin with his index finger.

"Me?"

"Is there a problem with that darling?" His words echo in your mind. Darling, darling, darling. His darling. All his. No one else.

"No, just usually men don't care about the women's pleasure. I assumed you'd want me to suck you off first."

"Well, I personally care very much. I'm fucking dying to taste you." You've never heard Spencer curse before, and you've sure been missing out.

"Please do baby." You moan.

"On your back. Now." He says strictly. You love this side of him more than anything. You follow his rules and lay on your back as he looks at you in hunger.

"May I?" He holds the waistband to your pants in his perfect hands.

"Yes," you nod.

"Yes what?"

"Please Spencer."

"Yes what."

"Yes sir."

He finally pulls down your sweatpants, your soaked panties still on. He eyes them down, sliding one finger up the crease.

"You're so wet for me sweetheart."

"Spencer you're being so different. Ten minutes ago you would have passed out if I were almost naked in front of you. What's changed?"

"You think I haven't waited ages to touch you?" Oh.

"I don't understand. You're so much more... I don't know." You trail off.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks seriously, backing away slightly.

"No!" You almost shout. "I'm just so lost."

"I guess I just feel comfortable with you. I've wanted you for so long and now that I finally have you, I just feel so different." He smiles.

"I'm all yours."

"Good," he kisses your thigh. He begins to trail up to your pulsing heat in a line of kisses. Gently he pulls the remaining fabric off of you, leaving you in just a tank top that you happily remove. His fingers graze across your clit, your nerves sending tingles through your whole body. He grabs both of your thighs, squeezing gently as he drowns his head in you. His tongue moves all around, making you see stars. He licks at your entrance, slowly sliding in a finger out of nowhere.

"More..." you beg. He slides another in, slowly pumping. Each time he slides in he curls at just the right place, almost sending you over the edge. The mixture of his tongue and fingers begins to take over you, making you grab his hair to relieve some of the pressure.

"C'mon baby finish for me." His words vibrate into you. With this your orgasm finally collapses onto him, relief suddenly flowing through you. You raise up and look into his menacing eyes. The two of you exchange deep breaths as he holds you in his arms.

"Your turn." You exhale.

"Think you can handle one more?"

"Why don't you tell me, Dr. Reid. The corner of your lip curves up. Oh sorry, I mean sir."

"Guess we won't know unless we try." He leans in to kiss you, then kissing down your neck and leaving a red spot from sucking.

"Better hope Gideon doesn't see that," you laugh.

"Yeah good luck. He would never suspect it from me."

"I didn't either," you mumble, Moving down his body you slide his sweatpants off and run your hand up his shirt, purposefully ignoring his huge erection. He takes it off, the two of you completely vulnerable to each other now.

"Think you can take it?" He laughs.

"Watch me." You sit on his waist, slowly sliding his dick in. He whimpers, the unholy sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he says under his breath. As you gain speed his mouth falls open and he leans his head back. Moans escape his lips and you've never been more content in your life. He grabs your chin once more, placing it between his index and thumb. "You're so pretty riding me like the princess you are. I love it." You speed up at his words, desperate to make cum. "I'm so close love, keep going." Every new pet name sends you head over heels for him.

Acknowledging how close he is, you pull off and begin to suck on him. He releases almost instantly with a quiet moan. He looks down and watches as you swallow his load.

"Woah." Is all you can manage out as you both admire each other in such a state.

"Never thought this would happen." He says smiling.

"Me neither." You smile back and crawl up next to him, pulling the messy sheets over the two of you. He kisses you on the forehead and pulls you in closer. "Feel relaxed now?" You laugh.

"Oh definitely. More than ever."

"So... the lamp goes off now?" You ask excitedly.

"Yes," he sighs and reaches over to twist the knob on it. "The stupid lamp can go off."

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (Logan Howlett/Fem mutant reader)

Chapter 1

(A/N): btw this takes place in an alternate universe where the x men as a team don't really exist, but the members and mutants obviously still do. readers powers are similar to atom eve from invincible, if you haven't seen that show i highly recommend it, but if not, you don't really need to know any of that to understand readers powers, they'll be explained in more detail later on.

Summary: You've spent your entire academic career trying to hide who you really are, your goal to end up working in a small museum or archive and live the rest of your life going unnoticed. The first day of grad school you meet someone that sparks something deep inside you that you never thought existed. Your history professor, Logan, makes you feel things you've never felt from someone before. Will you keep hiding your feelings, or will you get too close and risk him knowing who you really are?

Warnings: 18+!! explicit sexual content, minors DNI!! pls!!! oral (fem recieving), logan being a munch lowk, oral on the couch, teasing, dirty talking, cursing, logan being an asshole professor, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3,208

You anxiously rub your forehead as you struggle to find parking on campus, circling and circling the lot. Finally, someone pulls out and you turn in aggressively, someone in front of you flips you off, probably eyeing the same spot. You’re late. Very late. You have an American Civil War class, it’s an advanced level, with a professor whose name you cannot remember for the life of you. You’ve been preoccupied this summer, and time escaped you before you got the chance to research his credentials. It’s your first day of grad school and you’re late. A long commute, a new college, and shitty parking. You hope to god the professor doesn’t care or notice when you slip in late, as you carry a specific kind of disdain for drawing attention to yourself.

You were 13 when you first noticed something was wrong, walking home alone from school when a stranger tried to pin you down and do god knows what to you, until your eyes glowed a deep fuchsia and you threw him across the alley with a strength you didn’t even know you had. Your veins began glowing the same pink color and pulsating, scaring you shitless. You ran to the woods behind your house, avoiding your family for fear of harming them. With enough practice over the years, you’ve learned to control your abilities. Your eyes only glowing occasionally when you’re especially frustrated or angry. Sometimes even when you’re…taking care of some sexual urges. While you don’t know what causes these powers, you do know the general population’s feelings about mutants enough to understand that no one can know what you are. You don’t keep boyfriends for longer than 3 months, you don’t let friends become closer than you need them to be, and you don’t tell anyone what you are. You just want a normal life.

Your forehead is slick with sweat by the time you arrive at the history building, your breath heavy and labored, not from how fast you were walking to the building, but from anxiety, which is also the source of the excessive sweat on your brow. You cannot recall this courses class size, and you damn yourself for forgetting to check; not knowing if you can slip into the large class quietly or if everyone will be able to see you come in. This isn’t undergrad where people stumble in hungover with 10 minutes left of class, this is a graduate program where people go on to become masters in their fields of study. And you’re going to look like a fool in front of everyone. You approach the door to the classroom and can see through the window that it is, in fact, a small class. Fuck. There are maybe 15 people in there total. You hold your breath as you attempt to quietly push the door open, but it fails you with a loud, obnoxious creak. Every head snaps towards you, including the teacher, and you offer a meek smile to your classmates and turn your head towards the professor to issue a brief apology. You swallow hard when your eyes land on him. his tall frame is leaning against the white board, a little scary looking with muscles that bulge against his crossed arms, peaking out from under his rolled up sleeves. You’re surprised they’re visible even through his plaid button-up. His hair is fluffy, dark, as well as his beard…or actually, you should say mutton-chops, as that would be a more accurate descriptor. He glares at you, and you swear you’ve held his gaze for hours, but realistically it’s only been no more than a few seconds.

“Sorry,” you offer timidly.

The professor nods lightly, his jaw tense, and waves you off as he continues addressing the class. You attempt to quietly maneuver to an empty seat in the back, trying your hardest to not trip over your classmate’s bags and chairs. You feel like it takes forever to get to your seat, hoping no one pays too much attention to how clumsily you scoot past the chairs and over obstacles. You try and settle as quietly as possible, unzipping your shoulder bag and retrieving a pen to take notes. He’s still going over the syllabus, thank god.

“The only homework you’ll have is an essay, every week—every Friday—you have an essay due. Then every 3 weeks you’ll have an exam,” he instructs, rather nonchalantly. “And while I don’t give a shit if you waste your money and don’t come to class,” his eyes suddenly are fixed onto you, you swallow a lump of anxiety lodged in your throat as he continues, “The school cares a helluva lot more so, if you don’t mark your name down on the attendance sheet, you forget, you’re late, or whatever the hell, you’ll be absent. I’m not going back in and fixing shit.”

Noted. He turns his gaze back to the rest of the class and continues talking about the curriculum for the rest of the semester. you try to keep your head down as you scribble notes into your notebook, trying to look busy, when in reality you want to kick yourself in the face. You left your apartment too late, you didn’t anticipate the amount of traffic on the interstate, and you conveniently forgot how terrible parking is on college campuses. You look up to see the professor checking his wristwatch with a furrowed brow, like he’s considering something.

“Alright, that’s all i’ve got today, get out,” he commands, his gravelly voice showing slight indignation.

There’s a general look of confusion around the room at his abrupt dismissal with 45 minutes left of class. As people begin to shove their belongings in bags, you quickly get the memo as you collect your notebook and pen in your hands and stand up, ready to depart from this nightmare as soon as possible. But you’re the last in your row, shoved into a corner. the line of people in front of you have their chairs pushed back to the wall as they slowly collect themselves. It takes an obnoxiously long time for you to get out from behind the the long row of desks, even longer to leave the class as everyone shoves their way past you and out the door. Finally, you find an opening, but before your foot can even reach the threshold, there’s a strong grip on your arm. You turn your head to meet the gaze of your professor. Your heart skips a beat as he maintains eye contact briefly, before he hands you a piece of paper and lets go of your arm.

“Find your name, mark it,” he directs, causing you to scramble for the pen in your hands as you scan the paper for your name.

You try and offer a polite smile to the professor, but he remains stoic and unamused, making you feel even more uncomfortable. Once you find your name, you ungracefully set the paper against your flimsy notebook for structure, and scrawl a shaky check mark next to your name. You offer the paper back to him.

“Here, thank you, um, professor…” you trail off awkwardly, forgetting that you never actually checked what his name was. He takes the attendance sheet from you.

“Logan,” he answers.

“Ah, thank you professor Logan—”

“No,” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “just Logan.”

“Logan, right. thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his tone far from indicating the typical politeness of the statement, and rather literally cautioning you to never bring up this act of kindness again. And with that you turn to leave the class, unsure of why this gruff, sturdy, serious professor bended his own personal rules just for you. But no matter with that, you at least know you’ll never be late to his damn class again.

***

You pull into the driveway of your house with a sigh. It's late, the time you prefer to get home, so you can fully relax and use your powers in peace. Despite living in the middle of nowhere, you still fear someone will mistakenly pull into your driveway and catch you flying into your second story window or creating an apple from nothing. The lack of sound, except that of the chirping crickets and cicadas, puts you at ease. You release the tension in your shoulders and float off of the ground, propelling yourself to the patio on the second story of your house. You unlock the door with a flick of your wrist, the fuchsia energy encasing the doorknob and letting you into your bedroom, you then toss your things down onto the floor. An exhausted groan escapes your lips as you face plant onto your cool, soft bed. Not even coming up for air when you fling your arm up and slam the door shut with a pink, crystalline whoosh. You turn over to face the ceiling, your eyes fluttering shut within the comfort of your bed. Longing to get out of your stuffy jeans and bra, you trail your hands over your body and watch as your clothes dissipate into a pink flash while you manifest some boxer shorts and a loose t-shirt. Finally comfortable, you slide under the covers, wanting to sleep off one of the most stressful days you've had in a while. A morning full of classes, then 5 hours interning at the museum, before finally finishing off your day at the convenience store down the road working a 6 hour shift. While you can create most anything you want with your powers, you cannot create the full nights sleep that you most desperately need right now. 

As you drift, you think about how embarrassing of a morning you had. Stumbling into class like a fawn learning how to walk, Logan directly looking at you when speaking about attendance, Logan shoving the attendance sheet in your face so you mark yourself as present, Logan's strong arms and the way they looked with his sleeves rolled up. Logan's fluffy, dark hair and--No. Shut up. Don't think about that, he's your professor for god's sake. And, more importantly, an asshole. No amount of muscle or sheer sexiness will distract from that fact. You repeat this fact to yourself as you doze off, not wanting to give in to immature thoughts of attraction. Despite falling asleep to the negation of that attraction, your subconscious drifts somewhere you know you shouldn't physically go.

You're in Logan's office, your ass perched on the edge of his desk. Logan's back is to you, locking his door and drawing the blinds. He turns to you, his stance almost primal and animal-like, like he can't wait for the chance to devour you. The thought of that causes your arousal to swirl deep in your stomach. Logan saunters towards you, bearing his lower teeth like a predator ready to take their prey. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he gets closer, causing you to spread your legs, hoping the clear view of what lies beneath your skirt will draw him in closer. It seemingly works as he closes the distance between you two, his waist now flush against your lower stomach. Tingles shoot down your spine at the sudden contact, blood rushing down to your pussy. He pants as he brings his hands to your waist and strokes up and down the sides of your body, then achingly slow up your neck, then finally stopping at your chin. One hand creeps to the nape of your neck where he lays his palm flat while the other pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating that he's close to having his way with you. He holds you there for a beat, his face so tantalizingly close to yours that you can feel his breath against your skin. You whine gently when his lips teasingly graze your own. The fingers pinching your chin adjust slightly to grip your jaw instead, allowing him better control to tilt your head up towards him. His other hand, at the nape of your neck, travels upward allowing his fingers to gently rake through your hair until he roughly takes a fistful and tugs. A soft moan escapes your throat and you try to satiate the throbbing pressure between your legs by rubbing your thighs together. An amused huff leaves Logan's lips as he looks down at your squirming figure beneath him.

"You gonna be good for me, princess?" he asks in a low, gruff tone as the hand on your chin trails down the side of your neck before landing on your breast. He massages the flesh fervently, finding it harder to hide his own desperate arousal and need from you. You moan into his touch and arch your back into him, your pussy searching for more friction that Logan is expertly avoiding giving you by not allowing his pelvis to meet yours.

"Logan," you gasp.

"C'mon, baby," his voice soothes, like smooth velvet, "tell me you want it."

"I want it," you whisper, desperately seeking any sort of release.

"Good girl."

And with that, Logan removes the hand on your breast so he can aggressively hook an arm under your ass and easily hoist you up with one fell swoop. Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck, reveling the feel of his palm that covers your asscheek. With a growl Logan spins you around and throws you onto the couch in the corner of his office, barely allowing you a second to recover when he crawls on top of you and captures your lips with his own desperately. The kiss is aggressive and needy, tongues dancing together ungracefully, teeth clashing, hasty lip bites between kisses. His hips grind against yours roughly, causing you to hook both your feet around his ass to keep him there for as long as you can, desperately seeking more friction. His hands alternate with each other between grasping your breasts to gripping your face passionately. Without breaking the kiss, he hooks his arms under you and drives you further up the couch so your upper back lays against the armrest. You whine when his lips leave yours, but it's quickly replaced with a moan as his lips travel down your neck, chest, the stomach he exposes by lifting the hem of your shirt, biting the fabric at the waistband of your skirt. You squirm underneath him, anticipating what's gonna happen next as his face nestles between your legs. He licks, bites, sucks, and kisses the skin of your inner thighs, causing you to gasp with each harsh move of his mouth, before promptly melting into a moan when he alleviates his biting or sucking with a kiss or flick of his tongue. Your clit is throbbing, your pussy aching for him to get closer to your center. So he does. His tongue dances along the edge of your panties, not dipping much further into the fabric, his head alternating between each of your lips. You whine desperately as Logan's mouth hovers above your core, his hot breath teasing you further. He looks up at you and into your eyes as his mouth latches onto your thinly clothed pussy, causing you to squirm and moan underneath him, the already damp fabric from your arousal, getting further soaked from Logan's saliva.

"Logan," you whine fervently. "Please."

His mouth leaves your pussy, just barely hovering above it now.

"I gotta make you want it, princess, it's no fun unless you're begging for me to taste you," he breathed against your pussy, his voice low and syrupy. He quickly resumes the hold his mouth had on your pussy, making your back arch off the couch with a moan.

"Okay, I'm officially begging, please, Logan, please," you whimper, not sure how much longer you're able to take his teasing.

"Atta girl," he rasps against your pussy. Like nothing, his fingers hook around the fabric of your panties and he rips it off of you with an experienced strength, leaving your pussy now exposed to Logan, and your torn lace panties on the floor.

"So wet for me, huh?" Logan teases through a cocky smile. You squirm more underneath him, causing his hands to move to your hips to hold them down. Logan stares hungrily at your cunt, removing one hand from your hip and bringing it to your pussy lips to rub it tantalizingly slow with his fingers. Flicking his eyes up to meet yours, he finally brings his tongue to your folds and licks up to your clit. You moan throatily and bring your hands to his hair to give it a tug of appreciation. He groans enthusiastically into your pussy, eating at it like your core is the forbidden fruit dripping in molten pleasure. He's animalistic in his movements and noises, lapping at your clit with groans and grunts in pleasure, almost growling even. He brings his fingers to your core, tracing the hole before shoving two digits inside of you. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them with each push inside. The noises are lewd and wet with each drive of his fingers. Your moans grow more desperate and needy as you climb towards your climax, the death grip you have on his hair growing stronger and stronger. The hand holding your hip down crawls up to your breast, grasping desperately at your flesh, hastily circling your nipples with his thumb. Your breaths quicken, your eyes flutter shut as he continues the steady onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

"Logan, I'm so close, don't stop...please..." you trail off, beginning to lose yourself in your pleasure. Logan responds with needy moans against your clit and the continuous pumping of his fingers in and out of you. His grip on your breast loosens to grasp your side, slinking down to your waist, definitely leaving a mark with how rough he grabs at you. As his lips and tongue continue lapping you up, you can feel your arousal swirling in your stomach more and more. Your moans grow louder, your hips begin bucking. Logan groans into you, desperate to feel your release around his fingers. White hot pressure forms around your clit as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm, you look down at Logan and lock eyes with him just as you feel yourself dropping off.

The feeling of hot pink fire pricking your eyeballs jerks you awake, mid-orgasm, your eyes glow a pulsating fuchsia. You pant heavily, your orgasm ending unceremoniously against your fingertips. Leaving you disappointed. You huff in annoyance, wishing you could plunge yourself back into the wet dream that ended in a rather mediocre way. No, wait, that was your professor. You shouldn't be feeling, or thinking, this way at all. You feel disappointed in yourself for having such lewd thoughts about another person, especially a person of authority. You catch your breath, turn your head to face the clock on your nightstand and gasp when you see the time.

"Shit, shit, shit," you curse, hastily throwing yourself out of bed. "Please don't be late today."

(A/N): and that's that!! i hope people enjoy! this concept popped into my head earlier today so i've spent my sunday working on this, if people are interested to see where this goes, please leave a kudos or comment!!! TYYY🫶🏻🙈 i also posted this onto my ao3 here if you would like to view it there and keep up with it there as well!

[28harryssunflower]

TW: Overdosing

Hating you was easier: Part 1

The first time you met Harry Styles, it felt like the universe had dropped the most irritating human being right into your life for its own entertainment. He was everything you despised: cocky, effortlessly charming, and always one step ahead. He didn’t even have to try. Harry just was.

It started small. He snagged the last coffee in the campus café, ignoring your pointed glare. Then came the group project where he dismissed every single one of your ideas, only to charm the professor into giving your group an A. Somehow, he always knew exactly how to push your buttons: mocking your music taste, rolling his eyes at your contributions in class, or throwing sarcastic remarks your way in the library when you crossed paths.

You weren’t innocent, either. You’d gone out of your way to make his life equally annoying. Once, you convinced the dining hall staff to cut him off on Taco Tuesday (his favorite). Another time, you “accidentally” swapped his presentation slides before a lecture. The two of you had been locked in a ridiculous, petty war for years, and everyone on campus knew it.

But as much as you hated him - and you were sure you did - you couldn’t help but notice the cracks in the façade sometimes. The quiet moments when Harry wasn’t surrounded by friends, when he lingered in the library or stared off during class. He looked… tired. But you never dwelled on it. He was Harry Styles, your mortal enemy. That was all that mattered.

It was 3 a.m. when you realized your diary was gone.

You’d been writing in it earlier that night, venting your frustration about everything: your classes, the pressure to keep up, and, of course, Harry. The entries about him were always the worst, filled with words you’d never say out loud. How infuriating it was that his laugh lingered in your mind longer than it should. How sometimes you noticed the way his green eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and you hated yourself for noticing.

But now it was gone.

The anger came first. There was only one person who would’ve taken it, someone petty enough to invade your privacy just to get under your skin. You knew it was Harry. It had to be.

You threw on a sweatshirt and stormed out of your dorm, your anger propelling you across campus to his building. When you reached his door, you didn’t hesitate. You banged on it with your fist, your voice sharp and loud.

“Harry, open this door right now!” you yelled. “I know you took it! Give it back!”

No response.

You banged again, harder this time. “I’m not leaving until you open this door! Don’t make me kick this door down!”

Still nothing.

Your anger started to twist into something darker, an uneasy knot forming in your chest. It wasn’t like Harry to ignore you, not when he lived to provoke a reaction.

After five minutes of silence, you pulled the hair clip from your bun and crouched in front of the lock. Your fingers trembled slightly as you worked, but you managed to pop the door open in seconds.

“Harry, I swear to fucking god-“

The words died on your lips.

The room was a disaster. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor, along with packets of pills and crumpled wrappers. The air was heavy with the sharp, chemical smell of substances you couldn’t identify.

And there, lying in the middle of it all, was Harry.

He was shirtless, his skin pale and damp with sweat. His curls were matted to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. He looked fragile - nothing like the cocky, untouchable Harry Styles you were used to seeing.

“Harry?” you whispered, your voice trembling. You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands hovering uselessly as panic set in. “Harry, wake up! Come on, wake up!”

He didn’t respond.

Your heart pounded as you pressed your fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. When you found it, it was faint. Too faint.

“Shit,” you muttered, your hands shaking as you pulled your phone from your pocket. You dialed emergency services, your voice cracking as you explained the situation.

When the paramedics arrived, they worked quickly, lifting Harry onto a stretcher and wheeling him out of the room. You followed them without thinking, climbing into the ambulance and gripping his hand the whole way to the hospital.

Hours passed in a blur.

The hospital staff had been reluctant to let you stay, but you’d lied - told them you were his girlfriend. It was far from the truth. You’d been closer to Harry than most people, but that closeness came in the form of insults and bickering.

You sat by his bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The heart monitor beeped softly, a reassuring sound in the otherwise silent room.

At some point, you pulled out your phone and called Niall, one of Harry’s closest friends. You explained everything - how you’d found Harry, the overdose, how close he’d come to dying. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud.

Niall promised he’d come as soon as he could, but until then, it was just you and Harry.

When he finally stirred, it was like the air shifted. His fingers twitched, and his eyelids fluttered open, revealing dazed, unfocused green eyes.

“Harry?” you said softly, leaning closer.

He groaned, his voice hoarse. “What…?”

“You’re in the hospital,” you explained, your voice trembling. “You overdosed. The paramedics got to you in time, but… it was close.”

He blinked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Why are you here?”

You hesitated, swallowing hard. “Because I found you. I-“ Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he muttered, “Thanks.”

You nodded, blinking back tears. “Don’t thank me. Just… don’t almost die again..”

A few weeks later, Harry returned to campus. He was quieter, more reserved, but you couldn’t help noticing how his eyes lingered on you in class, softer than before.

One afternoon, you found yourselves alone in the library. For once, there was no sarcasm, no biting remarks. Just silence.

“We should talk,” he said finally, his voice low.

And so you did. About everything - the rivalry, the misunderstandings, the walls you’d both built to keep each other at arm’s length.

By the time you left the library, you’d come to an agreement: no more games, no more hatred. Just… something new. Something real.

Dating Harry Styles was never part of the plan. But as he walked you back to your dorm that night, his hand brushing against yours, you couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was exactly what you needed.

[spidey-webz]

are you not paying attention?

pairing: professor! reed richards x f!readersummary: professor richards notices that you haven’t been paying attention… word count: 1.5k warnings: smut, unspecified age gap (all parties are 21+!!!!), (somewhat) public sex (empty classroom), fingering, teasing, gentle hair pulling, student/professor relationship, 18+ ONLY. a/n: the new teaser did things to me.. so i came up with this mess. i hope you enjoy, it's just professor richards' filth, based on just one shot from the trailer.

masterlist | ask

From the very first time you had been in his class, you knew that you wanted Professor Richards. You could never speak those thoughts out loud, of course, but in the safety of your mind, you liked to imagine the older man's hands on your thighs.

What would his beard feel like against your soft lips? What was he hiding underneath those white shirts and black suit jackets?

You wanted to feel his fingers between your folds and...

"Are you not paying attention?"

Professor Richards' voice drowned out your thoughts, snapping you back into reality. His class had been going on for a while now and he had wrapped it up, giving instructions for this week's homework, but you were still sat while everyone else was already packing up and getting ready to leave. It was quite obvious that you had not been paying any attention to the formulas on the board or Professor Richards' explanations for it...

"Huh?" You sat up straighter, feeling heat creep into your cheeks.

Professor Richards placed the charcoal down, looking at the other students leaving the lecture hall before he approached your table. "I wrapped the session up five minutes ago and you haven't stopped staring at the board-"

Actually, you had probably been staring at him.

"I'm just a little tired," you said quickly, standing up and trying to throw your notes into your bag. The classroom was almost empty now, but your professor still stared at you as if he was waiting for an explanation from you.

"You've been tired a lot lately, it seems," he insisted as you closed your bag. He placed both of his hands down on the table in front of you, leaning forward just a little.

Could he hear how fast your heart was beating in your chest? But more importantly, had your professor noticed the looks you had been giving him?

"Finals are soon, so-"

"That's not it."

His words interrupting your own caught you off guard. Heat spread in your belly while you froze in place. Professor Richards pushed up the sleeves of his white shirt, revealing his strong forearms and you could not tear your gaze away from his revealed skin.

The tension in the air seemed to build, sharp enough to cut with a knife. You could hear your blood rushing in your ears as your professor's gaze seemed to shift just a little bit.

His eyes grew darker, more...

It couldn't be. The thoughts you had about Professor Richards were your own fantasy, something you never imagined to be real. The lewd images in your head when you touched yourself were the furthest from reality you could find. And yet, the man's eyes seemed almost intrigued.

"I think I know what's going on." Professor Richards' voice was just a little deeper now as he took a small step towards you.

You did not move away. Whatever this was leading to, you wanted this. You wanted him.

God, you needed him even. But what was he feeling?

His fingers ghosted up your wrist, a feather-like touch, but it was enough to make almost make you melt right in front of him.

"Do you really think I don't see the way you look at me? Over and over again?" His brown eyes found yours, a hint of mischief gleaming in them. He knew and perhaps he had known for a while. "You can't take your eyes off me and you expect me to do nothing about it?" Another step into your space and you were close enough to smell his aftershave. Its scent enveloped you, a small reminder that you were all alone and he was so close.

Your voice was barely a whisper when you tried to scramble together a few words. Of course, you couldn't protest his words. It had been blatantly obvious from the start that you wanted your professor to touch you in ways he shouldn't.

"I didn't think you-" His free hand had moved up and a finger was resting on your lips. "Tell me what you've been thinking about. I will give you whatever you want," he insisted.

For a small moment, you wondered if this was the point at which you should take a step back. But wasn't it all you had been dreaming about for the last months? Wasn't this man the protagonist in all your lewd fantasies?

"I've been thinking about your hands," you blurted out, gaze flicking to the man's hand on top of your own, his fingertips still grazing your wrist. While a satisfied smirk appeared on Professor Richards face, his fingers finally curled around your wrist, gently nudging you closer.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you could see Reed's lips part as he studied your face.

"You're such a pretty thing," he whispered, hand slowly moving down to intertwine your fingers.

It felt almost natural when he guided you over to his table in the front, gesturing for you to sit on it. Your professor loosened his tie.

"Tell me more."

As you sat on the professor's wooden desk, the smell of charcoal slowly drifting to your nose, you struggled to properly put into words what you had thought about so many times before. In your dreams, he always took his time exploring your folds, gently entering you and bringing you to one high after the other...

Would he grant you that wish?

You grabbed his hand, placing it down on your thigh and then slowly guiding it upwards. Up and up until you let it drift inwards, a shiver already running down your spine. "I want your hands..."

Professor Richards did not need another invitation. His fingers grazed over your clothed middle, a whimper slipping through your lips. He was so close to where you wanted him the most.

"Here?" He asked, completing your demand. You nodded quickly, pushing your hips forward just a little, enough to feel gentle pressure on your clit.

"Please."

Reed would have never imagined that he would love to see one of his students plead with him in this way. He would be damned if he did not offer you the relief you so desperately seemed to want.

His fingers hooked into the sides of your pants, pulling them down in one swift motion before he stepped between your legs.

You looked up at your professor, trying to press your thighs together in some sort of relief, but with Reed standing right in front of you, none of that was granted to you.

Professor Richards' eyes stayed on yours, calloused fingers slowly running up your naked thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His touch was slow and gentle, but determined too. He slipped past your panties with ease, a low moan rising in your throat once he touched your warm folds with his cold fingers.

"So wet already. Naughty girl."

His words sounded like music in your ears. You nodded as a form of silent approval, edging just a little closer to the edge of the desk to get more of his touch.

"And so needy too."

Your professor's fingers slipped between your folds, two fingers entering you.

His breath hit your neck as he bent forward, lips ghosting over your warm skin. He did not move his fingers at first, but his free hand ran a path over your back, up your neck until he got a hold of your hair. He gently pulled your head back enough to expose the sweet skin of your neck to himself. The older man leaned down, tongue running over your throat while he curled his fingers just a little inside you.

That motion was already enough to elicit another moan from you. Your hands grasped at his shirt, desperately trying to find something to hold onto once he started to move his fingers back and forth.

Professor Richards' lips stayed glued to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses there while the obscene noises of your wet pussy echoed in the empty classroom. His fingers sped up their pace, brushing over that sensitive spot deep inside you over and over again.

Tension started to rise in your stomach, a knot growing more tight by the second. Your pleasure was starting to mount, bringing you closer to the height of desire you've been craving for so long.

This was better than all your dirty fantasies.

"M'close." You were barely able to squeeze the words out, knuckles turning white as you gripped Professor Richards' shirt even tighter.

"Good." His deep voice sent another shiver through your body, his fingers continuing to move back and forth inside you, pushing you closer and closer to climax.

One more precise curl of his digits and he had you coming undone in front of him. Your orgasm rippled through you in waves, moans breaking the silence while he could feel your entire body shake underneath his lips. As you rode out your high, hips moving up and down against his hand, he planted a few more soft kisses to the exposed skin of your neck.

"Such a naughty girl. I bet you will let me have you on this desk over and over again..."

You definitely would.

[puppiesinbeacon]

Teen Wolf Fic Rec List

I've never done this before, but I've been on quite the binge recently and feel that if anyone is as picky as I am, then maybe I could help out and share the ones I have so meticulously curated for myself. So here goes:

In My Blood by lolo313 - "Scott is hurt while rescuing Stiles from the Monster of the Week. But when a seemingly innocuous injury awakens long dormant feelings and threatens Scott's very existence, Stiles must decide how far he is willing to go to save his best friend's life." Scott/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571406

Every Step You Take by Nokomis - "Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/454948/chapters/781487

Patterns Of Intention by drunktuesdays - "Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had— “No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.” " Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/699898

Apparent Lack Of Ceremony by Loz - "Scott keeps climbing into Stiles' bed at night to cuddle. They don't talk about it in the morning." Scott/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/518799

Sleeping Dogs by starsystems - "Let sleeping dogs lie. Prov. Do not instigate trouble; Leave something alone if it might cause trouble. Derek Hale is asleep in Stiles's bed. And it just escalates from there. Because of course it does." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/494729/chapters/865537

I Want To Say All Those Things That Would Be Better Unsaid by aeneapsych - "Derek is a lonely professor who decides to call a phone sex line. Stiles is a poor grad student who needs to make a living somehow. 'One night stands were never this good. Hell, his previous relationships were never this good. Derek was so screwed, but right now he didn't care.' " Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183688

The Love You Save (May Be Your Own) by Nokomis - "Everyone falls magically in love with Stiles. Well, except for Derek, who is suspiciously immune." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/960052

Human Contact by bloodwrites - "Stiles can't take the pain away, but the skin-to-skin contact helps. It calms Derek, stops him from using all his energy in the instinctive fight or flight response that his injury causes. "It's working, just—" He takes Stiles' arm by the wrist, pulls it over his chest, then tips Stiles' head onto his shoulder so he can feel Stiles' breath on his skin. "Yeah. That's good."" Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136325

Numbness by PineWitch - "Stiles and Derek have been feeling atraction for each other for some time (basically since the beginning), but instead of talking about it, they argue. A lot. But then Stiles goes through a hard time, and Derek helps him. Everything just becomes softer after that." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/44344210/chapters/111521128

Speak Of All That's Been And All That Won't by Daisyapples - "Stiles stood in front of him; eyes wild, fists clenched, shoulders tense, but still. The stillness was what made Derek's hackles raise. Stiles was never still. "Stiles?" "Stuck in a time loop. Know where Erica and Boyd are. Need help saving them. Cora is alive and we need to save her too."" Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/56495686/chapters/143572942

Nowhere Else But Here by p1013 - "Derek’s naked, his back glistening with sweat. The muscles roll, his whole body moving like a wave as his hips snap forward. The sound of flesh hitting flesh is loud, and the moan that follows has Stiles’ throat closing. There’s a split second where Stiles can almost convince himself that Derek doesn’t know he’s there, but then that dark head turns his way and green eyes meet his, pupils blown. He almost drops the package. Instead, he sets it unsteadily by his feet and flees." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/742335/chapters/1382626

I Wanna Reach So Deep Inside by silverdawn89 - "Isaac's got a dirty mouth. Scott is surprisingly receptive to that. Shameless PWP, not even gonna front." Scott/Isaac https://archiveofourown.org/works/579711

Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) by stilinskisparkles - "Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with. Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/609537

Warm Shadows by stilinskisparkles - "“Fine,” Stiles spits back, “We’ll die together, it’ll be dandy.” “I’m looking forward to it,” Derek snaps, “I’ll get some peace and quiet for once.” Stiles grins suddenly, blindingly. There’s blood on his teeth, and his eyes are dark and desperate as he looks up at Derek, but he’s never looked more stupidly, infuriatingly beautiful." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361611

I'll also leave this honorable mention. A Teen Wolf/Supernatural crossover that I've been reading for years, that just put out a new chapter in December 2024.

No One Chooses This Life by lapsus_calami - "Stiles wasn't running from his problems. Except he kind of was, but at least he was being productive while doing it. He gave himself one year. One year away from Beacon Hills, away from the pack, away from his dad. One year to get himself pulled together, to stop spiraling into panic attacks, to stop falling into pits of despair, to stop screaming himself awake every night. One year to learn everything he could about his spark, about hunting, about the supernatural. One year so that when he went back maybe, just maybe, he could do more good than harm." Mild Dean/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/series/240129