#professor!yn

[gurugirl]

https://www.tumblr.com/gurugirl/738687394159656960/would-you-ever-write-a-fic-where-yn-is-harrys

OMG this sounds amazing! Like Harry not getting his way right away hmm 😋

Yes, exactly. Harry would have a big crush and he'd make it clear what his intentions were but she'd definitely laugh it off until it got to be too much. And I think the only reason Harry doesn't let up is because he can tell she thinks he's attractive. There's just a bunch of tension between them 👀

xoxo

[avatar-anna]

Pale Green Stripes

The Professor Masterlist

this takes place during The Professor Series!

"Did you know you're the only person who never tries to interrupt me?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry and Y/n lay on the carpeted floor of her townhouse. Their shoulders touched, but that was about it. Even so, Harry could feel that tiny bit of contact throughout his entire body. The professor probably had a word for that, a scientific term to explain why just the slightest graze—not even skin against skin—sent him into a tailspin that made him have to focus extra hard on what she said.

Y/n's hands knotted together on her lap, a thing she did when she held herself back. It was as if she had to physically restrain herself some way to keep her from speaking out of turn. Harry personally never thought she did, from their first meeting at the bookstore, he'd been fascinated by her, by the things she said.

"I don't mean to...impart information on people the way that I do. It just happens sometimes," she said, her eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

Harry knew he probably should've too, but he couldn't help but look at the professor instead. Her hair fanned out around her shoulders, she wore a string of pearls around her neck and earrings made to look like Salvador Dalí's melting clocks in her ears. Her jewelry was always a mix of something professional and a little quirky, Harry came to realize, as if even at work as a professor at Cambridge University she couldn't help but have a little fun.

Her wardrobe consisted of patterned socks and cherry red Adidas shoes and fun knitted sweaters and vests. Today she merely wore a cozy navy blue sweater and a flowy white skirt, her red shoes were on a rack by the door, but she still wore her ruffled socks with embroidered roses on them.

"I don't mind it at all," he replied honestly.

Y/n blinked a couple times, then said, "I know. I was surprised at first because everyone usually cuts me off. Or walks away."

Harry frowned. He couldn't help but notice how clinically the professor spoke about the hurtful things that had been done to her. By her family, so-called colleagues, the few friends she had at work. He couldn't fathom anyone finding Y/n anything less than wonderful. She was brilliant, yes, but funny, and charismatic, and had a knack for storytelling. Harry never wanted her to stop talking. Ever.

"I like listening to you," he told her, shrugging as best he could given his current prone position.

"That's probably because you never finished school and are trying to make up for lost time."

From anyone else, that would've been a joke, a jab, but Y/n took education seriously, had mentioned it numerous times since they met.

Still, Harry chuckled. "Maybe I just like the sound of your voice. Maybe I just like hearing what you have to say. Maybe I find your lectures highly arousing."

"Edward!"

Even as he laughed with her, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew he should tell her, he should've told her months ago. His middle name fired out of his mouth before he could think the first time Y/n asked him for his name. A desire for anonymity, that was all it was. He didn't think he'd see her again outside the one time, so he thought it would be harmless. Then they did keep meeting, and he didn't have the guts to tell her, and now he was too deep in the lie to find a way out.

"What?"

Harry had never been shy about his attraction to the professor, even if he'd only seen half of her face due to the mask she wore. There was so much to appreciate about her, so much to admire, and he let his own imagination do the rest. He could've, of course, looked her up online. Y/n had mentioned something about posting educational videos online, but he thought it was only fair that if she didn't know what his entire face looked like that he didn't either.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" she asked, and even without the mask, Harry could tell she was blushing.

"Like what?"

"About me. About—about your attraction to me and how you find me—or think I'm a—"

"Yes?" Harry encouraged. He could tell there was a word or phrase she had in mind but was too embarrassed to use.

"In the 16th Century, the word bellibone was first used. It's derived from French etymology using the words belle and bonne to describe a woman who excels in both beauty and goodness. There's really only one known use in the late 1500s. A poet named Edmund Spenser, though he was from Ireland. It's fascinating how a word can be used once then ceases to exist, don't you think?"

Harry blinked, not totally prepared for the tangent, though perhaps he should've been. Grinning beneath his mask, he said, "I think it describes you perfectly."

"Edward," Y/n said, now her neck was flushed too.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked. "The compliments? The—" He might as well call it what it was—"flirting?"

"N—No."

"Because I'll stop if it does," he promised. "I just think you should know how devastating you are."

One of the professor's eyebrows quirked up in confusion. "That was an interesting choice in adjective."

But it was the perfect one. Harry knew he couldn't be with Y/n the way he wanted when she didn't know the truth about who he was, and he couldn't risk losing her if he finally told her. Perhaps it was unfair to play at something he knew he couldn't have, but part of him wanted Y/n to know that she was desirable, that she was more than what her intellect offered. Sure, Harry found her intelligence sexy as all get out, but she was also beautiful, and funny, and kind, and he didn't think anyone had ever complimented more than just her brain.

He would spend an entire day complimenting her if he had the time, or if she let him.

But while Y/n was confident in many things, romantic feelings weren't one of them. Despite the obstacles he put in his own way, Harry didn't think the professor was quite ready to hear how much he really liked her.

"Tell me something."

"Like what?" Y/n asked.

"Anything," Harry said, facing her and propping his head in his hand. "A book you read, something that fascinates you, your least favorite student, anything."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she positioned her body to face his. "I don't have a least favorite student."

"I don't believe you," he replied, narrowing his eyes back playfully.

Y/n scanned his face, then up and down his body. It was casual, though Harry noticed that her gaze lingered in places—his arms, his shoulders, his face. He wore a mask, but he tried to suppress his grin anyway. Then, before he could tease her more, her eyes lit up.

"Did you know the stripe pattern originated in the Middle Ages?"

He never knew, but she always prefaced her information the same way. "Did it?"

Nodding to the green striped shirt Harry wore, she said, "Stripes were used to identify social outcasts. Prostitutes, criminals, hangmen, clowns and jugglers; they all had to wear stripes so they were easily recognizable in regular society."

"Clowns?"

"Outcasts and people who were...not society's favorites, like court jesters and such. European governments even legalized the requirement of certain citizens to wear stripes. Though now, of course, stripes are popular due to Coco Chanel wearing a striped shirt similar to French sailor uniforms, which, you know, sailors were also usually the lowest rank of the French navy. Then stripes began appearing in women's activewear in the 1920s, Al Capone began wearing pinstriped suits, and the rest is history. A long, brutal history, obviously, seeing as prisoners were later forced to wear striped uniforms, and prisoners in concentration camps during World War Two, but—there you have it. A brief, slightly detailed history of the stripe."

Harry looked down at his long sleeved shirt, the thin pale green and white striped that lined his arms and torso. "Not sure if I'll be able to wear stripes again, but... that's really fascinating."

"Thought you might like that," Y/n said with a shrug.

Harry tilted his head questioningly. "Why do you say that?"

"You like clothes."

He didn't question how she knew that. With her background, Y/n seemed to know things about him that she just happened to observe. It was a little disconcerting at first, but he came to appreciate that he didn't have to pretend around her. No airs, no personas, none of the things he'd become so accustomed to in recent years. The professor might not have known about Harry's career, but she knew him in ways no one else did.

"Well," he said, playfully sighing at his shirt. "Guess I'm never wearing stripes again."

Y/n's eyes squinted and her mask scrunched a little, the way they always did when she smiled. With an unmistakable glint in her eye, the adorable one she always got when Harry indulged in her. "Wait until you hear about polka dots!"

Harry sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement making him chuckle a little. "Tell me more, love."

[ririkookiemonster]

Syllabus of Secrets - JJK

Summary: You have been crushing hard on your hot English professor, Jeon Jungkook for months. When nothing seems to work when you do everything to get his attention, totally fed up and desperate, you decide to go all out: submitting a smutty story for your English project, pouring all your fantasies about him into it.

Pairing: Professor!jungkook x Student!reader

Genre: Smut

Warning: Dirty talk, unprotected sex (DO NOTTTT) degradation, name calling, fingering, spanking, rough sex, smut reading, office sex, dom!jk, sub!oc, student x professor, reader sends Jk a smut report, basically porn but in words.

Word count: 2.4K+

Writer: riri⛓️

Note: this is my first writing omggg. i have absolutely NO experience in writing, i just love to write hahaha. i hope y’all love this. please let me know how you feel about this one shot. please leave your suggestions and do tell me if there’s anything i can do to improve my writing. there’s always a room for improvement. anywayssss i hope you like it haha <33

🖇️MASTERLIST🖇️

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DEBUT POST!!!!

You have been lusting after a certain someone for months now.

The cold-hearted English professor, Mr Jeon, had always been the definition of sexy. He is someone who can make ANYONE fold by just one look. He had always been on your mind since the semester began.  Always dressed sharply in a suit with a tie and a perfectly kept haircut, his sharp eyes seemed to cut through you whenever you spoke.

As you paced through the hallway, you remind yourself that he has never acknowledged your achievements in class, even when you’ve answered his questions with confidence, or aced another test. Again.

You've been doing everything you could to be noticed by him. Even if it meant giving him looks, yes, not the innocent ones, or dressing on a tight top, hoping, you’ll gain his attention.

You swore you’d do ANYTHING to make him notice you.

And so you did…

You decided to get a little creative with your last project. You know you went too far by writing an erotic article for your English project. The writing was impressive, with your use of descriptive adjectives helping to bring the scenes to life.

And guess what? He did notice the lewd piece of project you submitted. Now that he’s called you to his office, you’re nervous. You’re sure the cold man is going to chastise you for your suggestive writing, but you can’t help but be turned on by just the thought of him.

You pace through the hallway that leads you to his office, with your heart pounding  unsure of what kind of reception you’ll get from him. Now it’s either you risk a bad grade, or you take the risk of him being completely disgusted by you. You brace yourself and knock the door before turning the knob.

You peek in through the door, and a pair of cold eyes already welcome you, as you make your way inside the office.

“Sit down.” He said coldly.

 You gulp nervously and take a seat, maintaining eye contact with the handsome professor. His strong manly scent invades your senses, and his dark aura makes you you even more nervous, which doesn’t help the situation. He pulls out some papers and places them in front of you as his eye pierce through your soul.

“Miss Y/N. This… this is an analysis of English romanticism. But you know that, don’t you?”  He says, pointing at your English ‘project’.

“Sweetheart I’ve been overlooking your shamefull behaviour in my class for far too long, I see that my tolerance is now embolding you.” He adds.

“Mr Jeon I-”

“Let me be VERY clear that is a university, not a strip club. It is wildly inappropriate of you to wear those short skirts to my class and it is even more inappropriate for you to to be spreading your legs during my lecture to demonstrate your ‘lack of undergarments’ to me.” He cut you off, looking pissed, only making your jaw drop in surprise.

“I thought I might be imagining things but then you come in and hand me THIS SMUT for my feedback.” he adds, glaring at you.

“I-It was piece of my creative writing, nothing more, Mr Jeon.” You add, as you gulp nervously, looking at him with the most innocent eyes. He narrows his eyes at you, and exhales heavily.

“You are an audacious little minx, aren’t you?”

Your lips form a thin line as you look down at the floor. “I swear, it was nothing like that, Mr Jeon.”

“Drop the act you little whore!” Jungkook warned as he slowly walks towards you.

“Tell me, what do youi think happens when you tease your professor all this semester? What do you think happens when you spend your eyes glazed over my lecture? Playing with the hem of your skirt, teasing your lips with the tip of your pen as if their inclination is to wrapped around something.” He adds, making his way towards you.

“What do you think that does to me, you naughty little slut? What do you think it makes me imagine doing things to you.” He spoke in a low murmur, brushing away a strand of hair from your face.

“N-nothing.” You replied, biting on your lower lip, continuing to avoid eye contact with him.

“NO REALLY, TELL ME. I am your English professor, sweetheart. And we use words here. BIG DESCRIPTIVE WORDS, full of imagery.” He orders, as he kept his gaze on you. “And look at me when i talk to you, slut!”

Your eyes nervously find the way to his as you reply in a soft murmur. “That you’d want to fuck me��?”

Your reply only makes him chuckle mockingly. “Youre so cute. Is that all you think I’d do to you? I’d just fuck you? HOW UNIMAGINITIVE..”

He picks up the pages of your article and starts to flip pages. You swore you saw an evil glint in his eyes. “Lets see what you’ve written in your papers, don’t we?”

“You don’t think i’d ‘desecrate’ your needy cunt until you loose your mind?”

“Or how about offer you the ‘sips of divinity’ with the weeping tip of my cock until you’re drunk with lust?” He looks at you, his lips forming an evil smirk. “So my aspiring little y/n, is that what you want me to do to you?”

Shit.

You stare into those eyes, unsure of what to say, though you’ve been practically dying for this. You just nibble nervously on you lips and try to speak but your words get caught in your throat. Your face is flushed with embarrassment.

“I can see you’re too flustered to answer, Y/N. That’s alright for now, we’ll help that innocent mouth of yours to catch up with your deliciously vulgar mind soon enough. In the mean time how about you use your body to show me what you want?”

“W-what do you mean, Mr jeon?” You're shocked by his request and struggle to process what he's asking you to do.

“Sit on my desk with your legs spread. NOW.” Jungkook commanded, as he studies your body, waiting for you to stand up.

You hesitantly get up but a strong arm grabs you by the wrists and pulls you towards him. He's much stronger than you'd realized, and he easily lifts you onto the table behind you.

Jungkook stands over you, his eyes blazing with desire, as he slips his hand under your skirt until you feel his fingers lingering over your pantie’s waistband. Your mind is hazy as you feel it slipping down your thighs, leaving you exposed, feeling extremely aroused as you hear him and in a husky voice.

“Go on. let’s see if you’re more than just a tease. finger yourself, sweetheart. I want to see how desperate that needy little cunt of yours is.”

Following his orders almost immediately, you desperately start to touch yourself, inserting your finger deep in your already wet cunt, shamelessly moaning over your own fingers. Your lewd noises only made Jungkook smirk.

“While you shamelessly dive your fingers knuckle deep in that luscious little pussy of yours, i’ll dive deeper into the precious dirty mind of yours. Let’s see what other silly little fantasies you’ve written here, why don’t we?”

He smirked as he pulled those papers out, yet again. He cleared is throat, and started reading out loud.

“He towered over me with an obscene grandiosity, like some great erotic deity. his turgid member eclipsed my vision as the sun does the sky.” He laughs mockingly, continuing

“And look at this…. I felt an exhorting rush of pleasure as he pushed greedily into me, and again, penetrating my inner walls.”

He sighs and looks at you. “You know, if he’s already pushed into you, how is he further penetrating? you know what? I don’t even have the patience for this one.” He throws away the sheets as he looks to deep into your eyes, sending shivers down your spine.

“Your over use of adjectives is TERRIBLY self indulging, you know?” He stated.

You stared at him like a statue, completely silent. You took a deep breath as you finally mustered up the courage to reply. “My apologies Mr Jeon, but i think my project was a—”

“Hey hey hey!” He cut you you in middle as his face darkens and and he stands up abruptly. “Did you just stop fingering yourself, little slut!?”

And before you could answer, he grabbed you by your thighs, and pulled you towards him, your dripping needy cunt in display.

“You’re such a good student but you really are useless in fucking yourself properly. Look, I’ll show you how to do it!”

You let out a shriek as he shoved his long fingers inside you without warning, fucking your wet pussy in a ruthless pace. Your body started to shiver because of the vibrating sensation and the satisfaction his fingers were providing you.

“Oh fuck!” You let out a muffled moan, as you gripped his shoulder with one hand, and balancing yourself in the top of the table from the other.

“You like that, whore?” Jungkook asked, watching your lewd face, with drool covering your chin, fucking your cunt as fast as ever. You nodded in response, only to earn a merciless pinch in your clit by him, causing you whimper.

“WORDS! I NEED WORDS YOU LITTLE FUCKTOY!” Jungkook growled, fastening the pace of his hands, causing you loose your mind.

“Y-y-yes, i like when you finger m-me like a d-dirty slut i am, Mr J-jeon.” You managed to answer, which was quite brave after the merciless treatment you were getting by Jungkook’s fingers.

Jungkook smirked as he pinched your nipple, and continues to finger fuck you. “This is how a stupid little whore like you should be fingered. Roughly. Relentlessly. Ruthlessly.”

Feeding his ego and his arousal only more, you whimpered shamelessly, your legs shaking, as you feel a familiar knot forming in your stomach. You bite down on your lower lip to suppress your moans, but the fingering did nothing to your favor.

“Mr Jeon i t-think i am close…”

Jungkook glanced at you, and seeing your ruined face with smudged mascara and lipstick, with drool covered in your chin, he knew you were close.

“You cum very easily don’t you? Such a slut.” He scoffs. “You don’t get to cum on my fingers. I want you to cum on my cock, like you imagined me, in your fanstasies.”

He pulls his fingers out, and you only frown in response.

“Cmon, be a good girl and clean my fingers for me. I will reward you with my ‘turgid member’ soon after.”

He shoved his dripping fingers on your mouth as you tasted yourself on his fingers, You sucked and licked his fingers clean, as if your life depended on it, earning a smirk from him.

“Good girl. Now get up, and bend over facing the desk, with your legs spread apart.” He commanded as he helped you get up, and placed you in the position. He grabbed your hips as he thrusted roughly into your pussy, and started moving in a ruthless pace.

“O-oh my g-god Mr Jeon” You whimpered in pain and pleasure, as your one hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and the other rested on the table, to keep your balance. Your lewd noises only fed his ego and arousal, as he smirked maintaining the pace.

“This is how fucking sluts like you deserve to be fucked! Until you’re all swollen. Until you’re all numb. Until you forget why were you even here in the first place. and oh….” He landed a harsh spank on your ass, making you gasp in pleasure.

“Until you start to treat your professor properly. Until you forget every word of your pompous vocabulary.”

“I-i promise to be good Mr J-jeon..” You manage to mumble, as he continued to brutally punish your needy cunt.

“Oh you will, little bitch! You will be a good little whore for your professor. That’s what you get for being such a tease.”

You throw your head back as the familiar feeling of a knot in your stomach starts to overtake your mind again. You knew you wont be able to last long. “I-i am close, Mr Jeon!” You moaned out, only to earn a stinging sensation of a spank in your ass again.

“Be a good fucking slut and wait for me to cum too. Can you do that Y/N? can you do that? Hmmm?”

You nodded as you closed your eyes, trying to control your orgasm but the feeling of pleasure with his strong thrusts makes it unable to do so. You try to hold yourself as much as you could, while he started to fondle with your breasts, teasing the tip of your nipples with his thumb, making it only harder for you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that Y/N? Good little slut.” He smashed his lips against yours, as he kissed you with all his might, his lips gradually trailing to your collarbone and then to your breasts. He started to suckle on your nipple, earning a loud moan from you.

“That’s it baby, be a good babygirl and cum for me. i am close too.” He declared, as he started to pinch your nipples, driving you over the edge with his manic pace.

“Fuck fuck fuck, i think i am cumming!”

“Go on little whore! milk my cock! show me how filthy you are. Cum for me!”

You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, your toes curling and your vision blurry. Feeling you shudder and start to cum, Jungkook increases the intensity of his thrusts. You feel his member twitch as you knew he’s close. With one final thrust, he released his hot cum inside you, pulsing with each thrust. "Fuck," he grunts out between breaths.

His head rested against your shoulder, you both were breathing heavily, your sweaty bodies intertwined. After a few minutes, he pulled out of you with a wet pop, his cum dripping out of your walls. He grabbed a box of tissues from his drawer, and cleaned himself and your dripping, utterly spent core.

While you try to regain your composure, Jungkook helps you stand up and fix your clothes.

“T-thankyou professor.” Is all you could say, noticing his gesture.

“It’s alright, Miss Y/N.” Jungkook nodded, helping you to get on your feet. Just as you were about to leave, He called out.

“Miss Y/N, you know, whenever you need help, you can always approach me. You know where to find me…”

A red tint crept up on your face, as you nodded. “I will, professor. Have a good day” and exited his office.

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Please leave comments and let me know how you liked my debut post. and let me know if i can do something to make my writing better. a room for improvement is my driving force🩷🪽

~ riri💋

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#ririkookiemonster

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#syllabus of secrets

[magical-reid]

Tangled Thoughts

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x TA!Reader

Word Count: 900

Prompt: 29: “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

Summary: In a quiet seminar room, you nervously approached Professor Reid while he was engrossed in grading essays, eventually offering to braid his unruly hair to help him concentrate. After an awkward but sweet exchange, you completed the task, and though he returned to his work, the soft touch of his fingers on the braid suggested you may have left a lasting impression.

The seminar room was quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Professor Reid was hunched over a stack of papers, his brows furrowed in intense concentration as he graded essays. He had a knack for getting lost in his work—so much so that sometimes you wondered if you even existed to him when he was like this.

You stood at the side of the desk, a notebook tucked under your arm as you waited for him to notice you. The man was brilliant—probably too brilliant for his own good—but his social awareness often lagged behind his IQ.

“Um… Professor Reid?” you finally prompted, your voice soft but persistent enough to pull him from the labyrinth of words on the page.

He looked up, startled, as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “Oh, uh, Y/N. Sorry about that.” His lips curled into a sheepish smile, his hand going to the back of his neck. It was something you’d noticed he did often when he felt awkward. Adorable didn’t even begin to cover it.

“No worries,” you said, trying not to let your heart race as he met your eyes. “I just wanted to drop off the attendance sheets from the last seminar.”

“Right, thank you.” He reached for them, his long fingers brushing against yours as he took the papers. It was the briefest of touches, but it sent a spark up your spine.

You shifted awkwardly, adjusting the notebook in your hands. You were about to excuse yourself when you caught sight of a strand of hair falling into his face. His usually neat curls looked particularly unruly today, like he’d spent the morning running his hands through them in frustration.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, though your eyes betrayed you by flicking to the stray lock of hair.

He followed your gaze, then seemed to notice the state of his hair for the first time. A faint blush crept up his neck. “I—uh, no, I think that’s everything. Sorry, I didn’t have time to, um, fix it this morning.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I can braid your hair for you—” Your heart stopped as you realized what you’d just said. “I mean, only if you want,” you added quickly, your voice stumbling over itself in your panic. “You know, just to keep it out of your face while you’re grading. Not like I—uh…”

You trailed off, your cheeks burning. What had possessed you to say that?

Spencer stared at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, to your surprise, his lips quirked into a small smile.

“Really?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging as nonchalantly as you could manage. “It’s not a big deal. My roommate in college used to make me braid her hair all the time during exam season. Helps with concentration or something.” You were rambling now, but at least it filled the silence.

He hesitated, his eyes darting to the papers in front of him and then back to you. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice soft. “If you don’t mind.”

You blinked. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Sure.”

Setting your notebook down, you moved behind him, your fingers twitching nervously. His hair was soft to the touch, the curls slipping through your hands like silk. You started separating the strands, your movements tentative at first but growing more confident as you fell into the familiar rhythm.

Spencer sat perfectly still, his posture rigid as if he were afraid to breathe. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the scent of coffee and the faint trace of some woodsy aftershave lingering in the air.

“You’ve got nice hair,” you said without thinking, then immediately wanted to slap yourself. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?

“Thanks,” he murmured. “It’s, uh, not something I usually hear.”

“Well, you do,” you said firmly, your fingers deftly weaving the strands. “It’s soft. And the curls are really—” You stopped yourself before you could say pretty. “—uh, nice.”

You finished the braid a moment later, tying it off with a small elastic you’d pulled from your wrist. Stepping back, you felt a sudden rush of self-consciousness. “There. All done.”

Spencer reached up to touch the braid, his fingers brushing over it as if he couldn’t quite believe it was there. “Thank you,” he said, turning slightly to look at you. His eyes were warmer now, the earlier awkwardness melting into something softer.

“Anytime,” you said, smiling despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Spencer cleared his throat, his gaze dropping back to the papers on the desk. “I should, um, get back to grading.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, stepping toward the door. But before you left, you glanced back at him.

He was still touching the braid.

And you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you’d made an impression on him after all.

[hazedwords]

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Day Four, Torn

Drabble - Fluff

Warnings: mild cursing

(Sorry the post is a bit late, yesterday I went to get my phone fixed, and the man who ‘fixed’ my phone, messed up my back camera. It took a while to get a refund)

“____”

Severus' weary form entered the room, his steps heavy from a long day's work. He cradled a steamy mug of coffee in his hands, the aroma mingling with the quiet hum of winter seclusion. His dark hair was unkempt, a testament to the hours spent hunched over his work, but his gaze, heavy-lidded yet sharp, found mine as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Yes?" I inquired, setting my knitting tools and unfinished project aside, the soft woolen blanket and half-knit glove sitting patiently on the coffee table next to me.

With an almost strained voice, he revealed that Minerva had requested our help in decorating for the Halloween Ball.

Though he attempted to mask it, his dislike for the task was apparent. Since our marriage, I had been the designated decorator of our home, handling all festive touches. Despite his aversion to decorating, he never complained, readily taking on the role of chef and housecleaner. His expression exuded a mixture of resignation and reluctance, but his agreement to help was evident.

“Let’s get started then. We might have some old Halloween decorations stored away," I suggested to my husband as he approached and sat down beside me. He didn’t respond; instead, he leaned against me and planted a kiss on my neck, remaining silent.

“_____” Severus croaked, his voice cracking from his long day of yelling at students no doubt. He looked at me with tired eyes, kissing me on the lips as I faced him.

He gently reached a hand behind my head, pulling me closer to him and deepening the kiss. He put a hand down on the cushion of the chair I was on to steady himself.

Suddenly, a rip of fabric rang out in the room. Severus and I both looked down to search for the source of the sound.

“Shit.” Severus grumbled.

“Shit indeed. The chair is torn!” I glared at my husband. Yet, I could never stay angry at him for long anyways.

Severus kissed me softly, gently caressing my cheek in the kiss. “Sorry love.”

[lanabuckybarnes]

So…I’ve started a lil Steve Rogers series, I’ve written out 2 chapters and have a third in mind. I wanna share a lil bit about it and a snippet with you and see if you’re interested 🤭🤭

-

Professor!Steve Rogers x Tutor!Reader. Reader is in her 20s and has a baby with her deadbeat boyfriend. After losing her job she becomes frantic, searching for anything — the only job that responds is a high school looking for a tutor conveniently in the subject she excelled in. It’s here she meets Professor Rogers, a 40 something History professor who’s taken a liking to her sweet little face.

-

Snippet of Prolouge/First Chapter:

-

“Hey I mean it’s no big deal right?”

“It’s a very big deal Max! A very big fucking deal” You scream, launching a pillow at his stupid head. He’d done it again; run up a debt to keep himself high and now he crawls to you for the money.

“You can just do some extra shifts, a couple hours extra each day isn’t that bad!”

-

Lemme know if you’re interested!!

Also a special lil thanks to @delicatebarness who has been reading all about this man and who will definitely be reading more about him 🤭🤭

[mochilatae]

The Gift (Namjoon x FemReader/YN)

Word Count: 8.4k (ish)

Warnings: Ethically questionable stuff (student/teacher), kissing, unprotected sex, public sex, seduction, slow burn, Namjoon basically propositions you, wall fuck, standing sex, orgasms (his and yours), fingering (a little), dry humping/grinding, dirty/sexy talk, sexy Namjoon energy everywhere, nicknames, praise/praise kink, scratching, rough/intense sex, drinking.

I probably forgot some warnings but oh well.

Genre: PwP

AUs: Professor Namjoon/Professor BTS

Summary: You're an adult and that means working on your birthday, but you're determined to finish your shift and make the best of the night until a last minute customer changes your plans.

Author’s Note: A very happy birthday gift for @askkrisachan. I resurrected this from the past. It was posted before but was lost when I was deactivated for a bit. I felt it was worth bringing back.

If you're into Professor Namjoon, enjoy. If you're not, please skip. I'm doing this for the Namjoon stans.

Ignore typos. This stands as it is, imperfections and all. If you enjoyed it and feel like giving a Kudo or reblog, it's appreciated but not required.

Tag List: @worldwideseal @askkrisachan

“Don’t be mad.”

Your coworker’s pleading eyes matched the sorrow in her tone. At least she was convincing enough, hands briefly clasped as she filled the limited wait station space. 

You leaned a hip into the counter and glanced at the clock, then back to those eyes, now glimmering. Maybe she was working up tears for added effect. 

“That usually means I’m going to be.” 

“I know you’re almost done.”

“I AM done. It’s 5 minutes before clock out time. I was counting on this time to breathe and hide from anything before the end of shift. Somehow, here you are. The news can’t be good. Would you blame me?”

“No..” She replied, taking off her half apron. You watched her empty the pockets. That was a lot of the end-of-shift gestures YOU were about to do but she still had a good 4 hours left. “..But it’ll be worth it.” 

“That’s not computing.”

You went up on tiptoes, glancing over the top of the wall dividing the wait station from the rest of the main dining space. It wasn’t the busiest night but it had cleared out enough you didn’t notice any new heads among the lot. 

Your eyes returned to your coworker, who was glaring at the time clock, her face washed in the computer screen’s pale glow. 

“Make it make sense.” You nudged her with a hip, earning barely a glance and a thinning of her lips.

“...What’s going on?” 

“It’s my lunch break.” True, but in the scheme of things the end of your shift was higher up on the totem. She had to understand that.

“...And you’ve got to see this guy.” She continued.

“What.” You sighed, arms crossing.

It was a strong battle in your mind---both sides in a battle for the ages: push her back out, apron tossed along to finish whatever she started, or be the bigger person and take on what she’d passed your way.

On such a special day in your life. …Which seemed to be forgetten. 

“Listen to me–” You started, cut off by the ding of the computer’s time clock.

Your coworker spun on her heel, flashing a grin. The rising level of her brows had you curious. She looked almost…delighted and it probably had less to do with her now begun lunch break. 

“YOU listen. Table 3–”

“The one in the back corner?” 

“Yep.” 

“The low value table. Great.” Your arms fell.

This wasn’t going to help fix the grievous deed just done to you. Your mood dipped and your head throbbed with the menacing beginnings of a stress headache. “Of all the days–” 

“Y/n.” She frowned, the shimmer in her eyes calculating. Mischievous and unusual, especially on the clock. 

“It’s my birthday.” You reminded her. Like you had when you’d clocked in earlier and she’d given you a tepid “Cool.” 

She shrugged. “Consider it a gift. Trust me.” 

Your coworker passed over a check pad and your favorite pen. The one you’d just put down. It hadn’t even had a full minute of rest, like you. Until this moment, so wrongly snatched away. 

“I don’t trust you.” Still, you snuck another look out, over to the corner where that single table was situated.

A form was there, hard to see much more from this far end of the dining room. You glanced back at your coworker, surprised to find her eyes still locked at that space across the way.

And her face was painted with barely checked desire. 

“Jen..” You sighed, hearing the wobble at the end of the word. Her pat on your shoulder was brief. Not a single ounce of reassurance from the contact and almost fleeting. 

“Happy birthday, Y/n. Get going. Your shift is almost over.” 

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

Table 3 had never looked more dimly lit. Or it was your dramatic brain at work, already working overtime with how sorry you felt for yourself. 

Smile painted on, you stopped there, noticing the form right away. Head bowed, you could tell enough: male. Tall. Light hair aglow on the ends from the candle light barely reaching the edges of this space. 

You swallowed, shoulders squaring and spine going straight. 

Just get through this, then you’re done. 

“Good evening.. Have you decided what you’d like?” 

The eyes caught your focus first: almost golden. They flinched wide, then narrowed a moment later. The curve at both ends of a lush mouth. 

The menu met the table slowly, pushed closer to the center. You noted he’d moved the second tightly rolled table setting close to the far end of the table. 

“What do you recommend?” 

“Pardon?” You squeaked. You were taken aback. The usual was a question about the specials, but no one had really asked your preferences. As if you weren’t much beyond a warm body to bring drinks and take away plates. 

Delivery and retrieval. Waiting on the whims of a stranger. For fairly good money. Suggestions weren’t the usual request. It was all about the expectations that you met for others. 

The smile relaxed, spreading. You noticed the shift in his cheeks: shaded dents revealed dimples. You rocked back a little on your heels and turned your stare to the menu, face up on the table. No way from this far you’d make sense of that small print–let alone in the limited ambient lighting. 

Still..

“The ah…Bouledvadier.” You could remember the description and found it promising. And it was the first thing to jump out of your memory. 

The man’s brows lowered until they were even. You watched him scour the menu without making a move to lean forward. He had good enough vision but also verified. You liked that, anyway.

“A cocktail.” He mused. A minute later he stared into your eyes again. “Maybe. What else?”

“Well..if you’re a whiskey fan, we have the Sazerac–”

“Let’s go with that.” A quick enough response. Not that you minded being cut off. The softness in his eyes certainly helped as his stare traveled over your form. 

Suddenly the mid-thigh flounce of your skirt and contouring blouse were center stage. Not that a man’s eyes on you had ever been a problem before. Doing this job, you were used to a certain amount of attention and that translated into higher tips. 

But right now something settled into your belly. A heaviness, bringing with it a glowing warmth. 

You cleared your throat with a nod, jotting the order down. Keeping the pad higher in front of you gave something to hide behind as you peered surreptitiously over the top, pen still poised and trembling just a tiny bit. 

“Anything else?” 

The man finally looked back at the menu, then picked it up, holding it out. 

“For now, no.”

You barely grasped the menu, relieving him of it in short order. As you spun away you heard him call out “Thank you..” 

As you exhaled on the way towards the bar it became clear: you'd held the same breath for far too long. And when it came out, your head spun. The world hazed briefly, you heartbeat galloping momentarily. 

What was that feeling in the back of your mind? It was like an itch. Like something familiar was lingering that you’d forgotten but had begun to grope in the dark to remember. If you fumbled and wandered long enough, you’d stumble upon it. 

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

It was the way he reached out when you’d set the glass down that had you frozen. Your fingers grazed his as they touched along one side of the tumbler. 

You couldn’t look up. You could barely keep from whining at the silky heat. 

“Namjoon.” 

“...W…what?” You barely mumbled, looking at the way his knuckles rounded with his grip contouring the glass. Your hand went to your side. A brief consideration was made towards never washing that hand again, just to savor the memory of his touch. 

“That’s my name. What’s yours?” 

“Mine?” You blinked. It was a trickle of realization and it was loaded with shame: you’d forgotten to introduce yourself properly. The same thing you’d done for hours earlier. Almost without thinking. You forced a polite frown. 

“..I’m ..sure I said my name when I approached.” No need to embarrass him or yourself. You tried the tactful route. 

“I’m sure you didn’t. I would have remembered.” Namjoon wasn’t having it, his mouth even as the glass approached his lips. 

“Of course..” You nodded,woozy from the action, then bowed your head. “Y/n.” The small curtsey was unintentional and yet done so readily. Like part of your brain was out of control. 

Namjoon’s throat worked. You heard the swallow. He licked his lips, tongue retreating behind slightly parted flesh. 

“Y/n.” 

“Yes.” You smiled at your shoes, studying the shiny black toes of the modest heels that had your feet aching until a little bit ago, when you’d stopped here at Namjoon’s table.

For the time being you’d forgotten mostly everything. Except that persistent nibble, still going at the back of your skull.

It wasn’t getting any better, especially when he leaned forward and picked up a napkin, giving you a better view: long neck. Crisp dress shirt. Still neatly done black tie. A very common mode of dress. The tie pin was unique to him---you’d seen THAT before too. 

“Thank you, Y/n.” He turned the glass a few times, not bothering to hide his study of it. 

“Anything else for you?”

A long moment passed, then his head tilted. “The check in–” He paused to check the time on his watch. You noted the lift of his brow.

“--10 minutes.” Another nod and his smile was much more friendly. His tone even moreso, he added “...You’ve been very attentive.” 

THAT was a lie. If anything he’d been the lowest maintenance customer you’d had all night, throwing you off significantly. Why were you lamenting that fact now?

It was your birthday night and you’d been near the point of strangling your coworker for tossing this customer your way so close to being out the door. 

But now you weren’t so angry. The pressure wasn’t from stress. A new energy gathered, hotter and tighter along your navel as you turned away. It flared when you heard your name again, in a low mumble. 

It was only safe to look back from the safety of the wait station’s border wall, your brows and nose barely above the wooden rail. As you gazed, Namjoon’s lean form relaxed. His knees fell wide and his entire upper body relaxed into the shadows spilling across the wall behind his table. 

Like he’d semi-melted into the dark, sinking into some quiet well of sensuality. Charisma. Some magnetic center you knew you’d find yourself going back to. This time your lips broke apart to suck in a breath you had realized you’d been starving for until this moment. Until this man.

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

“You’re a student.” Namjoon announced when you returned with his check. 

This time he was standing, stretching a little. For a moment panic swarmed your senses. Had you mis-timed the whole thing and kept him waiting for the check?

You glanced at the wall and the large clock there. It hadn’t been that long. Your eyes hadn’t deceived you, even being on HIM most of the night. 

“I am..” You replied, holding out the check.

Almost every student you knew was working some job at the local restaurants or retail stores. You weren’t unique, but you could freely admit you worked harder than most.

Namjoon took his time, studying the check. Seconds slipped by. The single soft line between his brows, furrowed in focus. The flex in his lips, shining from the remains of the cognac and whiskey blend he’d taken an appreciable amount of time to savor. 

It was the way he did it that united loose ends. And knotted your belly. You..knew the look–that focus. 

“..Professor Kim?” You ventured. 

When he glanced at you, then nodded with a charming grin, you vaguely reached for the nearby chair, fingers curling over the top of the back. 

His smile was like a dawning sun. Like opening a door and smelling delicious baked bread. Stepping into the warmth of a spring afternoon, post rain storm. 

“I was about to say. I’ve been sitting here wondering if it was you.” 

“Y…You know who I am?” But why shouldn’t he? 

Namjoon had an exceptional memory–the kind of professor that greeted every student by name, every single class. Unlike him, you only returned the greeting half the time, but not for lack of wanting to. 

It was so far from why you didn’t. Why you COULDN’T.

Namjoon shrugged, hand going to his pocket to dig out his wallet. He passed the check back, a card pinched with it between his pointer and middle fingers, the digits so long your mouth watered. 

The same ones you’d watched follow the words on a page when you stood next to his desk earlier in the week, watching him scan your latest paper.  All you did was wait, head airy and lungs burning from the world’s deepest breath. Even if it wouldn’t begin to give you enough air being so close to your crush. 

“Mmm. Of course I do. How can I not?” 

“I–” 

“You’re one of my best students.” 

You couldn’t begin to debate it. If he saw your GPA he might have to amend that, but for now you didn’t wither further, tracing fingers that relaxed their death grip on the chair. Feeling the nervous energy, your fingertips followed the ornate woodwork while your eyes followed the lines of Namjoon’s arms, right up to his shoulders.

“Thank you.” You murmured. The check fluttered a bit as you held it up and waved the paper briefly. “I’ll…be right back then, Professor Kim.”

“Y/n.” It was a scolding but his words caressed your soul. And you throbbed, dead center between your legs. You couldn’t look back or you’d faint here, on the spot. Your shoulders rose as you barely turned your head, showing him your profile. 

He waited for a beat, then spoke again. 

“Call me Namjoon. No need for that here. We’re not in class.” 

“I can’t help it.” You flagged a bit, praying there was no insult or trouble. The way you addressed this man spoke to the automatic respect he’d earned with his position and power. He’d earned it. 

“I understand. But try, for me.” 

Ask me to do ANYTHING and I’ll do it.

To be so ready for anything his limitless mind could demand. It had you freshly afraid, but fear never felt this good. The way it moved through you as a current, swilling across the tender hairs on your thighs and the nape of your neck. 

Your lip was nearly raw with a few seconds of chewing. You weren’t even aware, biting so hard. In desperation for..something. Heat gnawed at your guts and you nodded.

Eyes trained towards the POS computer screen farther across the way, you clung to the only beacon in an approaching storm Namjoon had easily stirred deep inside.

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

“Y/n.” 

The voice came from behind you as you leaned over the table, giving it a last wipe.

Namjoon. Again. 

You stood upright, turning slowly. No need to spin, or you’d take yourself out and take the table with you. Not a good idea, even if this place was much emptier than before. You’d hardly noticed, lingering so much between here and the wait station–a soapy bucket with extra rags bobbing around the steaming depths, waiting for your fated return. 

Your fingers curled, damp rag dripping on the floor near your shoe as your lips worked. Your eyes scanned the area in search, but there was no use: Namjoon was right here. Standing in front of you once more. 

Smiling–again. Without a tie, you noted. You’d never seen him without one immaculately knotted, or his shirt unbuttoned as it was now.  

He’d undone the top two.

You wondered when that happened: before exiting a while ago or entering again, on his way to you still lollygagging under the yolky overhead light. 

…But did it really matter now? 

You watched the way Namjoon’s hand went to his slacks pocket. He patted there, then glanced around you, to the table and the seat he’d used. You looked there too, only to find the glossy black leather cushion, bare but probably still warm. 

Your brows twitched. “..Pr—Namjoon? You…” 

You looked again just in case, then came back with the same result: nothing. You twisted the damp rag and ignored the tickle of lukewarm droplets running down your fingers. Probably making a puddle on the floor. 

“I can check the wait station. If someone loses something, we usually bring it there..” 

You motioned, then took a step forward, heading that way. It was Namjoon’s gentle touch–the fingers on your shoulder, folding so easily over the roundness there. It stopped you dead. 

“It hasn’t been that long.” His hand went back to his side but you’d never felt a stare so heavy the way Namjoon’s rested on you now. And there wasn’t a single inch of you that minded. 

“...Was it your wallet? I don’t think you left it here.” You offered. 

Not at all surprising how meek you sounded. You’d clocked out, in your haze, and just gone about your duties, still taking every second to linger where Namjoon had been for a criminally short amount of time. 

But here he was.

You wanted to lean into his touch, if he’d bless you with it again. Your skin still tingled where his fingertips made pressure contact. 

“Not my card.” He wore too big a smile for someone who might actually have lost a card OR a wallet, but you didn’t move to check and confirm.

Especially not with Namjoon taking up the space separating you from the wait station. This man was so broad. Wide enough to block those familiar walls from your darting eyes.

Mutual staring carried on for a few moments, only interrupted with a titter of laughter as a couple far across the dining room got up, then headed for the front hostess desk. They disappeared around that corner, the double entry doors opening and closing, signaling more departures.

A figure moved at the other end of the dining room, from chair to chair and blowing out candles on each table. 

The start of closing duties, even far enough out from official end time. You should be walking home by now, but here you were: stuck like you’d grown roots or Namjoon had tied you immobile. 

Namjoon took a step nearer. Every inch hacked at the hierarchy you both understood each time you crossed the threshold of the classroom door. 

Right now it was a simple fact of nature: he was just a man and you a woman. Years between you were meaningless–certainly nothing to keep a needful pulsation from rising through your middle. 

“You wrote that paper on the Era of the Common Man.” He flashed a brief, easy smile.

You couldn’t forget, having cried plenty about it. You’d never sweated so much like you’d done leaving the paper on his desk a week ago. Then came a new agony as you’d spent far too long checking the online gradebook each day, with eyes wide and praying harder than a sinner on Sunday.

“I did.” You hedged. Prepare for the worst. THAT was it. He’d returned to give you the dressing down of your life for failing so badly. No pretense of a class session to drop the paper on your desk. 

Why ELSE would he come back? 

Your throat tightened. 

“It was exceptional.” He murmured, lids falling. 

Your heart was in your throat as you swallowed against pressure in your throat. The lump didn’t move. You palmed your navel. There was so much fluttering inside, but skin and muscle overtop didn’t move, except for a slow rise and fall. 

“Hmm?” You swayed lightly on your heels, the pain of hours on your feet just..gone. The rag met the floor in a soggy heap. You didn’t bother looking. If there was anything in the world to care less about at this moment…

Namjoon’s brow rose. “You wrote the paper.” No accusation. 100 percent a dare: protest otherwise. Try to lie. 

You weren’t about to do that. If there was one thing about Professor Namjoon Kim, it was his built in ability to detect the thinnest lie or break the strongest one in pieces. Around campus the common knowledge held true: Namjoon wouldn’t have anything but the truth. 

“The best of the bunch, Y/n.” He added, his other brow rising. Both even along his smooth forehead.  

“I…” You trailed off, mesmerized by a flexing shadow at the base of his throat. The way lines moved around that space kept your attention too well. Your exhale seared through the minimal part in your lips. 

Namjoon was nearer with another step, bringing his scent with. Warm, plum sweet unfurled around you. Quite a feat over the pine oil and clove notes filtering through the space all night and since the beginning of your employment history here. 

“You’re an amazing student.” 

“Thank you.” You swallowed back a whine. Was that delight in your chest? It was running rampant, making your breath limited when the thrill squeezed across your breasts. 

You snuck a look at Namjoon, shocked to find his eyes greeting you.

Beaming down at you, even worse than when he’d stop mid lecture and stand facing the class. Waiting for questions. Confirmation. Responses of the verbal variety or the occasional challenge. 

You noted how he took his time looking around the place. You didn’t dare turn your stare away. Your attention was the least of what you wanted to give this man.

It just got more questionable and salacious from there. 

“You work too.” He observed. You nodded. “Is this normally a work night for you?” 

Another nod. You tucked a strand behind your ear. 

“Seems…tough. You balance working and doing so well in my class.” 

“I’m decent with time management.” Hiding a grin almost hurt as your mouth twisted down at both ends. When Namjoon paused to study your face, you went cool. 

“I don’t think that’s all of it but..” You stared at the tips of Namjoon’s leather shoes, shining under the light as they shuffled closer, stopping near the ends of your Mary Janes. Tightness slowly crept up your thighs. The essence of your soul was being squeezed out of you hellishly slow....and it felt SO good.

“You…came back.” You countered, trying to be brave and cool. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Why? You didn’t leave anything here..” 

“Maybe not.” Namjoon agreed, chuckling. “..Isn’t today a special day?” 

“Hmm?” 

Namjoon checked his watch, then his expression hardened for a split second. You’d seen that look sitting in the front row in your class, during a particularly poor class wide effort on a pre-mid term pop quiz. 

It was a look that had you sitting a few seats back from the next week up until now. You couldn’t take it–your body felt like it’d been lit on fire. You’d just begun to only feel woozy entering class and sitting down to face him, and he hits you with this reminder. 

“Your birthday.” 

You blinked, looking around too. No answers there–especially not your helpful coworkers who were leaving in turn. Just the normal closers, walking around the edges of the space, in the shadows, and as deaf as they ever pretended to be. 

“My–”

“Birthday.” Namjoon finished, then nodded faintly. 

“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday.” He gave his opinion, and like most times he had his say, he was entirely correct.

“Well.. it’s not a luxury I can afford as an adult.” Especially newly minted in the world. But here you were, doing the right thing. Like in school, that was your style. You couldn’t justify the cut to a paycheck just to celebrate a day you hadn’t given much thought to since grade school. You weren’t big on making yourself a big deal, traditionally. 

“I’m sure you do.” You countered and Namjoon laughed, head back to expose his long neck even more. Revealing endless clean, succulent looking skin. 

“I make room for treating myself.” He said it so freely. Plain and simple, like his stare from hooded eyes. 

“I want to do that.” It was frightening how easy you confessed. 

Something about Namjoon felt safe for you to agree with him.

You imagined what he did on his birthday to spoil himself: Adorable flashes of cutely self indulgent ‘me’ moments, with all his favorite hidden joys, but that quickly vanished as lurid images snuck through your consciousness.

Ones readily to remind of what YOU’D do for him on his special day.

“When are you done?” Namjoon asked, startling you for the umpteenth time tonight. 

“Um…” You almost didn’t recognize the place, looking around again. Lost, you nearly forgot where the clock was until bearings returned—and THAT took an impressive amount of time. Doing the math was quick enough as you replied “15 minutes.”

“Mmm.” This time Namjoon pulled his dress sleeve back a bit more. He’d undone the buttons on the cuff and pushed the material up. His stare leveled on you again.

“..Let me give you a gift.”

“A gift? You don’t have to.” 

Was there that much shame to admit earning his best student label could be a birthday, Christmas AND graduation gift all rolled into one? Maybe to others. People so far from you they might as well be on the other side of the Earth tonight. 

Your lips tightened, after your tongue slid across them. 

“I don’t have to, it’s true. But I’d like to reward my top student—AND celebrate your day. It would make the evening complete–” He paused with a nod towards the hallway off from the kitchen. The one leading to an exit at the back of the restaurant.

And going to private parking. 

“You finish up whatever you’ve got left. I’ll meet you there.” 

A place you never parked but what if he had? The private lot in the back–reserved for permit and friends of the owners ONLY. Requirements you were sure he hadn’t met.

Namjoon had little room for such nagging details. Not acting like he had any pressing concern about it for a second. 

“If you’re sure…” As you got the words out, heat rose to your forehead, finishing the climb up your body. A visceral reaction, strictly from the power swelling in the air. 

The possessive word choice dug claws in and hung on.

‘My best student’. 

‘MY’. 

His. That felt more than right. Better than amazing. Mind bending. 

Heart and head raced for the absolute limit just watching his hand dip halfway into one pocket as Namjoon’s head tipped to the right. He didn’t bother to hide the once-over of your form, before speaking again.

“Never been more. See you in a bit.” 

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

You barely paused to slide your coat on when Namjoon’s voice came again. From behind you. Deja-vu, but this time closer than he could ever need, even with the narrow hall width. A ruddy glow from the Exit sign painted the minimal space in a world of red.

You liked the ambience at this moment. It paired nicely with a gentle exhale caressing your cheek with Namjoon, right behind you. That was his form you swayed into, without a single inch of yield on his part. 

One hand collecting your coat, he spoke, voice low.  

“Do you normally drive?” 

Wherever your coat went, captured in his grasp, you let it go, but still tried for a look over one shoulder, until Namjoon made a sound–a variant of a growl. Your body reacted, nipples puckering. It was the biggest surprise since Namjoon came back in OR showed up in the first place.

“Y..yeah.” 

It was mostly about affording gas, insurance and the mental space to stress over a daily commute. There wasn’t much in this town that wasn’t within walking distance anyway.  

Your head turned again and body followed. Namjoon retreated, giving you room. Face to face again, Namjoon closed in until his front pressed lightly. The firmness hiding under Namjoon’s clothes was undeniable. Palpable—like the heartbeat along both your temples.

Namjoon gazed down, lips shaping a warm smile. Further in the depths of his eyes, there was curiosity and expectation. A lot like when he waited by your desk to collect a finished test or check your progress on an end-of-section question set. 

Or like last week, in line at the local campus coffee shop, Namjoon unaware and so placid while you’d been bolted in place, back to him and eyes popping. Breath trapped by a tightness in your chest.

“Should I give you your reward now?”

“Reward?” You mumbled, entirely confused. He hadn’t come in with anything. In fact you were certain he’d shown up with LESS than before.  

Being in this tucked away space was perfect with much you daydreamed about getting Namjoon alone. The need drilled right into the depths of your most private fantasies and fate took care of it, just not in the usual way: on campus, in his office. 

Namjoon’s head bobbed faintly. “That’s right.” 

“Reward….Doesn’t sound like a birthday thing.” You grinned. He mirrored it. “We’re not in class, like you said.”

“True.” Namjoon’s gaze darted back to the doorway further down, leading to the main dining room. More candles out meant more darkness. Your coworkers had dwindled to two other people. Two who knew enough to not come looking for you, or care much about anything other than getting home post-closing duties.

“My best student—I think I’ve got enough experience under my belt to know quality when I read it. I’ve spent years reading A LOT of student papers, Y/n.” 

A needless reminder but still served a purpose in flexing how ravenous his mind was. His palm pressed the wall near where your back touched when you leaned back. 

“I know.” Your voice shrank. The pressure between your legs expanded. 

Namjoon lifted his other hand and traced two fingers along a strand of your hair, then tucked it behind one ear before trailing down your jaw. When your lips slackened, Namjoon squinted at your jawline. 

“Close your eyes.” 

His whiskey infused sigh crossed your lips and his mouth connected a moment later. Your muffled moan disappeared into this surprise kiss. Your body melted against Namjoon as he deepened the kiss. 

Your center clenched and you dug nails into your thighs, gently clawing skirt hem higher in a fevered energy burst. Your breasts perked as you sucked in a deep breath with nostrils wide. 

Namjoon’s lips came away. His palm cupped along your cheek. He sunk teeth into his lip and teased the apple of your cheek with his nose, inhaling your scent deep. Exhaling with a rumble. 

“Yes…” He cooed. “Your lips are so soft. Y/n–”

“D..Dolly.” 

Namjoon let out a brief snort. Soft and shocked, but no trace of derision or shaming.

“What’s that?” 

“Call me..Dolly?”

“Dolly..” Namjoon’s mouth pecked your chin and your head met the wall, chin lifted in offering to his hungry mouth. No way a drink was enough to satisfy whatever appetite dragged him back here.

“I like that. Dolly.. MY dolly?” A few more fingers walked your skin, just above the knee. As your thigh fell wide and that foot left the floor when the knee bent, Namjoon explored up and in, rising higher. 

Going right under the hem of that pleated, flouncy material. Where it got perilously humid, at the apex of both thighs. Namjoon turned his hand over, up to the wrist under the skirt. Guiding the back of a few nails across your cotton clad pussy, his brows drew down. 

“Oh my GOD. You’re so …hot. All because of..me?” 

You nodded so fervently your head thumped and an ache shot down your nape. You whined and he let out a hiss. The blunt pad of a finger circled the top of your folds, finding the point of your clit. Making it rise and harden that much more. 

You couldn’t help it, sinking into the urge as your thigh slid up Namjoon’s side to bring that calf over his hip. You tugged him closer and Namjoon fell against you. A broad palm cupped under your other ass cheek and he curled all five fingers, snagging and dragging material towards the inside of your ass cheek. 

Giving you a half thong. Namjoon slipped his tongue past your lips as your breast crushed against his chest. You grabbed at his shirt, feeling buttons popping open more, heat rolling from the wider spread folds of the shirt front, nearly down to the middle coming open. 

When your nails dragged naked skin, Namjoon stilled, then moaned and rolled his hips against you, making sure you could feel and had no denial about the wide cock testing the reliability of his fly. 

“Wish you had your tie on..” You mumbled as your lips dragged up his cheek. You felt the plump there when Namjoon chuckled in a single grunt. 

“I wanted you to have something better to grab onto.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mnnnhm.” Namjoon’s fingers probed further between your legs, feeling skin cut deep by the diagonally bunched panty crotch.The wetness against air had your folds cooling enough. 

If he kept touching you, he’d undo your entire mind. You might even cum on the spot. Unraveling here was a far cry from the safe and familiar shadows of your bedroom and an upgrade from nights spent smothering under the urge to give in. To touch yourself to a parade of images of this man.

Now it WAS reality: the pressure in the press of his fingertips against you. The way he spread you and the cotton crotch apart. Separated material from skin enough to tuck two long fingers deep, then curving them around to feel your front wall. 

You shook and Namjoon giggled. Indulgently, fingers curiously beckoning. Your fist gripped on his shirt fell and you grabbed again at his shoulder, finding a hill of muscle, tight and sloping nicely. Your forearm belted across the back of his neck and nails sunk into heated skin along the other side, greeted by cords of muscle. 

“There we go.. Don’t be afraid. You’ll need the leverage.” 

Namjoon’s fingers sawed into you with more purpose and your wall sucked around them. When the digits slipped back and almost came out, you whined. When they sunk back in, your breath left. 

As he worked your muscles loose with a steady thrust of his fingers, he studied your face. All your eyes could really focus on was the hazy outline of his hair and the rising shapes of his cheeks when he offered an easy smile. 

Namjoon wasn’t an easy teacher but he made it so easy to lose focus now. To let your body weight fall down as your leg rose up and he guided that calf over his hip. Even his slacks were silky perfection against the delicate skin along the inside of one thigh. 

He slowed to a stop, fingers halfway lodged into your warmth. Your head lolled and he aligned his mouth. Although you drank in the air with deep, slow breaths, right now you couldn’t breathe. 

Namjoon’s broad chest pressed against you. The fingers eased all the way out and he brought them up, staring at the clinging wetness bridging both tips together, shuddering has he hummed through them. 

“You’re such a good student.” Namjoon repeated. “It’s no exaggeration.” A bigger smile as Namjoon suckled the tip of the longer finger and his brows rose for a moment. He popped off and his tongue traced his lips until the shine was gone. 

He took a quick look down between your bodies and grunted. Clearly he admired how your fronts fit together. Was it too much to imagine he’d fantasized about the way you’d fit along his body, the same way you’d done? 

When Namjoon looked into your eyes again, you couldn’t see anything but the hedonism in those depths. If someone had a gun to your head, you couldn’t pry your attention away. Not if all your coworkers walked right into this hallway, right this very moment.

And saw you like a good little whore, leg hitched over this man’s hip. And his hand, right up your naked thigh, rising towards the other hip. 

Namjoon grabbed the outside of your other ass cheek, forearm deep under your skirt, and pulled your flesh apart with a jerk of his chin. 

“Other one. Up.” 

“W..Where–” You began.

“Around my waist.” Namjoon’s voice sliced through the fog in your brain. 

You bounced onto the ball of the other foot and Namjoon did the rest, gripping hard into your warm skin. Five divots sank in as he collected a handful of you, then pulled that thigh in place. And all with the barest change in the rounded shape of his bicep. 

Your fingers stroked up the back of his scalp and Namjoon’s lids twitched, threatening to drop again. He peered at you, then inclined his head as his mouth brushed your own. 

Your lips fell wide. The kiss wasn’t more than a pec. Your moan disappeared into his parting lips when they moved away enough. 

“I want to give my student a gift.”

“You—”

“--don’t have to? I know. And maybe it’s wrong–all this. Me here, with you. What I was thinking when I saw you coming to my table. Before all of that–in the classroom.” 

Your guts and lids felt heavy. Namjoon’s firmness was grinding so nicely against your mound. You clung on, fingers clutching the opposite wrist at his nape. Whatever it took to keep him this close and talking, you’d obey.

You’d listen, just like in class. Except this time you let that need show on your face–brows twisting up as Namjoon rolled himself firmer into you. The wall could handle it all, you reasoned.

“You could tell me what you want, but I think I know. I’m pretty smart.” He chuckled, then nibbled at your neck, sending your head one side. Namjoon nosed along, just below your ear. 

You could only mewl—helpless, wanton little tart that you felt like. At the mercy of this man.You hadn’t counted on ending the night like THIS, when it’d started out with so much frustration and disappointment.

You loved the way his hair felt, curling through your fingers. The way his scent washed up from his collar as it came away from his neck at the back. Your eyes drank in the lines running down below, into the dark of his dress shirt spread tight over his back. 

Clothing shuffled under your hovering ass as Namjoon fished around with a free hand there. He leaned enough against you to keep your back stationary. And the wall wasn’t going anywhere. It’d seen a few collisions over the years. 

Blunt heat swept your folds as Namjoon spoke again, voice dipping. Then mouth too, hunting for your breast. Finding it through the material just as he slid into you. Whole and entirely with one driving stab of his hips. 

He bottomed out and your world shrank. To say Namjoon filled you was underselling it. He spread your skin perfectly, stopping just at the first pinch of pain. But that pain melted into a buttery buzzing when he pulled back and thrust again with slow purpose. 

It was all the testing he cared to do, and all the prep you really needed. As Namjoon fell into a focused pumping, he braced one palm into the wall under your arm. The other he cupped under your ass, lifting you just a little. 

You’d never fucked like this, against a wall. Or felt so weightless as pressure revolved through you from below. Your pussy rippled and Namjoon cleaved through it, hushing his moan of enjoyment with face pressed between your breasts. 

Your arms hugged around his head as you forgot the world again. Forgot you’d clocked out. Forgot the parking lot beyond the door at the far end of the hall. 

Skin sweated as Namjoon exhaled more regularly. He was panting as his hips snapped. His length rocked in and out of you. While your limbs were feeling more and more loose, and your head lighter, your core was starting to tighten.

It gave a warning clamp and Namjoon faltered, then growled and turned his face up to you. You’d only seen this kind of intensity in his eyes talking about some topic in class that he was particularly obsessed with. 

But it was amazing to be the focus of that now. To KNOW this was because of YOU. Your body and your sounds. You sex, squeezing Namjoon as he barreled through you effortlessly, shaking you like a leaf in a storm. 

Your body tensed as another warning spasm seized your middle. Your eyes popped open as your arms circled his head tighter. Nearby, a framed painting danced as Namjoon gave a boisterous thrust.

“N..Namjoon” You whined, inhaling his scent. A cologne you’d know anywhere.

The cinnamon hint of his office–where he spent mornings, mid days and some evenings. You’d walked by there too many times, seeing that light on at odd hours or his silhouette darkening the frosted glass beyond, with his name carefully stenciled on one side. 

“Yes…” He hissed. Another deep, aggroed thrust. 

Your shoulders slammed into the wall. The painting danced again. Settled with a lingering sway. 

Bliss washed through your mind, then raced down to your pussy. You knew the rush. The coldness in twin bolts. You were going to cum and it was like falling into a bottomless pit. Stumbling over it on your run away from such daring things. 

Things a good student didn’t do with her professor.

Nails dug in again, this time feeling the hair line running just behind his ear. Namjoon tightened when you dragged flesh with an unabashedly whorish groan bubbling up. 

“C…c…umming..” You rasped before your body melted down into his motion. The strength and stamina Namjoon had allowed him to hold firm, crushing you with his pelvis tightly smashed between your thighs. 

Your belly shuddered as the high faded into uneven clenches. Your eyes rolled, searching through the dark. Picking up things along the way: ambient sounds of footsteps. Laughter. 

Skin prickled under the clinging sections of your top, dampening from sweat. 

Hairs on your arms stood when Namjoon’s head finally came back enough and he gazed at your lips. Taking the time to completely fuck into and out of you, Namjoon was moving again. His head tipped down as he looked up at you from under his lashes. 

His brow dotted. Upper lip too. The sweat droplets stood against his neck. A trickle escaped down into the darkness of his open collar when he swallowed and his length dove into you again. The wall gave more protests: something rattled. Wood popped. 

Another thump. Your eyes widened a little as the pleasure woke inside you again. You felt slick and limp but seeing the way he was so intent. He wasn’t done. 

His teeth set as Namjoon forced words through. “Such a good girl.. What else do you want?” 

He was a man on a mission, asking because there was something he saw in your eyes, that still lingered. A need that wasn’t quenched by one orgasm in a dark hallway. 

When you didn’t answer, Namjoon barked, unconcerned that this wasn't a bedroom somewhere. It was his turn to forget the world and his place in it. 

“Inside me.” Your lips quirked. Teacher's little whore had finally peeked her head out.. And you'd been waiting for this kind of moment most of all.

The steady pace that Namjoon employed before had changed. His upper body fell against you as he exhaled with a moan. His lower body drove harder. Swirling his hips, he drew in a deep breath and chewed his lip to buy more time. Like you, he seemed to know pain was a savior as much as a distraction when precious seconds counted.

Your eye contact only broke when his lids fluttered dangerously slow. 

“God..” Your body jostled, mind dizzy in post orgasmic scramble. “..Say ‘Please’..” He was teasing you, grin half cocked. 

“Please..” You played along, twisting the word breathlessly. Your body bounced harder. So did the frame. This time it was in danger of falling off–you were certain. But you were also as uncaring as you could be. 

Right now it was all about Namjoon’s driving cock. Namjoon, close to you like this. It was YOUR day. 

Your senses swirled, tipping you closer to another orgasm. Your thighs convulsed around his narrow waist. Tightened when he kissed your collarbone. He raked nails down the wall nearby, going quiet with a final, single thrust. 

Your fingers circled his neck as Namjoon arched away from you, joined only where your hips met, his neck muscles as taut as steel cables.

Time passed enough you’d begun to focus again on all the small things that had easily faded into nothingness and the shadows beyond your horny mind and the restaurant’s limited lighting. 

More lights went out from the other end of the hall. Footsteps drew closer. Your eyes and head snapped towards the sound. You gasped, hands sliding to the edges of both Namjoon’s shoulders. It was impressive, how long it took for that to happen. 

There weren’t many boys OR men with shoulders that broad. And the dewy condition of Namjoon’s shirt told you he might have made it look easy, but it WAS work. He was still careful, letting you down onto your feet. 

While he swept fingers under the skirt and sorted things in place, your eyes grew in size, fixed entirely on the darkened doorway at the far end. You could swear you saw movement in the shadows. Shapes of people, about to become tangible, and about to make you the talk of the place.  

“You have to go.” You whispered fervently. 

Namjoon brushed your skirt back over your thighs and reached around the back, doing the same over both cheeks. All things considered you were none the worse for wear.

“We.” 

Namjoon stepped back, one hand outstretched and grin shining. Even with a light layer of sweat on the skin you could see, Namjoon still looked even more delectable than you ever managed. You hadn’t taken any post-sex selfies, but could bet the results wouldn’t look this good.  

“No. YOU… Just…” Your cheeks rushed with warmth and your thighs trembled. You waved a hand when he reached for it.

Namjoon’s frown stilled you but he washed it away with a gentle smile. Like he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps, Namjoon took a step closer. He didn’t have much of a fight, taking your wrist in one large hand this time.

“We..” He intoned with more purpose. This look dared you to defy this time, but you didn’t. Just like you, behind your desk during class hours, waiting. Silent and rapt.

Namjoon tugged you forward, pulling you along as he backed down the hall the other way. Mercifully going towards the door to the parking lot.

His back met the bar across the door and it popped open. The night sky came through the thin slice of the outside work revealed between the door and frame. With it came cool night air that your heat parched skin craved.

Namjoon’s hair rustled in the easy night breeze. He pulled again and you touched the door, feeling the cool metal, skin prickling. 

“I’ll give you a ride back. We’re not quite done, though.” 

“..We’re..not?” At the very least your coat was somewhere back there. You'd have to get that later tonight. Or..god help you, tomorrow morning leaving his place, if the birthday girl in you got ALL her wishes.

“No.” 

Namjoon stepped entirely into the night outside. Cars dotted the lot opening up behind him as his dress shoes crunched over asphalt in another long step back. The night hadn’t been this nice when you’d arrived at the restaurant hours ago. 

“You didn’t drive.” He glanced around and you watched his eyes roving the scenery around. It was hard to tell if he was counting cars, looking for his or just checking for the odd creep lurking past closing time. 

Another weak flutter moved through your walls as you watched his eyes come back and settle on you. When he reached for you this time, he straightened. This was more like the confident man at the front of the classroom. The one you wanted to sit down for… Or even get on your knees. 

“I’ve got a few more things to give you. You like cake? If it were my birthday, I’d be all over it.” 

“I do..”

You didn’t tell him you’d planned on stealing a slice from the kitchen on your way out. It was perfectly acceptable that Namjoon threw a wrench in those plans. 

He nodded and exhaled, throat working. Strong, warm fingers wrapped, all muscle and silk, around your entire palm and held tight. Your hips ached, signaling he’d left his mark. 

“Good. Let’s get that sweet tooth sated, Dolly.”

“Then?” You almost tiptoed towards Namjoon’s looming form in the dark and he only turned when you were about to touch fronts again.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you followed him to the ends of campus, or the ends of the earth. You kind of had a ‘thing’ for this man. And he knew it now, if he’d ever NOT known it. If you thought about it, it’d be embarrassing how transparent it would look from the outside, to anyone else behaving like you’d done. 

“..Then we can talk about more presents. Birthdays aren’t meant to be a one present affair.” 

That was true, but you hadn’t hoped for much beyond an ill-gotten piece of cake or a card from your parents. That was probably waiting in the mail slot at home. ...Anything else was a bonus.

Namjoon was heading towards a particularly sleek looking sedan tucked into the corner most parking spot kitty corner from the back door.

You should have known. You’d seen his car too many times.

Watching him, lounged in the driver seat on cooler mornings, reading through a book, or waiting at the entrance of the campus staff parking as you waited for the crossing sign to change at the nearby intersection.

You had it BAD for him. And he was onto you. And maybe that was the best birthday gift of all. 

Finally you smiled as your fingers found their way around Namjoon’s, winding delicately and squeezing in need. Almost..gratefully. 

“Well then.. Happy birthday to me.” 

[happy74827]

The Devil's Tango

{!!SPOILERS!! SEASON 4 EPISODES 1-6}

[Rhys Montrose x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: A certain professor is not very supportive of your relationship with the mayor-in-running.

WC: 2,741

Warnings: It's You... the show is warning enough.

The amount of people I see begging for an x reader of this man, and that no one had done it yet is actually hilarious. You would think after the first reveal, the whole fandom would jump at the sight of this man.

Though, realistically speaking, it's probably because he's one of those characters that are so hard to get right. Plus the fact that Part 2 didn't help in his favor at all.

I do plan to write more of him, so this is just a little tease if you will.

『••✎••』

“Hello, you.”

You jumped out of instinct, snapping your head towards the hoarse voice behind you. The chalk that you were currently using flew right out of your hand, soaring to hit the shadow that was now in front of you. Before it could hit your mystery stalker in the head, however, swift hands caught it just before impact.

“I… think you dropped this.” The sarcastic tone of an expired New Yorker made your fears fly away as your piece of chalk had. As you turned to meet the familiar brown eyes, you couldn’t help but give a slight smile.

“Oh, Jonathan,” You raised a hand to your chest, letting out chuckles in relief. “You scared me there, I wasn’t expecting anyone to visit at this hour.”

He stood in front of you blankly for a moment, as if someone had hit him with a “time freeze” superpower. You paid no mind to this of course, as it was a typical Jonathan Moore quirk. He clearly was very into his mind.

It almost reminded you of a certain… someone.

Jonathan snapped back to the present in no time with a soft, closed smile forming on his face. Within doing so, he handed you back your murderous chalk, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Oh, no… no it’s totally my fault.” He apologized profusely, nudging his elbow towards the door. “The whole “not knocking” thing seems to be a nasty habit that only I can’t seem to get rid of.”

You nodded along to his apologies, despite already forgiving him the second you saw the familiar curls that fell down his forehead. It was pretty hard to hate the man that shared the same passion for poetry and was one of the professors that was teaching the same subject as you had.

“So, Jonathan,” you started, moving to lean your back against your desk. Your daily planner was down by your hips, along with the chalk. “What brings you to my classroom? Are you looking for some new recommendations?”

His face slightly faltered to the point where no normal, unobservant eye could witness it. The lip quiver, the slight wobbling of his left leg… they were all telltale signs of compressed emotions that an average joe wouldn’t think twice about — specifically, those who only knew the person on a surface level.

That wasn’t you, of course. You were observant to the point where it annoyed you. The constant paranoia that followed everyone’s movements practically ate you alive.

After a heap of silence, Jonathan sighed with his head facing downwards, his dark chocolate eyes refusing to look at you.

“It’s about Rhys Montrose.”

Your eyebrow raised in confusion at his words, your hands subconsciously resting on the desk, with your planner and chalk beside you. It was now you who had that blank daze.

“I…” You were absolutely speechless to the point where you could feel your jaw drop slightly. Jonathan knew Rhys? You’ve of course mentioned your relationship with Rhys to Jonathan himself, but you had no idea they had actually met. Honestly, you were still having a hard time believing that the nerd had met Lady Phoebe.

You straightened yourself, using your arms as leverage, as you looked at him with furrowed brows. “With how busy he constantly is now, I wasn’t even aware-“

“He’s not what you think he is.” Jonathan cut you off, his eyes shooting you to meet with yours. They were full of… worry?

“Jonathan, what are you—?“

His hands reached out to your shoulders, his body encasing you between himself and your desk. With every step he took closer to you, the more your eyes widened with confusion.

“You don’t know him, not like you think you do,” Jonathan whispered, “He’s a danger to society.”

You pulled his arms off of you, completely shocked by his tone. His phone buzzed as you looked at him bewildered, but he ignored his new text message. All he was focused on was you, just you.

“A danger to society? Jonathan, he’s just running for mayor.” You scoffed, turning back your attention to the chalkboard from before the librarian arrived. “You know, I didn’t take you for a man that’s into politics.”

“It’s not about fucking politics!” His hands slammed down on your desk. It caused you to jump, turning back towards the man only to find him mere inches from your face.

You tried to back away, but he pulled you right back in. “Jonathan—“

“You’re not listening!” His hands grabbed at your arms, his eyes darkened underneath the light you both stood under. “Rhys is a danger to society, he’s a danger to you.”

Jonathan continued to shake you and yell words into your ears, but everything around you went mute. The slightly muffled conversations from students down the hallways were silenced. You saw Jonathan’s lips moving, frantically, but you couldn’t hear. You didn’t want to hear.

“Jonathan, I think you need to leave.” You muttered to him coldly. It was a tone that would get anyone to stop and think, and he did just that. He paused, and it was then you gathered your strength and shoved him off of you for the final time. He stopped abruptly, his eyes questioning you.

He begged and pleaded with you to hear him out, but you refused. You refused to even glance in his direction. You were rarely an angry person, you usually kept it bottled up to come out in soft rants, but you were afraid if you said another word to Jonathan, you might just go ballistic to the point where you’d risk losing your valuable job, something you couldn’t afford to lose.

So, you told him to get out of your classroom once again and eventually he was forced to listen. He left when your familiar, upbeat students came pouring in one by one.

Despite the almost psychotic break dearest Jonathan had beforehand, class had gone rather smoothly for you. The students actually engaged with one another and focused completely on the short story at hand.

Not once had they gone off-topic. Then, of course, the devil shows up with a knock at your door, disrupting everything. It was one of the things you’ve hated the most, as you found it terribly rude, but your forgiving nature came into play when you realized it wasn’t the man you believed it to be. When you turned your head, it was Rhys who stood there with his hands crossed against his chest. He wore his signature suit and tie, which both complemented his figure and his eyes.

You gave him a slight smile in return, but the look he gave - the blue eyes devouring yours - had you following him outside the classroom rather immediately. You trusted your students enough to behave themselves.

Once outside the view of your students, Rhys gingerly wrapped his hand around your arm, guiding you to a secluded spot in the hallway that was sure not to draw attention. With Montrose's face being blasted everywhere as the mayor-in-running, it was hard finding privacy in public.

You were about to ask what it was that had him so upset to the point where he chased you down at work, but he beat you to it.

"Hello, darling," Rhys's voice sounded almost strained, tired even. It had been a while since you last saw him, not to mention that his friend Gemma had just recently become another victim of that so-called "Eat-The-Rich Killer," though Rhys had "admitted" that she wasn't his friend. If you recalled, he used the words, "Oh, piss off, you manky hypocrite" when he had last spoken with her. Still, the bags under his eyes suggested that he hadn't slept much the night before.

"Ah, nice to see you haven't changed your habits." Rhys covered his tiredness with a knowing smile as he gently leaned down to kiss the top of your head. "Maybe a psychology degree would be a better fit for you."

"Sorry," you apologized, looking slightly down. "It's just... not that I'm not glad to see that you're back, I really am, but are you okay? You look like you haven't slept for days, and you usually don't drop by the university unless there's a problem."

Rhys licked his lips, letting out a breathy laugh as he raised his hands to his hips. The tiredness in his eyes went away for a moment, resulting in him staring at you amusingly. A look that only took you a few seconds to realize you'd analyzed him once again.

You couldn't help but internally groan at yourself, but he only shot you another charming smile. It was one so enchanting that it made you swoon at the sight.

However, he eventually dropped that smile and sighed, caving into your concerns.

"I've had a long week," he confessed to you. "Oddly enough, I couldn't work my usual charm to get through to some... certain people, but I'm optimistic. Nothing a little persuasion won't fix."

"Me too, it's been a crazy morning." You agreed with a sigh. The incident with Jonathan within the previous hour was still fresh in your mind, haunting you to your core.

You never felt threatened by Jonathan, but as you recollected the scene, his body towering over yours with the desk blocking you from escaping. His arms held you, keeping you captive as he screamed about the man - the man who you loved with all your heart - wasn't the man you knew. That he was a façade, dishonest... an apparent danger to you.

Of course, you didn't believe Jonathan. You trusted Rhys with your life, but nothing about what Jonathan said sat right with you. He couldn't have known Rhys for more than six months, so why did he act as if he knew him better than you...

Rhys whispered your name, calling you back to face him. He was closer to you than he was before, with eyes that held his growing concern. As his hands gingerly reached out to caress your shoulders, you wanted to tease him about how he was now the observer, but you stayed quiet.

He didn't like that.

"Darling, what is it?" he pushed softly, his accent adding gentleness to his tone, "What happened?"

"It was… really odd," you muttered, your mind flicking back to your classroom, the way Jonathan's hands slammed down on the desk with sudden rage, how badly it made your heart skip a beat. "My coworker, Jonathan, he—"

Rhys cut you off. "You said, Jonathan?"

"Yes," you nodded.

"As in… Jonathan Moore?”

Huh, it seemed Jonathan wasn't lying to you about it after all. They really do know each other. The more you thought about it, however, made you wonder why Rhys never told you about him. He must have known you both worked in the same building.

You nodded to his question once again, lowering your eyes down toward the glassy floor beneath you. You didn't have to look at Rhys to know he was listening intently.

"Usually, Jonathan comes in to give or receive book recommendations, but today he was acting… really off," you glanced back up at him, as you began to quiver. "He was stating things about you, and shouting at me, and I… I don't know. It really threw me in for a loop."

Rhys' head snapped up at you like a lightning strike. His eyes no longer contained the concern he had held before. They darkened, as well as his voice.

"What did he say to you?"

"Something about how you were a danger to society, and apparently a danger to me," you shivered at the memory. "He shouted a lot of things really, but I canceled out the majority of them and threw him out, metaphorically of course."

Rhys mumbled under his breath. Unfortunately, it was something you couldn't quite pick up on. The only thing you could do was watch as he sucked on his tongue, making a face as though he was eating sour candy, before glancing up to meet your eyes again.

You stayed quiet, observing his newfound attitude. His jaw was clenched, with arms shifting towards the wall to encase you within them before letting his head fall and lean into you. He practically did what Jonathan did but with the wall instead of your desk, and despite the similarities, you weren't scared of Rhys. His eyes fluttered closed with his — now loosened tie — dangling out in front of you. His lips were only inches away from the base of your neck, and you couldn't help but take in his signature scent of grounded coffee grinds.

"Rhys," you whispered softly towards him, ruffling up his short hair slightly. He let out another sigh that unclenched his jaw and pushed himself closer to you. You couldn't help but notice how relieved he now seemed, letting out gentle, smooth huffs of air to take in the moment.

Unfortunately, as much as you'd like to stay like this — being you haven't had him for a week — you still had a class to teach. Regrettably, you forced yourself to peel away from his arms, whispering short apologies and promises to see him later.

You didn't look back as you retreated back to your classroom. Upon returning to your desk, you turned to see that every single one of your students either gave you a smirk or a knowing nod, and you couldn't help but threaten them with a pop quiz that you were positive they weren't prepared for. As expected, it shut them right the hell up.

Ah, the power of being a professor.

———

When Jonathan arrived home that night with his now empty red takeout bag, he couldn’t help but sense the feeling that he was being watched. His feeling turned out to be correct when he went to unlock the door of his apartment, only to find it already unlocked.

The professor froze momentarily, hesitating whether he should enter unarmed or retrieve a nearby weapon. But being in sight of absolutely nothing, he had no choice but to grudgingly step inside.

As expected, when closing the door behind him, the lights of his living room flickered on and within the light revealed the man he most desperately wanted to kill.

The unwelcome man sat on his chair like he owned the place. A martini resided in his hand as he gave a sarcastic smile. The yellow light mixed in with the fiery flames of the fireplace reflected the same unnerving expression.

“Hello, Professor Moore,” the man spoke with amusement as he turned to face the bearded killer. His accent had the falsified name rolled off in a tease.

The owner rolled his eyes as he dropped the bag he held down at his feet. His keys were put safely back into his pocket. He should’ve known this would happen.

“Despite how much I would love to carve out your marvelous attractive eyes,” the man stood up, swirling the drink in his hand as he approached the professor. “I have to admit, Joe, I underestimated your intelligence. I knew you were smart, since the very beginning mind you, but this was just… impressive.”

Joe ground his teeth. “What do you want with me, Rhys? Why are you even here?”

“Two things, really,” Rhys smacked his lips together, nodding his head as he looked down for dramatic effect. When he glanced back up at the professor, his amusing smile was gone. His hand stopped swirling the martini, keeping it eerily still, and his eyes darkened almost instantly.

“Remember what we talked about, Joe, with the replacement. I want it done within twenty-four hours. If not, as I said earlier, you’ll be going down for everything.”

Joe’s breath hitched as Rhys stalked closer to his body. The piercing blue eyes caused the professor to freeze in his thoughts, forcing him to watch for Rhys’ unpredictability.

“And if you ever come near my girl again,” his voice was ghostly, sending chills throughout Joe’s entire body. “I’ll be the one who throws your ass in the cage.”

As if he were a light switch, Rhys pulled his lips into a grin within seconds. In a calm manner, he forced his half-sipped martini into the professor’s hands before seeking himself out.

For the first time in a long time, Joe Goldberg felt uneasy.

*Rhys x reader being nonexistent on Tumblr*

Me:

[suhnandmoon]

if this happened any earlier to me i can guarantee you it wouldve make it in meet me in elwynn

[legally-lupin]

Full moon- prof! Remus Lupin x student! Fem Reader

Reader is of age!!! Afab reader

Summary: when a walk in the forbidden forest goes terribly wrong

It was a wonderful night the full moon was out and nearly every star in the sky was present. y/n decided not to spend it in her dorm. She crept her way out passing portraits and teachers until she made it safely out of the castle. A blanket in hand as well as her art supplies. Why waste this beautiful night when you can paint it?.

With a wand in hand incase things goes south y/n found the perfect place on top of a hill. Where the floor was covered in tree roots and only one flat piece of land for her to sit. She scouted the area before setting up. It had a perfect view of the castle.

The girl too emerged in her painting to acknowledge what was happening behind her. A snap of a wood branch was enough to pull her out of her trance. She wiped around to be met with a werewolf. Her eyes widened as she dropped her equipment in shock.

The grey wolf stared at the girl with familiarity. It whined as if it’s in pain as it took another step to the student. Y/n breathing became rapid as she backed up. Her back hitting her canvas making it fall over

“Dam it” she hissed pointing her wand at the creature who continued to whine as if it was communicating. Without thinking y/n made a run for it. She weaved through the forest the wolf tailed behind her snarling. Y/n looked behind her to see the wolf had disappeared until she looked in front of her. It’s big teeth the only thing she sees before everything turned black.

Professor Snape was patrolling the grounds when he heard a shrilling scream coming from the forest. He knew that scream.

He followed the echos of the scream until he found his student all alone on the forest floor bloodied and beat up. He quickly scooped her up and ran her straight to Madame Pomfrey who healed her.

It took 2 days for y/n to come back to her senses. When she woke she was met with instant pain.

“Oh good your awake. How do you feel?” Madame Pomfrey was by her side in an instant assessing her

“What happened?” The girl croaked looking around

“I don’t know what compelled you to go into the forest alone! At night! But it was a very close call. Your very lucky professor snape heard you and brought you here. You was attacked we are unsure w-

“The wolf” the girl gasped

“What was that dear?”

“A werewolf approached me when I was painting but I don’t remember what happened after that” her eyebrows scrunched together on confusion

“Your all healed up except for one which going to scar. It’s right on the bridge of your nose but don’t worry if wont be that noticeable” the older woman patted the young girls shoulders handing her a bouquet of your favourite flowers

“Someone left these for you” the healer gave a warm smile before exiting the room.

A note was attached to the flowers:

My dearest y/n

I am so sorry for what happened to you. What I did to you. I tried to fight it. I really did try but it was stronger than I. I know these flowers aren’t enough and I’ll do my best to make it right. And hope you’ll forgive me.

R x

Who could R be? Y/n had no idea. But whoever this person was they were also a lycanthrope.

Two long nights past when y/n became strong enough to attend her lessons. She had to use a cane to be able to walk. She was late to her first class but professor snape was understanding

“Ah y/n very glad to see your doing well” the professor gave a small smile which turned into confusion as the girl handed him a green box

“And what is this?” The girl hugged the man. The class was shocked to see the professor hug her back

“It’s not much as I don’t know how to repay you for saving my life but thank you so much” y/n softly said before making her a way to an empty seat next to Draco Malfoy.

“Glad to see your ok y/n” pansy said smiling

“That cut makes you look even hotter!” mattheo smirked touching it you pulled away hissing from pain

“Yeah, what happened to you?” Draco said y/n gave a brief story to the group she repositioned hissing as she felt a sting. Her friends looked at her as the girl leant on Mattheo for support which he placed an arm around her waist to hold her.

“Are you sure your ok?” Draco asked in concern

“Yh I’m fine just need to stretch my legs” she rested her head on Mattheos shoulder the whole lesson which he offered.

“Y/n let me help you to our next class” Mattheo offered before she can say anything he took her bag and placed a hand on her waist whilst your friends walked along side you.

When you arrived at DADA professor lupin was already there writing tasks on the board.

“Sorry we’re a little late professor we was making sure y/n got here safely” Mattheo spoke walking you to your table and taking your partners seat. You watched your teacher freeze at the sound of your name.

“Oh no worries mr.riddle. Y/n I’m glad your alright” the teacher spun around after he finished writing. He had fresh cuts on his face and he looked pale almost corpse like

“Thankyou professor lupin. If it wasn’t for professor snape. I wouldn’t be here” You watch as your teacher gulped hard his Adam's apple twitching as he weakly smiled

“We are so glad you are alright” he sat at the front of the class marking students' papers.

As you got on with your work. Snippets of that night flashed through your brain. The eyes of the werewolf and the blood on your hands. You didn’t realise you started to have a panic attack. The air thinning as you tried to breathe. Remus noticed this and ran straight to you

“It’s ok. Your ok breathe for me. In … and out. Y/n come with me ok” you didn’t respond as you were moved to the professors office he sat you done on a big arm chair and rubbed your arms.

“Sweetheart. Listen to my voice ok” your eyes frantically looked around the room before meeting his

“Y/n I want you to focus ok. Tell me five things you can see”

“Y-y-your r-record player, b-books, chocolate, tea cup and you” your breathing started to regulate as you focused

“Ok good now four things you can touch”

“Your j-jumper, this chair, the floor and my hair” as you calmed down you stared at the man in front of you all teary eyed.

“Brilliant we gonna keep doing this ok? Three things you can hear?” The older man smiled softly

“My class, the rain and you”

“Ok now two things you can smell” a small smile met your lips

“Chocolate and parchment paper” the man’s hands rubbed up and down your arms comfortingly

“And now one thing you can taste”

“Blood” the man’s eyes widened as he saw the blood on your lip

“Oh Merlin here” he patted your lip down with a napkin

“ I have something to confess y/n” lupin sighed as he kneeled infront of you.

“I was the one who hurt you that night, I tried to fight it I wanted nothing more then you to be safe but he was stronger that night. I’m so sorry I couldn’t forgive my self” he wrapped his arms around you

“Wait. Your a lycanthrope?” She watched the teacher nod as he stood handing her a small box of chocolate

“Yes and I made a mistake on that night by forgetting to take my wolf's bane potion. And I never wanted to hurt you. You know that right?” he placed a large hand on the girls cheek

“Of course sir but does that mean I will be one as well?” A light blush tinted her cheeks as she smiled nervously

“No no, luckily the cut wasn't deep enough for you to get it but I don't think I would forgive myself if that happened” Remus sighed looking down

“Hey, I forgive you. I know you didn't do it on purpose and it's my fault for going out so late to paint” her small hands held his face as she spoke

“And I've got a cool scar that makes me look hotter as Mattheo says” she laughed

“Here I uh found this in the forest” he handed you the unfinished painting making you gasp

“Thank you so much sir” the girl hugged Remus tightly he wrapped her up in his arms placing a kiss on her head

“I will never hurt you ok?” The girl nodded still embraced in the hug

“come on then. If you have any questions at all just ask” Remus said as he helped her back to her desk she nodded as a response thanking him

[gurugirl]

Bad Morning

professor!harry x professor!y/n

A/N: Started writing this a few days ago and then I got a request just now that just went so well with what I was already writing and this pic is giving these vibes so... here is the result. + a little background if you're interested.

Summary: You run late to an important meeting with your colleagues and Professor Styles decides to punish you.

Word Count: 3650

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, spanking with a paddle, slight degradation, punishment, barely proofread

It really had been just a shitty morning all around. Your alarm went off on time but in your half haze of sleep, you shut it off instead of snoozing it and so when you finally did bolt out of your bed to get ready you knew you’d be late for your meeting.

You didn’t even have time to button up your shirt properly. Running to your car carrying your bags in one arm with your mug of coffee in your free hand sloshing all over the ground and a toothbrush stuck in your mouth you knew you looked like a maniac.

Speeding down the street to get to the university (you were lucky it was only a 15-minute drive) you found a hair elastic to pull your strands into a bun the moment you parked. You’d barely touched your coffee, well, most of it was on your skirt, and your toothbrush fell into the floorboard below your feet when you opened your mouth to curse at the slow driver in front of you.

Parking in the closest spot you could find you quickly smoothed your hair down and tied it back with the elastic, thankful that you’d even found one, and grabbed your bags before running at full speed to enter the building and run through the hallways toward the science labs where Mr. Styles and the rest of the science and tech professors were likely waiting for you.

Today was a big day. You would be settling on a plan for the range of your experiments and choosing which students to bring along the following week to the energy conversion laboratory in Colorado.

 “Ms. Y/L/N. How nice of you to finally join us.”

You rolled your eyes as you quickly sat down on the floor, dropping your bags down before you crossed your legs and raised your brows at your devastatingly handsome colleague, “Sorry. Bad morning.” Was all you could say as you dug your notebook out. You hated how attractive he was. That you noticed how well-built he was and how he carried himself like he owned everything around him. And as much as you hated it (mostly because he was such a dick) you often imagined him taking you into his office out of nowhere. Spanking you and spitting dirty words into your ears. You even imagined him slapping you with those ringed fingers and fucking you with what you were sure was a nice big cock.

Professor Harry Styles was quite intimidating, though. You and all the staff thought so. He wasn’t unreasonable but he was very strict. Your teaching and working style was totally opposite of his but since you were both in the same department, your paths crossed often. Daily. Which meant you had plenty of fodder for yourself late at night when you were alone.

You shook your head at your dirty thoughts.

You and the other science and tech professors were in the process of planning a huge trip to a specialty lab your university didn’t have. It would be a costly trip and the school was footing most of the bill after raising close to a quarter of a million dollars for the “excursion”.

Everyone spoke in turn with their ideas and shared which of their students they’d like to bring. Each professor would choose two students (of those who volunteered to take part in the trip and experiment).

You’d selected your two and then offered an idea about coordinating schedules for the experiments and taking turns. You opened your notebook and explained your thoughts based on the notes you’d taken, “So, then on the third day, the third group can follow the timeline we set in place for group number 1–“ you continued to rattle off timelines, and looked up at Harry who did not appear impressed by you at all. In fact, his glare had you forgetting for a moment where you were going with what you were saying and you paused briefly before finally finishing your thought.

The entire meeting went like that. Glares from the head science professor aimed at you, making you feel tiny and unwelcome. You were a new professor but you’d earned your spot and you weren’t going to let him intimidate you (except for in your fantasies). You’d apologized for being tardy and while it was unfortunate that you’d showed up nearly thirty minutes late to a very important scheduled meeting, what was done was done. You couldn’t go back in time and have a redo. Though, you wished you could.

Everyone stood up when Harry clapped his big hands together and indicated that the meeting was over. You had no classes that day, as it was Saturday (another reason you’d slept through your alarm because you’d been out the night before).

You stuffed your notebooks into your bags and stood up, pushing your glasses back up to the bridge of your nose after they’d slipped the tiniest bit. You also hadn’t had time to put your contacts in. Obviously.

And just as you were about to make a beeline for the door and get out of there before anyone could talk to you, you were stopped in your tracks when you heard the low baritone of Harry calmly speaking your name.

You turned to look behind you at the tall man and realized he was dressed quite casually in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt that said I love you, the love being a red heart balloon. It was cute. And it almost made him less intimidating. Almost.

“Yes, Harry.” You addressed him by his first name the way he had just addressed you by yours as you turned to face him. He was already taking long-legged strides toward you, his face set in a serious expression, just as it had been for the duration of the meeting.

You stood in your spot as three teachers left the room and Harry stood over you, “Come to my office.”

That was all he said. And it wasn’t a question, but rather a command, which honestly you were used to with him by that point.

Harry had been at the university for quite some time. His office was one of the nicer and bigger ones. You’d seen it before in passing but had never stepped in until that day.

“You were late today,” Harry spoke as he closed his door behind him and then made his way across his office toward you. He sat at the edge of his desk and crossed his ankles together.

“Yeah, I know.” You scoffed. What was he playing at?

“Care to explain to me why you were so late to such an important group meeting?”

You blinked your eyes and began to sit in one of the chairs he had in front of his desk but he stood quickly and grasped your elbow, “I didn’t say you could sit.”

You looked down to where he was touching your arm and back to his face, “What are you doing?”

Harry pulled you to stand facing his desk and brought your arm down so your palm was flat on his desk, “Teaching you a lesson. If you want to survive being a professor at this university you need to learn discipline and respect.”

You turned to watch him as he stood behind you. You honestly were so confused by what was happening but when you looked at his eyes and noticed that he was dragging his gaze down your backside you stood up straight and removed your palm from the desk, “Mr. Styles! You are out of line. I was late, yes, but–“

He stepped in toward you, pressing his chest to your back, grasping your wrists, and making you place your palms back down onto the wood, “Do not move, Y/N. Not until I tell you to.”

He moved away from you and circled his desk to face you, opening a drawer with a key as he spoke, “We both know you have an attitude that needs fixing.”

You were suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed as your breaths deepened. Everything that was happening was straight out of your fantasy. It was as if you were writing this whole scene out from start to finish. You wondered where this was going. You were curious what he would do next.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open as you watched him lay a paddle across his desk in front of you.

“Couldn’t even dress yourself properly. Look at you,” he gestured to your haphazard buttoning job and you realized your bra was exposed as you looked down over yourself. You laughed and looked back up at him but his face was not amused.

“I was in a hurry. I’m sorry if this offends–“

“Please stop talking.” He lifted the paddle up and rounded his desk to stand behind you.

The sudden awareness of what was going on had your skin pimpling with goosebumps. You were wearing a knee-length skirt and realized that all he had to do was lift it to expose your bottom to him. Your white panties covered your bum but it wouldn’t be hard for him to paddle you right through the thin material.

As your thoughts grew lewder about what was coming and what Mr. Styles would do you squished your thighs together and adjusted your palms as you turned to look over your shoulder at the professor.

“I’m going to give you 30 paddles to your bottom. One for every minute you were late. How does that sound for a punishment?”

You inhaled deeply and looked down at the leather-wrapped paddle and back to his eyes. It was wild that he’d even suggest it all. And so casually too? But of course, you understood that he was asking permission. Perhaps this was the beginning of some sort of thing you and he would have in secret.

You nodded slowly, “Yes, professor. I think that’s fair.” You gulped down your saliva. You had never been spanked with a paddle before so you hoped saying yes was the right choice.

Harry grunted as he let his eyes drop to your ass and when you felt him pull at your skirt and lift it up ward you held your breath and closed your eyes, turning to face his desk again.

But the small little groan you heard from behind you had your eyes popping open. It sounded like the groan of a man who was turned on. Frustrated. You sure hoped that was the case.

“Can you keep quiet like a good girl?” His dark tone was pinched as you felt his warm hand brush over your ass before pushing the material of your skirt up to your waist.

“Yes, sir.”

The shuttered breath he let out as he groped your ass, palming at the material of your panties had your heart thumping hard under your ribs. He was enjoying this.

“Good.”

The suddenness of the first hit had you rocking forward quickly and yelping. You hadn’t been prepared for it. You’d been spanked with bare hands before. Not with a paddle.

“Shh… said you could be a good girl for me. One more outburst and I’ll stuff these panties into your mouth.”

You didn’t know why but that idea had you moaning softly and rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

The next strike you were prepared for. You gritted your teeth and panted as he brought it down again on the other side, “That’s three. From now on, I need you to count for me. Keep track so I don’t. have to.”

You breathed out heavily and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

4, 5, 6, 7… All within range of you being able to tolerate the pain and keep your little noises in.

But 8? For some reason 8 came down especially hard and stung like a mother fucker so you gasped and cried out loudly.

The paddle was suddenly placed on the desk next to your hand and you tilted your head to look at your colleague as he met your eyes. Blown-out pupils and puffy, bitten lips. He looked like sex. He’d always looked like sex but in that moment…

“Tell me what happens when you can’t keep quiet.” He leaned over you, one palm down on the desk, his other smoothing over the cotton of your panties softly.

You gulped hard and blinked the tiny bit of tears away that had formed in your eyes, “You said you’d stuff my panties into my mouth.”

“S’right. At least you know how to listen. Too bad you don’t know how to keep quiet.”

You nodded, “I’m sorry, sir.” You really didn’t want him to stop. It hurt but you loved the way it felt to have this man standing over you and spanking you. Watching you. Enjoying the view he had of you.

“So what should I do, then?”

You gasped when you felt his thumb push under the elastic of your panties and slip over your bottom, “Take my panties off and put them into my mouth. Like you said.”

Harry’s lips turned up into a sinister grin and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip before he nodded and moved behind you, both hands now in the elastic of your cotton panties as he dragged them down your thighs.

You felt him pause his motions and once your ass was fully bare to him. You were sure with the way you were leaned over his desk that he could see your pussy too.

“Fuck…” his words were whispered into the room before he gently tugged your panties the rest of the way down your legs and you stepped, one foot at a time to have them removed completely.

When his hands found your bottom you felt him massage your cheeks and suck in a sharp breath, “You okay?”

It was the first time he sounded as if he were truly concerned about you. Perhaps he could see the marks he’d given you with the paddle. Or maybe it was just that you were so exposed to him in that moment.

“Yes, sir. I’m fine.” Your voice was a little shaky. You were on edge completely. You’d be thinking about this tonight for sure, and for many nights to come. But you still hadn’t determined if it was even really happening.

Harry leaned over you and you felt the cloth of his pants brush against your ass, “Mrs. Y/L/N, you are absolutely soaked. Did you know that? Had to be careful pulling your wet panties down your legs and now looking between your thighs I can see how much you are enjoying this. Not much of a punishment is it?”

His deep voice traveled down the shell of your ear and to your neck as you softly moaned and shook your head, “No. It’s not much of a punishment. I like it.”

You heard him chuckle before lifting your messy panties up to your face, “Open.”

You complied as he shoved the cotton into your mouth and then returned to his position behind you.

“Since you can’t count for me anymore I’m going to do it for you now.”

The 9th swat came down and the sting of the paddle against your bare bottom made you yelp out, though it was nice and muffled just as Harry had hoped.

The progression of each of his swats only made you drippier and pushed you further away from reality. And as he counted, the higher the numbers rose, you could hear the lust and pain in his voice. He was putting himself on edge by just watching you squirm and get wetter and wetter between your thighs.

At number 21 you didn’t know what you were doing anymore. You needed to end your misery. Without much of a thought in your brain (you were hardly able to connect your thoughts together by that point) you removed one hand from the desk as you leaned forward further over the wood and spread your legs before you began rubbing your clit.

Harry stopped quickly and you heard the clunk of the paddle fall to the floor and then his hand was grasping your wrist, yanking it away from your pussy, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You felt fuzzy and so far beyond caring about anything but coming you moaned in muffled words as you tried to speak through your panties. You could barely open your eyes as you felt his hand on your chin to turn your face toward him.

“You are dirty, aren’t you? Naughty, dirty, disrespectful professor,” Harry pulled the panties from your mouth and you gasped softly, drool falling from your mouth over his hand that remained at your jaw.

“Is there no punishment that will set you right?”

His own face was flushed and his eyelids were heavy with lust.

You thought about his question but you had no answer for him. You couldn’t put your thoughts together to form a sentence even if you wanted to. You moaned and reached a hand for his forearm as you turned your body toward his, causing your skirt to fall and cover your bits.

Harry pulled you in close and pressed your bottom into his desk, spreading your legs and lifting your skirt back up to expose you to him. He kept his eyes on yours as he used his free hand to softly swipe at the damp skin just next to your pussy. You bucked your hips into his hand and he laughed, “And desperate too.”

The hand he had at your jaw smushed your cheeks together harshly, “And because I’ve been so good I think I deserve a treat. Don’t you?”

You moaned again and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

He grunted as he moved his hand from your face and began to unbuckle his pants. You looked down to where his cock was clearly engorged and pushing against the material of his pants, He got his zipper down and found his way back between your thighs, pushing you down flat to your back, “Can I have a treat?” He thumbed at your clit as he looked into your eyes and you nodded, “Yes. Please.”

“You sure? Because I have something very specific in mind. Want to know what it is?”

Nodding your head you reached for the collar of his t-shirt and pleaded with him, “I want to know. Please…” you hoped he’d fuck you. Hoped he’d rail you right on his desk just as you often imagined him doing.

He laughed darkly as he pulled his briefs down and his cock came in your view. He began stroking himself right over you, using his foreskin to pump his cock quickly and upward over his tip, repeatedly yanking and pulling as he looked from your pussy to your face, “This is my treat. Gonna fuck my fist and come all over your pussy.”

You watched in awe. His long cock and his fist jerking himself was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You groaned and bucked your hips upward, “Please, Harry…” you whined.

Harry had one palm flat on the desk as he kept himself angled over you, his cock above your pussy, so close but not close enough for your liking. You wanted him inside of you.

He laughed as he continued pulling at his shaft and he began to pant his next words, “Not gonna fuck you because that would be a nice treat for you too. And you’ve been naughty, Y/n. So you don’t get my cock.”

You scrunched your brows together with a pout and brought your own hand down to your clit and moaned. Harry gasped as he neared his end but slowed his pumping as he slapped your hand away from your pussy, “You don’t get to come. This is your punishment,” he grunted as he got back to fucking himself with his fist.

You watched in awe as he began to slightly tremble and his soft moans got more frequent.

And just as you heard him cough out one loud moan you knew he was coming before you even felt the first drop of come spurt over your pussy. You took the moment to swipe his come up and your arousal and lift your fingers to his mouth, shoving your digits past his lips as he poured his hot sperm all over your wet pussy and down your thighs.

You moaned as he wrapped his mouth around your fingers, his palm still milking his cock, draining everything he had all over your labia. You felt his come drip down past your entrance and to your bum as he licked and sucked your fingers.

You’d never seen anything more erotic in your life. You wanted to come too but to watch him come on your pussy as he sucked on your fingers was worth it.

When he’d finally emptied everything he had he let go of his dick and you pulled your fingers from his mouth with a smirk on your face.

He pulled his pants back up and looked at the mess he’d made, “Guess you’re gonna have to go home and clean that up aren’t you?”

You sat up and watched him as he lifted your panties up and handed them to you, “Was thinking I’d just run to the bathroom first–“ “No. I want my come smeared all over your pussy and those panties full of your spit and your arousal. Want to know you had to sit in traffic all dirty and desperate.”

You scoffed but began to pull the panties up your legs anyway.

When you stood up and turned to look at the professor he was tucking his laptop into his bag, his eyes already on you, “Maybe next time, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come.”

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[simp-pluto]

Favorite trope in fica

[avatar-anna]

Ithink the first time professor interrupts one of harry’s workout sessions, she definitely gets all blushy and bashful, and he definitely notices and loves it.// can you make it a blurb pleaseee with harry teasing prof about oggling him, only if you're comfy with that?? thanks!!

Let's Get Physical

The Professor Series

You didn't know how he did it.

Here you were, body bent over as you heaved—even though you knew it would be easier to get air in your lungs if you stood up straight—hair falling out of your ponytail and sticking to your sweaty cheeks, which were probably an angry shade of red. Your legs had been the consistency of jello twenty minutes ago, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to walk back to the car without falling over or passing out or both.

In other words, you were an absolute disaster.

Turning your head to the side, you looked at your boyfriend, who had broken a sweat but otherwise looked almost exactly the same as when he woke up this morning and suggested you go on this infernal run with him. He looked better even. His sleeveless shirt revealed muscles that were glistening with sweat, and when he lifted the hem to wipe his brow, your eyes zeroed in on his stomach, the butterfly tattoo, the trail of hair that led down to—

And now your face was red for a completely different reason.

"You okay down there?"

You rested wobbly arms on your hips and slowly straightened to look Harry in the eye. "No."

Harry grinned, clearly amused by your disheveled appearance. He looked too good for someone who just went on a run. You knew how you felt on the inside, which probably translated pretty well to how you looked physically, and Harry was just standing there fresh as a daisy.

Running. In the morning. You'd never been much of a morning person, but you were definitely not the type to exercise regularly. You got your fix by riding your bike around, and you made sure you got your steps in at work, but physical exertion? On purpose? And once again, in the morning? Absolutely not.

The things you did for love.

"You did really well," Harry said, stretching his arms above his head as he did so. While his head was tilted up, you couldn't help but stare, your mouth hanging open slightly.

You'd never been the type of person who based your affection for someone solely on looks. You valued relationships of the mind, being with someone who could somewhat keep up with you when you spoke to them. Harry was one hundred percent that person, but right now the only words that came to mind were two that you overheard your students using a few weeks ago: stupid hot.

"My whole body hurts," you managed to say, unable to keep the slight whine out of your voice. "I'm overheating, I probably have blisters, and these shorts are riding up my ass. Meanwhile, you look like one of the marble statues in the Classics Department—it's unfair."

You could tell Harry was trying to hold back a laugh as he digested your mini rant. You didn't mean for all of that to come out, but you were tired, and maybe a little delirious. He was making you delirious. You knew Harry was handsome, you saw him nearly every day, but something about his post workout appearance was putting you on edge. How his shorts weren't driving you crazy was also plaguing your mind, but mostly it was the overall look of him that had you at a loss for words.

"I think there was a compliment in there somewhere, so thank you," he said. When all you did was huff and glare at him, he took a couple steps closer to you. "I know those red cheeks of yours are from more than just the run. I can see right through your huffing and puffing, darling."

Your heart fluttered even more at the way his breath tickled your ear, but you were still cross with him for getting you out of bed to go on this run in the first place. Your perfectly soft bed in your temperature controlled bedroom. His teasing was noted and not appreciated.

"You're so—"

"Sexy? Devastatingly handsome? Hot?"

"Yes—No—Don't put words in my mouth!"

Harry's grin was smug as he said, "Doctor Y/l/n, are you getting a little hot?"

"I've been hot, that's what I've been trying to say! And you—you're not helping!"

He finally did let out a laugh then before leaning over and kissing your cheek. "Let's get you home."

"Please," you said gratefully, wanting to launch yourself at him the minute you returned and lie down and never get back up at the same time. Cardio had never really been your thing, but for some reason you let Harry pull you out of bed way before you should've been awake. Why you'd gotten up before your alarm at all was a mystery, but here you were, and now you were wondering if you'd ever catch your breath.

With Harry looking the way you did, you didn't think that outcome was likely.

You settled for holding Harry's hand as you walked back to his car, putting all your focus into not tripping over your feet. Your heart finally stopped beating wildly in your chest, which was a nice feeling, though now you were aware of all the sweat—on your back, your hair, your arms and legs. There was simply no way people actually endured this kind of physical exertion for fun.

"I love you, but I don't think I'll be joining you again," you said as you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car. Once he was in and had his seatbelt on, you rested your head on his shoulder. "I don't think I'll be doing anything ever again."

"You could've stayed home," Harry said, resting a hand on your knee as he peeled onto the street. "Don't get me wrong, I love seeing you all hot and bothered—"

"Shut up," you said, moving his hand off your knee, even if, but he only moved it back.

"But," he continued, rubbing his thumb on the inside of your leg. It was such a casual touch, and he wasn't even looking over at you as he did it. He was just...happy to be near you. Harry always was. So even though he'd made you all flustered and promptly teased you for it, you rested your hand over his and patiently waited for him to continue. "Exercise means a post-workout shower."

There was a suggestion in Harry's tone that made your stomach flip and your heart pound the way it had been when you'd been desperately trying to keep up with him this morning. As he let his clear offer to take a post-workout shower together settle in, you just looked at him and sighed breathily through your nose.

He truly was the most handsome person you met. The hair under his ratty blue baseball cap curled perfectly, his jaw had just the right amount of stubble covering it, and there was a bead of sweat that was trailing down his neck, drawing your eyes as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he hummed along to the song playing from the car's speakers.

If you knew how to draw, you would capture this moment with a pen and paper. You technically had a perfect memory, but there was something so much more intimate about recalling each detail you loved about Harry and using it to create rather than just pulling it from where your brain had stored it. But your line of thinking was just so clinical. People often found your intelligence remarkable, but you'd always admired the kind of genius that lied in art and creativity. It was why Harry intrigued you so much when you met. He was so different from you, yet was so remarkable in his own right. He could express himself in ways that you couldn't, he saw things differently than you did, approached the world and his life at a different angle than you did, but was no less precise or right.

But he was different, today was clearly an example of that. Sometimes you were surprised by how well you and Harry seemed to get along when he was just so—

"Did I lose you?"

Blinking, you blushed and said, "No. I'm right here."

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said, voice soft and curious, the way it always was when he said those five words.

"Lots of things," you said honestly. "How I'm going to get out of this car let alone up the stairs to shower, for one."

"I'll carry you, of course," Harry said, smiling as he neared the street leading up to his house. A few moments of silence passed before he continued. Squeezing your leg, he said, "Don't hide from me, love. Tell me what you were thinking about."

You flipped the hand that was on your leg so that his palm was facing up and began to trace the lines on it. Parts of his hand were callused and rough, something that you weren't quite used to when you first met. But now you found Harry's hand steady and reliable, a source of comfort whenever you became nervous or overwhelmed. It didn't take a long time to realize you didn't want to hold anyone else's hand but his for the rest of your life.

"Did you know that Julius Caesar chose his soldiers by reading their palms?" you asked instead of answering his question.

"A sound military plan," Harry replied, knowing you weren't ignoring his request, just taking your time getting there.

You shrugged. "Not the worst in history."

Harry hummed, then asked, "Do you ever think about teaching history?"

"Instead of psychology?" you asked.

Now Harry shrugged. "I don't know. You seem passionate about it. Might be an interesting change."

You did like history, and you loved talking about it. It would be hard to narrow down what subject you actually wanted to focus on, especially when there were so many to pick from. But ultimately, "I kind of just like talking about it with you."

You were still looking down at Harry's hand, thinking of all the precision it would take to sketch the lines and creases in it. You were so transfixed that you didn't even realize the car had come to a stop in front of his house, or that Harry was blushing all the way down to his neck.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. No one ever listens to me the way you do, you know?"

"Well, that's because no one explains it to me like you do."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Harry's hand slipped from yours as he opened the door on his side of the car. As promised, he came around and opened yours, arms outstretched like he was fully prepared to carry your jelly limbs into the house.

"What do you mean?"

Harry tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from your ponytail on your run this morning. Most of your hair had fallen out, actually, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"You explain it like you were actually there. It's cute, and interesting, like I'm listening to a story."

"A good one?"

"The best."

You couldn't help but smile wide at that. Instead of letting Harry carry you out of the car, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands cupping his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs against his skin affectionately. Harry didn't hesitate to rest his own hands on your waist before creeping under your sweater.

All those thoughts you had about him this morning came flooding back to you in one huge rush, making you wrap your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Your lips hastily moved to his jaw, then his neck, trailing down and nipping at skin until—

Harry's breath hitched and you grinned as he lifted you out of the car, closing the door behind you with a definitive slam. Peals of laughter left you as Harry began to nuzzle your neck, his stubble tickling your skin the way you both knew it would as he made his way into the house.

*.*

A few weeks later, you stirred from sleep as you felt the bed shift as Harry sat up. Through squinted eyes, you watched as he stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his back flexing and popping rolled the sleep out of his shoulders. You watched for a minute, admiring your boyfriend while still half asleep before reaching a hand out and lightly running a hand along his back.

Only startling slightly, he turned around, grinning down at you when he saw your half open eyes.

"Morning, Professor. I was gonna head out for a run this morning if you wanted to—"

Your hand had been trailing up his arm and across his shoulder until your index finger found the gold chain of his necklace. With one swift tug, you pulled his lips onto yours and his body until it was hovering over you.

"No, you're not," you said.

Harry grinned into the kiss, his hands already searching for the hem of your shirt. "No, I'm not."

[theauthor2103]

AU where Professor YN and Professor Dimitrescu share a dance together. Art by iandipen

You leaned back in your office chair, kicked your feet up on your desk, and rested the back of your head in your hands. It had been an extremely long day at the college grading midterms, each professor had been shut up in their office with their heads in papers and computers, laptops, and MacBooks. The students were enjoying their first day of spring break while you and the other professors were hard at work. The college halls were empty and eerily silent, which left you feeling unsettled. It was simply unnatural to for the school to be this quiet, there was always the sound of people walking up and down the halls, keys dangling from lanyards, pens and pencils writing on paper, the clicks of keyboards from people typing.

You decided to put on some music to calm your nerves while enjoying your lunch break. Most of the professors would be going to the break room to enjoy lunch provided by the Headmistress from a local restaurant. It was a nice way to end the quarter before going on break, but you decided not to go. It was your first year teaching at this college and you had too many papers to grade since you decided to take on an extra class. You you wanted to get home a decent hour rather than being stuck past 7pm. You decided to bring snacks to eat during the day instead of having a lunch, that way you wouldn’t get distracted by the staff lunch and could get work done. You knew that if you walked up to the professor’s lounge, it would be over. There would be no way you would get any more paper grading done, so you decided to work in your office and spend your lunch break dozing off for just a little bit while listening to the music play.

You smiled when the sound of Glen Miller’s Moonlight Serenade came on and sighed out. That song always calmed you down and put you at ease. You turned the volume up all the way, put the song on loop, and leaned back in your chair again. It wasn’t like there was anyone around that would complain about the music being too loud, and even so it was just Glen Miller. Who would ever complain about this song?

“Why Miss L/N, I didn’t take you for a fan of Glen Miller,” said a low voice from the door. You smiled and sat up in your chair to greet your friend, turning the music down a bit. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Professor Dimitrescu.” Alcina strut into your office and tutted at you.

“Sleeping on the job? I thought you said you would be getting your work done today, and yet here you are,” she sat down on your desk, pulling the ends of her skirt down, “lulling about.”

“Everyone deserves a nice break, Alcina. I believe it was you who originally told me that and stressed how important it is to not overdo it,” you said, eyes closed and leaned back in the chair.

“I believe what I said was don’t overdo it, not sleep on the job. Perhaps I should report your insubordination to the headmistress,” she teased you, smiling back.

“Snitch,” you teased back. Alcina rolled her eyes at you and stood up from your desk.

“I came to collect you for the spring break party,” the taller woman said, crossing her arms over chest.

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share of spring break parties. My parties days are over I’m afraid, but you kids have fun.” You waved your hand and playfully shooed her off

“Kids?” Alcina smiled at you and rolled her eyes, looking at a rubix cube, a stress ball, and some squishy dinosaur toys you had on your desk. “I’m older than you.” Alcina placing her hands on her hips and leaning on her foot. You felt your face blush and swallowed, the ends of Alcina’s mouth curving upward ever so slightly. The two of you had been flirting with each other ever since you started working at the college.

“It hardly shows. I swear, when I first met you I thought we were the same age.” She blushed and chuckled a little, her voice rumbling in her chest. You wanted to feel the vibration of her vocal cords in your mouth and kiss her. This little game of cat and mouse you two had been playing since the beginning of the year was itching away at you. You weren’t entirely sure if Alcina had the same feelings for you, or if she was just indulging herself.

“Charming as always,” Alcina said. “Now are you coming to lunch or not?”

“Eh, I don’t think so. As much as I’d like to, I won’t get any work done for the rest of the day if I go.”

“I can understand that,” Alcina nodded. Moonlight serenade began to play again and she smiled, slowly swaying her head back and forth. “I do so love this song.” You smiled up at her and stood from your chair, leaning against the desk.

“I do too. It really calms me down.”

Alcina smirked at you and batted her eyes gently. “Am I making you nervous?”

“No, no,” you chuckled nervously, “I just- you know, it’s been a long day with these papers. Just spikes up my anxiety sometimes. That’s all.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you from your work.” You frowned and felt your heart sink. You didn’t want her to leave, you wanted to spend more time with her. Work be damned, you could always come in tomorrow and do the rest.

“Oh no, no. You’re not keeping me from my work.” You tried not to seem too obvious and attempted to be cool about it, not wanting to come off as desperate. Again, the ends of her lips curved upwards as you walked over to her from the other side of the desk. She looked you up and down quickly, her face glowing from the sun’s rays, wrinkles and laugh lines more defined.

“Good,” she said, stepping closer. You were inches from each other. You could feel your face heating up and you had butterflies in your stomach. Alcina reached up for a loss button on your collar shirt and buttoned it up. “This was lose.” You both stepped forward slightly, the music ringing in your ears. For months now, you wanted to grab the older woman’s face and smash your lips onto hers hard, rip her clothes off, run your hands down her back and hold her close to you in your arms.

“Thank you,” you said. “Umm….” Should you take a chance? “Alcina, I was wondering….” What if she said no and rejected your advances? Did she actually like you, or was she just stringing you on? What if you mistook her friendship for something more? What if she felt uncomfortable by you and stopped talking all together?

“Yes YN?” Alcina asked, looking back into your eyes.

“Would you….” You were too nervous to ask her and instead let your body do it for you. You reached a hand up, offering a dance. Alcina blushed down at you and took it. You felt your face melt off from heat and your stomach leaped. You felt her fingers close around your hand and placed your hand on her hip while she rested hers on your shoulder. You awkwardly swayed back and forth on your feet and held Alcina close.

“YN, do you actually know how to dance?” Alcina asked chuckling. You were far too happy to care, lost in her beauty and enjoying this moment that you had been killing for.

“No, not really.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll teach you.”

“You know… I would really like that.”

“As would I.” You felt your heart melt and followed her lead, trying not to step on her feet. Having Alcina in your arms like this, dancing with her, moving your hips with hers, it was a dream come true. Not exactly how you pictured things going, but it was even better than what you imagined. You wanted more of Alcina, wanted to spend more time with her, wanted to know her better, you wanted her to love you back. You fell hard for this woman the day you met her and you were getting antsy and impatient after all these months of waiting. You didn’t want to scare Alcina off knowing she did not trust most people and waited patiently for her.

It finally paid off. Alcina rested her head on your shoulder and wrapped her arms around your neck. You locked your arms around her waist and held her close to your body. “You know, I’ve liked you for some time now, YN.”

“Really?” you smiled. Alcina lifted her head up slightly.

“Have I not made that clear with all the passes I’ve made and the flirtatious jokes?”

“Hahaha, no you have. I just… I respect you, Alcina. I know it’s hard for you to trust people and I don’t want to push you. But, I really like you.” You gently began rubbing her back softly as the music played on.

“Thank you, YN. I know I can be… difficult sometimes at reciprocating feelings.”

“Worth the wait, Professor.” Alcina smiled and looked at you. You stared back at her and grinned, leaning in to her face until her lips touched yours. Alcina gently caressed your face and deepened the kiss with you. You held her tightly against you, not ever wanting to let go of this perfect woman.

Yeah, the wait was definitely worth it.

[dixonsgirl93]

Looking for Severus Snape content!

[hazedwords]

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Day Six, Roots

Drabble - Fluff/Angst..?

Warnings: persistent reader, relationship boundaries possibly being ignored

Prompt list: @superfallingstars

(I understand how late this is… bear with me)

Check out my pinned post on my page for more Snapetober content!

As far back as I could remember, Severus had never been one for flowers. He found them messy and unpleasant, for whatever reasons.

Sure, he found use for every plant that crossed his path, from mint to foxglove. Though, he never used flowers for decoration, or ‘childish distractions’ as he called them. He was blind of the beauty they beheld, I thought I would simply have to remind him.

Of course, he never dismissed me for liking and using flowers, yet he never used them himself for anything beside potions. He pretended as if they didn’t exist.

Looking back into the very early days of our relationship, I realize that I might have pestered him too much. I asked him, many times, why he never got me flowers. I suspect it might have been the pressure I put on him, as one morning, a small lavender sprig lie on top of my bedside table.

Of course, this did not let up my interest as of why he avoided flowers so much. But of course, the answer was the same as it always was:

“They are nothing but a burden. Blooming for a minute, then shriveling up and withering.”

One dark and particularly dreary evening, Severus and I were lying in bed. His left arm over my torso as his chest was facing my back. His breath was hot on my ear as we simply lie there, enjoying one another’s company.

Then, Severus whispered into my ear softly. “Flowers remind me of my roots.”

Finally, I was satisfied with an answer.